Malista

Elegba Woo Hoo! I love Beth’s Rum notes, so I do! This is very sugary rum when first on, but very quickly a lovely coconut (or even, maybe, coconut milk rather than the meat, but fresh, fresh, not dried or bottled) joins it in almost buttery harmony (not like buttered rum, but that sort of creamy-smooth-sweet texture. The tobacco leaf adds a little substance, but isn’t heavy (and for those who don’t already know – tobacco leaves don’t smell anything like burning tobacco. It always cracks me up when someone assumes s/he is going to smell like an ashtray because there is tobacco in a blend, and then manages to convince her/himself that scent is really there. Think slightly spicy, brown, faintly-to-quite sweet, smooth, and substantial in a grounded way – a round scent, never harsh, dusty or smoky). This is a warm, friendly, humorous blend. Elegba may be the conduit for communication between here and beyond, but he isn’t solemn, if these are his standard offerings. I don’t know Elegba, but I’m guessing that when asked in the proper way he opens doors and reveals paths with a broad smile and a friendly wave to go right on ahead. I’m having a tough week with the scents – everything seems very light on me, and a little muted, although I had Dorian on a little while ago and it seemed strong and clear enough. I think the grass pollens are playing with my sense of taste/smell. I’m not sure Elegba is all that strong past the first few minutes (lovely strong rummy wet throw), but it seems to linger with a warm (actually physically warm), close aura, sending up little wisps and tendrils of rum and coconut now and then, today. I’ll have to try it again when the pollen levels drop, or I find a better antihistamine and see if it has more staying power than it seems to right now. Still, decanted into a roller bottle to take along in purse or pocket, it wouldn’t be a trial to reapply in the course of a day at the beach followed by a night of dining and dancing, or on a picnic and Frisbee session in the park, or whatever fun and Summery thing one is moved to do inspired by the weather and the energy this blend exudes. I really like this. Keeper!

Eden Lagniappe from the Lab, with my 4/1 SiA order. Many thanks, Labbies! Green, in a particular sort of dark, half-bitter way. The neighbors have a fig tree – I wonder if they would mind if I dropped by for a sniff some Saturday? Slowly, as though I am smelling them ripening, the fig fruit comes forward, still very much unpicked, mingling with the leafy scent; I can almost see figs swelling and drooping on the branches, darkening and getting heavier and sweeter in fast-forward. Within a few minutes the distinctive sweetness of fig is joined by wild, dark honey dripping in the comb. This is rich and seductive, but in a languorous, heat-of-the-Summer sort of way. There’s nothing energetic about this temptation; just, if you happen to wander by in the heat of the day and step in under the shade of a tree heavy with sweet-smelling fruit and with honey dripping down the trunk from the hive built in a convenient hollow, you might just naturally dip a finger in the honey (which tastes of bitter herbs and wildflowers and all the other things wild bees at the beginning of time might get into), then, not really thinking about it much, drugged with the heat and the sinuous sound of a faint breeze slithering through the leaves of the friendly tree, seek to quench your subsequent thirst with a bite from a fat, greeny-brown, heavy, low-hanging fruit… I don’t think I had better wear this one to work; they’ll find me staring off into space with my wrist crushed against my nose, contemplating the nature of Good and Evil. Or something. No working, though. I get a whisper of sandalwood to go with the leafy green (that’s probably the dusty effect), a very faint whiff of sharp bitter almond smell now and then, but nothing particularly like almond milk, and the toasted coconut is so far MIA, but might emerge on the fade. Primarily this is figs and honey, on me, but really not foody – figs and honey in a Garden, with the dusty dark green smell of the leaves of the tree, and the hypnotic buzzing of bees and that sly, warm breeze whispering in the background. It’s a quiet scent, almost secret, without a lot of throw -- at least on me. I’m pleased to say I ordered a 5ml of Eden unsniffed. I’m loving this preview courtesy of the Lab, and I’ll bet my Adam will, too. ETA: Two or so hours after applying Eden it had settled down into a very Present but still not overpowering honeyed sandalwood -- dry, but not arid, and just really delightful. As I suspected it might, the coconut was peeking out now and then, and it is definitely toasted coconut; not just like any other coconut I've encountered in Beth's blends. Really lovely, and still not foody, somehow. I suspect that if I hadn't had to wash it off so I could try some of the SiA scents tonight I would have found that I still smelt of honey in the morning. I'll be fascinated to see what others' chemistries will make of this protean blend.

Wings of Azrael Myrrh on me is smoky and often bitter or savory, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, depending on what else is in the blend. I can live without the times it turns into something like curry or molé without the chocolate, but I’m not dead set against myrrh, is I guess what I’m saying, although I approach scents containing it with no expectation that they will work on me, so I don’t get disappointed. Violets and lily of the valley are two scents I like in theory, but usually find overly sweet in a green sort of way (like cilantro, which I find skates right along the edge of smelling like decay, to me) and apt to drill small holes in my sinuses when worn. I love their scents in the wild, and often find perfumes featuring them to be – unfortunate. So, what with one thing and another, I approached Wings of Azrael with something like skepticism. Still, I want to try everything, and I keep getting WoA in imp lots, so maybe the Universe wants me to come to terms with the Angel of Death. If a scent could exhibit characteristics of a painting technique, Wings of Azrael would be demonstrating sfumato; that smoky blending from dark to light that gives Caravaggio’s paintings such depth and volume, and that Rembrandt made such good use of. First on I get a tremendous wet hit of the flowers mixed with the camphory, medicinal smell of the cajeput – this is a very bright scent, and I rather like it. Not sure why my sinuses aren’t going nuts, but they aren’t. The juniper chimes in for a bit, but doesn’t take over the blend, which is nice. I don’t mind juniper, but it isn’t a favorite primary scent for me. The myrrh comes up slowly under everything, along with the cypress, and here is where the sfumato manifests. The bitterness of the myrrh and the sweeter, still dark cypress add depth and volume to the brighter top notes. Violet is next on the darkness/lightness curve, then juniper and cajeput, then lily of the valley. Each note sort of melds with the next, so the overall effect is a soft, smoky shading from dark to light. The lily of the valley burns off fairly quickly, along with the cajeput, but the violet stays around, surfacing now and then to waft across the top of the other notes. Still, it’s a very well blended mix, and after half an hour or so it’s really not possible to separate the notes, although the effect is still rounded and textured. In about an hour this has faded back to a smooth blend of mostly myrrh and cypress, faintly spicy, faintly woody, not sweet, but not bitter. I like it, although I find myself missing the violet. It’s a serious scent – no levity evident, which I guess makes sense given the inspiration. Not something I will reach for to wear to work, probably, and I don’t know that I need a bottle of this, but it occurs to me that all the notes except maybe the flowers are used in aromatherapy for respiratory therapy, being expectorants among other properties they possess. I might dilute WoA with unscented lotion or a carrier oil and rub it into my chest on bronchial congestion days to see if it helps break up the catarrh. Beats the heck out of the smell of most things designed for the purpose.

There's walnut in Cerberus (discontinued scent). Don't remember seeing it listed for any of the other blends, but it's good you are checking with teh Lab.

I got a gift imp of Milk Moon with a purchase I made from CricketShay/Shay_85 on eBay. It was a complete surprise, and a lovely gesture, as of course I have yet to receive the bottle I ordered at the update, and since her auction was a benefit for a friend in need, I really wasn’t expecting frimps. A very class act, is our Shay! I’ve been getting along very well with the Lunacy blends (except for Storm Moon, but ozone scents are hit or miss with my chemistry, so I was neither shocked nor surprised when that relationship didn’t work out), but I was a little concerned that either the milk or the honey in this one would go PalyDoh on me, which happens now and then. But it just sounded so lovely, you know? So before I had properly examined the rest of that package, I had to swipe the wand across my wrist. Oh. My! What does this smell like? It’s so familiar, and so dear, like the sweetest moments of childhood all in one place…and why am I suddenly wondering if Beth was ever a Girl Scout? Aha! This is pure essence of Mock Angel Food Cake! Mock Angel Food Cake is a campout goodie – like S’mores, only better, even. Essentially it’s unsliced white bread, crust removed, cut into substantial cubes or rectangle blocks (about 2 inches thick and whatever long dimension suits you). You dip all the sides of each piece of bread into sweetened condensed milk, then roll them in shredded coconut, slide them onto your toasting stick, and toast them over the embers of the cooking fire until all sides are a golden brown. Eat it as hot as you can stand it, and get back in line to make the next piece. It’s gooey and creamy and sweet and crusty all at once, and it’s the perfect end to a day spent out of doors hiking and setting up camp and preparing and cooking a meal with a group of friends. There’s a Mother connection for me, too, because I learned about this heavenly concoction from my mother, who was also my Scout Leader, and some of the best times of my childhood were spent camping out under her direction and guidance. Out under the trees in Southern California on a Summer evening, listening to the mourning doves calling in the trees as the light fades and the loons on the lake take over, smelling greenery and the lake and toasting lovely sticky milky coconutty bread to golden goodness over a fire we had started ourselves – always with just one match, of course. Cool evening air and a big, full moon rising over the golden hills. And here are all those moments rolled into one in a little glass vial. I seriously do not know how Beth does it, but I’m perfectly willing to believe it’s magic. Milk moon fades on me in about two hours, but I didn’t slather, and it’s not the sort of scent one can’t reapply during a workday without overwhelming coworkers, in any case. It’s so rich I don’t know if I’ll use it up very quickly (hot weather coming, and I’m more in the tea-based scents for hot days), but it will be perfect for the cool of the evening, and family gatherings and outings with my mother, who is 81 and frail, but still my bestest friend and mentor, and who will be both amused and amazed at this time machine in a bottle. I’m glad I have a bottle coming, and I’m so glad Beth made this!

Patchouli has this Thing for my chemistry. The lighter patchoulis tend to go deep and creamy and spicy on me. Apparently black patchouli feels that when on my skin it should smell like a very dark, molasses-y bread toasted just to the edge of burning, and lightly buttered. It's a lovely scent, actually, reminding me that I want to do some bread baking in the near future (I mix my flours and other ingredients by guess and by golly, and sometimes use molasses instead of sugar or honey, if I'm adding dark rye or other heavy grain flours or ground nuts to the mix). Add in the apricot, and I smell like toast spread with home made apricot preserve or conserve. I would have thought depravity would smell a little less like breakfast -- a late supper, maybe -- but, OK! I don't know if I'll get a bottle of this, but I actually might, along closer to Autumn.

Shanghai Another eBay purchase from Msthrope. I really, really wanted this one and didn’t want to wait for a Lab order. I use a linen and body spray that is a blend of lemon verbena and honeysuckle. It’s very hard to find, and the company doesn’t sell direct. I love it dearly, as I never thought I would love anything with flowers in it, because it is light, fresh, a tiny bit smoky (which is what honeysuckle does on my skin), not too sweet, and perfect for hot weather and the office. I’ve been looking for similar scents because of the near-impossibility of locating the spray, and the difficulty in finding both verbena and honeysuckle essential oils (yes, I was willing to try to blend my own). I also love the scent of green tea, so I figured it wouldn’t detract from, and might even enhance, my favorite light scent blend. This stays true on me all the way down from wet to fade. Lemon verbena, tea, and honeysuckle in that order of prominence. Not an exact match to my spray, but close enough to make me very happy. It’s a clean scent in the best possible meaning of the word, and the tea adds something mellow, warm, and refreshing to the mix. It lasts reasonably well – layered it might last all day without reapplication, but it’s light enough I feel I could reapply at the office without causing anyone distress. It has a light throw. I have 5ML, am shortly going to order another 10ml bottle so I can make body lotion and body spray. I may also try adding a bit to a cocoa butter and shea butter hand cream I have, which is nearly scentless and works well on my hands after a drying day with the papers at the office. I’m nearly out of the verbena hand cream I also can’t get locally at the moment. I am a happy, happy girl!

Swank This just arrived in the mail from an eBay purchase from the delightful Msthrope. It wasn’t high on my list of things to try, but I thought it might be a good summer scent, which, with my predilection to spice, amber and other resins and incense, and my allergies to a number of floral essences, I don’t have a lot of. I was a little dubious because, often, light booze notes seem to be made up of bouquets of white florals, which are the most potentially problematic for me, but I thought it was worth a try. In the bottle: Smells like pomegranate and orange peel. Cool! Wet: Whatever the blend for the alcohol note is, it may contain a little gardenia; that’s what the back of my throat is telling me, anyway. I’m getting that prickly catch that often presages more serious allergy symptoms. But I love this scent, which is a pomegranate martini with a twist of orange. Cool, crisp, but sweet-tart like the pomegranate concentrate I use daily in my own “cocktail” of green tea and pomegranate juice. If it doesn’t dry down too sweet (and my allergies don’t kick in), this could be a hot weather winner. Dry down: More of the same. A little sharper with the alcohol notes (I’m inclined to think “vodka,” rather than “gin,” because I’m not getting any juniper berry), still pomegranate and a wee bit of citrus underneath. Throat still pricking, and I really think there is some gardenia in this, as the sharp edge is very like what that note does in other blends, too. Now the fruity notes take the lead. Very nice! Cheerful and a little silly in a youthful-high-spirits way, sweet, but dry rather than juicy. It doesn’t have a strong throw, which is good because it means I wouldn’t worry about wearing it out and about. The white top notes burn off more slowly than I’m used to, which is kind of neat with this scent, and my throat settles down as they fade. The fruit never gets heavy or wet despite the fade of the booze scent. This is definitely a good hot weather scent, although I might want to layer it with unscented lotion to extend its life, as it fades very rapidly after going strong for a couple of hours, leaving a pomegranate-y residue that is still very pleasant. This one seems to be all top and heart notes, with no strong base to keep it going, but it really is lovely, and might persist if worn in more warm places than the back of my wrist. I love how true it stays on me, with no real surprises. I’m glad I’ve got a bottle of this for heavy rotation through the summer. Malista

Psyche In a way, the progression of this scent on my skin is a little like the development of real love. I’m coming from the perspective of 31 years with the same guy, mind you, and that is bound to color my perceptions. In the Imp: Floral. No stand out notes, just – floral. Huh. Wet: A burst of lavender, followed closely by a burst of rose. First infatuation; almost overpowering, with sharp edges (lavender) and great sweetness (rose). On me this quickly deepens to something more interesting and complex as the musk and frankincense add warmth and spice to the mix and the edge comes off the lavender. This is the deepening of infatuation into real affection/friendship/complete love as we get down under the surface stuff. (I’m not familiar enough with Orchid as a note to say whether it plays a part in the deepening of the scent, but there is certainly a complexity to the floral notes, now) Dry down: A perfectly blended floral (no notes stand out to me overall, although I can smell the rose as more distinct now and then, probably because it is a favorite note for me), warmed by musk and frankincense, becoming rounder and softer. This does partake somewhat of the sacred, as the Lab description mentions; I am one who believes that when we allow ourselves true intimacy and trust with a partner, we do touch the Divine (whatever that may mean to any given individual). There is a sort of incense feel to Psyche when dry, but it isn’t reverent, just hints at transcendence. It never stops being romantic, though – this is still a very human scent, tied to human emotion. Fade: Alas, this comes all too soon. I would have thought with the musk and frankincense this would have more staying power on me, but unlike my relationship with Himself, it recedes into a faint memory within 90 minutes. Maybe slathering would help – I’m a dabber, when trying new scents. If it has any staying power when slathered I’ll get a large bottle, because we all need the essence of Romance in our lives, and this is about the most romantic scent I’ve ever encountered.

Chaste Moon I got an imp of Chaste Moon in an eBay imp lot from the delightful Jessamynit this week. I really wanted to try it, because I am having to rethink my heretofore negative relationship with sweet scents since I discovered Beth’s amazing creations, and although sweet-and-innocent isn’t really a Malista characteristic, I have been surprised by some of the BPAL sweets I have tried. Also, with only two exceptions, all the Lunacy oils I have tried have been at least pleasing, and usually extremely pleasing, on my skin. Wet in the Imp: Buttery, sweet, with a faintly minty undertone, which would be the Lunar Oils, I imagine. I can’t pick out any specific scent. Wet on skin: The same, only the minty tone disappears immediately. It’s an almost-butterscotch-but-not-quite scent (weirdly, I get a more true-butterscotch wet throw from Wolf Moon, which doesn’t smell at all foody close to my skin, but wafts “butterscotch” for a good half hour after application). Warm. Smooth. Rather pretty; vaguely foody, but not in an appetite-stimulating way. Dry down: More of the same. This is an amazingly stable scent on me, especially given the extreme volatility of most BPAL scents. I can’t pick out individual notes at all (might be sniffing fatigue – I tried a number of scents last night, and tree pollens are high in this area, so my sniffer might be a little blunted today), which usually means a scent so well blended that it has created its own scent entity, becoming greater than the sum of its parts. This is less foody, still buttery-sweet, a little more herbal, perhaps (not quite as buttery as in the bottle or wet on, but not really green or floral or spicy or resinous, either). If pushed, I’d guess there is amber in this blend, but more because it acts the way amber-based scents tend to on me than because I can smell amber. Still smooth and almost creamy. Dry: Almost no throw (4 or 5 inches, maybe). More minty lunar goodness, still very balanced and warm. Serene, but vital – I can see wearing this at the office when I’m looking for something comforting (but not soporific) to counteract spiky energy. Smoooooth. I can see myself looking to score a bottle of this. I didn’t think it would suite me all that well, but apparently it does.

On me, wet and dry, Lear is pure cedar. It's a lovely strong sauna-and-mountain-lodge sort of scent, but it completely eclipses the other notes. I might try layering Lear with O, as I think a strong wood note might be just the thing to keep the honey in O from going Play-Doh on me, but I don't think I'll wear Lear alone.

Faustus Fascinating. On me, wet and dry, this smells like some form of molé. No chocolate, but edible, and the sort of sauce I’d love to use on chicken or even beef. Must be the cinnamon overwhelming the other notes, although it doesn’t smell like cinnamon so much as, well, a meat sauce or marinade. Which is very cool, but not as a perfume.

O I’m one of those lucky people whose skin loves amber, and amber loves it right back. Almost any scent based on amber will linger and meld with my skin, smelling sweet but not sickly, with terrific depth and a sort of golden haze floating above. OTOH, my only experience with BPAL honey note so far has been Dana O’Shee, which went straight to Play-Doh on me, and I was a little worried about O, for that reason. This went on with a honey blast-and-a-half, a little sharp-edged, but quickly settled down to honey-and-vanilla; a little sweeter than I like, usually, but warm and pleasant enough. Amber always takes a little while to emerge, on me, so I was patient. Within 10 minutes the amber came up, supporting the honey and sort of taking it into itself until I couldn’t tell where one left off and the other began. The vanilla blended right in, as well, rounding out the scents until they combined into something that was all its own scent. Every now and then the vanilla separates itself and floats on top for a few breaths, but then it gets folded back into the rest. Interesting, and rather lovely. I don’t get any sex smell from this. Neither does Himself. He does say it forms an aura around me – that he can smell it better when I am just walking by or standing two feet away than he can when he sniffs my wrist. He says it smells like Kama Sutra Honey Dust, as others have said, and at one point it really does, although amber doesn’t go dramatically powdery on me, and neither does O. After an hour or so the honey (I’m sure it’s the honey, now) has edged into Play-Doh territory. Damn. I was hoping the amber would take over and make this nice all the way through. This may still layer well, though. I’ll try it with both spice and woods, and see what happens. The first hour or so is too nice to just give up on.

I helped you figure out your monitor needed calibrating, when you first posted the Demonic Kitty photo, and wrote a critique on the resubmit. I also wrote crits on at least two other of your photos. I'll check out your usefilm postings when I'm back in photo mode, fer sher! Don't chat much -- dyslexia makes it hard to follow fast-moving convos, alas, but I sometimes drop into the pSIG chat room. Sounds like your first two choices were a little "dark" for you. I love Cerberus, but it dries down to pure dark chocolate on me after starting out boozy and fun, so, what's not to love? Isn't personal chemistry fascinating? Hearth: the jury is still out. I need to try it when I'm not sick, but I found it beyond smoky (not in the incense way, but as in fireplace or campfire smoke) the one time I have tried it. It should work on me, but it may not, after all. Absinthe goes straight to pure castile soap on me and then triggers an asthma attack just as it dries down to something I think I'd quite like. Shame, because the reviews sound as though this could be one of my Good Mood Inducers, and I loved the sniff and a half I got of the dry scent, on me. I'm going to blame the wormwood, because I don't want it to be the anise , but I'm afraid the anise, when wet, is what went soapy on me. It's all trial and error, which is why swaps are great when you're just starting. Since Cerberus is now discontinued and Hearth was an LE, you should be able to swap them fairly easily for things on your growing Wish List. Malista/Sam

Hmmm. Your dislike for complex scents may make things a little harder, since Beth excels at creating subtle, complex, deep scents which her fans, as you may have noticed from reading the forums here and at Lush, delight in making even more complex with layering. :-D Finding a list of scents and their traditional aromatherapy uses might be a good idea. I ran across one recently on this or the Lush forum, but I can’t remember which. Sorry. Been sick all week, and have oatmeal for a brain. Our tastes aren’t that similar (I love incense type scents and complex blends), but I suffer from depression, too, and I’m going to suggest that things with grapefruit in them are, to me, tremendously energizing, and mood elevators (I have some grapefruit shower gel and body lotion I keep around just for times of depression and the accompanying exhaustion). I tried, just as I was getting sick, Cheshire Cat, and loved the grapefruit waft that shifted down to softer, subtler florals and fruit without being at all foody or overly sweet. I’m going to have another test when I can smell things again to be sure I didn’t miss anything in my growing congestion, but I suspect that there’s a bottle of this one in my future, and it’s not in my usual style, at all. Go read the reviews and see what you think. I would also point out that Beth has a way with blends that can change your mind about what you like and don’t. Not always, but sometimes. Don’t necessarily write off her rose scents, for instance, because rose leaves you “meh” these days. Rose is traditionally a good scent for alleviating depression, and it’s likely worth the price of an Imp or two to try a couple (especially if there are spices involved, as well as the floral). Sometimes single notes don’t engage us as strongly when we develop more complicated lives and sophisticated tastes, but blends that include formerly favorite notes can still give us a lift, and keep our interest. Are you still doing your photography, BTW? I’m SMJohns on photoSIG; I wrote critiques on a couple of your photos, and quite like your work. I recognized your Lush forum avatar immediately as one of the first photos I commented on.

Red Queen I’m not sure how much this reminds me of the character. I played the White Queen many years ago, and we all thought it was funny I was cast in that part, because my actual personality was much more that of the Red Queen – astringent, somewhat abrupt, apt to pose difficult questions. Take a bone from a dog. What remains? I wouldn’t have said there was anything terribly cherry-ish about that particular chess piece, although I applaud the choice of mahogany for her wood. In the bottle: Chericol cough syrup without the bite of codeine. OK… Wet on skin: Chericol cough syrup, still without the opiates. This isn’t terribly promising, although my mother might get a giggle out of smelling me, considering how much of the stuff she ladled down my throat when I was a bronchitis-prone tyke. (And no, I was never addicted. Seems I have a natural resistance to codeine.) Drydown: Ah! Here is the mahogany to smooth and mellow everything out without becoming dominant, and a touch of ripe currents in syrup to add a bit of astringency and more dimension. This becomes, in a very short time (half an hour, maybe) a beautifully balanced, serene, warm, rich scent, not too sweet, not too dry, no note predominant. As many above have said, mature and womanly, with a sense of humor, but not bumptious. I didn’t put a lot on, so I don’t know what sort of throw it will have in normal wear, when I apply to the crooks of my arms and décolletage. I’ll have to try that before I wear it on public transportation, but I have a tough time imagining this would ambush anyone in an unpleasant way, once it dries. A wee drop on one wrist is more like a second skin scent, and not terribly lasting, but I suspect I won’t need to slather it to make it more assertive and lasting, just put it where it will be warm. Beth’s scents are leading me to rethink my traditional stance on fruity and sweet scents. Obviously it wasn’t the scents themselves I had problems with, but the way they were blended. I will definitely use this Imp, and may decide I need a larger supply.

Bon Vivant Great name. I read the description and thought "I'll bet I get flashbacks." I confess to being an unreconstructed hippie, and I have smelled more artificial strawberry in my life than anyone under the age of 50 can probably comprehend (unless they were raised by unreconstructed hippies). I juice real strawberries daily as part of my juicing regimen, and have very little tolerance any more for the necessarily artificial compounds used in perfumery, syrups and sodas. I like Beth's wine notes, though, and this was a frimp with an eBay purchase, so I popped the Imp. In the bottle: Strawberry wine cooler. Wet on skin: Strawberry wine cooler. Strawberry incense. Strawberris 'n' Cream body lotion. Strawberry glycerine soap. 1967. Under the strawberries, some sort of white flower I know but can't put a name to, pretending to be champagne. OK, any second now I expect I'll start to -- *Atchoo! * Yep, that's what used to happen when I was around strawberry incense. Drydown: Less strawberry, more of the sharp white floral. More sneezing. Dry: I don't know. I had to wash it off. Conclusion: Nice (if sneezy) trip down memory lane, but I don't think it's a trip I want to take again. In truth, I was always more a sandalwood, patchouli and myrrh incense girl. I have come to the conclusion that I was never young enough for strawberry.

Tintagel In the bottle: Wine and Dragon’s Blood. Not unexpected; Beth’s wine notes tend to make themselves known both to and on me, and Dragon’s Blood is always the strongest wet scent in any of the blends I have tried so far, where it is an ingredient of any amount. So, very red wine and very sweet, spicy berries, which is the scent I always get from Dragon’s Blood for the five minutes it lasts on my skin. Given my recent experience with Blood Rose, I’m not holding out much hope for Tintagel working on me, at this point. This may well be another Vat-o-Merlot experience. First applied: DRAGON’S BLOOD! Oh, and, wait…bayberry! Cool! Juniper joins the group, this time being more mint than kerosene, which is of the good. The wine note has wandered off somewhere, and the Dragon’s Blood and bayberry are combining to a very high pitch, joined by cinnamon, and all the spicy things are egging each other on. I don’t get Red Hot candies; just the sweetness of the Dragon’s Blood and the spice, which comes up off my skin like heat from a fever. The juniper chimes in to totally clear my sinuses. Not sure how I feel about that; juniper and I don’t always get along; but here is the metallic undertaste, and I’m sure it’s from the juniper. It’s interesting, but I hope it doesn’t last long, because I’m serious about the tasting part. Something on my tongue that is bitter and metallic. Ah. Slow count of ten, and it recedes. Wow, does this blend change fast! And often. Drydown: The wood notes edge in sideways and start to mellow the hectic spiciness and cold juniperiness, and now the leather emerges and provides the stable base note I’ve been missing so far. Then everything just suddenly ups and melts together into its own unique scent, and I can’t really pick out individual notes any more, just warm, thick, spicy, comfortable goodness. The Dragon’s Blood has never quite vanished. It seems that bayberry may be one note that has the capacity to fix DB on my skin, since they seem to have married and blended into something that partakes of the best qualities of both scents. Nice! The leather note acts almost like vanilla, here, to collect and smooth all the other notes into a creamy whole. Fade: Two hours later – Still sweetly mellow, warm and faintly spiced, but becoming more and more like my own clean skin, only better. I should try this again, only with more oil, because I didn’t slather it (I was afraid of the juniper, which sometimes makes me cough), and I think it might last longer if I did. I don’t see this as an intrinsically masculine scent at all, on me. I want Himself to try it, but on me it remains sweet (but not sickly) and faintly gourmand; not particularly sexy, but comfortable and welcoming and womanly (not girly). If I can find the right amount to make it last on me without the initial application causing me to combust, this could well be a larger bottle – not necessarily for just the Winter Holidays, but for Autumn and Winter, fer sher.

Blood Rose I got an Imp of this in an eBay Imp lot purchase. I thought this might be a really good scent on me; I love rose notes and they tend to love me back, and I’ve had good experiences with Beth’s wine notes, so far. The Dragon’s Blood might or might not be a factor, as it usually disappears within the first 10 minutes of application, but I keep thinking that I will run across a blend where one of the other notes “fixes” the Dragon’s Blood’s berry-ish, spicy sweetness. In the bottle: Mostly Dragon’s Blood with some red rose. This isn’t unusual; usually where there is Dragon’s Blood that’s all I can smell right up to the second it evaporates on my skin. I always imagine that whoosh of blue flame that happens when one puts a match to warmed spirits, when I put Dragon’s Blood on. Big show, then gone. Wet on skin: Ugh! Sharp, sharp sharp and almost acrid! The wine pounces and knocks the rose right out of the frame, and it’s all Dragon’s Blood and Merlot, Merlot and Dragon’s Blood. I think Merlot because of the spicy note in Dragon’s Blood – this is a very dry red wine, hardly sweetened at all by the berry note in the resin. It’s very thin on top, much richer below the sharp bite, but the bite is hard to get past. I think it would be lovely in a glass – very not sure about it on my skin. Dry-down: Still pretty sharp. The wine isn’t taking a back seat. The occasional whiff of rose, but this is still Merlot and Dragon’s Blood. The good news? I may have found what anchor’s DB and keeps it from *poofing on me. The bad news? I don’t much care for the results. Dry: Very. I mean, very, very dry. Almost all the sweetness of the DB disappears, but the red notes remain, mixed equally with the wine. The rose has apparently gone to Jamaica without leaving a forwarding address. Conclusion: I don’t think I care to spend the day or evening smelling like I fell into a vat of Merlot. I’m afraid Blood Rose is for the swap pile.

Velvet I love every note listed for Velvet. Sandalwood has been my “calm” scent of choice for decades. Beth’s cocoa/chocolate works on me, from what I have gathered from the few scents I have tried so far that include chocolate – it’s very much a stable base note on my skin. Myrrh is delicious, and I have sometimes worn vanilla extract as a scent, when in need of serious comforting. This should work splendidly with my chemistry. We’ll see. In the bottle: Mostly myrrh, which is fine, because I love myrrh. A little vanilla, but no sandalwood or chocolate. Wet on skin: Cocoa! First a terrific wet hit of cocoa, followed immediately by a rush of sandalwood (definite wood shavings vibe) that remains dominant for about 3 breaths on me. Then things start to settle down into more of a balance. Dry-down: The throw is unsweetened cocoa smoothed out by vanilla, but closer to the skin it’s sandalwood with cocoa equally mixed (extremely odd but lovely combination), and closer still to the skin a little of the deeper note of myrrh, spicy without being the least foody. As time goes on all the notes do a sort of figure eight above my wrist, now one is stronger, now another. About an hour after application they seem to have found their balance, and meld into one entity that has me wondering what a vanilla truffle rolled in unsweetened cocoa, powdered myrrh and sandalwood dust would taste like. This is the only time in the cycle of this scent on me that I am really reminded of food. This does have the texture of velvet. Dry: Mostly myrrh and cocoa with a kiss of vanilla; very deep, rich, dark, and again, somehow, not foody. This lies close to the skin – only I and my intimates will ever know about this last stage, but it is the perfect marriage of these scents. Sumptuous! A little later the vanilla comes back strongly, trailing wisps of sandalwood like a long chiffon scarf in the wind, and the cocoa recedes. This play could go on for hours, I suspect. My experience with other chocolate BPAL blends is that the fade will likely be pure cocoa. Conclusion: A lovely warm and comfortable scent with just enough oddness to keep me amused and occupied. I can see wearing this during the Fall and Winter, but also on the occasional dank San Francisco Summer morning – the days the fog just isn’t going to burn off by Noon. Big bottle is in the cards.

I love the fruit-spicy scent of Dragon’s Blood resin, but it melds into my skin scent and disappears very quickly, so if Red Moon was going to make it, it was going to do it on the merits of the other ingredients. In theory there wasn’t going to be a problem; amber and orange tend to work well on me. I wasn’t sure about the heliotrope or the summer herbs, because I don’t tend to wear florals, and I’m not foind of the scent of chamomile or marigold, but this still seemed like it might be a good match for me. Wet in the bottle: All I can smell is Dragon’s Blood and something minty (traditional lunar herbs?). Wet on skin: Dragon’s Blood, and I can taste the minty stuff (this happens often with me and essential oils. I don’t put them in my mouth, but one taste or another will manifest on the tip of my tongue after I apply the oil to my pulse points. Usually mint or cloves, sometimes citrus peel. Although it usually tastes a little bitter, it has that almost numbing tingle that goes with mint or cloves or citrus peels.). After a minute or two the Dragon’s Blood starts to do its usual fade, and something sweetly floral, rather than fruity, emerges. Heliotrope? Maybe a combination of heliotrope and elder flower. Dry-down: Ah! Now amber and chamomile start to warm the scent up. The tingle is still on my tongue, but what is coming off my wrist is sweet, golden and so well blended I can’t pick out the individual notes. The amber goes powdery after a bit, but not in an objectionable way. This is a calm, gentle, unobtrusive scent, sweeter than I usually wear, but deep and interesting all the way through. There is something self-possessed about this scent – a little aloof, but very aware and not at all unfriendly. A little way into the dry-down the Dragon’s Blood makes another appearance as a sort of berry-ish note, well behind the others, and the amber becomes less powdery again (helped by the orange peel, I think). Gentle morphing continues to occur as the scent fades – all too soon, alas; this is not a play-all-day scent on me, although if you are leaning over my shoulder at work, for some reason, you might catch a hint of something pleasant coming up off my neck over my jugular. More herbal scents emerge as time goes on. I’m by now used to BPAL oils playing hide-and-seek with me – I think they’re gone, and they reemerge an hour after I thought they were done, not wafting, but definitely there, again. It’s sort of fun; and I don’t reapply scent during the workday because there is no place I can do it without potentially causing problems for scent sensitives around me. (Since I’m one, too, I don’t want anyone else feeling about me as I do about the person whose freshly applied scent just ambushed me and provoked an asthma attack.) So the little resurgent swells of scent are sorta neat. I’ll have to wear it for an entire day to be sure, but I suspect Red Moon is one of the peek-a-boo scents. I like it. It isn’t a knock-your-socks-off scent for me, but more of a second skin sort of scent (as most of the scents containing Dragon’s Blood seem to be). That’s fine with me – I don’t particularly want people on public transportation or in the office noticing me because of the way I smell, and the calm, centered feeling of Red Moon makes this an excellent workday scent for me, as I often need to be reminded not to take Reality too personally.

Samhain Until you try any particular blending artist’s scents you can’t really know what will happen on your skin, and when I first read the description of Samhain I had never knowingly smelled any BPAL scent. Still, I felt an instant affinity with Samhain, just from reading the notes involved. Since I’ve only known about BPAL for a few weeks, all the scents I have are from eBay, and all of them were bought unsniffed (as of course were my first two largish orders, pending, from BPAL itself). Today I received my bottle of Samhain, and didn’t wait to take off my coat before ripping open the box. I didn’t have hopes for this scent – I had certainty. I knew with a knowledge transcending common sense that it was me in that bottle. In the bottle: Woodsy – more fir than pine, thank heaven, faintly spicy. Chilly. Wet oak and maple leaves underfoot, so thick you can’t smell the cold wet soil as you walk along. Wet: Instant mulled cider! On my wrists, “family” cider; in décolletage, hard Somerset cider spiced with nutmeg and cloves, heated in a pewter tankard with a poker from the applewood fire. This is pure sense memory, because I spent a Samhain in Somerset curled up in a wing chair by just such a fire, drinking just such a cider from a pewter tankard and listening to a fine older literary gentleman’s collection of British Isles traditional music as he picked and chose it for me, track by track, tuning the concert to my reactions. Earlier we had gone to Glastonbury and been caught in a wave of fermenting apple scent from a nearby press whilst still at the bottom of the Tor. I wrote a poem about that. This is a combination of the cold late afternoon at the Tor, drowning in cider-in-the-making, and the later evening, toasty by the fire, drinking last year’s pressing. This has a pretty powerful throw, but Himself sniffs appreciatively from four feet away, then wants a closer inspection, sniffs down my shirt and chortles, and it’s all good. Dry-down: Still cider, still spiced, all warm, now. Some jack-o-lanterny notes (the others are right – pumpkins being partially cooked by flaring, waxy candles. Lovely). No fir or leaves at all, now. Dry: Now the patchouli peeks in again, bringing the leafy scents back. My skin adores patchouli; it goes all warm and creamy on me. This doesn’t get to creamy, but stays crunchy and dry and spicy and just right for autumn leaves. Still apples – back to the outdoorsy cider fermenting scent. Pumpkin retreats to the background, but is still evident. This phase lasts quite a long time. Fade: Leaves and yesterday’s jack-o-lanterns in the afternoon sun, lying close to the skin now, with only the occasional faint waft as I type. Now the patchouli drifts toward warm and creamy, still with its familiar spice, but no edge to speak of. It’s still very present – I’m not sure I should call this the Fade, because although it isn’t wafting, and I would likely be comfortable getting into an elevator with others, at this point, it isn’t moving off into the distance, either. Ooh! Apples are back, very faintly. Summary: I was absolutely right on about my feeling for this scent. This is a very strong aspect of Malista – what my friend Adrienne calls my "Goldberry aspect." Warm, not tame, but welcoming and merry; the Libran who wants everyone to have what they need and be comfortable, while maintaining a little reserve. This is an expansive scent, not a bumptious one. The night will end in wistful music, not a brawl.