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A surrealist swirl of ethereal yellow bergamot, white pomegranate rind, lemon peel, and white musk.

Moving counter-clockwise through the room, you come upon the next stage. The backdrop is shredded, and seems to have been torn in a fury. On the remaining half of the canvas, you can barely make out a faded illustration of the sun setting over a pyramid. On the center of the platform, an elaborate golden sarcophagus has been set upright and propped up towards the edge of the stage. Beside it, upon the ground, sits a hooded lantern. A woman’s image is painted on the front of the sarcophagus, and upon the gold limned body, a tale is being told in hieroglyphics: scenes of murder, carnage, and grotesque, mad passion. Although you do not know the language, the inscription upon the tomb translates within your mind, and the words burn behind your eyes as if they were written in blood and fire: “The Guardian will never part the veil for her soul. Mighty Sutekh, have pity on us all.” A thin, dark-skinned man wearing a linen loincloth climbs onto the stage. His form is frail and withered, he is impossibly old, yet his long, straight hair is as black as the night skies. With solemn, reverential gravity, he slowly moves the casket lid aside. Within the box, you see a skeletal figure wrapped in stained, ragged cloths, draped in a mauve cloth. The dark-skinned man bends low, and lights the lanterna magica. From within the glass, images begin to form, and glowing alchemical symbols cast their eerie light onto the mummy. As the lights touch the creature, the desiccated body swells, and with horrific, agonizing slowness, a woman’s form begins to appear within the wrappings. At her chest, the rotted wrappings burst, exposing sinew and the glinting white bones of her ribs. Her hands reach towards her face, and with a screech of agony and eons-long rage, she tears the gauze from her glittering black eyes. The perfume of life-in-death: embalming herbs, black myrrh, white sandalwood, black orchid, paperwhites, olive blossom, tomb dust, and Moroccan jasmine. Jasmine, myrrh, sandalwood and something that smells like papyrus. For me, I am really amping up the jasmine which is covered in dusty book jacket over a resinous base. Compared to the 2006 version, the jasmine on my skin is definitely more prominent. I get less of the dust and resins, and definitely more white jasmine florals. Good throw and wear length.

Sugared cream, vanilla husk, white sandalwood, and flecks of caramel.

Toasted vanilla cream, smoky white fig, rice flower, and a drop of clove and patchouli.

A strangely sensual, darkly fae All Hallow’s Eve cologne, a perfume of the Otherworld: black pumpkin, leather, pomegranate incense, agarwood, and bourbon patchouli.

A perfume simply inspired by a vintage Christmas postcard. Rose cream, jasmine cream, mallow, vanilla foam, and sweet amber.

Salt-crusted wooden planks warmed by cardamom, 7-year aged patchouli, tonka bean, mace, and black pepper.

No further description.

A leathered up, musky interpretation of BPAL’s Antique Lace: dry flowers, aged linens, and the faint breath of long-faded perfumes with well-worn leather and caramel musk.

Tying in with our experimental work in fear: we have screamed into our Snake Oil… and we can’t stop sniffing ourselves! BPAL’s signature scent — deep, rich earthy notes swirled with vegetal musks, sugared vanilla bean, and dark spices — has been polluted by the funnel cake frenzy that is our Please Scream Inside Your Heart perfume blend. The results are so comforting, we almost forgot why we started screaming in the first place. (Almost.)

A soft glow illuminating the dusk: a somber variegated sunset sky of deep lilac, moonlit jasmine, and honeysuckle, the scent of damp grass, and a glimmer of pale amber.

Deep, rich, earthy notes swirled with vegetal musks, sugared vanilla bean, brown leather, and dark spices.

No additional scent description.

A sebaceous, slick reptilian perfume: green and black vegetal musks, kelp, sea salt, blackened opoponax, violet leaf, Siamese red benzoin, davana, squid ink, and ambergris accord.

An inner darkness: ink-black vegetal musk, opoponax, velvet myrrh, nagarmotha, black champa, labdanum, and plum honey.

An explosion of peony blossoms with lychee fruit, green tea, tuberose, and yellow bergamot.

Milky-white plastic and a hollow gasp of candy-corn breath, illuminated from within by 40 watts of glowing amber.

For a helping hand in headache relief, particularly tension headaches: eucalyptus, peppermint, and lemon.

No additional scent description available.

A blush-warm mist of ylang ylang, pink vanilla, carnation chypre, and red benzoin.

Where we're going, or what we're leaving behind: raw cacao, bourbon vetiver, red benzoin, opoponax, tobacco absolute, queen of the night, tuberose, and inky musk.

A ritual of eternity, a celebration of the permanence of love: bourbon vanilla, 17-year aged patchouli, champaca blossom, copal, black tea, frankincense, and agarwood.

Sandalwood incense, ti leaf, and honeyed saffron.

No additional description provided. Scent description for Sin is here.] I got mainly Snow White plus cinnamon and a dash of sandalwood. It was very chilly snowy but with cinnamon. Good throw and wear length.

Sheer musk and an exhale of evaporated milk.