zankoku_zen

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A crinkly, crunchy, cartoony jack-o-lantern scent, stuffed full of leaves and eager to please: orange blossom, blood orange, and orange hard candy with pumpkin pulp and smushed leaves

Vanilla mint, spun sugar, and pistachio.

Cotton candy, cardamom, and confetti cake.

Crunchy leaves, well-worn black leather, cardamom pod, moonlit yellow bergamot, woodmoss, molasses, and buttermilk.

Thick furs, strips of leather, and a blood-stained axe with crushed poplar bud and juniper.

“Cigarette, sir?” “No, thank you.” “You don’t mind if I do?” “Go right ahead.” The driver used a Bic disposable lighter, and it was in the yellow light of the flame that Shadow saw the man’s face, actually saw it for the first time, and recognized him, and began to understand. Shadow knew that thin face. He knew that there would be close-cropped orange hair beneath the black driver’s cap, cut close to the scalp. He knew that when the man’s lips smiled they would crease into a network of rough scars. “You’re looking good, big guy,” said the driver. “Low Key?” Shadow stared at his old cellmate warily. Prison friendships are good things: they get you through bad places and through dark times. But a prison friendship ends at the prison gates, and a prison friend who reappears in your life is at best a mixed blessing. “Jesus. Low Key Lyesmith,” said Shadow, and then he heard what he was saying and he understood. “Loki,” he said. “Loki Lie-Smith.” “You’re slow,” said Loki, “but you get there in the end.” And his lips twisted into a scarred smile and embers danced in the shadows of his eyes. Black clove and cassia flung onto glowing cinders and mingled with slow-dripping poisons. Clove and cassia lovers, take note. This one is mainly a heavy clove, with a touch of cassia. On wet, I got a curl of smoke, but it has dried to a slightly masculine clove/cassia blend and a fair dab of an herbal poison in the background. In some ways, the heavy clove reminds me Goth Queen and the Bay Rum SN that the Lab had as a lunacy event exclusive. Except this one is a little trickier, a little shadowier, and a little more deadly? It's clove, but there's something else lurking underneath. You know what, a girl needs a little danger in her life. A girl needs a bottle. A girl needs.

Black narcissus, orange blossoms, vanilla bourbon, red leather, and red musk.

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Honey-infused goat milk, incense smoke, yew boughs, black pepper, mandrake root, ambrette seed, red currant, kitchen herbs, and fly agaric accord.

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Pink grapefruit and black licorice

Gleaming golden apples, gossamer vanilla foam, sweet wildflowers, white honey, and serpentine mint resting in the shade of a lush canopy of bright green leaves, ti leaf, hyacinth, and apple blossoms.

A poem about Georgia, sung through scent: red cedar, sweetgum, yellow jasmine, peach, and honey.

Sweet 13-year aged patchouli, peru balsam, white oakmoss, French lavender, spikenard, bourbon vanilla, and sugar cane

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A campfire cologne with a cluster of musk-sweet leaves and a hint of leather.

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“I feel like all the sands are at the bottom of the hourglass.” “Turn it over, then.” The white roses and orange blossoms of hope penetrating despair’s black fog of opoponax, black myrrh, bruised violet, clove, funereal lily, and grief-struck carrot seed. Okay, to me the Hourglass is like a kissing cousin to When Stars Are Weeping. Because I adore When Stars, I like the Hourglass, but I'm not blown away by it. I get bitter carrot seed, clove, myrrh. It's a watery lily, violet and myrrh blend. It's pretty, but doesn't quite have the magic for me that When Stars does.

Hard-packed earth lined with wild grasses, blazing beams of sunlight filtered through the green leaves of summer.

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