boomtownrat

I'm using the oil as an after-shower moisturizer because our tub isn't too good for taking baths. Compared to my precious decant of Banshee Beat, this is a bit lighter on the vanilla, just a little heavier on the hemp, and about the same on the patchouli. The scent gently wafts, and seems to become part of me rather than masking me. I feel grounded and content, ready to snuggle up with hot tea and a book, but also up for some mischief. This is a "black velvet broomstick skirt with a leather motorcycle jacket at the Renaissance festival" kind of smell. It feels like an appropriate scent for a neurotic Taurus like me, who really needs the mellowing effects of this scent.

My skin is getting drier and more sensitive now that I'm in my forties, so I'm happy to discover that my skin actually absorbs it, unlike my usual lotions that just sit on top of my skin, and it doesn't seem to irritate anything. I put just a tiny bit into the ends of my hair and they felt softer, but my hair isn't long enough for me to get much out of it, so I don't think I'll buy the hair gloss unless it becomes GC someday.

Whenever I get some Revenant Rhythm perfume oil, you can be sure I'll layer the hell out of it with this. Like Poenari, I hope it becomes GC. This is my first Trading Post purchase, and it won't be the last.

Aunt Caroline's Joy Mojo is like huffing a paper bag full of old-fashioned candy that's dusted with confectioner's sugar, the kind of sweets you can still buy as a novelty in historic districts and at amusement parks. I specifically envision a paper bag stuffed with taffy that looks like pastel-coloured pinwheels, or the Fourth Doctor's small white paper bag full of jelly babies.

When I felt upset tonight, I put some of this scent on after my shower and now I feel calmer. This is a good sleep scent, too. I'll be getting a bottle to keep at home and I'll have to carry the imp with me for those times when I need aromatherapy during the day.

I have to add that if you're looking for a GC that's similar to Boo or Ivory Vulva, try this.

My skin chemistry is now at the mercy of perimenopause, so I'm not sure how useful any of my reviews will be while that's still happening.

Red Lantern, on me, is a woodsy, faintly boozy caramel that reminds me of a sweeter Kill Devil Hills. Had I not read the notes, I'd think there was rum in it. I don't know why I'm getting wood or rum, but it's not bad. The decant has aged beautifully over the last few weeks, but I don't think I'll need a full bottle because I already have Kill Devil Hills.

This lovely Mama was one of the scents I got as a frimp in a recent swap. I'd been eyeing this one for years, but I've been hesitant to buy a bottle because of the florals. Fortunately they're of the spicy, deep variety, like carnation and maybe a touch of the same rose that was in Baghdad.

It's hard to talk about Mama-Ji without mentioning Morocco, Scherezade, and Baghdad because Mama-Ji is what I thought all the other three would be. All of them feel ancient and profound, composed of deep musk and Eastern spices that are just sweet enough. She's not as loud and bold as Baghdad, dryer than Scherezade, and not as sweet as Morocco. Baghdad is the outrageous aunt and the others are three sisters, fraternal triplets. Morocco is the sweet, demure one and Scherezade is the artistic, nonconformist one. Mama-Ji, though, is wicked, rebellious, and temperamental. She is called "mama" because she's a hot mama, not matronly, but after she spends a little time with you she'll settle down just enough to make you think you have tamed her wild ways. Get in her face, though--stick your face up to your wrist--and Mama-Ji's as fierce as ever. Like Aunt Baghdad she's bold and strong, and I can get away with as little as a test swipe on one wrist. Once dry, Mama-Ji blends with me rather than masking me.

Or, to abandon the metaphor and get more practical, Mama-Ji is a faintly sweet, barely musky, incense-like blend of unfathomable depth. The florals aren't the kind that make me feel sick unless I go overboard. I can tell that it will overwhelm me if I apply it too liberally, or too close to my face, and if I'm not feeling great that day I shouldn't go anywhere near it. Mama-Ji blends with me, but it's not a skin scent. It's classy, exotic, and would make a sophisticated evening scent, but not for a first date unless you have seduction on your mind and know your intended party can tolerate perfume. Try it if you like Morocco, Baghdad, or Scherezade. Fans of Calvin Klein's Obsession and maybe Guerlain's Shalimar should also give it a try. It's good if you're bold and sensual or just want to feel that way. When you're going to wear it, you might want to apply it at least half an hour before you head out the door so there's time for the scent to settle down.

In short, I love Mama-Ji but I have to be sure I can handle what she's going to throw at me anytime I invite her over.

I don't know how old the decant is, so it might differ greatly from a lab-fresh bottle. I'll be buying a bottle to age while I use up this little bit. Mama-Ji isn't the kind of thing I'll wear daily, and since I need to wear it sparingly, that should hold me over for several months.

I got nothing but pears and nail polish remover from this, and I have to wonder if my skin chemistry is alien. Maybe it's my sense of smell that's off today, but nothing else smells unusual, so probably not. Mercifully, it has low throw so I didn't gag on my way to the bathroom so I could wash it off. At least it's only a decant.

My frimp of Death Cap waited several months for me to be in the right mood to try it. I smelled it in the imp when I first got it and figured I should give it some time before testing. Then I forgot about it for a while, oops!

This is love at first sniff, once it's on my skin, and I hope that affection lasts. I never knew that a mushroom-themed scent could smell so good, because I'm not really a big fan of mushrooms as a food. Earthy scents, though, are appealing to my Taurus Sun sensibilities and they usually work pretty well on my skin.

I'm getting coconut and maybe benzoin from this in addition to a really soft, quiet soil note. Admittedly I haven't taken a whiff of live, growing mushrooms, so I don't know how accurate the scent is, but it does evoke that image for me. The sweet warmth is like a snuggly blanket on this overcast, damp early spring day. It's almost like a tamer Goblin.

Death Cap doesn't have huge throw, but it's enough for me to smell it easily on myself. I applied it this morning and it's almost time to go home for the day, so it has good longevity. Once I've finished the imp, I'm very likely to get a bottle.

2015 version:

I'm surprised this scent doesn't get more love, because it's a gorgeous red musky, woody, resinous blend that is not too sweet and never headshoppy. It's been in my top 3 ever since the original release.

The 2015 version is virtually identical to how I remember the 2013 version being when it was fresh. If you missed out on that earlier one, you can always enjoy this newer release, and if you're a fan of the original who's in need of backups, here you go. After falling hard for the original, I've bought one bottle of 2015 and plan on buying at least one more (I go through bottles slowly).

If the bourbon geranium is the only thing that's giving you pause, I still think you should give it a shot. I can't do most floral notes, but on me the geranium in Sic Erit mellows from an initial spiky hit into a much quieter spicy kick. For those who don't like woody notes, it's a little more likely to be an issue because I do get a lot of cedar and oak from this, but the amber, musk, and benzoin keep it from smelling like full-on sawdust and planks. This patchouli is a pretty quiet one, just hanging out in the background singing the bass parts. I have no trouble picking out individual notes, yet they all sing in perfect harmony.

Sic Erit isn't a big-time morpher, but it can be a bit of a chameleon from one wear to another. I've noticed that on some days it's sweeter and muskier while on other days it's woodier and more resinous. It can survive my own volatile skin chemistry.

If you like Clive Barker's Imaginer, then I recommend Sic Erit.

Plum and white musk make this so pretty that I'm sad all the florals are there, because a telltale pain was starting to pulse in my head and I needed to wash it off within 15 minutes before it got serious. Florals so frequently do this to me that I can't be sure which one is the culprit. While it was on, though, Kitsune-Tsuki was shaping up to be the one white floral scent I thought I could wear.

The scent is light but not insubstantial. I think it would be lovely in a situation when you want to seduce just the right person, while all others around you would just think "Oh, something smells nice" and go about their business. You could probably also get away with wearing it in an office, as long as you don't have your sights set on anyone in a romantic way -- because I do think there's something about this that lends itself to a certain type of magic.

Images of Asian plums and fox spirits robed in ethereal flowers were dancing in my head. Sadly, they'll have to go dance somewhere else. I think a friend of mine will love this, though.

In case anyone is looking for a good dupe for Calvin Klein Obsession, you might try A Bright Flame Between Two Jacinths. On me, it's like a softer version of Obsession once it dries and the green-ish note (galbanum, I guess) fades.

I dabbed a tiny amount on the inside of my wrist, so wee that I couldn't see it because my thirsty skin sucked it up immediately. For a couple of minutes I was enveloped in a deliciously cuddly cloud of cinnamon, orange, and spice. Things were looking good for Al-Shairan. I was fixin' to add it to my To Buy list.

Then, either my nose broke, or my skin broke, or maybe an unlisted note busted out and shoved every other lovely component of this scent down so it could "shine." I started to detect a hint of poo. You'd think that would be an instant wash-off, wouldn't you? Normally it would, but my brain sometimes thinks it smells something that isn't there. Sometimes that means a migraine is on the way and other times it passes. (TMI: I'm also having hot flashes at the moment and I suspect perimenopause is screwing with my scent chemistry.) Bravely and foolishly, I thought I might just wait it out for a minute in case my brain was misinterpreting the scent.

And then Al-Shairan just basically Hulked out and there was no way I could leave it on my skin. It smelled for all the world like somebody was trying to wash poo off some plastic with a huge lather of bar soap. I started to feel like I might vomit. No BPAL has ever flipped so dramatically from gorgeous to nauseating on my skin. It's upsetting that something so wonderful would turn on me like that.

It took three or four attempts at washing it different ways (dish soap, olive oil -- you know, like removes like -- and a hand soap chaser) before just that tiny dab of it was gone, because the other distinctive thing about Al-Shairan is that it's probably the strongest scent I've ever tried.

Al-Shairan broke my heart, but that initial blast of cinnamon-orange-spice goodness was enough to let me know this must be fabulous on people who don't have my hateful nose and/or skin chemistry.

Depending on where I apply, Gingerbread Sin can be a gingerbread single note (throat and behind the ears), or predominantly cinnamon with hints of sandalwood and gingerbread (inner wrists and inside elbows), or mostly sandalwood with a hint of cinnamon (back of my hand). There's not as much throw as I expected, but that's okay for work, for snuggling indoors on a cold night, or for a family holiday gathering. She is Gingerbread Snake's drier sister, maybe a fraternal twin. I think she'll age well, but she's similar enough to Gingerbread Snake on me that I don't think I need more than this one bottle.

Simple scents are some of the best on me, too. I find these to be simpler than a lot of other blends.

Lemon-Scented Sticky Bat - on me it's pure iced lemon cookies

Vixen - ginger, patchouli that's not heavy (in my experience), and orange blossom

Mania - white and red musks, strawberry, and grapefruit - I know it's four notes, but on me it's not a complex scent

Haunted - if you'd like to try something a little darker and warmer, its black musk and amber combination is gorgeous

Persephone - pomegranate and rose (but rose can be dicey for some people)

I get mostly the leaf note, which my nose and/or brain also interpret as bell peppers. There's a hint of ambery, musky sweetness underneath, teasing me with suggestions of how I wanted it to smell. With age, maybe the leaves will settle down a bit and this might become what I wanted it to be.

ETA: I tried it again yesterday, 1/17/2015. The leaves are still pretty peppery and they still dominate the scent while it's wet, but once it's dry I get powdery sweetness. Amber doesn't normally go powdery on me, but I guess it does when it's mixed with white cocoa, vanilla, and white musk. I'm sad about the lack of leaves and incense. It sort of reminds me of Coco Chanel and babies, of all things, and there couldn't be a scent that is more antithetical to what I like or who I am. Sadly, this doesn't make me think of autumn at all.

ETA: It's 9/29/2016. All this time, Sonnet has been awaiting a sell or swap in the bottom drawer of my BPAL cabinet. Today I decided to bring it out for a test because I wanted a soft, cuddly, Weenie-summoning scent for a rainy day. Now it's just what I hoped it would be! The green of the leaves is still there, especially in the bottle, but it's no longer reading as green pepper. It's a lot more like sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of a mountain cabin in a cuddly sweater, watching the October rain and drinking a hot vanilla-spiked white chocolate.

My skin chemistry is changing, but I'm also sure that the scent itself has aged well. Now I've gone from pulling it out of the swap/sell drawer to considering a new bottle if it returns, so I'll have another one to age. This is a scent that required patience from me, but it's worth it.

The layers and complexity of Obsidian Widow are beautiful to admire. First there's the pinot noir, which reminds me of the wine note I remember from Horreur Sympathique. It gradually makes room for a blooming dark rose. Many types of rose are dominant and a little bit soapy on my skin, but attar of rose is less so. Night-blooming jasmine shows up next and threatens to become cat pee, but fortunately that's short-lived. As the scent dries the sandalwood and myrrh emerge to smooth out the other notes. There's no obvious sign of patchouli, but I can feel more than smell the way it's anchoring everything.

That's how I experience this when I huff my wrist. At a distance of a foot or two, I get wafts of rose and wine. It's perfumey but it doesn't sicken me the way most commercial perfumes do.

I picture a long, whip-thin, ivory-skinned woman with silky black hair piled loosely on her head to reveal her delicate neck. She's Morticia as Modigliani would have painted her, decked out in a floor-length, black velvet, off-the-shoulder dress with a slit up to there. Her graceful arms trace a deadly web of seduction as she glides across a dance floor to the sexiest sad song you ever heard.

As gorgeous as Obsidian Widow will be on the right person, that person is not me. She's threatening to give me a headache. I think she might be perfect for a friend of mine.

This was a lab frimp that I got a couple of months ago and was happy to test, as I'm still not sure how I feel about dragon's blood. In Dragon's Milk it works pretty well with the honeyed vanilla, but Dragon's Musk goes weirdly salty even though I don't think there's anything in the description indicating it should be that way.

Dragon's Tears screams its presence on my skin and makes me think of pink flowers by the ocean. As wonderful as that would be for some people, it's almost exactly the antithesis of the scents I like. There aren't many florals I can wear, and aquatics are aggressively wrong for me. At least it doesn't seem to be a migraine trigger, which is better than I can say for a lot of the other aquatics I've tried. You may wonder why I even tested it, but I like to try all the frimps I get because I've been wrong about note combinations before. Unfortunately I ended up washing Dragon's Tears off because I wasn't enjoying it. I wanted it to work because I like dragons and the concept really appeals to me, but I just don't think dragon's blood is one of my good notes.

My husband thinks it smells like "scented soap." For reference, there's a lot of stuff he can't smell because of sinus problems but he likes dark, sweet, resinous or woody scents on me.

I think I might only like dragon's blood in Dragon's Milk. It really needs something sweet to make it work for my nose or for my skin chemistry.

2014 version

This is my first bottle of Egg Nog after having eyed it in previous years. There was nothing sweet and creamy in my collection and I decided it was time to remedy that.

In the bottle it's pure eggnog, just like the real thing. How does Beth do this?

Wet on my skin it's a sweet, creamy, yet cool scent with a nutmeg note that begins to overtake everything else as it dries.

Once it's dry, nutmeg is all I smell when I hold my wrist close, but it does waft a subtle creamy scent from the hollow of my throat up to my nose. The creamy scent is not plasticky or strong, and doesn't curdle like I was worried it might. It's sort of a vanilla cream singing backup for nutmeg. In my experience, nutmeg is a note that I have amped in a couple of other scents so my experience might be atypical. Judging by the description, I think the note that I'm finding hard to identify is brandy. It's not strong, but you still might want to avoid wearing it to work until you figure out whether that note stands out on you.

Last night I applied some before a party, but maybe two hours later I decided to add some Gingerbread Snake because I decided I needed more oomph for a party. The two scents did layer well, by the way. I'm going to say this will be a great scent for staying at home on a winter night, or for the kind of holiday gatherings where something subtle works best.

Gingerbread Goblin smells nothing like Goblin or any other gingerbread scent I have tried. There's more "bread" than "ginger" in it, and yet it doesn't actually smell like baked goods per se. It's subtly sweet. Patchouli is just a whisper and I wouldn't know it was there if I hadn't seen the notes. I can tell that black coconut is the variety that I prefer, more so in this scent than in GC Goblin. Benzoin and gingerbread are the the most prominent notes and yet neither one dominates. It's all extremely well blended. After two days, one skin test, and one full day of wear, I feel like it's still baking. Maybe with time those subtle notes will make their presence known. It smells good, but I hope for just a tiny bit more oomph with age.

Even though they have no listed notes in common, Gingerbread Goblin is kind of what I wanted Hesiod's Phoenix to be. In fact, I would say there was amber and maybe some kind of vanilla in Gingerbread Goblin if I were to smell it blind. (I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this paragraph.)

On me, Gingerbread Goblin doesn't have strong throw but it lasts for at least seven hours from one application. It's warm, soft, smooth, and comforting, like I want a good skin scent to be. This will be good for times when darker, heavier scents would be inappropriate. Just by reading the notes I thought it was going to be a backup bottle purchase for sure, but now I think I'll concentrate on getting other Yules first. Because I don't go through bottles quickly, I might not need a backup.

Something about it reminds me of a sophisticated perfume that my older-than-her-years best friend in high school used to wear circa 1989-90, but I'll be damned if I can remember what it was. Interestingly, GC Goblin reminds me strongly of my boyfriend from senior year of high school, just a year later.

Update, 1 February 2015: It turns out I hardly ever wear this. Even more than month later it's mostly coconut and bready gingerbread, maybe a little benzoin. By now I would have expected more of the patchouli to emerge, but I only get the faintest hint of it right when I apply it. This bears zero resemblance to my beloved Goblin, unfortunately.

Every note in this should add up to near-perfection on my skin. Inexplicably, the combination of notes somehow adds up to some kind of bad animal musk with a hint of stinky pee flowers. The only note that I haven't tried in anything else is the spiced Moroccan unguents, so I'm going to assume that's the culprit.

The imp is quite a few months old now and I've given it a try on several occasions, but it's always the same. Every time I've tested it, I've needed to wash it off by the time it's dry. What happened? At least this was a frimp, and I'm glad I was given the chance to experience it even though it didn't work for me.

ETA: I should note that other scents in the same family usually work on me. Snake Oil and Morocco are two of the scents that work best on me. Smut is another good one. Red musk and honey are notes that I usually amp to good effect, but I don't even smell them over the animalistic funk. It's got to be the unguents.

I know Et Lux Fuit is a discontinued LE, but I got a sniffy of it that was just enough to test. Can anyone tell me what collection it was in so I know how to categorize in my list of scents I've tried? Thanks.

This is one of the most interesting scents I've tried yet. After the cotton blossom and chapapote dissipate, it's mostly cocoa and what smells for all the world like a smokey vetiver/patchouli base. Depending on where I apply it, I also get honey and copal, and if I huff I start to notice maize, which is like masa as annemathematics said. The cocoa, honey, and maize do conspire to make it an almost-foodie scent, but I don't think I smell like dessert.

My sinus-congested husband said unprompted that he smelled chocolate chip cookies. It took me aback because it was just a small dab and his sense of smell is poor, but there was nothing else he could've been smelling that would fit that description. Yes, Tlazolteotl has decent throw, but it's not heady. It wafts far but gently, floating cloudlike instead of whacking you over the head with itself. To some noses it will smell foodie, but it isn't cloying. It slightly reminds me of Tezcatlipoca. Tlazolteotl is the Luper>Excolo scent that I should have blind-bought as a bottle instead of Anteros.

This smells red. It's the colour red made into a scent. There is blood orange and a little bit of salt, with a ghost of a metallic note and maybe a suggestion of musk. It's fruity but not sweet, potent but not overwhelming, and is the only salty scent I've ever been able to wear.

Blood Popsicle stood up well to a hot day at an amusement park, complete with sunblock and one water ride. I thought I should give it a good durability test, and now I'm thinking of buying a backup.

This would be great at any time of year as far as I'm concerned, but maybe best of all in autumn.

ETA: It's funny to me that this works better on me when I'm, shall we say, hormonally changed. Before writing the review I had worn it three times, not all during hormonal turmoil. It was all metallic clove when I wore it again after posting the review, and I felt some stabby head pains threatening, so I washed it off on that occasion. On the times when I wore it during my monthly hell, it was sweeter. Not only is it the most enigmatic BPAL I own, but it's also one of the most changeable.

Updated on 3/9/2015: Blood Popsicle is mellowing and blending more smoothly with age. It still smells mostly of blood orange, red musk, and clove, and I think I'm getting just a hint of cinnamon. I've never gotten any sense of freezing or cold from it, and now it feels even warmer than it did brand new. The metallic and salty components are still there, but they're not as intense as they were initially. There's still nothing else like it in my collection. I have to be in the right mood to wear Blood Popsicle, but I think it's getting even better with age.

Everything that Eve is in the film is what Beth has managed to pour into Eve the scent. She is worldly, exotically elegant, sensuous, soft, and wise, and she comes from a land of much deeper nights than I have ever seen. I can't even adequately describe all the notes as they are so exquisitely blended, except to say that I get more of a sweet spice than rose. It doesn't take much Eve to make an impression and yet I must resist the urge to slather and just revel in this beauty. The fact that I have just one bottle and it's sold out means that Eve is automatically a special occasion scent.

Palus Nebularum could be right up your alley, as it's a mysterious, watery, mossy, musky green scent: weedy green musk, three boggy mosses, water lettuce, and water hyacinth against a backdrop of glittering moon rocks. At least one person on here has mentioned getting floral notes from it. I'm not sure how hard it will be to find, since it just came down a few days ago.

The Clive Barker scent called Imaginer is beautiful: honeyed patchouli, Madagascan black pepper, fossilized amber oil, beeswax absolute, massoia bark, Egyptian myrrh, and a thin thread of blood-red saffron.

This is still just a day off the mail truck, but I want to make a note that I get no white florals from Palus Nebularum at all, thank the gods. On me, it is very much a wet vegetation scent with a lot of musk. Although it's a little masculine, the musky moss is pleasing. With just a little dab on one wrist, its throw is on the high side of moderate. I'm not sure about its lifespan because I went to bed last night only about an hour and a half after applying it, and I needed to take a shower about an hour or so after putting it on today. It showed no signs of dying down after an hour and a half, for what it's worth.

White florals are a one-way ticket to Migrainesville for me and I wasn't sure about the hyacinth or moon rocks, but it was worth the risk for me to buy the bottle unsniffed because it's my birthday moon and I love the poem. There was nothing like this in my collection, so I decided to give it a whirl.

This isn't something I'm likely to wear extremely often, but in certain moods. Maybe it will be best when I'm wearing green, or at home. It could be good for Halloween -- something about the mossiness is Halloweeny to me. I'm going to see if my husband will give it a try, because he's also a Taurus and I think it will smell good on him.

I just hope that as it ages, Palus Nebularum will continue to be free from white floral notes.