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Ginger and I only get along in the most minimal of quantities, so when I opened Siren and took a whiff, I was reluctant even to try it; it's heavy on the ginger. I hate saying that I didn't like one of Beth's scents, and I'll tell you that it's simply the overwhelming ginger in this. The apricot peeks through and is delightful, really sweetening things up, and the jasmine helps out, too - it adds a very creamy tone to the blend. The ginger never goes away or fades enough for me, though, and my stomach turns every time I sniff my wrist (thus the rather abrupt review) If you like ginger, I would tell you to disregard all of this review except the italicized lines above, because if I enjoyed ginger in the slightest, this would be a fabulous, distinctive scent.

I got the lemon zest note others have mentioned, but only for the first thirty seconds or so. Maybe a drop of juniper to this, but then it's lovely crisp pine and a pale wildflower all the way. I put Val San Retour on my wrist to write the review, and within three minutes I actually couldn't find it to finish the description. Citrus oils fade very quickly, and there must not be a lot of pine in this in order to avoid overpowering them, but since I tried this three different times and the same thing happened, I don't know that Val San Retour is a scent I'd purchase. Even though it's as fresh as the great outdoors, Val San Retour doesn't stand up against the beautiful greenery and lasting power of the Yule LEs. I think I'll stick with Mistletoe or Skadi, or Dracul with its fir and balsam, instead.

My imp of Mantis was also very green initially - that flowing green that's in the Voodoo Blends. I don't have a single note of it left to check, but I think it's spanish moss, or a bit of High John. This isn't a crisp green like bay or basil, but a very liquid, bent stem sort of green. It doesn't take long for the amber to shine, and in Mantis, it really sweetens and warms the scent. The neroli does its part, too, and gives this a bit of citrus floral. When all is said and done, Mantis is a bit soapy, but more in the clean, sweet tone of a Prairieland Herbs luxury bar than a bar of white soap. The end result isn't a green one, but it is one that makes me think of a wonderful flower and herb bed in full bloom. My to-purchase list is entirely too long as it is, and since this is something I'd like to have on hand but wouldn't wear all the time, it will go on my "eventually" list.

One of the reason's Beth makes such wonderful scents is because her single notes are absolutely beautiful and true. Starting with these oils enhances Beth's amazing talent to something even bigger and better, and the single note in Honeysuckle is no exception. This particular single note is almost over the top in it's accuracy and beauty. Honeysuckle is a strong fragrance coming out of the flowers, and here it's brought to its essential beauty and magnified with concentration. I don't mean that it isn't perfect - it is! - but that bringing it down to this pure state makes it even larger than life. It's not cloying or too much, but it's absolutely magnificent because it's so perfect and untouched that nothing else gets in the way of what it is. If you're a fan of honeysuckle, try to get your hands on an imp of this. Not only will it last you forever, you'll revel in it.

The woods and white pepper are what stand out for me when I first apply Grandmother of Ghosts. Very crisply wooden, in fact. Oh, but the lily and peony come out before long. The woods fade back, but only a little, and the laurel gives a crisp green note to it all. Mandarin orange sweetens and lightens this a great deal, and with the lily and peony, Grandmother of Ghosts takes on a decidely feminine cast it didn't have in the beginning. The sharpness of the pepper, already lessened because it's not black pepper, fades away quickly, leaving behind a discernable warmth. It takes some of the dryness out of the woods, as well, and lets the flowers soften the whole picture. I'm not sure how much the white musk has to do with the softening and the warmth that's emerging, but it's a note I'm becoming more fond of with every blend Beth uses it in; it has a flushed skin quality that's very becoming. My decision to buy a bottle is still pending, although only because I want to be sure that Grandmother of Ghosts continues to warm up and soften the wood notes each time I wear it. I'll use all of the imp, certainly, and if I keep getting the depth of glowing skin and strength of not-so-dry wood, it will go on my purchase list.

Fallen is a round, warm floral with hints of violet's powdery tone when I first put it on. It's nice, but it doesn't really move me. Giving it a few minutes, though, the amber makes its move and this goes right to glorious. The musk in this has an effervescent quality that makes me think of Beth's single note in Siberian musk; I don't know if that's the same thing as the golden musk in her description, but the musk definitely works in this scent. It has a clarity that compliments the amber beautifully. A few minutes more and the florals come forward. The amber and musk haven't really backed off so much as they've wrapped themselves around the base of the flowers and seem to be holding them up; they're not reduced by this change of prominent notes. The impression it leaves is warm and seductive, like a startlingly beautiful woman wrapped in a red silk paisley throw. Why this seems such a feminine scent to me, I don't know - it's not that it isn't gender neutral so much as it has a glow and warmth to it that seems much rarer in men. Toward the end, a light sandalwood and the barest hint of vetiver come to the surface. They're not obvious as distinct notes, but the depth of the scent changes and darkens a bit, and you really have to think about what's adding this extra layer of identify what notes made the change. Without Beth's description, I might have pegged the sandalwood, but not the vetiver; they're very subtle. I don't get a feeling of desolation from this scent, but I suppose that someone trapped in absolute beauty might feel alone and unconnected with others. Fallen won't create that void in your life, though, as it's an up-close, "nuzzle me," sinvitation sort of fragrance.

First on, Sophia is a gentle mix of lavender and delphinium. Sweet, but not in an artificial candy way, and soft, it still has plenty of throw. I wondered what the difference in jasmine and star jasmine was, but couldn't find anything. Something is different, though, because this is a much softer, kinder jasmine than the heady white floral that jasmine usually is to my nose. After a few minutes, the spices start to come to the front. The lavender doesn't disappear, but it fades into the background where it becomes a part of the supporting cast. An interesting twist for lavender, which is usually more vibrant than most other notes in a scent, and thus the most obvious. The spices and musk combine beautifully to give Sophia a depth it didn't have in the first few minutes; the lavender and delphinium were very much "top" notes, and these move it to middle ground. The musk and spice note, complemented by the florals, stays in the forefront for the considerable wear of this scent; good staying power. Beth calls this a solemn scent, and it is, but not as a matter of sadness. Think of a brilliant woman who looks like a Victoria's Secret model but doesn't know it, immersed in a book and oblivious to the admiring glances coming her way. My first sniff out of the bottle made me think "good girl," but this lovely scent is a surprisingly sensual one; don't let the first couple of minutes fool you. Definitely headed for my purchase list.

Mistletoe is sharply green, but not bitter. Wearing it, I feel clean and fresh, and very wintery. There's a whiteness to this, too. Not laundry detergent whiteness, but something clear and brilliant. Mistletoe isn't a complex scent, and it is a bit piney, but I'd like to think this is what a sprig of mistletoe crushed in my hands would smell like. It's been too long since I've had real mistletoe to say for sure that it really is a single note of it, but my mind's eye (nose?) has no problem making that connection. Long-lasting, and never overpowering, Mistletoe is one of my favorites of all the 2004 Yule LEs.

I wasn't so sure about Delphi out of the bottle - sticky-sweet honey wine was all I got. No matter what, though, I alway try what comes in my orders, and I think I'm glad I did in this case, too. The honey wine keeps flickering back and forth with the laurel and bay leaves, and when those two are on top, I absolutely love Delphi. The incense is more of a wispy, light touch - it's practically floating through and something you look around for in a "What was that scent that I just ... wait, now I can't smell it. Did I imagine that?" sort of way. When the honey wine scent is on top, though, I can't get my nose away fast enough. It's not that it's a bad scent, it's just that it's too sweet for my tastes, and by a long shot. Dry-down hasn't helped me much; I never know if I'm going to get the leaves or the sweetness when I put my nose to Delphi. On me, Delphi does what Seraphim did ... it just doesn't ever settle into anything I can make my mind up about. Both scents have such gorgeous possibilities, but they don't turn into any sort of blend on my skin, so I'm left loving part of the notes, disliking part, and unsure if I'll be delighted or disappointed by purchasing a bottle. I'm definitely using up the imp to find out if the laurel, bay leaves, and incense win out in the long run. If they do, I'm getting a huge bottle of Delphi; if it's the honey wine, the imp will be more than enough for me. I'll be interested to see other reviews as they come in, because I think this is probably just a skin chemistry thing.

Eos is indeed about the dawn; think morning sun making diamonds out of dewdrops that quiver on small yellow flowers. Sweetened by the honeysuckle, jasmine isn't overbearing here. I don't remember what a buttercup smells like, exactly, but I think it's the note that helps the honeysuckle simplify this scent while making it so ... well, petal-like. Soft and simple, but more durable in its fragility than we may realize. I'm not a jasmine fan at all. It's one of the many "white florals" that gives me a headache, and it's just not something I typically enjoy. With the honeysuckle and buttercup here, and what might be just a touch of white musk, it's stellar. The jasmine doesn't jump in and take over, which is a rarity on me, so Eos stays serene and lovely throughout its wearing. It also doesn't go soapy. I've had Eos on my wrist for almost two hours, and it hasn't faded much at all. Another nice surprise, since honeysuckle and wildflowers tend to go fast. Good staying power, warm floral serenity in a jar - can't go wrong with a combination like that! In spite of my usual jasmine aversion, this was a 5 ml. purchase the day after my imp arrived.

Marquise de Merteuil is peachy, yes, but it isn't really about the peaches on me. Between the peach note and the haughtily liquid amber, this is jonquil and luxuriant florals softened and emboldened at the same time. If I really, really work at it, I can find the vetivert in this. It's a drop in the bucket, though, and not a major component of what's filling my nose as I type. More like a bit of dirt clinging to flowers that didn't break off at the stem, but instead came up out of the ground - a quiet reminder of where they came from, perhaps, but not what they're about. This Marquise is a luxuriant, regal, warm (although perhaps not genuinely so), and very expensive-smelling creature. She loves beauty and quality, and this scent envelops her in a soft, sensual cloud of both. She's not all peach-fuzz softness and flower petals, and the dry-down of this blend reminds you she has power. It's power she'll use in ways you least expect, because she has the confidence to do whatever needs be. I have the Tarot of Prague, and the image of their Strength (bottom row, second from left) card came immediately to my mind when smelling Marquise de Merteuil. I love FullTiltRedhead's comment about "if you think you can carry off smelling like a Marquise." I don't know if I'm qualified, but I bought a 10 ml. bottle to find out for certain!

At first, coffee sprang to my mind, too. Not black coffee, but coffee with something in it - a strong shot of Tia Maria and rum in it, perhaps. With a little waiting, it becomes a rich dark chocolate note, bitter and full, with a definite splash of the wine note the Lab uses so beautifully in their blends. The sweetness of the rum isn't prominent, but it's an interesting backing to the wine. The two also serve to temper and meld the metallic note that is indeed reminiscent of blood - not so much the scent or the taste, but the impression of both at the same time. The wine note sort of curdles on me after Centzon Totochtin has been on for a few hours, so I think I'm going to pass on a big bottle of this. Don't hold me to that, though, because this is such an intriguing scent that I may not be able to resist. At the very least I'll be using up the imp, because I'm hoping it's just a funky body chemistry moment that changes the wine note - and if it is, that means I'll be able to get the big bottle after all!

I agree with Caitfish - this scent is wonderful! I don't know if I'd call it Beth's niche, because she's so good at so many different things, but Tenochtitlan gets a rave from me. First on, this is crisply green - very much like crushing fresh herbs with your fingertips. In just a moment, there's a clear, juicy sweetness that must be the prickly pear, and it mingles with a beautiful light floral that's just what tulips put off if you stick your nose far enough into one. I know there's amber, hyssop, sage, coriander, and all sorts of other wonderful things in this blend, but they never really stand out as individual notes on my skin. I get a gentle, distinctive, and lovely breath of warm air from field of wildflowers - and it's one I'd like to have brush past me again. Staying power on me wasn't all that great - but Tenochtitlan is worth the reapplication. I'd definitely consider a bottle of this.

After reading these reviews, I had a very different idea of what Blood Countess would be compared to how it turned out on my skin. I was delighted at the idea of berries and plum - maybe I had something more along the lines of Midwinter's Eve in mind - so Blood Countess took me by surprise when it had a spicy, carnation-like note when I put it on. After a few minutes, the berries and gardenia came out, blended with the spice note that I can only guess is the opium. While the blackened plums sweetened this scent after a bit, it's not a sweet scent by any means. It's bold and brazen woman all the way; a real "I'll get what I want when I want" sort of scent. Regal and commanding, but lush and beautiful at the same time, it has a very commanding and almost haughty presence. There's an opulence here that reminds me of Old Venice, although the scents aren't the same. Since Old Venice is a favorite, and this has the same kind of power and grandeur, I'll definitely be purchasing a bottle.

Beth is sooooo good with roses! Kurukulla is indeed a wet, light rose. It's not cloying in the least, and the liquid tones of the lotus make this fresh and gently sweet. If the description hadn't had lotus listed, I would have pegged this blend as having pear, it has such a juicy, fruity tone. While it's a clear and fresh scent, I don't think I'd call Kurukulla a spring-time scent, in spite of the roses and lotus. It's elegant and lovely enough to wear any time, and for any occasion.

Since I usually read scent descriptions for notes that do or don't work with my chemistry before making a purchase, I'm delighted the Lab threw this imp into my order. The lack of description usually moves a scent towards the bottom of my to-try list, and that would have been a shame. I know the notes in Ahathoor, I really do. They just blend together so beautifully that they're very hard to pick out, and I feel like a heel for not being able to better discern them. Since I can't resist trying to figure them out, I'm going to peg the light, almost delicate wood note as balsam. It's hard to tell with the Egyptian Amber, which delights my nose but always confuses it - it has such a sweet, liquid quality to it, and the balsam is dry without being dusty to me. There might even be just a drop of heliotrope in this Ahathoor, because it has that sunny citrus velvety tone that I associate with heliotrope. The idea of Kyphi incense flickers across my nose every now and again, too, but it's also something that I think would have to be one of the minor components, if it's even there at all. Ahathoor is symbolic of noontime sun, but it feels very much like summer to me, for some reason. It's a very striking and warming scent, but not because it's warm in and of itself. I haven't decided on a bottle of this, but only because I already have a giant bottle of Tarot: The Sun that I adore. I'm going to go through the imp and see what I decide about this decidedly wonderful scent.

I love lavender and tobacco individually, so I thought I'd be delighted with Gaueko the moment I opened the imp. It took me two tries to warm up to it, though, and I'm still not sure it's a scent I'd purchase. Maybe it's because the lavender never really smells like lavender to me. Gaueko is a blend from the moment you open it, and I had in my head that the lavender would be loud and clear, as it tends to be in most fragrances. It was definitely interwoven with the sandalwood, though, and seemed a bit "off" because of it. After about three minutes, Gaueko doesn't smell like lavender at all. It smells like absolutely wonderful incense has been lit and is combined with pipe tobacco wafting through the air. It's not masculine so much as it has a manly sort of strength, with just a sparkle of light and freshness created by the lavender I was looking for earlier. The nag champa really centers and propels this blend through its stages, and it's got a warmth and fullness to it that's surprisingly sexual. I've been into heavier scents lately, probably to warm my scent receptors in this cold weather, and I'm still considering Gaueko to fill that niche. The scent smells wonderful on my fella, but when I put it on, the lavender takes a faintly feminine twist that doesn't come out on him and appeals to me.

We got an imp of Grog in our last order from the Lab, and I opened it for a sniff before all the others. Oh, this is fabulous! Edible in it's coconut rum splendour, it's got a distinct "booziness" to it, which I absolutely love. I wouldn't wear it out when I expected heavy traffic monitoring by the highway patrol, because I have no doubt I'd be walking the yellow line having my breath tested - it's very authentic in its alcohol note. I love butterscotch, but rarely enjoy butterscotch-like scents, as they smell very artificial and overly sweet to me. Grog isn't like that at all - it's creamy, coconutty, and just what I'd want in a shot glass. I was surprised when Matt turned up his nose at this one, but I've no doubt he'll love it, in time. He'd better, anyhow ... this is a definite purchase for me!

That melange of scent that comes from a bag of assorted hard candies in the fruit flavors? Akuma! From reviews, I expected this to be sticky-sweet, but it's not. It's more like squeezing fresh fruits, or if you were dropping these three into a blender for a fruit smoothie. Very bright and very clear, without a hint of artificiality. While I'll probably save it for spring or summer, I'm putting a bottle of Akuma on my "buy a bottle of this when you have some extra money and nothing left on your can't-live-without" list. The softness of sherbert without the cloying sweetness is absolutely wonderful.

Dracul didn't originally sound all that appealing to me, because the description includes cloves, which I usually can't abide. The imp I got from the Lab was a very pleasant surprise, with fir and balsam - which I love dearly - right on top. Mingled with the warmth of tobacco leaf and what I pegged as red musk because of the fruity touch, it's sexy and much lighter than I expected. Perhaps the orange blossom has more of a citrus note than a floral one this time around, because Dracul has a decidedly citrus quality on me. While I never detect the mint in this blend, I also don't get the cloves. It seems that they must be just a tiny part of the recipe, and I'm delighted, because it means that I'll be purchasing a bottle. Dracul has wonderful staying power, and it's never overwhelming; it did, however, result in three people who were within a foot of me to ask what wonderful perfume I was wearing. It definitely has an edible, but not foody, quality to it.

I'm surprised at my impression of Harlot, because it wasn't what I'd expected to get out of three roses and a touch of cinnamon. First applied, Harlot is straight roses. Gorgeous, full-bloomed, overblown roses - complete with leaves and broken stems, like in Tarot: The Empress. In about 15 seconds, though, I get that fabulous indescribable powdery note that I so love in Unseelie. Absolute elegance, let me tell you - Unseelie dribbling off of rose petals! While the Unseelie note was the big surprise, and a delightful one, at that ... I'd forgotten about the cinnamon. When it started to peek through, I was surprised again at how well it worked with the other components of Harlot, and I was even more surprised that it didn't take off at a gallop and overwhelm the rest of the fragrance. It truly must be just a dribble, because it's such a "just peeking in for a moment" note in this scent. I like Harlot. In fact, I like Harlot a lot. I think, though, that I like Harlot because of the similarity to Unseelie, and that it might be better suited to my rose-loving mother. If I purchase a bottle it will be for her, and I'll stick to my beloved Unseelie - but don't let that keep you from trying what's another of Beth's amazing rose creations!

Succulent pineapple mellows into a soft, smooth flushed-skin scent. I don't usually do well with the musk scents, so I'm not the best at identifying them; I'd only venture a guess that there might be some red musk in this, which to me seems fruity and sweet in its warmth. This wasn't anything like I was expecting, and I had Black Annis in mind as a similar scent, so I put off testing this one way too long. I'm really looking forward to the official scent description, because I don't think I'm close on any of the notes other than the pineapple. I'd certainly consider a bottle of Baba Yaga, but I think I'll keep trying out the imp to make up my mind.

I think LaLisa may have been right - fennel smells likely as that mystery note under the waves of gorgeous lavender in Baku. I'm a huge lavender fan, and while I can understand that it likely seems astringent to some, I have to tell you that Beth uses one of the mellowest, smoothest, most round lavenders around. Too often lavender products are painfully bitter, sharp, and acrid, while this one (as well as the single note of French Lavender) is beautifully done. I've always thought of lavender as a cleansing scent, and since I need to cleanse my mind of all the thoughts jumbled up in it if I'm going to get any sleep, it always seems a natural to me for calm, clear, untroubled slumber. I can see how Baku would put me to sleep and keep my mind clear of anything that might cause a nightmare.

I'd put this one off for a while, thinking it would be sweet and ... well, young. Young as in something I'd put on my three-year old, who loves scents almost as much as I do. Lolita is absolutely vibrant and smooth - like a drop of champagne spilled on velvet. While the lemon verbena is a big part of the flowery citrus quality, it's got that rich, furry, decadent heliotrope note supporting it and weaving in and out. I love the orange blossom in here, too - one of my favorite white florals, because it's kind and gentle and not overblown, which many of the white flowers seem to me. All in all, the notes blend beautifully, and this is the kind of scent I can see worn at a wedding or for some elegant spring or summer event. It's fresh without being "clean" and "breezy", if that makes sense, and to me, it's a beautiful rendering of womanly warmth and soft skin. Not the longest-lasting of Beth's amazing scents, but definitely one I'll be ordering a bottle of - and not for my little girl.

As soon as I sniffed the imp of Neo-Tokyo that the Lab sent with an order, I had to order a bottle. The soft, sweet grassy note of the bamboo - more leaves than stem for me - and the crisp, clear, dew-laden blossom that gives this a transparent sparkling feel are an amazing combination. While I wish it lasted a bit longer, that's just the way it is with some of the lighter notes out there. Dry down has me thinking of elegant, expensive designer guest soaps that are so good they don't smell like soap. I have an instant picture of Neo-Tokyo as the perfect scent for a formal evening in the springtime, and I think it wil be a good fit for crisp, cold, snow-laden days that almost seem to have no scent of their own.