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Envelop yourself in the soft, sensual embrace of gentle sandalwood warmed by cocoa vanilla and a veil of deep myrrh. The cocoa vanilla is quickly lost in the overpowering sandalwood. If the sandalwood and cocoa vanilla could balance each other, with the myrrh just biting into the sweetness, this would be stellar. Sadly, it's not. Like pencil shavings and melted chocolate mushed together in the very dirty palm of a grade school boy.

Sweet pea with stargazer lily, calla lily, heliotrope, honeysuckle, white musk and a touch of fresh pear. Sweet pea and honeysuckle leap out of the bottle, and are quickly joined by the splash of pear. The white musk and heliotrope really anchor this scent, which is so light and feminine with all the white flowers, and keep it from having that soapy note that sometimes sneaks into fragrances with all those florals. The stargazer lily is least identifiable to my nose, but the calla is definitely there as the drydown continues. Sweet, but not without backbone. Classically romantic and feminine.

Named for the ambitious, vengeful poisoner Catherine deMedici, who used perfumes to perform her dark deeds. A sinful blend of orange blossom, rosemary and rose... allegedly the exact perfume she utilzed in her work. The rosemary jumps out first, with the rose close behind; within a couple of minutes they're perfectly balanced on my skin. The orange blossom takes a little longer to appear, and never really separates itself from the other two, as it seems to be the tie that binds and blends in this one. My very first perfume love was (you're not going to believe this) Estee Lauder's Private Collection. Brash, overbearing, chemical green in a bottle! Catherine is all the things that were good about Private Collection, like the crisp clarity of scent demonstrated in the rosemary component. It's also so much better it's hard to imagine, with the rose and the orange blossom creating a soft, feminine overlay. Fist of steel in a velvet glove, I believe the saying goes.

The essence of faith, love and devotion: lilac, lemon, green tea, wisteria, osmanthus, white cedar, and Chinese musk. Lilac and wisteria sweeten and soften this scent, which is a tiny bit spicy - something I wasn't expecting. White cedar shines through, while green tea and lemon make this sparkle like the gaze of newlyweds looking at each other across the room, after a few minutes. I have no idea what osmanthus is or smells like, but I have a feeling it's what's given me the soft ... fluffy? ... feeling about the scent. Soft, with strength and sentiment.

A shot of pure, self-indulgent euphoria! A scent that is very, very wicked in its own way: the serotonin-slathered scent of pure milk chocolate. This is practically a single note, because it is indeed milk chocolate. I say that it's practically a single note, because my nose thinks there's just the tiniest bit of caramel in this, too. It's hard to keep from licking myself while I wear this.

A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. Limited Edition; December 2003. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has been outdoing themselves with the limited edition scents lately, and this is a sterling example! This is an airy, crisp, barely floral that is warm and soft, all the while making me picture the first snow and the sharp, clean scent that accompanies it. I know warm and snow don't sound like they go together, but let me assure you that they do! My all-time favorite. I wonder if Elizabeth would consider keeping some of the limited editions based on customer response ... I'd e-mail daily on this one.

Venerable Victorian Tea Rose… twisted, blackened and emboldened with wickedness. I found this one to be lightly rosy, but in a crumbling, dried rose sort of way. Add in a sputtering fire from the alleyway; a bit of wet wood. Not too sweet, with an musty earth smell under it. Wore well throughout the day, but without turning into an overpowering or cloying tea rose scent. Nice!

Beautiful, radiant daughter of Demeter... her loveliness was so exquisite that even Hell itself could not resist her. Pomegranate and rose. Persephone is a crisply sweet rose scent that drew RAVE reviews from the guys in my office. It was hard to keep a straight face while guys ten years younger than I tried to explain to the student worker in the office how feminine and *juicy* she smelled, all while I'm standing at the copy machine three feet away and being the actual culprit. She got four dates out of it, so it'll be a repeat purchase for me, and perhaps a birthday present to her!

From the Funereal Oils collection: An allegorical expression of the ineffable, indisputable triumph of death, generally expressed in medieval artwork as a violin or flute-wielding skeleton leading a procession of dancers to their graves. Black cypress with oakmoss, frankincense, oude, and a sliver of toasted hazelnut. Out of the vial, this seems sharp and not all that promising. Long ago, though, I committed myself to trying any and all BPAL that came in front of me, so I dabbed in on, anyhow. The frankincense is the more bitter, resinous note I'm used to, and the oakmoss provides a grounding, earthier tone for it. There's a slight astringent note that quickly warms and blends, and it's reminiscent of a drop of juniper - and a little drop, at that - I don't know if that's the oude, which the internet tells me comes off of the aloeswood tree. This dries down to warm wood and light, and the barest touch of soft hands on the back of your neck. Subtle, relaxed, and full of inevitablity, Danse Macabre would have me snuggling up to a man who wears it, and I'd wear it myself, although probably not often enough to use more than an Imp.

An ancient, free-willed race created from the essence of Fire, much as man was created from Earth. They prowled the land at night, vanishing with the first rays of dawn. Myths surrounding the Djinn paint them as many things: benevolent champions of mankind and slaves to mad sorcerers, malicious incubi / succubi and energy vampires, or malevolent harbingers of madness and disease. The Djinn are ruled by Iblis, the Prince of Darkness, who bears unspeakable contempt for man. The scent of black smoke, of crackling flames, and smoldering ashes. Out of the vial, Djinn is sharp and acrid, much like stinging, eye-reddening smoke feels. I have no idea what the notes in this one are, but they're familiar and disturbing to me. I don't hesitate to tell you that, while not the smell of a campfire or woodsmoke, this IS the smell of destruction a fire leaves after it's consumed all it can. When I was a child, just before my seventh birthday, our home burned to the ground. Djinn makes me think of the look on my father's face as we walked through rubble that was still smoldering on the concrete foundation of our house, and the eerily pleasant scent of melted metal that hung in the air around what was left of the washing machine. That said, it's also the defiant scent of transformation and renewal. It's not unpleasant, as my imagery might lead you to think - Djinn dries down to the cold October air filled with flying bits of burning paper and other cinders, dry autumn leaves burning sweetly in the melee, and the combination of soot and soap on my mother's skin as she shivered in her bathrobe and we watched our neighbors run in and out of the house with whatever they could save. In the end, this scent has the character of ashes rubbed between your fingers; so smooth and velvety you keep rubbing a pinch between your thumb and forefinger, entranced by the texture and motion.

From the Bewitching Brews collection: The essence of magickal enigmas and long-forgotten esoteric mysteries. Frankincense, rosemary, lavender, neroli, and verbena. Before my life was what it is now, I had a jar full of herbs and incense that a friend had given me for safekeeping, in what is a long and for this avenue, unrelated story. Arcana, though, transports me instantly to unscrewing the grey metal lid of that jar and breathing in the fading, drying scent of a beloved friend who I couldn't be with in spite of us both desperately needing each other at that time in our lives. Lavender and rosemary, softened by the creamy neroli and pale verbena, are almost edible in their lemon-herbal splendour here. Frankincense, which I usually find bitter and dry, gives this an airy but powerful top note that is somehow the support for all these bright, resonating herbs. No medicinal quality, as you might expect from lavender and rosemary, and an unexpected gentleness that's powerful while still seeming to echo from far, far away.

An agricultural gargoyle. Though he is the Guardian of the Crops and Keeper of the Fields, his visage is still the stuff of nightmares. The scent of a hot wind blowing through desolate, scorched, barren fields. This up-and-coming scent is still listed as a work in progress, so the Imp I received with my order may or may not be what it turns out to be when it's released. At first, Scarecrow reminded me of cleaning my stove while it's still hot, but accidentally spraying some of the cleaning fluid too close to the burner. Absolutely a scorched, wet-turned-dry, and harsh smell when first applied to my skin. After a moment, though, Scarecrow is a slightly disturbing, oddly comforting blend of desiccation and dried grass - I can easily picture the stubble of a harvested crop, dried husks blowing across a Dust Bowl era field, and ground so thirsty it can barely offer its scent up to the stuffy-guy standing watch over it. Half an hour later, this is soft and light, but with a definite presence. It's golden, but not in the limpid sense of Aureus or dusty in the wooden sense of Seance. I'm used to Oklahoma's red clay and the black earth of Nebraska, but this is the faded, sun-dried, and cracked yellow earth landscape of Roland Deschain in Stephen King's Gunslinger series. I started out thinking I wouldn't be wearing this regularly, but I can't stop sniffing my wrist. It's going on my to-order list, without question.

A bright, bittersweet scent honoring the Japanese Deity of Love and Passion. Aizen-Myoo is one of the vidyarajas, the Shingon's Radiant Kings of Wisdom. Though Aizen-Myoo possesses the lust, grace and passion of both genders, he most often appears to his followers as male. His face is screwed into a fearsome demonic mask, but this is only the wrathful, fierce countenance he places over himself to guide and empower his children. Aizen-Myoo is the patron of prostitutes, of joyous, unbridled sexuality and of all forms of erotic love and is worshipped by all those in the sex industry, musicians, and - oddly - landlords. Yuzu, kaki, and mikan with cherry blossom and black tea. Bright, joyous, unbridled - these are perfect for Aizen-Myoo! Crisp, sharp, glorious yuzu - think peeling a grapefruit, tangy and vibrant, and smelling the pith and juice after you stick your thumb into it ... but even better - and a distinctly clear and softly sweetening tea note. Aizen-Myoo jumps off of my skin for the first few minutes, and as the citrus notes begin to recede - never fading away, mind you, the cherry blossom starts to emerge, as does the faintest tinge of campfire smoke. I want to bathe in this all summer long. God, this is beautiful! It's like a diamond, in that it has brilliance, depth, clarity, and that undeniable appeal you're powerless to resist.

"And yet a restless, always unsatisfied craving for the nudity of paganism," she interrupted, "but that love, which is the highest joy, which is divine simplicity itself, is not for you moderns, you children of reflection. It works only evil in you. As soon as you wish to be natural, you become common. To you nature seems something hostile; you have made devils out of the smiling gods of Greece, and out of me a demon. You can only exorcise and curse me, or slay yourselves in bacchantic madness before my altar. And if ever one of you has had the courage to kiss my red mouth, he makes a barefoot pilgrimage to Rome in penitential robes and expects flowers to grow from his withered staff, while under my feet roses, violets, and myrtles spring up every hour, but their fragrance does not agree with you. Stay among your northern fogs and Christian incense; let us pagans remain under the debris, beneath the lava; do not disinter us. Pompeii was not built for you, nor our villas, our baths, our temples. You do not require gods. We are chilled in your world." Along with Loviatar, she has become something of a 21st century Patron Goddess of all Dominatrixes. While Loviatar is the Goddess of Pain, Wanda govens Control. She is the breathtakingly beautiful sable-wrapped marble queen of Sacher-Masoch’s fantasies. Her scent is a deep red merlot with a faint hint of leather, sexual musk and body heat over crushed roses, violets and myrtle. Wanda goes on and warms up in exactly the order Beth provides in the description. Juicy purple-red merlot, then the distinct leather note that insinuates itself into the blend before you realize what it's doing ( and doing beautifully); there's no question that Wanda smells like sex underneath it all. How she manages to convey heated, flushed skin, I'll never know - but it's there. The floral scent in this is so faint it's almost not to be found; it's like the intensity of Wanda overshadows them (the myrtle's the only one that I can consistently find, and that's holding my wrist to my nose, breathing deeply in and out, and searching out a floral note). The dry down brought me an interesting combination of the faintest rose along with the wine and leather, but that was after having this on for quite a while. On me, the violet wasn't even discernable. While not familiar with Wanda in the literary sense - albeit not for long, now that my curiosity is piqued! - I can see her being about control from what this scent offers. There's no stopping this woman from getting what she wants, as she's intense, charismatic, and has no hesitation in using her womanly wiles to ensure her wishes are met. [/color][/font]</span>

A potent, enticing love formula, favored among Louisiana courtesans. While I absolutely love BPAL, this one wasn't my favorite. Blended from an original voodoo recipe, it's distincively herbal but dries down to a warm, mossy green scent. I have to give it a thumbs up on the results, though - I am lavished with attention when I wear it.

Grants courage under extreme conditions, helps overcome fear of death, and strengthens the fortitude of artists and businessmen, enabling them to further their goals. Cloves stand out in this for me, but are blended with a subtle herbal scent that seems to have jasmine, as well. Pleasant, and unobtrusive, even with scents that I don't usually like. So closely intertwined it's almost impossible to identify individual notes, but definitely uplifting. NOTE: This review is for the BPAL Bewitching Brew. If you're looking for the Twilight Alchemy Lab oil of the same name, those reviews are here. --Shollin

Whimsical, temperamental, radiant and ravishingly beautiful Goddess of Volcanoes, Fire, Lightning and Dance. She is the Mother of Eruptions and the personification of destructive power. Volcanic eruptions are said to be a side-effect of her jealous rages and her epic quarrels with her siblings are legendary. This perfume embodies her gentler, benign aspect as the capricious Goddess of Dance: muguet and Hawaiian white ginger enveloped by warm, damp tropical blooms. This up-and-coming scent is still listed as a work in progress, so the Imp I received with my order may or may not be what it turns out to be when it's released. Absolutely stunning, Pele is the embodiment of Hawaiian florals. White blooms carried by the armful up a volcano slope, they're gently dusted with pale yellow pollen that leaves them with a pale golden sheen. I'm guessing Hawaiian white ginger (pikake), a touch of hibiscus, and wisps of plumeria. Soft, creamy, and all woman. Lush and sensual, she's certainly not the kind of woman you'd scorn. Can't wait to see what this turns out to be; even though I'm not a fan of white florals, this tropical gem is definitely on my to-order list! [added official description ~qs]

Lightning slashing the midnight skies over the endless reaches of the ocean. The electric tang of ozone, marine notes, and a drop of sharp rain. Clean, crisp, and yes, electric. Out of the bottle, I was afraid this was going to turn into one of those scents that people put in the middle of toilet paper rolls, but it's beautifully blended and doesn't get "perfume-y." Tangy salt air, flowing water, and oomph.

A light, pure scent: white musk, green tea, aloe and lemon. White musk, green tea, aloe, and lemon complement each other in an absolutely sparkling, clean and lively scent that makes me want to find a really good homemade lemonade recipe. It doesn't smell like lemonade, mind you, but is fresh and invigorating like a cold glass can be in the hottest part of the summer. Perfect for warm-weather wear or any time you need a perk-me-up!

Brings peace to the spirit, a sense of calm and fulfillment, and attracts the aid of beneficial spirits. This is the embodiment of the color green. It's a flowing sort of green, like tree leaves rustling in the wind or water barely moving in a lagoon, and it's a warm sort of green - herbal, but not really, and it's a solid sort of green, with the strength of a field where kids are running through a field chasing fireflies, breaking stalks as they go. Go easy applying this one. It's soothing, but it's stout. It's really a (sorry, fellas) single drop in your cleavage kind of oil, and that lasted me for hours. Definitely brought me peace and a sense of calm; I was facing three exams and a major project in the course of 18 hours, and I was able to stop, re-focus, and relax my shoulders to more than 2 inches below my ears, all within five minutes of putting this on.

A dizzying eddy of four teas brushed with light herbs and a breath of peony. I may have found my signature scent. For me, the Dormouse is fresh green apples, with the juice of a ripe peach splashed all oved it from one big, messy bite. Perhaps a little fig, too, although the fig note Beth uses doesn't always register with my nose as such. These are such a perfect blend, without being bubble-gummy or fruit-baskety. Definite dewy greenery, too - maybe dandelion? Clear, with a crystalline lustre to it - almost vibrates on my skin. I am basking in this one; I can't wait to find out what the ingredients are and to be able to order a full-size bottle! EDIT: Added Lab's new description and moved this to Mad Tea Party - it's official! --Shollin

Arabian musk with two roses and a bevy of Middle Eastern and Indian spices. I always shunned rose scents before BPAL came into my life, but Beth does such an exquisite job using them that I find myself owning tons of oils with rose in them. Othello is no exception, but I love it because of the way it doesn't really smell like roses. Beth's going to kill me for this, but ... Othello is the ultimate version of my laundry fabric softener and dryer sheet. Mind you, I looked for years to find just the right one; after all, it's what you smell when you go to sleep on clean sheets and what you smell when you put your clothes on in the morning, so I was remarkably picky. Othello's crisp with such soft, clean lines - yes, there's roses, and yes, there's spice - but they combine into something that stays light and fresh without ever being "foofy" or soapy or overwhelmingly floral. It's not a superficial scent, either - it has a strength and depth of character, as well. I know this was designed as a "guy" scent, but I'll be wearing it all the time.

A paean to all the Wicked Queens, Evil Stepmothers, and other misunderstood villainesses throughout history and lore. Lends an aura of majesty, refinement, strength, and a deep, brooding malice. A sophisticated, womanly scent: rich myrrh and jasmine draped in the subtlest rose. Just a hint of rose, draped like a mantle over regal jasmine. Bitterness is evident in the snap of myrhh, and the whole picture is one of a strong, wealthy woman intent on revenge. The jasmine never goes soapy, and the rose sweetens as a counterpoint to the bite and depth of the myrhh. In just a couple of minutes the individual notes disappear and the combination is locked together, radiating from my skin in epicurean waves.

A celebration of the Bone Church of Prague. Frankincense, rosewood, lily, and geranium rose. Immediately frankincense and lily, Kostnice settles into a surprisingly cool wood and green bouquet smell. The lilies are the more dry, almost powdery classic lily scent, and the rosewood is complemented by the green, slightly herbal note of the geranium rose. To me, this is much more the scent of a church than Cathedral is.

A commanding, dominant oil that increases sexual magnetism, creates an intense and irresistible air of attraction, and amplifies potency. Sniffing this out of the bottle, I was sure I'd come across a strong, Southern, white floral. I put it on, and much to my surprise, the first whiff was of moderately chewed Bazooka bubble gum, with just a tang of cinammon underneath. Hmmm.... Five minutes later, the cinnamon is more predominant, with jasmine, herbs, wood, and smoke creating an abolutely fascinating aroma. 30 minutes later, the cinnamon is fading and a sugared bourbon vanilla is emerging, along with strengthening jasmine. It's not too strong, it's not too overwhelming, and it's oddly not as "pushy" as I expected. It is most assuredly a scent that embodies "getting others to do what you want while convincing them it was their idea all along."