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Orris grabs my nose first, but it's quickly overcome by the sparkle of grapefruit and the sweetness of plum. Very quickly, the orris recedes into the background to become a supporting note, and it takes Megaera from having moderate depth to a very complex and strong character.

Although it takes a while, the bergamot offers up its distinct tones, but they don't last long at the forefront. Suprisingly, the grapefruit lasts longer, and the plum stays with me longest of the fruit notes - all of these borne on the soft-as-fur shoulders of black amber, which makes this sultry and just the tiniest bit petulant.

This is such a warm, fruity scent - think of Jester all grown up, completely womanly, and pal-ing around with Old Venice part of the time; that will give you the basic idea of Megaera, but she'll have to be tried for you to really understand her.

With a complete opposite in the fruity greenery of raspberry leaf setting it off, cedarwood is the middle note of this scent that never ends up smelling like a cedar tree. Olive leaf has to be the crisp green note that makes me think of sweetest green grass - it has just a hint of astringency- and this clear, striking scent has just the tiniest drop of vetiver to anchor it, as it's all but unnoticeable here.

These blend so beautifully, and so unexpectedly - and they mellow into a perfect blend that no longer has individual notes. Alecto is fascinating and inspiring, and there's no doubt I'll be ordering it.

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.

Out of the vial, I thought this was going to be an earthen, brown scent. On, it's nothing of the sort. The lilies are absolute gems, sparkling and delicate, and they have that crisp, almost powdery fruity sweetness that lilies seem to give off before they're overblown. They're delicate, but distinct over the cypress (I couldn't tell you what oak smells like, so I can't tell you if it's in here) that's so beautifully woody. This wavers back and forth between the lilies and a bark note that's reminiscent of cinnamon - not red hots cinnamon, but the soft, faded, gorgeous red that's in Mercury and the Lion. Now that I think about it, this could indeed be the scent of from the middle of an autumnal leaf pile, raked into a mound and waiting to be bagged up.

Overall, Ulalume has solid staying power, and the unique sweetness of the lilies holds sway over the gentle wooden notes with delightful, ethereal beauty.
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I am going to be so embarassed when I find out what's actually in this one; it'll be one of those "smack-yourself-in-the-forehead" moments, because I *know* these scents. If Beth didn't do such a good job of blending them, this would be much easier.

My first impression was a drop of chocolate, a mystery floral that shouldn't be a mystery, as I've smelled and reviewed this note, and touch of cloves. I mean it when I say a touch of cloves; I really have to search to identify it before my chemistry shoves it into overdrive, but it's enough to throw me off the track on the floral note, which I'm beginning to suspect is frangipani.

Tranquil and soft, like an old shirt you've worn soft ... but better. There's peace and contentment in this, with a hefty dose of depth and disconnection blended in. Subtle, with strength and nobility.

I can tell that this is going to be soapy, but it's a very different soapy than any of the other scents have been. Clean, but aromatic.

 

Just a drop of anise, perhaps? This dries down soft and with an herbal note to it that I'm not familiar with - it's green, but it's pale green, and with an edge that isn't citrus but has some of the pith/peel characteristics of a lime.

 

I can't remember if I have this on my to-purchase list; I'm going to have to go back to the spreadsheet and mark it as a maybe. A second try will be a necessity to make a decision on this one, as one minute I adore it, and the next I crinkle my nose.

I don't know if I got a prototype or the final version, but my imp of Cathode is very different from Shollin's. Heavy on the spanish moss, it's a barely-minty version of Tears.

 

Dry down is a sweeter, more "round" version of the same, and it remains very aquatic.

 

It's lovely, mind you, and I won't be disappointed if the bottle I ordered comes smelling like this or Shollin's version.

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.

Going on, this is sweet, ripe blackberry wine, sultry chocolate, and pipe tobacco. No pun intended, Kali is absolutely divine. Honey, lotus, and balsam all show up as this warms up and settles in, and while it sounds like this might be a heavy scent, it's not.

 

Kali is flowing, deep, and sensual - think midnight offerings on a pool of water, illuminated to bare shapes by flickering candles bobbing on the surface of a slow-moving stream that's been showered with petals of all sorts. It's also rich, lush, and delicate - the blooms in this, along with the blackberry/wine note, mean it has wisps of exotic fruit and flowers that flit past your nose like they're on the breeze.

 

There's a complete cycle to this scent, though, as it's grounded by the palest wood note, balsam, and the velvet of tobacco leaves. These create such depth, and such anchoring for the other notes, that they may be the best balance of notes I've encountered in a very long time. This blend is complete, perfectly matched within itself, and an absolutely triumph of scent.

I just saw in Brian's post that you guys are moving the Lab tomorrow - I had no idea you were so far along in the process with the new store! I'm so glad he mentioned it, because it really gives us all an idea of how many things, in addition to keeping up with orders, you guys are juggling.

 

The early-May/mid-May thing was a big help, too, Nella - thank you for the info.

 

I'd never thought about add-ons and the chaos they must create; I mean, it's one thing to find out that your order disappeared in transit and to have the replacement combined with something you had ordered in the meantime - but it's another to just add to an order after a couple of weeks have passed. I've always considered separate orders separate orders, unless I realize pretty quickly that I missed something or goofed the order; I guess I just assumed that if I didn't contact you guys within ... oh, 48 hours or less ... that it would stay in the queue where it was and be processed as such. I imagine that none of us would mind a 48 hour rule, especially if it helped you guys get things out with less stress on your end.

 

Thanks to all of you for taking such good care of us. As much as I love Beth's scents, the great service is a huge part of my repeated purchases, and I appreciate your work more than you know.

There's almost nothing left for me to say on Malediction - every one of the previous comments covered mine, aside from trying it with Black Rose and the fact that Malediction had great staying power (if not a ton of "throw") on me.. The faint and gorgeous lemon pith note teased me all evening, too ... yum!

 

Be sure to try this one, on your skin, and give it just a bit time to mellow. The scent you get by sniffing the vial is not indicative of what you'll end up with, and the ingredients don't turn out at all like you expect them to.

 

Definite purchase, in spite of having left this till the end of my "try-em" list. Don't make the same mistake I did and leave it till you've gotten the rest of your wishlist - if you don't like it on, you'll love it as a room scent.

Something about the sweetgrass in this bothers my nose ... it just doesn't seem to fit in here. The lily and rose are a wonderful combination, and I even like the drop of juniper that's in here - it's very faint, so don't be discouraged if you're not a juniper fan; it's needed here to give that cold, crisp texture to the florals - but for some reason, the more I sniff my wrist, the less I like the herbal note the sweetgrass provides.

 

When I first put this on, my nose was able to separate out the sweetgrass, and I really, really like what Sepulcher is without it. After a few minutes, though, I can't keep the notes separate (and let's face it, the exquisite blending of scents is one of Beth's many amazing talents), and I have to take this off my list for possibility of future purchase.

 

Definite presence, though, and austere and cold are accurate descriptors.

Sparkling citrus and mint, with the faintest hint of something bitter and light anise. Stunning first on, and for the first little while.

 

After about 15 minutes, though, this switched completely to anise, without any other notes coming through to my nose. The depth and vibrancy Absinthe had originally seems to have completely vanished, much to my dismay.

 

I've never had absinthe, so I can't tell you how true this might or might not be. I will say that if your chemistry allows you to keep that first, fleeting impression, I want to sit next to you on the bus, please!

Mine doesn't have descriptions, or you'd be welcome to it. It's on my to-do list when I actually have a half-day to do it in.

 

Besides, you don't want my comments on how they smell on me.

Heliotrope and sparkling citrus notes are what I get. No cinnamon or spice note for me, but I love this one.

 

It's light, it's orange-yellow, and the warmth of heliotrope (named for the sun it moves to follow across the sky each day) makes wearing this scent like sitting in a pool of sunlight on an early autumn day.

 

By the way, when I say it's light, I don't mean that it doesn't have "throw" or intensity. This is lush and complex, with distinct presence.

For those of you who like dark, earthy smells, Torment might be a good one to try. The vetivert - which, when used in fragrances, can get very strong very fast - is remarkably moderate when given a few minutes to settle in.

 

Combined with a hint of sharpness from the bay, this is abyssmal - and I mean that in the sense of the troughs of the ocean. I have a feeling that if you could bring up a handful of mud from the depths of the abyss and bury your nose in it, it would have this other-worldly earthen scent to it, spiked with rumblings from the center of the earth.

 

While I'm not a big fan of heavy or earthen scents, this one would be one of the few I'd wear.

Soft, edible and so, so warm ...

 

After my daughter was born, I finally realized that I was the warm, milky, sweet brown sugar scent I kept looking around for - and I loved the smell, frankly. Dragon's Milk is that same lush, soft, barely-there smell of skin, milk, and body heat combined with the sweet tartness of a cherry icee. It's comforting, edible, and melts into my skin, leaving me nuzzling my wrist for more.

 

Good staying power, in spite of my need to nuzzle around and find it - and for that matter, it's led more than one man to nuzzle my neck, trying to be surrounded by it, too. Sexy without being blatant, and comforting without being overwhelmingly foody. Definite order of larger bottle.

Really lovely. Cedar, but not overpoweringly woodsy at all.

 

I second Thanatopsis Azraelis's review - it really sums this one up for me, aside from the part about me really wanting a bigger bottle.

The eucalyptus is so sharp and clearing in the first few minutes of this, and it's tempered in a soft and unexpected fashion by the violet. When the eucalyptus starts to fade, the mint becomes apparent and it cools the warm, peppery violets in this bouquet.

 

In the end, there's a clear, definitive violet scent that never shows the neroli side to me, but is still chilled and bright because of the mint.

 

Interesting!

Ooh. Not a good ooh for me, either.

 

Definite musk in this, and I have that feral smell plus a bit of baby diaper wafting off me. I want to like this; there seems to be a hint of ginger, plus some soft and wooden warmth underneath the pungent musk smell.

 

This could be great if I could bear the "animal in-heat" tones that are in it, but I think that's more of a reflection on my chemistry's poor reaction to most musk notes, rather than on the scent itself. I wouldn't, however, recommend it to those who don't care for the pungency of musky scents.

Complete with spicy pith and peel, Mandarin Orange is sparkling and true. Delightful!

For me, Georgia Peach is peaches in light syrup, straight from the can. Golden, light, and perfectly true peach tones with just the lightest added sweetness.

 

Another winner from the Single Notes category!

Oh, my, yes! This isn't the watered-down version you find in a Williams-Sonoma cleaning product, this is the real thing. Grab a handful of fresh basil, crush it in your hands, and you've got the same glorious herbal bliss that Beth's distilled.

 

Not foody, but crisp and green and spicily sweet, this true basil is the kind of scent you'd wear to celebrate strength, charisma, and summertime all at once; I certainly will be!

Spreadsheet is updated, purchase list is complete, and I'm so looking forward to the update being official!

 

Two quick questions, though, Beth - Elegy's listed on the "Shiny and New" page at the lab, but I don't see it here. Will it still be coming out at Midsummer?

 

Also, are you ready to announce what the new pricing will be? That would really help me to decide if I need to break my "to-purchase" list into two orders.

 

Can't wait, can't wait!!! This scent whore thanks you from the bottom of her heart!!

Limited Edition, Winter 2003 -

That delicious gingerbread note in Gluttony? This is the original.

Spicy, delectable, and just like walking into your grandmother's house at the holidays, Gingerbread Poppet will make you want to nibble on yourself - or better yet, make someone else want to nibble on you.

Not overwhelmingly sweet or artificial in the least, and very nearly edible; this isn't your craft-store gingerbread potpourri scent. True and yummy!