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Beth had two single notes in lavender, although one was never on the site; I was lucky enough to get an imp of both the French and Bulgarian lavenders long ago.

The French Lavender is what I think of as "standard" lavender; it's crisp and the more astringent of the two. It's the note in Arcana and most of the other blends containing lavender.

For those who think lavender is a sharp, rather medicinal smell, French Lavender is probably the one they're referring to. Although that pungent, camphor-like feel fades away in five or ten minutes, I've had friends who weren't lavender lovers tell me that was the part that really put them off.

Beth's single note in French Lavender is the best I've tried. Yes, it has that pungency that comes with French Lavender, but it's much less sharp than many other lavender essential oils. Her single note also has wonderful staying power after that part fades away, so the herby floral goodness that's the best part of lavender lasts, unlike other versions.

Lavender's a widely available scent, but this single note stands out. Rich and full, it's the best of what lavender should be.

My family immigrated from a village just outside of Prague that's now been absorbed by the city, and I was raised on stories about the Moldau and the beauty and culture of Prague. It didn't hurt any that crocus is one of my favorite scents, so naturally I ordered a bottle unsniffed. I was delighted to find an imp in my order that just arrived, but I should tell you that it's got me anticipating the bottle I ordered even more than before.

To be honest, I wasn't sure what I'd think of this one. Snowdrop is a little white flower, and since I don't know exactly what it smells like, I was worried it would be a "white floral," which I'm not all that fond of. The lilies worried me a little bit, too; stargazer lily is crisp and leans toward that "white floral" tone, as well, so this could have turned out to be a headache-inducing scent for me.

Don't hesitate for a second to try Prague. Of the lilies, calla (the lightly sweet and rather fruity one) is the predominant note. Mixed with the other lilies, a touch of honey, and the lighter-than-saffron spice and dewy pastel green of crocus, Prague is fresh, clear and incredibly representative of spring.

I still don't know what a snowdrop actually smells like, but I wonder if Prague's not-quite aquatic feel comes from this flower. Imagine yourself sitting in a patch of crocus and lilies alongside the Moldau River, with the sun warming a late spring breeze off the water, and the "not-quite aquatic" thing may make more sense.

Sunny and juicy, full of flowers without smelling "floral," Prague may be the perfect spring and summer scent, even if you normally live for resins and incense.

For something completely different than the notes you've listed, there's La Belle Dame Sans Merci. It's very green, in a leafy-grassy sort of way, and very much a "power" scent to me.

Magdalene is orchid, rose, and tea; it's warm and bright at the same time, and has a softly commanding feel.

And Sea of Glass is beautiful beyond words. It's cool, sparkling, and truly crystalline. It's one of my all-time favorites, with the exception of staying power. I'm just going to have to give in and reapply or make a quick perfume spray, because it's time to be wearing it again.

The nice thing is that a) it's so much fun testing scents to find the right one for you, and no matter what BPAL scent you choose, chances are good no one else is going to come to work smelling the same!

You might try Zephyr ... to me, it's a combination of clean laundry out on the clothesline and the flushed-skin scent of making out. Ms. MSGirl review said, "I would recommend this as a "clean" scent for people who don't like florals, and a way to wear vanilla for people who don't like blatantly sweet and foody smells."

Szepasszony is bright and fresh; it doesn't melt into a skin-like scent, but it's not floral, foody, or incensy. You might check the reviews on that one and see what you think.

Have fun finding just the right one!

I can't believe I just wiped out my whole review. Lucky for you, it means you get the condensed version, rather than my usual rambling.

The individual notes in Nemesis sounded so good I couldn't resist. So many good things, this is bound to be wonderful. All I got when I put it on, though, was soapy wood - ack! The wood doesn't even smell like balsam on me. Some days I hate my skin.

Okay. I admit I wasn't rational about the scent at first. I hated the idea of Nemesis ending up on the "Scents That Broke Your Heart" posting, because I soooo wanted to love it. I managed to take a deep breath, sit back, and give it a couple of minutes before sniffing again.

Thank goodness I have that tiniest bit of patience. While I'm still soap and wood, the fig and dried rose have made an appearance. Sweet and juicy, this is a much nicer combination with the soapy wood scent. Mellow, clean, and lush. This stays for quite a while, and I figure I'm just not going to get the other notes out of Nemesis; they're mostly "top" notes, and would have come out in the early stages of the scent.

There I go, thinking again. Ginger suddenly jumps out at me, sharp and biting. There's a creamy white floral to the blend now, although it's much kinder and gentler on me than jasmine or ylang-ylang. Oddly, the two balance each other out and give this an edge and a softening simultaneously. Very nice, actually.

In the end, Nemesis goes back to soapy wood on me - and mostly soap, at that. It didn't have the best staying power on me, either (which was probably a good thing considering what my body chemistry did to it), and it's definitely a bottle I'll swap away. In spite of that, I'd recommend it. There are such gorgeous ingredients in this, and it's such a hit for other reviewers, that I know it just has to be my body causing the problem.

Out of the bottle, Intrigue is heavy on the wood notes. My skin seems to like the dry wood scents a bit too much, and as a result, I'm learning to stick with the blends that are light on these. I had hoped that seeing them at the end of the scent description meant there were less of them, but it may be that my skin has amped them up more than they're really in the mix.

I wasn't a fan of Beth's single note in fig, so I'm surprised at how much I enjoy it in Intrigue. It adds a sweetness that mellows the wood notes out beautifully, and lets the cocoa shine through. All in all, I smell like an edible piece of old wood - and that's a good thing.

I'm not sure what black palm smells like, but there's a waxy undertone to Intrigue. It's not artificial, but it's very much like the scent my hand-dipped tapers give off when I light them. It's an interesting note, and whatever it is, it seems to work well with the other notes in here.

In the dry-down, sandalwood seems to be the prominent note. By the time this is in its final stage, I have a slightly figgy sandalwood, and nothing else. I always hate to say that one of Beth's scents isn't for me, but Intrigue is one of them, sadly.

First on, Rage is all amber and rose geranium. The Dragon's Blood heats up this liquid, bubbling scent, and it's all bittersweet warmth.

Oh, but there's the jasmine. Jasmine and I don't get along, as it always gives me a headache, but there's hope for Rage as it's still fairly light. The mandarin is slight, but creates a bit of tartness, and the black currant's syrupy sweetness lifts the scent and liquifies it even more at the same time.

Damn the jasmine. I thought the Dragon's Blood and amber were going to win out, but my skin picked up the jasmine and went wild with it. I know have herbal, soapy white-floral headache in a bottle, and that's a shame, as Rage was turning out nicely until the jasmine went over the top.

I think that this would be really good on those who a) like jasmine, and want a smoldering scent. If it had stayed that way on me, this would be a keeper.

My list of piney scents includes Jabberwocky (definite eucalyptus, but so, so good!), Old Dublin, and Black Forest. It seems like Beth tends to use pine and sharp greenery smells for the Yule LEs more than anything.

Dracul is heavy on the fir and balsam - it's gorgeous. Great outdoors, but a different sort of forest. Might be worth a try, though.

It's too bad the single notes have been discontinued. The white pine bark was amazing, and probably just what you were looking for. I know, that wasn't a lot of help, but you never know if someone has an imp of it they'd swap you for. Never hurts to put it on the Wanted lists.

I'm not a ginger fan, and scents heavy on the ginger (Siren) are just not for me. Even knowing this, I took a chance on Suda Segara - that's the spelling on my bottle - with high hopes for the mellowing effect of the milk, honey, and ambrosia.

Much to my surprise, they did just that. While I can't actually smell milk and honey individually, this is a fresh scent with a moderate edge to it; it's creamy and soft at the same time that it has a bit of bite to it. I have no idea what ambrosia is, but I wonder if something in that note has a hint of white wine in it.

Halfway through the drydown, I got very excited - for five minutes or so, Sudha Segara smelled like one of my favorite commercial scents, Botrytis, which is very autumnal and has notes of honey, candied fruits, quince, and white wine. I was soooo excited, because I'd rather wear one of Beth's amazing scents than anything else out there.

Before long, though, Sudha Segara moved past this stage and into a warm, comforting honey lotion-ish smell. There's a little edge to this, but no bite left. It's nice, in a "slather-yourself-with-foody-lotion-and-head-to-bed" sort of way.

Unfortunately, that's just not what I'm looking for in my scents.

Sudha Segara has some great moments to it, and even the ones that aren't amazing are still nice. The scent has good staying power, moderate intensity that isn't overwhelming, and a warmth reminiscent of snuggling under the covers on a cold fall morning. If you like gently foody scents, comfort scents, or honey, you're in for a treat. Even those who aren't fans of ginger will probably enjoy how subtly it enhances the other notes in this scent.

I love iris and coconut, and while the soft/sweet/tangy/not nutty scent of hazelnut isn't one of my favorites, it was towards the end of the components list, so I had to give Black Pearl a try.

Putting Black Pearl on, I'm surprised at the aquatic feel of it. Sure, Beth talks about the sea in the description, but she doesn't list any aquatic notes. They're present, though - gentle and swaying and something you could get lost in.

The iris doesn't make much of a statement on me - I know it's what anchors this scent, but it's supporting cast, as is the musk. Occasionally I get a whiff of soft peppery powder (not baby powder, but something ground fine and dusty), which is the same thing that happened when I experimented with a drop of florentine iris and hazelnut from my stash of single notes. Add the coconut in, and you have a beautiful contradiction of the aquatic notes, the creamy sweetness of the coconut, and that interesting dusty - sandy beach? - combination.

All in all, Black Pearl is fabulous. Almost as important in my book, it's interesting. Aside from BPAL fans, I'm not going to run into anyone else wearing this, and in fact have gotten several questions about what I'm wearing when I have Black Pearl on. It's a soothing scent, and I love that wearing it all day allows time for a few disquieting flashes of the iris and hazelnut combination, just to keep me on my toes.

Black Pearl has good staying power, solid intensity without ever being overwhelming, and stays close enough to me that I can smell it while still having just the right amount of "throw." If you haven't tried it already, it's worth purchasing an imp to slather on yourself and see what you think.

How could I have missed reviewing Old Dublin? I've had this scent for ages, as I ordered it as soon as Beth sent me an imp to try, and it's just gorgeous.

When I went to put a drop on for review purposes, Old Dublin chastised me for leaving it to sit for so long. Even though I didn't tip the bottle, I had oil running down my wrist - it just jumped out of the bottle and onto my arm. I had intended to get a little spot of scent to work with, but so much came off the top of the bottle that it ran from the left side of my wrist all the way to right side. I'm sitting in a small cloud of Old Dublin, feeling for all the world like I'm deep in a morning light-filled forest.

It's amazing what the forest greenery does to the white rose in this scent. Rather than smelling green and flowery, I smell crisp and winter berry-ish. The rose gets morphed into an underlying floral sweetness, and it's very much a background scent, but it combines in such a an interesting, alluring way.

How Beth managed to work the scent of fog into Old Dublin, I have no idea. I'm suitably impressed, though, and there's no denying the damp, misty feel of the fragrance. God, but she's maestro (does that include the feminine?)!

If you like Mistletoe, Yuletide, or even Skadi, you should give this a try. In fact, if you like the crisp spicy greenness of the outdoors even the tiniest bit, Old Dublin should be on your list of scents to experience.

Tiger lilies are one of my favorite flowers, so I couldn't wait to see how Beth's Mad Tea Party version turned out.

The one thing I don't like about lilies is the cloyingly sweet smell they get after they've bloomed fully, and since Beth's single notes in calla lily and stargazer lily capture the peak of the flowers so perfectly, without any of that overpowering sweet ... well, stench, to me ... I had high hopes for Tiger Lily to do the same.

There's a definite whiteness to Tiger Lily for me. I'd guess that Tiger Lily is a combination of calla, stargazer, and maybe a drop of carnation to get the spicy note that you get when you stick your nose down into a brightly colored lily. It's wonderful - it really does have the snap and crackle of a tiger lily - and the honey note is a nice complement, too.

I was worried the honey note would push this wonderful floral back into the too-sweet stage I mentioned before, but there was no cause for alarm. In fact, the honey gives Tiger Lily a softness it needs - the scent is very vibrant, very "bam!", in Emeril-speak, all while retaining a gracious, classic scent feel before the honey comes out - it blurs the edges a bit and gives it a heat-wave shimmer that pulls the intensity of the scent back and forth. The honey gives Tiger Lily a chance to be fun, flirty, elegant, over-the-top, and subtle all at once.

As seems to be the case with the "lighter" florals - I don't mean intensity so much as I mean their place on a scale, top to bottom, of scent .... picture vetiver at the bottom and apple blossom or dandelion towards the top, if that helps make sense of what I can't explain well - Tiger Lily gets soaked into my skin very quickly. It has beautiful throw and fairly strong intensity while it lasts - in fact, this small cloud clinging close to me is exactly what I like my scents to do - it just doesn't last more than about 45 minutes. I even made my mother, who can smell ridiculous small things across the room, sniff me, and she thought I'd just had a shower and was trying to fool her into finding a perfume I wasn't actually wearing.

It's only the lack of staying power - on me - that makes Tiger Lily a swap-away.

This is such a pretty scent - it's light, it's lovely, and very aquatic without losing the feeling of spring flowers.

Tulip - oh, yes. Not that cloying and artificial scent B&BW used to make, either. Transparent and full of the green freshness of spring, this is goooood tulip. I don't get much out of the peonies, but I have a wonderful mental image of ivy climbing a brick wall by a pool, complete with fountain.

Old Amsterdam is flowing. It's not what I'd call a blue scent, because in spite of the liquid feel, it's more like crystal clear - and very cold! - water in a small pool or duck pond. It's more of a colorless aquatic; invigorating, with glints of light reflecting every time there's a breeze to make ripples in the water.

I wish this had better staying power on me. My notoriously dry skin soaks up scent, but Old Amsterdam was literally gone in the time it took me to write this review. If I were going to wear it, I'd have to buy a 10 ml. and use half of it making lotion and a spray of the scent so I could layer. I don't know if that would get me four hours of this wonderful fragrance, so in spite of the beautiful blend, I'm going to pass on this one.

After reading other reviews of Ingenue, I went back to my bottle and re-checked the label. Okay, it says Ingenue on it, even though it smells nothing like that. Guess I'll take it for another test drive.

How odd. First thing out of the bottle is sandalwood. Moderate, but no question that sandalwood is the main component of the contents of this bottle labeled Ingenue (yeah, I checked it one more time). There's nothing else to do but sit and scratch my head, so I wait.

Sandalwood.

What on earth?!?!! So I wait some more.

Sandalwood.

About the time I'm ready to give up on this mystery fragrance (a good five to ten minutes), it changes. It doesn't do this gradually, either, it just up and melts, like butter in a hot skillet. Ingenue is suddenly soft brown grass waving in an autumn hayfield, with the lightest, flickering floral note that's a tiny bit starchy. Water lotus, which took a trip to the local greenhouse/landscape company to confirm (winter isn't the best time to find it floating around in water gardens). Remarkably delicate for such a sweet and - I don't know another word for it - starchy scent.

It doesn't take long for the water lotus to fade away, and when I'm about to say that my chemistry doesn't let the melon or rose scent come through, a faint, warm white melon note does indeed peek out. Even though I'm not getting the full showing of this scent, this changes things drastically. I have a perfect picture of a little girl growing up in the country, stretched out in the pasture on a blanket, reading with her chin in her hands and her toes pointed to the sky.

While I love the water lotus and melon that make very quiet entrances and exits, and I enjoy the dried field grass scent, in the end we go back to ... sandalwood. My chemistry barely lets the melon or rose come through, although it does a wonderful job with the grass notes. In the long run, my body chemistry turns this into something other than what I was looking for.

Side note - I put a dab of this on my mother, and she smelled like a fairy garden - riots of soft flowers, bright green springtime, a hint of sweetness, and fresh, gorgeous cantaloupe, of all things. Barely a hint of wood or dried grass notes. If only I could swap my body chemistry away, instead of this bottle!

Out of the bottle, Black Widow is sweet red wine and roses. They seem almost too sweet together for the first couple of minutes, but luckily the red wine backs off a bit. If the old-style bottle and label on this scent didn't give it away, the fact that the wine note doesn't turn sour on my skin is a sure sign it's Beth's original wine note, rather than the new one.

When the red wine backs off, it doesn't disappear. It gives a very lush, fruity feel to the rose in Black Widow, and keeps the jasmine at bay. Oh, this is heady stuff - I can't discern the sandalwood or patchouli as individual notes, but they must be what give this rose scent such texture and richness beyond the florals.

It really is a riot of half-opened blooms.

Black Widow is really lovely, and my skin brought out the rose note more than anything. I'm absolutely delighted with Whip, though, and don't wear rose scents often enough to justify multiple bottles. This was my rose scent before Whip, though, and if you can get your hands on some, it's well worth a try.

Light and clear, Queen of Hearts is springtime in a bottle.

Oh, this is beautiful! Think dewdrops sparkling on a open white tulip, and you get an idea of the easy, breezy, and very graceful feel of Queen of Hearts.

Lily of the Valley always seemed a bit insipid to me, but combined with classic lily - I would have pegged it as stargazer lily, because of the sweet, almost fruity tone to it, but I guess that credit goes to the drop of cherry in here? - this is like a delighted little girl twirling and whirling with her arms out, dress belled out around her, and her face to the sun. It's just ... it's so ... unabashedly elegant and innocent, all at once!

I love the contradiction of haughty and heartfelt all at the same time. Queen of Hearts is even more impressive if you know that I'm not a huge fan of floral scents - and this is one I immediately bought a bottle of.

The only downside to this scent is the lack of staying power, at least on my thirsty skin. Reapplication was mandatory in about two hours, but Queen of Hearts is well worth the effort.

I hate to say that Morgause and I don't get along. The description is so beautiful, and I love both violets and incense, so I expected this to be a favorite.

Those night-blooming flowers killed me. I mean, they're gorgeous, and they're silvery-white, and this is truly a beautiful scent. Its just that it sends sharp pains through my head when I smell it.

Now, keep in mind that "white" flowers (jasmine, magnolia, carnations, ylang-ylang, etc.) and I notoriously clash. It's not that Beth doesn't use the most fabulous distillations of them, it's that sharp pain through the forehead thing. There are obviously one or more of those scents in Morgause, and they come out in full force at the first application of the scent. Oddly, this is a GOOD thing, because those of you who love those white florals can delight in Morgause; my headache is proof positive.

The scent mellows as time passes, and there's a creamy softness to Morgause that's feminine and mysterious. The violet I love so is more of an accessory to the night-blooming flowers, but it gives them a weight and, at the same time, a wispy-ness that's enchantingly contradictory.

Sorry I can't tell you anything about the incense or the fruit. I've sniffed all of Morgause I can manage, and I haven't found them yet, so you'll have to do it on your own.

Saint-Germain, once I got it on my skin, was a revelation for me - this scent is a "wowser!" as my mother would put it. The lavender note just out of the bottle led me astray.

I had no idea that carnation and lavender could combine like this. It's such an interesting and beautiful blending that I really had to think about what the notes might be. With the green touch of moss, I felt like I was in a grove of lime trees for just a minute.

Dry down is just as surprising. The lavender asserts itself a little more, and the carnation fades into light spice, but this isn't a floral scent. It's amazing how crisp Saint-Germain is, considering the liquid warmth of amber - and this is definitely a scent with heat.

Incredibly masculine. Incredibly refined and masculine. I wish this worked as well on my other half as it works on me, but he and I get very different vibes from lavender. Very nice, and very well worth the investment of a bottle if you like to share BPAL with the man in your life.

I do much better on scent recommendations when I'm at home with my spreadsheet in front of me, so I may edit this post and add a couple of other ideas in later ...

I just tried Gaueko, and out of the bottle I would never have suspected how gorgeous this dries down - beautiful incense. There are a couple of others that did the same thing for me; I'll look them up for you tonight.

ETA: Okay, now that the spreadsheet is in front of me, I'd say Black Lotus, Cathedral, Serpent's Kiss, Old Sybaris, Scorpio, and Mars. They're all incense-y, but in different ways. Hope this gives you some options!

I'm coming off of a search for just the right rose, now that Whip has crossed my path, and tea roses have never been my favorite of the bunch. Tea roses are what I expected from Havisham - white and yellow and pink in a wedding bouquet - but they're not as crisp and, well ... uptight? as I thought when I sniffed out of the bottle.

Havisham is a more open, slightly faded rose. Not dried rose, but a tea rose that's bloomed and moved past its peak to that slightly rumpled, droopy stage. It makes it much softer and more nostalgic than other tea rose scents. There's an interesting complement of citrus that I wouldn't have pegged as lime; my nose can't sort it out of the roses, but I would have guessed orange blossom, with an emphasis on orange zest, and a bit less on the blossom.

This is a straightforward scent - not lots of layers, and moving in its simplicity. There's not much that's more "all my eggs in one basket" than a wedding bouquet, and a wedding is something that moves half the audience to tears, in part because of that simplicity and promise.

Impressions are all about the person getting them, and I have to say that Havisham doesn't make me think of Miss Havisham; it's not bitter or hard enough for the woman she is in my mind. The scent, however, is soft and flowing and truly lovely, and the impression of a wedding bouquet is firmly entrenched for me.

You know, I was going to buy a bottle of Whip for my mother, but now I'm not so sure.. She loves rose scents, and while I got her a bottle of Rose Red again, Whip is a completely different kind of rose.

Rose Red is a perfectly crisp tea rose. Whip, on the other hand, is huge red roses, dozens of them in vases around the room, all fully bloomed and starting to droop. They're heady and almost over-ripe, and they are simply gorgeous.

The leather never shows itself fully to me. I know it's there, because there's a heavier note to the rose than it would have on it's own, but it's never obvious. Don't think saddles or leather gloves - think of a very, very good german leather briefcase with suede inside, and stick your nose into it. Hold your breath long enough to grab one of the roses in the room, and breathe in one more time.

Whip is all about the rose, but this is a woman's rose, not a girl's. In fact, it's a lover's rose, vibrant and full of passion; no rosebuds here, but wide open, fully bloomed, and just past their peak after a gracing the hotel suite of a lovers' reunion.

This is the rose scent that I can wear. Not innocent, not springtime in a bottle, but big and bold enough to match my Scorpio intensity, any time of the year and for any occasion.

I ordered Manila thinking the banana leaf would smell like greenery and not bananas - which I absolutely despise; texture, scent, color, flavor, the works - so I shuddered when I opened the cap and smelled ... yep, bananas.

Thank goodness I give all the oils a try. I steeled myself for some serious difficulty writing the review, but luckily, there was no need.

The banana smell was only from in the bottle. When I put Manila on, I very quickly had a delectable starfruit impression - tropical, lightly sweet, and the faintest bit of tartness. Slick, with water droplets still on the skin from washing it, and very juicy.

I have no idea what some of the notes in Manila smell like on their own, but I can tell you that they combine beautifully. It's interesting to me that Manila is such a marine scent - not just wet, but marine - without any salt, water, and especially that air-freshener note that commercial scents classified as marine often have. This is sitting on a beach, watching the waves roll in and eating fresh fruit from a local market, while the sun goes down.

Striking, perfect for summertime, and even more perfect for the days you need to slip away from the stress of everyday life and feel like you've gone back to that beach resort where you spent your honeymoon or spring break.

I'm a fan of iris - Hiris was a favorite in my pre-BPAL life - and the combination of iris and berries was too much to resist. I went straight for the 5 ml. of Florence, and I'm delighted that I did.

When I first put it on, Florence is all iris, with a distinct earthy note. Beth's single note of iris always smelled to me like it included leaves, root, and flower, so it's no surprise to me. It's not the heavy earthen and root-like smell of vetiver, more the scent of dirt clinging to your gardening gloves as you plant bulbs; subtle but grounding.

It doesn't take long for the berries and amber to wind their way into the blend, and my expectations for the berries are met and exceeded. They're a bit tart and very juicy, and when you add the warmth and liquid tones of the amber, you have a scent that's out of this world.

Spices aren't dominant at any point in this scent, at least not on me. They're very much a background note, and they get melded into the amber and heighten its effect. When I let my mother try Florence, the spices and amber turned baby-powderish on her at this point, so that may be something to consider if you know your body chemistry plays that particular trick with those notes.

All in all, a fabulous scent. Not the full-blown grandeur of Old Venice, but all the expensive richness of it. Florence is about luxury, heady and obtained at any price, with only the finest and most lush in texture being good enough. For me, Florence was about texture, where Old Venice was about color - the difference in velvety purple iris petals and softened, candle-warmed amber versus bright lemons, red currants, and the most vibrant of flowers.

I have a feeling I'll go through this bottle very quickly, and will have to re-order.

Oh, how nice! Chiroptera is exactly like a summer evening spent in the middle of a flower garden, with all the scents swirling in the air as it cools with the setting of the sun.

I love the lemon balm in this, and it's one of the first scents that waft off my wrist. Honeysuckle is a beautiful complement to the lemon balm because of its sweetness, and the thyme rounds things out by anchoring the components together.

In a roundabout sort of way, Chiroptera is like Cheshire Cat. Cheshire Cat is one of my favorite scents, and only partially because it sends little bursts of individual notes to my nose throughout the day. Chiroptera doesn't have the intensity or staying power of Cheshire Cat, but it does the same little scent bursts up while I'm wearing it, like bubbles floating past my nose and popping to release the single notes. I love it!

There's not a lot of lavender in here - I imagine it would overpower these softer flowers - but what there is gives Chiroptera a bit more backbone. It's still soft and glowing; the scent shines like a reflection of water in mist and moonlight.

Really lovely, and with good staying power for so many light, subtle florals. Not what I would normally wear, but I'm very glad I bought a bottle. I'll wear this one a lot in the coming spring and summer months.

On me, Queen of Diamonds is heavy on the pale flowers. Very pale, perhaps like a diamond with the faintest of purple tint to it.

The mandarin warms up with a few minutes of wear and takes this down a notch, making it pale flowers in an orchard. Sweet, and reminiscent of bees buzzing in my grandmother's orchard in the late springtimes of my childhood.

The rose and orchid come through not long after the mandarin appears, and the rose is a much softer, subtler rose than I expected; misty scented, like the Sterling rose is in color. Orchid gives a creamy sweetness that I hadn't been expecting, and makes Queen of Diamonds a bit more lush and exotic than the initial application suggested.

As much as I love this scent, Queen of Diamonds loses out to my skin chemistry and becomes a cross between a commercial floral perfume (a damn good one, I might add) and bathroom air freshener. I'm going to keep using the imp to see if it changes over time, but at the moment, I'm not putting it on my list of scents to get more of.

I love the pale silvery-lilac color this leaves in my nose!