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If anyone is familiar with the Etro fragrance Messe de Minuit, can you recommend a BPAL oil that might be similar?  The notes in M de M are incense, myrrh, amber and vanilla.

Thnx.

Yep, familiar with it, and nope, nothing like it at BPAL that I've found.

 

Liz over at Underground Scent Plant is working on a dupe of the fragrance (should be available any time now), and she does a great job with things like that ...

Jolly Roger will get you the sea and salt air, Pele is tropical blooms, and I'm told that Tarot: the Star is a gorgeous coconut.

 

I can't think of any that combine all those notes, but you might get imps in the three scents and see how they combine!

Great list, Ambrosia!

 

I'd recommend Villian and Vicomte de Valmont. I love De Sade and Jolly Roger, but the Villain and Vicomte were scents that I just couldn't get enough on when they'd been applied to man-flesh.

 

Both were *truly* drool inducing.

 

I get goosebumps just thinking about how good Vicomte smells ... ooh!

I'm not usually a fan of honey, but that's apparently because it hasn't been Beth's version.

 

Wearing this amazing scent, I picture her forcing an entire beehive into a Willy-Wonka looking machine, which chugs and chugs and suddenly spits out bee-shaped capsules of golden gel ... it's because I get a sense that this isn't just honey distilled, it's honey and honeycomb.

 

I love the pale, flowing pastry-ness of this note, and I'm thrilled to know what adds the delectable note to blends that have honey in them, but no spice - even though I smell a definite powdery spice that's not otherwise describeable.

 

There's no question why the Lab has such fabulous blends - between their expertise and the fabulous individual notes Beth creates to blend with, we're geting nothing but the finest. Another winner!

Since I love the smell of peppermint tea, which is really just peppermint leaves minced up and put into a bag, I couldn't be happier about this single note.

 

So bright, so crisp, Beth's peppermint is just luminous - there's no sweetening or muddling caused by the heat of tea-making. This really is the scent of mint leaves rubbed between your fingers, and it's chilly and refreshing.

 

Fabulous!

This single note is sooooo good! It's better than a regular pear, I have to tell you - it's sweet while still keeping it's tang, and it has none of the sticky sugar syrup of a canned pear.

 

Not yellow and overripe, but pale yellow-green with just a hint of blush on the skin of this pear.

Azazel went on my skin in a beautiful start; lemongrass, with its sweetness tempered by lavender. I'd never thought of how well this pairing would play off of each other, but they're incredibly complementary.

 

It doesn't take too long for the bay leaf to poke through, and this just gets more and more spa-like. This smells so much like - and yet so much better than - the spa at Beaches Resort at Providenciales in Turks and Caicos, British West Indies. When the sage adds itself to the mix, there's an exotic wood-green feel about it.

 

Unfortunately, after I'd had this on for a while, my chemistry gave it a metallic tang; I'm going to try it on my mother, who gets completely different results out of everything she tries that I pass along.

 

The tension rolls out of me when I sniff this one, and I can't tell you if it's my association with a week of massages and snorkeling or the scent itself. Azazel's not a scent I would consider overly masculine, but it's definitely about effortless, defiant, and overwhelming beauty.

Shollin nailed the new Hellfire; brandy, leather, and the smoke from a pipe. It's such a creamy blend, too - the leather really does this strange, but absolutely gorgeous, smoothing of the scents.

 

The ambergris comes through after a bit, and this mellows Hellfire even more. It's a decadent, sated smell, and it's enchantingly disconcerting because of it.

 

I'm not usually a leather fan, so this one is on my "perhaps" list. I don't think I'll let go of the imp, though, as this is intriguing and a definite possibility for repeated wear.

This is my 4th order since May 17th.  I must be love sick.

Don't feel bad, Red Hot Mama - the giant update updated with limited editions updated with lunar scents and goodies has led me to a record FOUR ORDERS IN SEVENTEEN DAYS.

 

I could justify and tell you it's not as bad as it sounds, and that three of them have been fairly small orders, and that my mother has discovered Old Morocco and had to have some, but there's no point. In my recent quandry regarding whether to keep working full time while going to school, or to go to school only and with excessive hour permission, having money for BPAL was in the upper middle of the prioritized list of things to consider before making a decision.

 

I am such an addict.

 

And damn it, I'm delighted to be!!

Here's exactly what I think of when I look for a lily note - sweetly crisp, with just a hint of white floral lushness; perfect, and without teetering on the edge of being overblown and sickly (bouquets of lilies seem to go from perfect to wilting so very fast).

 

Very, very nice, and the elegant, pearl-wearing, grown-up sister of Calla Lily.

Calla lily surprised me, because I didn't realize it would be so very different from stargazer lily - which is what I think of when I see "lily" in a description.

 

Instead of that classic lily scent, Calla Lily is sweeter and almost fruitily floral; much more like the delicate and unusual tone of orchid than what I was expecting. It's fantastic as a single note, and so luscious and clean that I'm going to buy a bottle for everyday wear.

If you go to your spice rack and open the container of ground black pepper, sniff the dry, super-fine black powder that seems to separate itself from the pepper and cling to the side of your shaker.

 

That dry, black-pepper-but-stronger scent is exactly what you get from the single note; this scent is dead-on. Dries down to a light, intense, and unique fragrance that's much better than you would expect it to be as a stand-alone; definitely worth a try!

Regan comes out of the vial and onto my skin with a sweet, faintly powdery, and almost spiced vanilla that's vaguely familiar and completely enchanting.

 

The vanilla isn't the same vanilla that's in Snake Oil and some of the other blends; this is a more tropical scent with less of the edible sweetness. I'm not familiar with the scent of stephanotis, although I'd guess it's what's providing the faint powdery crispness underneath it all; the orchid is an arching stem absolutely burdened with purple blooms, sweetening the brown velvet of a fistful of vanilla beans with delicate strength and a juicy tone that's not fruity.

 

Regan's beautiful in the manner of a woman who's intriguing, attractive, and just different enough from the usual crowd to stand out a bit, but doesn't realize it - which makes her even more attractive.

 

It'll be a big bottle of this one for me.

Pastel fruits drenched in morning dew - the white grape, white peach, and pale yellow pear are gorgeous and delicately sweet. The petals are blended so well that a single note is hard to identify, although the sweet pea seems to be the most prominent, and the dew figures prominently into this scent - it really sparkles in an aquatic, dripping, and slightly breezy way. In the end ... actually, from about the first thirty seconds on ... Titania is one of the most "melded" scents I've tried; the individual notes are almost indistinguishable, and the nature of the scent is complete and otherworldly.

Titania is a hidden garden grove of common fruits and flowers, but so much better than the "everyday" that they seem unreal in their perfection. Glittering with moisture graced to them by a presence you can't quite comprehend, the fruit and petals are at the single instant of being exactly ripe and full-blown, and you're stumbling across a moment of perfection that wasn't meant for we lesser mortals.

Light, intense, and ethereal.

On the Lab's website, back on the contact page, there's the following e-mail address:

 

Wholesale Inquiries: wholesale@blackphoenixalchemylab.com

 

This might be the best way to check in with Beth and the Lab about the possibility of selling through your store; I don't see any additional info on the website about the subject.

 

On a side note, this looks like it was your first post, Subboo - welcome to the madness, and thanks for spreading it around in your store!

Daffodil, with a hint of dandelion, according to my nose, although white flowers are mentioned in the description. Absolutely the scent of sitting on your porch during a thunderstorm and smelling the battered flowers in your flowerbed give off their perfume; cold wind and rain that makes you snuggle deeper into your covers in early spring is definitely present, as well.

Clear, yes, and aquatic - not harsh, though. Dry-down was softly vicious, and utterly wonderful.

Frankincense. No, fig. No, cypress. I can't decide which of these is foremost in the blend, which coincides with a description that includes "chaotic". There's a lot more fig in Nephilim than I expected, although it's highlighted by the opposing texture of the frankincense and a subtle herbal note that's a combination of hyssop and just a touch of rosemary.

Nephilim is nice. It's not stellar in the category of Kali, the Kindly Ones, and Aizen-Myoo, but it is good. I feel a little unkind for saying that, but considering the company it keeps, I think it's accurate. For now, I'm keeping this at an Imp, and will save my purchasing possibilities for some of the others that are higher on my must-have list.

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.

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>

From the Love Potions collection:

 

 

The Queen of Sheba is absolute luxury without the taint of utter decadence, and the golden honeyed almonds lead off the scent as a sign of this. Sweet, heady, and with a green-red jumble of peppercorn and golden saffron whispering through like flowing silks, she warms to amber and maybe the tiniest drop of sweet wormwood without ever really moving completely over to them.

 

In the end, I'm resplendent in a soft envelope of faintly sweet spice that's a bit of Haunted and a bit of Old Morocco. Although I don't smell any in this scent, my mental image is one of honey enhanced with these wonderful things, as this doesn't have the dryness of Old Morocco; it's almost fluid in its insistent whisper.

 

Moderate strength and staying power, fantastic wafting power off the skin; this one is a definite purchase for me.</span>

<span style='color:black'><span style='font-size:9pt;line-height:100%'><span style='font-family:Georgia'>From the Sin and Salvation collection:

 

 

I expected something much more ... stridently green .. than Dissipation turned out to be. I'm so glad to be disappointed, as this is another fantastic newcomer by Beth.

 

Wistful and soft, the ivy in this is beautifully set off by the hint of wine and the fuzzy, dry poppy. I don't smell any sassafrass in this, but Beth did say it was a sliver. The wormwood really is "sweet", and it lends a poignant, refined wooden tone to the whole of the scent.

 

This isn't the least bit harsh, and it's more the scent of a memory so strong you can smell it - or can you? - when you close your eyes and feel the early summer breeze on your face. </span></span></span>

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.

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.

From the Sin and Salvation collection:

 

 

Prefaced with a reminder that my chemistry typically has problems with jasmine; you may want to take this into consideration, or even disregard, my review unless you have a similary tendency.

 

Orchids. Roses. Oh, and now the amber's starting to warm up and make itself known. <sigh of pleasure>

 

I can't believe that I've had this on for five minutes and the jasmine hasn't clawed its way to the top to generously give me the usual headache. The magnolia took a while to make itself known, but when it did - divine white blooms that smell big enough to cover a dinner plate, and transmitting almost effortlessly a sense of velvety petals with berry-coloured hearts.

 

Complex and definitive, Black Dahlia turned out to be about the orchid, magnolia and amber, rather than having jasmine and rose take the lead. I'm not sure how Beth managed, since those two scents tend to dominate blends quite easily, but this a different kind of floral than we typically see.

 

I'd consider a bottle, but can guarantee I'd use the whole imp.

Damn it. I just waxed poetic about this scent, then somehow managed not to submit the post. You'll have to suffer through the re-posted version, which is never as good as the first one.

Prefaced with a reminder that I have funkified body chemistry in the areas of jasmine, ylang-ylang, and musks; so funkified, you may want to totally disregard my reviews of scents with these notes unless you're the same way.

That stated, Tisiphone is fantastic, even on me.

Creamy, biting neroli lifted by a heady white floral that can only be oleander, and ylang-ylang that sweetens and intensifies the southern flower-garden I keep sniffing on my arm. The black patchouli seems to be missing in action, as I never once get a sense of it.

I am surprised ... well, amazed, if the truth be told ... at how contrary this is to my usual scent preferences, and how lovely it is. It's tough and bold, soft-skinned and curvy, brash and delicate all at the same time.

I'll be ordering this one, which I'd put up there with Ophelia and Unseelie as atypical florals.