goth_hobbit

In the bottle: Musk and patchouli, with a slightly bitter myrrh note.

Wet: The amber comes out almost immediately, and something in this is reacting to my chemistry like a leather note. It’s heady, warm and spicy; I get a color association of rich sable and midnight blue.

Dry-down: There’s bit of a powdery note taking the edge off of the spice, but this is by no means a bad thing. Wet, Schwarzer Mond is unbelievably rich, going to my head almost like brandy on an empty stomach. A bit of moderation helps me to appreciate the notes. This is where the musk truly blooms and the zdravetz starts to emerge. The opoponax adds a rich, earthy note ...and I think that I either want this fragrance to artfully ravish me, or I want a specific someone to put it on and do so.

Mature: The scents have blended to the point where it’s almost impossible for me to pick one out from another. The musk is still there, with a little bit of patchouli spice; everything else is a glorious chorus of notes. This is a warm scent; one that I can describe only as large and enveloping. It’s not necessarily a man’s perfume, but there is something unabashedly masculine about the fragrance. It carries the impression of a male of strength and confidence without braggadocio. Throw is on the light side of moderate, and it has fantastic staying power.

The Bottom Line: The sub-description is “the keeper of secrets”, and it truly fits -- because I smell libraries in this scent. Schwarzer Mond captures the scent of book and wood and hard-won knowledge gathered night after night. I will be hoarding this one.

In the bottle: Cool aquatic florals

Wet: The sweetness of the lotus blooms, tempered by the musk and cucumber.

Dry-down: The jonquil, orchid, and mugwort have come out. the effect is a rich, truly dark floral with no bitterness, mint, or earthiness. The cucumber is creating the most amazing effect of a cool, humid, moonless night; the color association is deep twilight green-tinged blue.

Mature: This has turned into a truly twilight scent. The cucumber keeps everything cool and damp, while the florals and musk blend into a glorious combination. I don’t get much from the pear, but the jonquil, mugwort, jasmine, and lotus are more than making up for it. Throw is light, but makes up for that in staying power (six hours and counting!)

The Bottom Line: If Tia Dalma wore perfume, this would be it. It is the absence of light, which does not always mean darkness. It is deep hued and dark, but by no means sinister. This is a feminine fragrance; the scent of a woman who knows her own mind and is confident of that knowledge, and strength without brittleness. I’m entranced.

Huh. I just re-sent an e-mail to Sara, as I didn't get a response from last week's query. I figure that my initial e-mail probably ended up caught in the spam filter.

Has anyone else had troubles sending mail to the Lab from Gmail? I just got a CnS from them that arrived in my Gmail box with no issues, so I don't think it's a problem on my end. I could be wrong, though.

Anyone? Bueller?

In the bottle: Fresh and lemony; reminds me of walking in the shade of a citrus grove.

Wet: The lemon turns to a sharp note of lemon rind, with bitter aloe underneath. Neither the tea nor the musk appears at this stage.

Dry-down: The tea starts to come out at this stage, adding a strange yet lovely aquatic note to the mix. It’s bitter, but not unpleasantly so.

Mature: The tea has come out all the way, with the lemon as a top note and the aloe as an underpinning, but there’s very little sign of the musk. This is very odd; my skin doesn’t amp musk notes, but they usually bloom quite nicely after a while. All I’m getting is a faint, ethereal sweetness, keeping the bitter notes from being too bitter. Throw is minimal.

The bottom line: Embalming Fluid is very much a summer scent to me. On its own, it doesn’t do much for my skin (unless it’s insanely hot), but I can see the potential for using it as a layering scent with certain florals that go a little too fruity for my tastes.

In the bottle: Very sharp and aromatic. Lavender, fern, and more lavender. (Huh; fougere isn’t listed in the blend, but I’d swear I can smell it.)

Wet: The violets bloom almost instantly. I was a little worried, as my skin usually grabs on to the heavier florals – like neroli. Instead, they’re all playing very nicely together.

Dry-down: Mmm. This starts to take on a more masculine nature as it matures. It’s almost aquatic, and very herbal. It reminds me of a post-shaving balm that someone very dear to me used to use, only without the musk. Despite the violets, there’s a very boy-scented feel to this blend. Yummy boy fragrance.

Mature: As it matures, this chypre takes on a wonderful late spring rainstorm quality. You know; late May, blooming violets, burst of fresh greenery, and the warm rain that makes it all smell so wonderful. Aquatic and herbal; just a touch aromatic with a woody bottom note. Light throw. After a bit more time, the musk comes out and softens the scent very nicely.

The bottom line: I love chypre-type fragrances. Buried somewhere in my possessions is an unopened bottle of Chypre from the 1900 Exposition Universelle in Paris that predates Coty’s famous offering by nearly 2 decades. Beth’s interpretation is the best I’ve ever smelled of the traditional formulas. The only problem with having an imp of a discontinued fragrance like this is that I know that getting my hands on more is going to be difficult at best. It’s not an everyday perfume for me, and that’s a good thing, because I’ll be able to make the most of what I’ve got. If Beth ever resurrects this one, I’m grabbing some.

In the bottle: Lush, wet rose with a hint of bitter undertone.

Wet: Instant rose garden bloom. Wet rose garden, at that; one with several dozen different varieties, each of which has its own take on the fragrance “rose” -- after a huge storm that has bruised the flowers and foliage. Just to add some variety, there’s an overgrown gardenia bush nearby, adding its slightly bitter note to the mix.

Dry-down: Deep rose -- I almost want to say damask and china roses are combined in this one, with one of the “mystery” varieties. I don’t know where that gardenia note would be coming from otherwise. There’s an almost oaky bitterness underneath; like old leaves and mulch. Has to be the musk doing something strange. The amber is undetectable.

Mature: More of a bitter bottom note is creeping in, but not enough to throw the fragrance off. Besides which, I like bitter florals; I’m oddly perverse that way. The oak / gardenia / musk / whatever is keeping the rose from climbing my arms and launching an attack on innocent bystanders. And is that the amber finally making an appearance? Maybe; if so, it's coming through like a muted sunbeam through a storm cloud.

The bottom line: Beth should maybe subtitle this one “Leu Gardens Concentrate”, after a park in Orlando that used to be the Leu Estate. It contains a huge collection of camellias, lilies, and an amazing rose that has an entire section devoted wholly to antique and “mystery” rose varieties. That’s what this smells like. Don’t do what I did and slather yourself in this if you amp rose or anything that has a gardenia-like fragrance, or it might go too bitter. On the other hand, it certainly kept people from smelling leftover fresh haircolor smell. Me likes, even if it doesn’t last more than three hours.

Maybe I'm using a broad definition, but I wanted to hit on a number of motifs from the movie:

Mata Hari

Salome

Terpsichore

Follow Me Boy

Queen

La Bella Donna Della Mia Mente

Bon Vivant

Intrigue

Scherezade

Lust

Laudanum

Bathsheba

Brisingamen

Carnal

Debauchery

Desire

Hetairae

Jezebel

Seraglio

Siren

Vixen

Wanton

Hellcat

Bengal

Opium Poppy

Eris would be good for Roxanne, since she took delight in spreading discord. Any other ideas for character-specific scents?

(Edited 'cause I can't tell the dofference between "in" and "is". More coffee, please.)

In the bottle: spicy florals with a musky undertone.

Wet: Mmm. The pepper blooms instantly on my skin, anchored by something green and herbal – probably the laurel. No appearance of the mandarin yet, but I’ll give it time. The richness of the peony starts coming in.

Dry-down: Lily starts blooming as it dries. The sharp note of the pepper has faded into a faint top-note, adding just a touch of spice to the mix. The mandarin doesn’t add much except an impression of juiciness.

Mature: This is lovely; it turns into a dry floral that sticks fairly close to my skin. I find that a more liberal application is necessary than with some other blends, but that’s okay.

The bottom line: Some people I know might dismiss this as a “little old lady” fragrance, but it doesn’t strike me that way. It has the elegance that many high-end classic perfumes try to project without the overpowering throw. ::cough::y*uth dew::cough:: Grandmother of Ghosts works for me as a good, general purpose fragrance for either day or evening.

In the bottle: winey and complex. It’s a beautifully rich fragrance.

Wet: The sandalwood comes up almost instantly, anchored by the darker notes of the ebony and teak. The ozone blooms like air before a thunderstorm, sending little shivers of delight through my nostrils. The wine teeters on the edge of becoming overly grape-y, but settles down quickly. A few minutes later the ivy begins peeking around the edges; climbing up the walls, so to speak.

Mature: Once the leather comes out, this scent does all sorts of interesting things to my, err, more delicate bits. It’s hard to judge the throw, because I’m too busy smelling my wrist and getting all tingly. This blend is supposed to be desolate, but it doesn’t come across that way on me. Instead, it’s warm; masculine, and drop-dead sexy. It’s confident, and maybe just a little dangerous if need be. It’s the scent of going out to the club and dancing with your honey; knowing that a few hours later, that sheer silk chiffon blouse of yours is going to be left in a crumpled heap somewhere in the living room, and you don’t really give a damn.

The bottom line: Many of Beth’s creations give me strong visual associations, and this is no exception. From the first time I tried it, The Black Tower called up an image of Giles, wearing his Ripper-era black leather jacket, sitting at his desk reading a book of arcane lore; a glass of good merlot at his elbow and Cream’s “Tales of Brave Ulysses” on the stereo. It’s rich, complex, and unbelievably sensual; a veiled “don’t screw with me” in a bottle. Wearing it makes me feel about six inches taller, and like I could kick the ass of anything that tried to cross me. Definitely going on the big bottle list.

In the bottle: light florals with just a hint of soapiness, but not enough to be a deal-breaker. I get a color association of pale, just-before-dusk green.

Wet: an instant bloom of florals, crystalline and crisp with lavender, and a lemony sharpness from the balm.

Dry-down: Ooh, there's the honeysuckle. Nummy honeysuckle. The sage adds a lovely spicy note.

Mature: This fragrance and my skin have formed a serious mutual admiration society. The florals blend and morph just like a nighttime garden. Every half hour, something new blooms. Even though jasmine isn't listed, I get a whiff of something very much like it every now and again. It never becomes too sharp, or devolves into soapiness. Throw is moderate, and stays closer to my skin as it matures. Lasting power is incredible: I get several hours from one application.

The bottom line: I've rescued two bats in my life so far, and I've always loved them. They're amazing little creatures, so I suppose that it was a no-brainer that I'd want to at least try a fragrance dedicated to them. It’s Beth’s genius that made me fall head over heels in love with this scent, though, and I wish I had known about BPAL a year earlier so that I could have bought four or five bottles. As it is, I’ll just hoard whatever I can get my hands on. Chiroptera is right there at the top of my list.

Normally, my reviews are much more detailed, but...

In the bottle, I get sandalwood and florals, with a hint of amber. Very classic perfume-y. However, it takes application to my wrist before this one comes into its full glory.

Anybody else remember Ciara? The high-concentrate, 200 strength, department store variety?

This is what Ciara wants to be when it grows up.

Fallen has none of the powdery fustiness of the above-mentioned commercial formal fragrance. There's also none of the gigantic, overwhelming throw that it so often has. Fallen stays warm, regal, and compelling. After an initial wet sharpness, none of the notes becomes predominant; it stays beautifully blended from application to maturity.

It's supposed to be a gender-neutral blend (and I'd love to see what the rub-off smells like on male skin), but on me, it works beautifully. Fallen is a sophisticated, evening-out, hair put up, tickets to the ballet and candlelight dinner kind of fragrance.

Definitely an addition to the big-bottle list.

In the bottle: It's a very sweet fragrance, but unlike so many others, I'm not getting "bubble gum" from it. For me, it's the combination of sweetness and floral that I expect from candied flowers. It's also very light, at least to my nose; too much sweetness, and I'd re-cap the imp without a second thought.

Wet: There's an almost instant sugared floral bloom, with a hint of spicy sharpness. Not cloying, nor very intense. The fragrance is more of a honey-sweet than a white-sugar sweet, with a gingery note that probably comes from the sandalwood and amber interacting.

Dry-down: There isn't much change; the scent gets a bit more "golden" and gingery, and there's just a hint of the myrrh bitterness peeking out to anchor the other notes. It stays close to my skin and doesn't broadcast its presence.

Mature: I have to say, Black Lotus has amazing staying power on me; I tried it yesterday evening, and it still had a lingering presence this morning. What it reminds me of are flower-infused pastilles, as well as a lotus seed paste and ginger candy that my grandparents brought home from Hawaii when I was little. In fact, if you took the lotus seed candy and drizzled honeysuckle water and lotus blossom water on it, that's exactly what it would be like. Not overly sweet, with just a bit of spicy bite.

For me, this is a good general-purpose daytime blend. I wish that I got more of the "sinister" undertones with it that some others have, but there's nothing in this blend that my skin chemistry interprets that way.

A couple of people a few pages back asked if there was a GC equivalent to Chiroptera, and I'm interested as well. Chiroptera is one of my very favorites; I have a partial bottle, and I want to get my hands on more, but I know that it won't necessarily be easy -- or cheap.

Silly me; it shouldn't have surprised me whatsoever that I'd fall head over heels for a bat-themed floral blend...

Dee was one of the ones that I had to try because of my Elizabethan fixation.

In the bottle: Very sharp note on top; not quite Lear's cedar-y sharpness, but very present. Almost off-putting, but I give it a shot anyway.

Wet on skin: Almost immediately, the sharpness morphs into a more subdued note with peppery hints. The rosewood and leather bloom, and ....there's the parchment; dry and papery. I'm glad that I persevered.

Dry-down: This just gets better and better as the tonka comes out to play. None of the notes is overpowering the others. I get the mental associations of esoteric libraries and antique still-rooms: lingering spices in the mortar and well-used alembics. The leather doesn't make me want to pounce on someone the way that The Black Tower does; this scent is a bit too ...dignified for that.

Mature: The incense notes have started to come to the fore, perking up the blend again. The throw is moderate; a bit more than most of the other blends I really like, but not enough to knock an innocent bystander over the head. Dee could easily work as a masculine fragrance, or a feminine one for someone like me who doesn't gravitate towards extremely foo-foo girly-girl perfumes. It's subtle and comfortable.

If The Black Tower reminds me of Rupert Giles reminiscing of his Ripper days, then Dee reminds me of the slightly older Giles. Still sexy, but mature and self-possessed. It also reminds me very much of the Elizabethan room at the J.B. Speed Art Museum in Louisville, where I spent many hours when I was young. It's also what I imagine the Bodleian Philosophy Library might smell like.

Dee is most certainly going on my big bottle purchase list.

I decided to try this one after scaring one of the cats this afternoon with Brimstone.

In the bottle: Almond, with cherry blossoms. Not cough syrup cherry, cherry blossom. An interesting combination of the sweet with almond bitter.

Wet: Huh. The almond, jasmine, and oakmoss combine to create ...chocolate. Good, dark chocolate. Salomé is winning me over already.

Dry-down: Oh, yum. Once the musk comes into play, I get the lovely, incense and smoke combination that had me so intrigued by Brimstone, only without the intense "come any closer and I will kill you" sharp aggressive note that my skin was amping. It's a fire scent to me, but a smoky, small fire with fruitwoods and copal. Something you'd light in a brazier to chase the evening chill away. Warm and inviting, and just a touch dangerous; a femme fatale kind of scent.

Mature: The notes blend into a warm, earthy floral; smoothed out by the almond and anchored by the oakmoss. I could easily see myself wearing this one for a bellydance performance to help get me in the mood. Not a lot of throw, and good staying power. Roughly six hours after, and the fragrance is still lingering close to my skin.

Definitely a keeper, and a good candidate for at least a 5ml purchase.

Well, I decided to try out my imp today -- seemed appropriate, since I'm soldering.

In the bottle: Lives up to the name; I get a flashback of an SCA event where someone decided to light the campfire with charcoal starter and briquettes -- after the wood was added, but before the charcoal / starter fluid scent burned off. This one is going to be interesting...

Wet: Wow. Fire. My skin is amping this something fierce. A teeny dab creates an almost 2 foot throw. Faint hint of sulphur with incense. Fire at a Catholic church.

Dry-down: More of a floral note creeping out, but still very intense.

Completely dry: I can't decide if I like this or not. If I don't, why do I keep sticking my wrist up to my nose? It reminds me of several things; the resinous scent of casting wax, the scent of the burn when a flake of same ignites on charcoal, incense, campfires... I almost think that Hawaii must smell something like this, when you're close to Mauna Loa. No, maybe it's more brimstone and treacle with a floral note. I can't decide.

I finally decided that I like it, but Panther-kitty took one sniff, and started sneezing to the point that her eyes were watering. Much as I like it, I can't call it a comfortable scent on me. I'd wear it if I were going into a serious confrontation with someone who I really don't like, because the throw will be enough to make them keep their distance.

Brimstone comes across as a very aggressive scent, and if I need the psychological armor, The Black Tower or De Sade would probably work better. I prefer to project quiet menace.

On the other hand, if I ever get up the moxie to do a Dark Phoenix costume like I've been threatening, I know exactly which imp to grab...

Wow, my first official review!

In the bottle: Daffodils! It reminds me inexplicably of March's birth-month flower (which happens to be mine, and I love them). Daffodils, apple blossoms, honeysuckle, and a faint hint of rose. Color association is bright, sunny yellow.

Wet: There's the lemon, pulling everything off-kilter just a tad. I get a fragrance reminiscent of a lemon-scented cleanser that my grandmother used to use. Odd, but not unpleasant, since it's just peeking out around the edges.

Dry-down: Apple blossoms and daffodils again (and there isn't any daffodil in this mix. Go figure.) As it dries on me, it picks up the honeysuckle note again, which is joined by... lilac. (Again with the 'go figure'.) The honeysuckle and daffodil vanish after about 20 minutes, leaving lilac and apple blossom.

For me, it's a wonderfully mood-lifting, pick-me-up scent. Makes me think of dancing around in a soft spring rain. Not bright or zingy on me, and not much throw, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I don't know if I'll be investing in a bigger bottle, but I'll certainly add the imp to the 'keeper' box.