mountainwitch

Lycaon. It was a "might as well" kind of order . . . I thought it would be too masculine, and I'd end up giving it to my boyfriend! Lycaon wasn't a great combination on him, however. On me, it was darker than anything I've ever tried, even my Trick # 1 and Schwarzer Mond bottles. The scent was pitch black, but still--dare I say it--sexy and a little exotic.

for example if I put in Bergamont, (White) Rose, Amber, Sandalwood and Vanilla (ok I cheated with the last three, but they seem paramount to the scent) I don't get anything... but searching for amber sandalwood and vanilla (in the format: +amber +sandalwood +vanilla) yields two results: Tamora and Khajuraho .

I'm crazy about Khajuraho, and I like the Sensual Amber lotion too. (Incidentally, Tamora was a disappointment for me.) I can definitely see how Khajuraho and Sensual Amber might layer in a complimentary way . . .

Now I have to try this!

I do like patchouli but, still, I think that Sin (Thouroughly corrupted: amber, sandalwood, black patchouli and cinnamon) is very softened by the amber and spicied by the cinnamon, and it is definitely not musty, at least on me

Oh! I forgot Sin! The lab frimped me with that in my last order . . . I'm not keeping it just because I have other oils in the same vein, but boy was it a nice surprise.

Most patchouli blends don't work for me at all, but Mme. Moriarty does, so maybe my advice won't be too offbase. I've discovered a few patchouli blends that don't make me smell like a musty, dusty box in a hippie shop . . . The problem is that they're usually expensive!

* Psychic Trading Post goblins sent me Trick # 1, which smells drop-dead sexy on me . . . No mustiness at all.

* Trick # 2, while not quite The Sexy, was at least not musty.

* The Salon's Two Monsters was very appealing, even with vetiver--another note that is particularly tricky for me.

GC suggestions might be Tezcatlipoca, where the "deep cocoa" seems to make the blend. It didn't have the mustiness either. Oberon also had interesting things happening, such as white musk.

I've had less success with other GC blends, particularly Anne Bonny, The Coiled Serpent, Masquerade, Omen, Voodoo, Malice, Nephilim, Clio, Verchenyaya, Wanton, Malediction, and Lust.

I guess my "miracles" come with a price tag.

Wonderful smoke, leather, and woods. These are a few of my favorite things . . . And this blend smells great. It is not feminine, but it doesn't scream manliness (weirdly enough, my skin usually needs lavender and citrus for that).

Wearing it, I don't feel "pretty," or even "seductive" . . . If this fragrance is sexy, it's sexy because it's so damn confident. I feel like a gunslinger striding into a dark western town. I need boots, and a duster, and tavern doors swinging shut behind me while dust swirls in the wind. My boots stalk across the wooden floorboards, spurs clinking, as I meet the beady eyes of a nervous bartender. The poker players glance over at me suspiciously as I order whiskey in a dirty glass . . .

Um, yeah. I think this is a keeper.

A bright scent, fruitier than I expected. I ordered a decant of this before I learned my lesson: leave all things that smell like lemon citrus alone. Lemon, verbena, etc., all those wonderful things turn into Lemon with a capital "L." Antonino, regretfully, turned into something that was just too sweet; after about half an hour, it was a dead ringer for orange Pez.

I wish I had kept my decant a bit longer; maybe the Carny Talker would have settled down, given a little time, and let some of those other interesting notes come out to play.

It's so funny to see so many reviews call this a "manly scent," considering that the first time I tried to describe Theodosius, I said, "It's like Dorian, but a less sugary and a touch more floral. It's sexy, and it's much more feminine!"

And that is what it smells like to me. It doesn't have the "bite" I associate with some "masculine" fragrances; it's silky, a blend of light musk touched with vanilla and a hint of something floral. (I'm guessing that's the jasmine leaf?) On me this really does smell feminine. After reading the comments above, however, I'm very curious about smelling it on a masculine skin chemistry . . .

But afraid too. Did I mention my boyfriend ran off with my whole imp of Dorian?! (Well, at least it wasn't another woman . . . )

There is some lovely stuff in this. Something in it smells woody and sharp on me, but not in a good way. It’s just a little bitter and off-putting, as if it's been left in a cedar chest too long. Ultimately the sharpness fades, leaving a complex and interesting floral. It's just not for me.

Cherries! Bubblegum! A candy I can't quite put my finger on . . . I'm probably showing my age here, but this reminds me powerfully of something I haven't tasted in years--red Bonkers!

Eventually this settles down a lot, turning just a touch spicy. But it never loses a kind of strange of cherry-waxiness that reminds me of old candy, or possibly lip balm. I can't say that it's boosted my mood, but it has given me a sudden craving for 80s Saturday morning cartoons.

Caramel usually doesn't work on me, turning into a really burnt burnt sugar. Red Lantern, Midway . . . Disappointments both.

Not so for Creepy. First a blast of coconut rum, like I've upended a bottle of Cruzan on my wrist. This lasts for only a few seconds, however, before it's replaced with pure, sweet caramel apples. Suddenly I'm a kid again, unwrapping Kraft caramels so that Mom can melt them, with a whole tray full of bright red apples ready and waiting.

Which scents are similar to Dorian's tea note? It smells wonderful!

The *tea* specifically reminds me of Severin, which I also like a great deal. It's a very different scent, however, with a note of leather instead of sugar. This seemed like a very odd combination to me--I would never have tried it if a friend hadn't bought it first--but it ended up becoming a favorite in the GC. It all depends on how leather works for you, however.

Mmm, lilacs. This is a floral among florals, with just enough grounding in musk and sandalwood. Summery, but a little wistful . . . Definitely (and appropriately) not a bright, cheerful scent. It really is the kind of scent used by a woman who still carries lace handkerchiefs, as suggested by themerrybaker. This is the fragrance worn by a lady--lovely, romantic, classy.

Experience says this should be evil, ravening STINK on me. Vetiver? Usually turns into Deep-Woods Off. Patchouli? Nope, I don't do patchouli.

So why do I love this so much?!

It's sharp, but sharp and wicked and dark. It's a spicy, dark fragrance that works for me, a shockingly-wonderful blend. I had no intention of trying this, but I picked it up as part of my decant circle for my vetiver-lovin', patchouli-wearin' friends. And now . . .

THEY CAN'T HAVE IT! The Samhainophobia is mine, I tell you, ALL MINE!

Buttery! Not really the waxy sugar-scent of Brach's candy corn. More like some strange homemade recipe: butter, brown sugar, a touch of spice, and something dark and almost boozy-sweet. Very October, and very nice. Feels like it needs a little edge, but I can add just a touch of other scents for layering. The result is pure Halloween.

Cake! White fluffy wonderful cake! And a bright, sugary fruit--definitely the currants. I don't catch much of an incense scent, just a light, fluffy scent that's just irresistible. I was hoping for something a little more like this in Monster Bait Closet, but that was overwhelmed by the big blackberry-bourbon binge.

I don't know that this says "autumn" to me, but of the "Halloweenies" I've tried so far, I'm really crazy about this one.

Ever since I read the Inquisition notes, I just had a hunch I’d get this one. And what a great reward for a hunch!

If “sparkly pink” had a smell, this would be it. This is just heavenly rosy sweetness. I was afraid at first that it would be pure “Jolly Rancher,” but it’s definitely not. There’s a spun-sugar note, just like fluffy cotton candy. The goblins hit one for my skin chemistry--and they hit it out of the ballpark!

I asked for this one as part of a decant circle, mostly because a good friend had asked to try it . . . Now, however, she might not get the chance! As others have pointed out, this is a dark chocolate, rich with cocoa.

Sometimes creamy and milky notes can turn a little sour on me, but that doesn't happen with Candy Butcher. It remains velvety and rich for hours; I caught hints of it all night, even after washing. (I had tried all my decants at once, of course, and smelling like flowery-chocolate-Antonino-Constantine was a little much.) Of the chocolate scents I've tried, this has to be my new favorite--unless 13 counts, of course.

When I first put this on, I was ready to swoon with delight . . . It was all sugar, with a lovely blend of flowers that was certainly not jasmine-heavy. Sugary and sweet and all wonderful . . .

And then the sugar melted away. Suddenly I smelled like fruity incense, like I remember Spencer's when I was a kid. If only it still smelled like that wonderful opening, I'd be buying this one by the gallon.

Why is it so hard to describe this one without using the word "quiet?" I'm not kidding . . . This blend is clean, fresh, and very delicate.

I was expecting a sharp edge of mint, or perhaps something with more of the green-tea note of Apothecary. That's not what I get here, however. The blend of mint, sandalwood and possibly iris/lotus root gives me a faint impression of juniper--but please don't let me scare you off with that! It's definitely not a cedar scent, but it triggers a memory for me: the clean, brisk mint over sandalwood reminds me of wild clouds of juniper under a white frosting of snow.

Silence is lovely and understated. It's a contemplative scent, if ever there were such a thing, made for quiet study on a dark January evening.

Ah, caramel. We meet again, my old nemesis. With all the notes in this complex blend, you have to crash the party and put your boots up on the coffee table. There are other guests—something floral? Green? A little spicy? Eventually the fragrance turns spicier, with a lovely amber peeking through . . . But the caramel just keeps going, an overwhelming note of burned sugar, and he just won't use his inside voice.

I was hoping for more wonderful green ivy, but I don't find that here. Not that this is a bad scent! It's buttery, and it has a strong scent of incense and woods. It's not quite what I was hoping for, but it's still a lovely, golden autumn scent.

Wow. This is everything the reviews said it would be. Cold and frosty peppermint, which softens quickly into the most wonderful vanilla sugar . . . Oh, wow. I am in love.

I was hesitant about trying this one, because I was afraid the brown sugar and honey might turn into a caramel-like scent . . . And caramel turns into blackened sugar on my skin. Brown sugar, however, turned out to be an entirely different animal. I can wear this!

At first I get a heavy scent of fresh pine, but it softens almost immediately into a warm, golden, wonderful smell. It's all butter, and brown sugar, and yes, cooked chestnuts. My aunt's neighbor had huge chestnut trees at the edge of his property, and I used to collect bags of them as a kid. Some lovely fall days I would warm the chestnuts in the microwave and eat them after school. (Note: do NOT do this without slicing the chestnuts first. Exploding chestnuts are scary. ) Great memories, and a wonderful autumn/early winter smell.

I wanted this at first because I thought, for some reason, it was supposed to help creative people have the courage and positive outlook to work and finish projects. In retrospect I think I was confusing the description with Wolf’s Heart--just seeing what I wanted to see--but it doesn’t matter. I think this is the one I needed all along.

The first time I couldn’t identify this scent at all, beyond florals—something like some of the Voodoo and Tarot oils I’ve tried. But yesterday one note finally came to the fore: roses. Lots of bold red roses: not the over-the-top decadence of Pride, or the strangely-bitter scent that some rose blends leave on me, but just a trellis full of crimson blossoms. Roses for courage, hope, and shaking off the dark murk of depression . . . Perhaps I mentally added in the words, “for artists” because this ss what my work needs: drive, hope, joy.

I know lots of folks here aren't jasmine fans...but I am, provided it's balanced out right. For those who like jasmine, what are your favorite jasmine scents?

I'm a huge fan of Morgause. It's one of the only ones I've tried where the jasmine was there, but not behaving like a prima donna.