doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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A glass raised to the celebratory spirit of Pride, in defiance of everything conspiring to our collective downfall. *clink* The convivial scent of a Tequila Sunrise (tequila, crème de cassis, lime juice, and sparkling soda water) splashed in the brick-lined gutter.
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Raspberry punch with elderberry liqueur, lemon juice, a splash of gin, and a smattering of Victoria sponge crumbs.
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Each purchase of Gloomily, Gloomily comes with a 1/32 oz imp of the Donkey’s Tail. The Donkey’s Tail is not available for sale on its own, and make sure you keep it safe as you never know where it might end up. “That Accounts for a Good Deal,” said Eeyore gloomily. “It Explains Everything. No Wonder.” Doubles as a bell-pull: a beribboned strip of French lavender, bourbon vanilla, silver thistle, grey musk, pink silk, and well-loved grey cotton.
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“Good morning, Eeyore,” said Pooh. “Good morning, Pooh Bear,” said Eeyore gloomily. “If it is a good morning,” he said. “Which I doubt,” said he. “Why, what’s the matter?” “Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can’t all, and some of us don’t. That’s all there is to it.” “Can’t all what?” said Pooh, rubbing his nose. “Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.” “Oh!” said Pooh. He thought for a long time, and then asked, “What mulberry bush is that?” “Bon-hommy,” went on Eeyore gloomily. “French word meaning bonhommy,” he explained. “I’m not complaining, but There It Is.” Every solid friend group has at least one goth kid representing. Soft grey musk, pink thistle, lavender ash, tea leaves, pale iris, grey lilac, and rain-soaked moss. Each purchase of Gloomily, Gloomily comes with a 1/32 oz imp of The Donkey’s Tail. The Donkey’s Tail is not available for sale on its own, and make sure you keep it safe as you never know where it might end up.
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A molten heart of slow-cooked milk caramel swirled with vanilla bean and a faint whisper of toasted coconut.
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“O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy? My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy; She shall bear thee so lightly thro’ wet and thro’ wild, And press thee, and kiss thee, and sing to my child.” An ethereal lure crafted with milk and honey.
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An experiment in single-notes that never went live.
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Ugh, you guys/gals/non-binary pals. This may be the least lavender-y of all of this year's Lavender Kitchen scents that I've tried (the only one I didn't try was the seed bread one because I already have Lavender Rosemary Baguette), but I couldn't help swooning whenever I smelled it. This is the most delicious carrot cake scent I have ever smelled! I get lots of rich cream cheese frosting and cinnamon swirled cake-y goodness. It easily beats out Astrid's Carrot Cake Petit Four (too heavy on the spice) and Possets' Mrs. Rabbit's Carrot Cake (which went weird on me during the drydown). I'm not even the biggest carrot cake fan (I mean, I like it, but it's not a cake I'd generally choose over others), and this made me wish I had a piece of it in front of me. I could not stop huffing my arm, and whenever I got a whiff of it from the throw, it was just divine. A decant will not be enough!
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Nothing beats that classic fluffy, bouncy texture, rendered eternally moist thanks to shreds of fresh carrot, delicately spiced and slathered in lavender cream cheese icing – including the obligatory carrot on top, piped in purple frosting.
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Lavender Honey Wine is probably the 2025 Lavender Kitchen scent that is strongest on the lavender, at least out of the gate. At first, it's a blast of herbal lavender, backed by some honey. Over time, the lavender calms down and gives way to the honey wine, and you can tell it's wine and not honey, as there's a bit of fruity booziness to it. By the end of the day, it's honey wine tinged with just a bit of lavender. I like this one, but it doesn't leave me swooning like several of this year's Lavender Kitchen scents have. I'll probably retest this before it goes away to see if I need more of it. But for now, I'm definitely keeping the decant and will probably use it as a sleep scent.
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A goblet of pale liquid gold infused with an almost iridescent shimmer of lavender essence.
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I blind bottled this knowing it would be full of win, and indeed, it is! This is exactly what it says on the tin. I'm getting lots of lavender, marshmallow, and vanilla, with the marshmallow becoming increasingly floofier over time on my skin. The lavender is most noticeable during the first few hours, and then the scent mostly becomes about the marshmallow and vanilla. The vanilla ice cream note is not the same as the one featured in Detestable Putrescence, so if you like lavender, and that particular vanilla ice cream scent didn't work on you, it's still worth giving this one a shot. I'm basic and hoard lavender and vanilla scents, and this one has marshmallow, so I'm going to need more than one bottle in my life.
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A rapidly melting tower of vanilla ice cream thoroughly glooped with marshmallow sauce and amethyst syrup, speared with shards of waffle cone.
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An oil crafted to help your emotional, mental, and physical stamina, especially during times of stress and duress. Contains: Dracaena draco, blood orange, licorice root, master root, sampson snake root chips, sassafras, and lemon.
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At first glance, the Gamboge dragon seems unremarkable – quiet, muted, seemingly dull – but beneath its subdued surface pulses a fierce golden flame: a sun-bright wit with a venomous streak. Its scales are the color of old gold, translucent frankincense tears, saffron sap, and fossilized amber.
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And when you crush an apple with your teeth, say to it in your heart: Your seeds shall live in my body, And the buds of your tomorrow shall blossom in my heart, And your fragrance shall be my breath, And together we shall rejoice through all the seasons. – Khalil Gibran, excerpt from “On Eating and Drinking” Crisp orchard air draped in morning dew, a bite of sun-warmed apple that bursts with honeyed clarity. The seeds carry whispers of tomorrow: green leaf, tender blossom, sapling wood. A breath both luminous and eternal, where fruit, flower, and branch entwine.
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We're that relative who tries to make everyone try a green pie! This one dances lightly on the palate.
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As many of you know, we recently moved the whole BPAL Carny Show to Philadelphia. It was a huge change for all of us in myriad ways, not the least of which was the adjustment of moving from a lifetime in a Mediterranean / semi-arid zone to a humid subtropical pocket of the mid-Atlantic. What is “weather”? What is “rain”? What is this white stuff falling on my head every winter? Wait, I have to salt the Earth? What does that mean? Like I said, it was a huge change for us Angelinos. Even though Pennsylvania is green and gorgeous, lawns aren’t the most ecologically-friendly option for your yard so when we moved here, we began the process of replacing our lawn with clover and wildflowers. Semi-meadowing, if you will. Last year, our neighborhood opp took issue with our garden design choices and reported our place to the city for being overgrown and neglected. This scent is for everyone that’s had to deal with That Guy in your neighborhood: a sinuous stream of Snake Oil slithering through meadow flowers and clover.
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We’re all desperate for something light and uplifting here at BPAL, so this year’s Beev is a zingy key lime cheesecake with a whisper of lime sugar.
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Black leather flecked with remnants of a gloopy food court cinnamon bun.
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Snake Oil and Candied Pomegranate.
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The perfume of French Quarter mornings: rich chicory coffee, earthy and bittersweet, drifting through the powdered-sugar clouds of warm beignets dusted to luminosity.
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The inky bite of black coffee rising in gusts of steam, softened by the warm-gold glow of buttered crust and sugared apples.
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The tiniest of dragons, these flirty, silly, and theatrical beasts build their nests in gilded opera boxes, toy stores, and above confectionaries and sweet shops. Their scales blaze like a handful of maraschino cherries and red currants bathed in fluorescent lighting, sparkling with sugar crystals and drizzled with vanilla liqueur.
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Rarely glimpsed except in reflections or the flicker of fading film, the Bastard-Amber Dragon drifts through time like a fever dream of Old Hollywood. Born of illusion and artifice, it casts everything in its path in a honeyed glow. Its scales shimmer like tawny celluloid: aldehyde klieg lights illuminate golden resins, husky with toasted brown sugar.