doomsday_disco

Her scent is the salt-scraped flesh of blue plums, soothed by a panoply of bioluminescent musks and ambers, threaded with inky oil-spill tendrils of olibanum.

Myrrh and Black Berries.

Narcissus, white-gold and intoxicating, unfurls laconic petals over a jeweled heart of ripe plum, dark and dripping with amethyst-bright labdanum. Red musk coils around it like a silken ribbon, smoldering and decadent.

Classic 90’s goth glamour: oman frankincense, champaca orchid, black narcissus, opoponax, honeyed black amber, wild plum, tuberose, 13-year aged patchouli root, blood musk, and smoky bourbon vanilla husk.

Incense Smoke & Winter Herbs.

A wolfish grey transformed by the moon’s cold silver gleam.

Graham Cracker & Buttercream.

Iridescent rainbow flakies and pink galaxy glitter floating in a bubblegum pink jelly.

Happy Halloween, all! Brian here — Doc Constantine to some — making my occasional guest appearance narrating BPAL scent copy. The Porcelain Bat came into our lives last year, the morning we staggered home from New York Comic Con. Samantha and I were running on fumes—suitcases still in the car, clothes sticky from the long drive, brains mushy from lack of sleep. All we wanted was showers, silence, and unconsciousness. Instead, at the crack of dawn, we encountered a fluffy ball of chaos. Sam was the first to notice. She was upstairs when she heard a shuffle in the bathroom. At first, she thought it was a mouse, but when she leaned closer, she froze. Pressed against the frosted glass of our under-sink cabinet was the very distinct, unmistakable silhouette of a bat. One wing splayed, tiny body smushed, like it had been waiting all week for us. Her scream shook the walls: “BRIAN! THERE’S A FUCKING BAT IN THE BATHROOM!” I was so exhausted that her words barely made sense. “I know all those words,” I muttered, “but not in that order.” By the time my brain caught up, Sam had cracked the door open. The bat had managed to get out from under the sink and was boinging around the bathroom like a rubber Halloween toy brought to life. It zipped around the bathroom, frantic, wings flicking against tile and towel racks. For a creature that small, it felt huge—its wingspan may have been a mere handful of inches, but to us, shrieking bat-startled banshees, it was a twenty-foot beast. Everyone’s goth AF until a bat is flying straight at your face in your own house. Sam called every bat rescue service in Delco and all neighboring counties, but no one could give us an assist until at least ten hours later. We didn’t have that kind of time, not with the bathroom locked down and our bladders on strike. So we started preparing. I pulled on every piece of protective gear I owned: chainsaw helmet, gloves, goggles. If I could’ve found hockey pads, I would’ve worn those, too. Sam looked me over and frowned. “BUT YOUR NECK ISN’T COVERED!” I glared at her. “Don’t.” “WHAT IF IT’S A VAMPIRE BAT?” The joke is funny in hindsight, but in that moment I wasn’t laughing. I peeked through the old-fashioned keyhole, heart hammering, but saw nothing. Was it perched on the towels? Hanging from the door? Clinging to the ceiling like some tiny gargoyle? There was no way to know. So finally I muttered, “Fuck it,” shoved open the door, and went in with a plastic storage bin and a scrap of cardboard. Luck was on our side, and the little guy had ended up in the bathtub. The porcelain sides were too slick for him to climb: a tiny prisoner in the big white basin. Carefully, gently, we lowered the bin over him. He rustled his wings but didn’t fight. We slid the cardboard underneath, lifted him up, and carried him outside. Out on the porch, we set the box (opened, so he could make his way out on his terms) on a shady table and let him rest. Our tiny intruder, the Porcelain Bat, had survived his ordeal. And so had we. The sweet little guardian of our bathroom sink. The warm, unsettling thrum of musky fur and leathery wings smushed against frosted orris root and vanilla plaster dust.

Vanilla and Tobacco Flower.

Boldog ujevet! Bubblegum musk, fermented plum, and strawberry brandy in a white candyfloss-dusted fairy ring of ruby-capped mushrooms and marshmallow cream.

Golden hay and sun-warmed straw, soft brown fur musk, ripe banana peel and green fig, steamed rice and almond milk, mimosa blossom, and pale yellow chrysanthemum.

Every leaf tells a story.

A scent inspired by the debris left over from frantic last-minute costuming sessions. Torn scraps of velvety black voodoo lily mingled with dried rose petals and a flash of red peppercorn.

Dead Leaves and Mulling Spices.

Lady of the Unicorn skull – queens escape to majestic mountain air, lace parasol and riding gloves in hand, corseted and bustled, heart filled with longing. An early 19th-century Italian perfume dabbed on black satin and lace – magnolia blossoms, lilac, orris root, and ambergris accord.

Pumpkin candyfloss with strawberry cream and red currant.

Yipe! Atmo is similar to the perfume oil -- bold black cherry at first that gives way to the cream and dried (non-juicy!) blackberry note. Of course, the cherry sticks around longer with the atmo than it does in the perfume, but the end result is the same with that dried blackberry-infused cream with just a hint of cherry by the end of the day. As a cherry ho that used up all of her decant of the perfume oil years ago, I'm really glad I have a bottle of this, and I am kicking myself for missing out on the Yipe! Hair Gloss that was a happy accident that sold on Etsy. If you're a fan of the Lab's black cherry note, you need this one in your life!

I thought maybe I hit a book scent saturation point, especially when it comes to leathery book scents, but this is the best one of those I've smelled in a really long time. I get strong, yet smooth, well-worn leather, the warmth of the macadamia nuts, and the teak, which isn't too sharp on me in this and which makes the scent more sophisticated. I think it may be the same teak found in Carved Wooden Bawdy House. I am not getting a ton of smoke from this, and for that, I am glad, as I don't always jive with the Lab's smoke notes. I also am not getting much beeswax from this, even though I love that note, although I wouldn't be surprised if it were helping to further smooth things over and sweeten things up in the background. I mostly just got a decant of this because of its popularity at Dragon Con, but this is right up there with Picture Books in Winter and Jólabókaflóð as far as warm, sweet leathery book scents go. I'm going to have to spend some more time with my decant, but I'm definitely debating a bottle. This is one of the standouts from this year's Weenie collection.

Flapjacks drowning in an intoxicating blend containing wormwood essence, light mints, cardamom, anise, hyssop, and the barest hint of lemon.

Dead Leaves, Funeral Lilies, and Beeswax Candles.

Just imagine all the tattoos hidden below as you walk through the cemetery... maybe you’ll get to see some of them in person one day! Grave loam, mushrooms, Spanish moss, a smear of ink, and a blob of braaaains.

The mists that slept on the river’s brim. Went up like the wings of the cherubim. The water-lilies so cold and fair Were tangled with tresses of bright brown hair. The osiers bent with a quiet grace over a form with a still, white face. The river flow’d with a desolate moan, And dead leaves fell on the cold grey stone. – Sarah T. Bolton A mist-shrouded river, laden with sorrow: water lilies, wild plum, carrot seed, jasmine petals, and yellow bergamot pouring over moss-covered stones.

An impossibly sweet concoction of green tea and frothed almond milk poured over fresh rose petals and glistening tapioca pearls.

Vintage Kitty Blow Molds is primarily a mango scent on me, although it reminds me of something more like a mango curd than a mango sorbet. The clove in this is pretty tame on me, which is weird since I feel like I tend to amp that note (but it would be fine if I had, as I love the note). So it's mostly a tangy mango scent on me, with a dash of clove, until the end of the day, when it's morphed to the plastic-y bright amber that's the blow mold part of the scent, made a little fruity by what remains of the mango. I think I'm going to keep the decant, as I think this would be fun to wear while it's still too hot to wear my autumnal scents, but everyone's stalking Weenies. I'll have to retest it to see if I need more of it before it goes away.