doomsday_disco

I love this room spray and should have just blind bottled it instead of going for a decant and then having to upgrade to a bottle (but at least this way, I have a bottle and then some, which is great for travel!). Lime Green Hearse is definitely LIME GREEN and made for lime fans (if you're down for a sweet lime and not just a freshly squeezed lime, as other reviewers have noted). The other citrus notes are shoved into the background (and read as orange-y -- and the petitgrain isn't screaming bitter orange peel, woot!). I get touches of black pepper and bay rum among them, but they are more noticeable later in the day (if you spray this on something instead of directly into the air -- I've sprayed this on a paper towel to test it, on my couch, and on a wool dryer ball to let it scent laundry). The white musk may be adding a slight effervescence to the scent, but it isn't a main player. I love both fresh and sweet lime, so I love this. I think I reach for it the most out of the four hearse atmos that I own. It's especially refreshing during these warmer months!

Vanilla-soaked sugared pear, frankincense, osmanthus blossoms, and hazelnut.

I was silly to go for the decant route on this one, Hot Pink Hearse, and Lime Green Hearse; of course, bottles were inevitable. The moss and dirt are strongest when this is initially sprayed, but quickly retreat to the background. This is mostly about the Snake Oil to my nose, with the musk, the aged vanilla absolute that the Lab is currently using (which reads as thinner and not as bold to my nose), and Snake Oil's spices being prominent, but not the patch. I get the Dorian mingling with the Snake Oil -- the lemony tea note adds some brightness to it, and the two combine in a way similar to No DNA Test Required (a Lilith scent). However, the Dorian is not nearly as strong as the Snake Oil component. I really enjoy this and am glad to have a decant as well as a full bottle of the stuff. This is probably one of my favorite Snake Oil variants from the past few years.

I initially didn't order this because I was wary of the syrup (I haven't been loving maple scents over the past few years), but the reviews, especially SurrealReality's review (as a fellow non-maple syrup scent lover), swayed me, and I decided to blind bottle it before the Weenies were taken down from the website. I'm glad the reviews made me give this a chance. The syrup in this does not smell like most maple syrups. It is really dark and somehow not cloying. The buckwheat pancakes aren't overly buttery. The coffee lingers in the background, reading more as a creamy coffee to me than a black one, but perhaps that is the cruller note mingling with it (I get the glaze of the doughnut more than the doughnut itself). It smells delicious and is such a realistic foodie scent that smelling it makes me hungry. Every single hearse atmo that I tried last year was amazing (I tried all but two from the collection). I'm really glad I grabbed a bottle of this before it went away!

Delightfully moisturizing and fragranced to charm, not overpower. Treat your skin to a touch of luxury with this sumptuous, softening blend. 13-year aged red patchouli, Damascus rose resin tar, blackcurrant syrup, Egyptian myrrh, and crimson musk seed. Ingredients: Water, Butyrospermum Parkii (Shea Butter), Persea Gratissima (Avocado) Oil, Stearic Acid, Emulsifying Wax, Prunus Amygdalus Dulcis (Sweet Almond) Oil, Tocopherol (Vitamin E), Optiphen Plus, and Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab perfume blends.

Once the guardian of the garden of Hesperides, the Dragon constellation Draco coils around the sky’s north pole. Never sleeping and never setting below the Northern Horizon, Draco and its Draconis stars within are now the celestial guardian, forever watching over us all. A protective blend of Dragon’s Blood, Clove, and Amber.

A shadowed meadow stirs under a shrouded moon: crushed bluebells release their bruised perfume, Arctic starflower and wild flax weave cold sweetness into the air. A thrum of patchouli-darkened red musk pulses heavily in the air, spiced with cardamom pods, cacao, and red oudh.

Writhing shadows and jutting gray stones stabbing through a starless sky: dark vetiver and blackened patchouli cling to cold rock, while opopanax and resin-weeping trees smolder into thick, hypnotic smoke.

Lilac-stained labdanum casting a long shadow across a flicker of frankincense smoke and ambergris accord. Odilon Redon

Witches cavort and the Devil stamps his cloven hoot the base of a venerable black walnut tree, the crackle of scorched wood and the fragrant profanation of dry vanilla bean heralds strange heresies.

Ecstasy and heresy on the Heath of the He-Goat: molten labdanum drips like blood onto bare skin, red musk thrums with carnal hunger, and gleaming red amber smolders against the writhing curve of the body.

Then a mason came forth and said, Speak to us of Houses. And he answered and said: Build of your imaginings a bower in the wilderness ere you build a house within the city walls. For even as you have home-comings in your twilight, so has the wanderer in you, the ever distant and alone. Your house is your larger body. It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night; and it is not dreamless. Does not your house dream? and dreaming, leave the city for a grove or hill-top? Would that I could gather your houses into my hand, and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow. Would the valleys were your streets, and the green paths your alleys, that you might seek one another through vineyards, and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments. But these things are not yet to be. In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together. And that fear shall endure a little longer. A little longer shall your city walls separate your hearths from your fields. And tell me, people of Orphalese, what have you in these houses? And what is it you guard with fastened doors? Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power? Have you rememberances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind? Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain? Tell me, have you these in your houses? Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and then becomes a host, and then a master? Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires. Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron. It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your bed and jeer at the dignity of the flesh. It makes mock of your sound senses, and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels. Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral. But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed. Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast. It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye. You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down. You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living. And though of magnificence and splendour, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing. For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night. Morning mist and the songs and the silences of night: a soft, hazy nocturne of moonflower, dew-touched lavender buds, rose hips, and night-blooming jasmine.

It is when your spirit goes wandering upon the wind, That you, alone and unguarded, commit a wrong unto others and therefore unto yourself. And for that wrong committed must you knock and wait a while unheeded at the gate of the blessed. Like the ocean is your god-self; It remains for ever undefiled. And like the ether it lifts but the winged. Even like the sun is your god-self; It knows not the ways of the mole nor seeks it the holes of the serpent. But your god-self dwells not alone in your being. Much in you is still man, and much in you is not yet man, But a shapeless pigmy that walks asleep in the mist searching for its own awakening. And of the man in you would I now speak. For it is he and not your god-self nor the pigmy in the mist, that knows crime and the punishment of crime. Oftentimes have I heard you speak of one who commits a wrong as though he were not one of you, but a stranger unto you and an intruder upon your world. But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which is in each one of you, So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you also. And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree, So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all. Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self. You are the way and the wayfarers. And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the stumbling stone. Ay, and he falls for those ahead of him, who though faster and surer of foot, yet removed not the stumbling stone. And this also, though the word lie heavy upon your hearts: The murdered is not unaccountable for his own murder, And the robbed is not blameless in being robbed. The righteous is not innocent of the deeds of the wicked, And the white-handed is not clean in the doings of the felon. Yea, the guilty is oftentimes the victim of the injured, And still more often the condemned is the burden bearer for the guiltless and unblamed. You cannot separate the just from the unjust and the good from the wicked; For they stand together before the face of the sun even as the black thread and the white are woven together. And when the black thread breaks, the weaver shall look into the whole cloth, and he shall examine the loom also. If any of you would bring to judgment the unfaithful wife, Let him also weigh the heart of her husband in scales, and measure his soul with measurements. And let him who would lash the offender look unto the spirit of the offended. And if any of you would punish in the name of righteousness and lay the ax unto the evil tree, let him see to its roots; And verily he will find the roots of the good and the bad, the fruitful and the fruitless, all entwined together in the silent heart of the earth. And you judges who would be just, What judgment pronounce you upon him who though honest in the flesh yet is a thief in spirit? What penalty lay you upon him who slays in the flesh yet is himself slain in the spirit? And how prosecute you him who in action is a deceiver and an oppressor, Yet who also is aggrieved and outraged? And how shall you punish those whose remorse is already greater than their misdeeds? Is not remorse the justice which is administered by that very law which you would fain serve? Yet you cannot lay remorse upon the innocent nor lift it from the heart of the guilty. Unbidden shall it call in the night, that men may wake and gaze upon themselves. And you who would understand justice, how shall you unless you look upon all deeds in the fullness of light? Only then shall you know that the erect and the fallen are but one man standing in twilight between the night of his pigmy-self and the day of his god-self, And that the corner-stone of the temple is not higher than the lowest stone in its foundation. Unbidden shall it call in the night, that men may wake and gaze upon themselves: Oman frankincense, Peru balsam, cardamom, and smoked amber. The sales from February, March, and May’s scents from the Prophet series (On Giving, On Eating & Drinking, On Work, On Joy & Sorrow, On Buying and Selling, and On Crime and Punishment) benefit the ACLU because we are in desperate need of civil rights protections right now. The Take Action area of their website presents handy opportunities for speaking out against current and ongoing injustices, even if you only have a few minutes to spare.

…The second time is set Whose crumbs the crows inspect And with ironic caw Flap past it to the Farmer’s corn Men eat of it and die – Emily Dickinson An ironic caw: dry hay absolute, syrupy candied fig, a lash of scathing pink pepper, and the dark gleam of bittersweet blackcurrant.

Coconut Milk and Rice.

Jasmine Rice and White Musk.

Billowing bulbous blobs of grapefruit marshmallows.

Celestial drama. Radiant pomegranate crowned with golden amber and saffron, a waft of singed frankincense, and velvet black cherry. From a 13th century Manuscript of the Apocalypse

Black Fig and Cacao.

Rosenkuchen, coffee, and steamed milk with a burst of celestial amber musk. Paul Klee

Too lazy to be ambitious, I let the world take care of itself. Ten days’ worth of rice in my bag; a bundle of twigs by the fireplace. Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment? Listening to the night rain on my roof, I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out. -Taigu Ryokan Ten days-worth of rice, a bundle of twigs, and a soothing cup of white tea.

Black Currant and Black Violet.

Thank you, may I have another? A rich, earthy brick accord encased in supple, spit-polished leather and flagged with a well-worn black cotton bandana.

I've worn this a few times, and I've also sprayed it on a paper towel. I still can't pick out any specific notes in this scent, so I'm not sure how helpful this review will be. It is not an overtly floral scent, nor is it particularly forest-y. I also thought it smelled creamy and a little fruity when I sprayed it on a paper towel, but whenever I've sprayed this into my hair, both wet and dry, I get something that reminds me of a glassy musk... which I think would make sense for the 'glam' part of the name. I've paired this with Galerie des Glaces and thought they went together well, and I also think I wore it with some honeydew scents just because I wanted to wear it again to do a review. The hair gloss doesn't have much throw, so you could probably get away with pairing it with a lot of different scents without it clashing with them. I'll be hanging onto my decant, but I don't feel like I need a bottle just yet. I still need to do a proper, non-paper towel test of Celestial Aura HG, but at the moment, I feel like Elven Glam is the new RPG HG that I enjoy the most.

Regal grace and bittersweet beauty, this is a scent woven from wildflowers and court secrets. A verdant morning, sun-drenched and dew-laden, amber-glowing petals hide the tender unrest of violets and myrrh. The perfume of hidden sorrows, the ache of longing, and the weight of duty: white pear, hawthorn, damask rose, ambergris accord, golden amber, white leather, bruised violets, soft myrrh, spring wildflowers, and crushed green grass. John Collier