doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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These are dark times indeed... so here's a gourmand for the brooding scholar. The warm, nutty richness of roasted macadamia folded into the dry papery musk of time-worn tomes bound in crackled leather; golden drips of beeswax candlelight flicker against polished teakwood shelves, while the smoky warmth of fireplace smoke lingers in the air. (Nutty portmanteau absolutely intended. Don’t @ us.)
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Hungry Ghost Moon: Hazelnut Spread and Mini Marshmallows
doomsday_disco posted a topic in Duets & Menage A Trois
Hazelnut Spread and Mini Marshmallows. -
If this year’s Lupercalia fragrance collection was a book, it would be printed in blood-red ink rolled across the soft, stubborn bodies of dream-pale flowers, and stamped onto heavy black paper. We’d pass it around before the letters had a chance to dry, staining fingers with the turn of every page, marking the curious as aspiring erotes, as fellow Lupercalians. The sanguine contents of this text were made to be devoured by the eyes, the skin, the heart, and then the story continued by its readers, passed along to others. (As ever, please do not consume the perfumes internally or apply them to sensitive body parts. Don’t make us regret deploying such a fragrant metaphor, we’re trusting you to hang onto at least that much cognition.)
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Cracked leather and faded ink, dust-heavy pages steeped in echoes of prayer. Beeswax candles gutter in the shadows, their pale, amber light feebly holding back the dark. Low murmurs of frankincense and oakmoss anchor the stern hush of eternity. Vincent Van Gogh
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48, Rue de Courcelles. Eighteenth January 1847 My Dear Mrs. F. I send you, on the other side, the tremendous document which will make you for ninety years (I hope) a beautiful Punchmaker in more senses as one. I shall be delighted to dine with you on Thursday. Mr Foster says amen. Commend me to your Lord, and believe me (with respectful compliments to Lord Chesterfield) always Mrs. F. Faithfully yours, Charles Dickens. To make three pints of Punch Peel into a very strong common basin (which may be broken, in case of accident, without damage to the owner’s peace or pocket) the rinds of three lemons, cut very thin, and with as little as possible of the white coating between the peel and the fruit, attached. Add a double-handfull of lump sugar (good measure), a pint of good old rum, and a large wine-glass full of brandy – if it not be a large claret glass, say two. Set this on fire, by filling a warm silver spoon with the spirit, lighting the contents at a wax taper, and pouring them gently in. Let it burn three or four minutes at least, stirring it from time to time. Then extinguish it by covering the flame. Then squeeze in the juice of the three lemons, and add a quart of boiling water. Stir the whole well, cover it up for five minutes, and stir again. At this crisis (having skimmed off the lemon pips with a spoon) you may taste. If not sweet enough, add sugar to your liking, but observe that it will be a little sweeter presently. Pour the whole into a jug, tie a leather or coarse cloth over the top, so as to exclude the air completely, and stand it in a hot oven ten minutes, or on a hot stove one quarter of an hour. Keep it until it comes to table in a warm place near the fire, but not too hot. If it be intended to stand three or four hours, take half the lemon-peel out, or it will acquire a bitter taste. The same punch allowed to cool by degrees, and then iced, is delicious. It requires less sugar when made for this purpose. If you wish to produce it bright, strain it into bottles through silk. These proportions and directions will, of course, apply to any quantity.
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Piles of ube pumpkin cheesecake batter blorped into a brown sugar graham cracker crust.
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Roasted pumpkin soaked in golden brandy, clove, nutmeg, and vanilla absolute.
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Le Tits Now is mostly about the champagne on me, which is quite fizzy, bright, and almost soda-like in this scent. I've tested this twice, and the champagne reigns on my skin in full force for about five hours before I get much of anything else from this. I believe this features the chilly, sweet snow note of Snow White, but the fizzy champagne makes me question if that's really the snow note I'm smelling. I smell a little musk with the snow note after the champagne calms down at the end of a long day, adding a nice backdrop to the champagne and snow, and I'm pleased to report that there's no red musk among the blushing musks featured here. Sadly, I'm not really getting any lavender from this, but that could just be due to my skin making this a champagne party for hours on end. In any case, I'll definitely be keeping my bottle, and I plan to wear this tomorrow to ring in the new year.
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He stopped short by the door. “What is the matter?” he cried. “For God’s sake, what are you doing!” I kept on creeping just the same, but I looked at him over my shoulder. “I’ve got out at last,” said I, “in spite of you and Jane! And I’ve pulled off most of the paper, so you can’t put me back!” Now why should that man have fainted? But he did, and right across my path by the wall, so that I had to creep over him every time! Torn paper revealing scorched plaster embedded with bitter citron, yellow grapefruit, and damp white cedar.
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Red winter berries crushed under tiny claws, fermented wild cherry and mulled brandy spilling into russet feathers.
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I had to get a bottle of this because I enjoy these festive robins so much, AND because I'm a slut for cherry. I am happy to say that blind bottling this scent paid off! The cherry is a main player during both the wet and dry phases of the scent, although it is most prominent early on in wear. It's very much a fruit-infused mulled wine scent to me, but aside from the cherry, I'm not very good at picking out the winter berries (there might be some pom here???). There was a darker note in the background that I wasn't able to pinpoint, but I'm not sure if that was the fruit itself, whatever comprises the russet feathers, or if it is part of the brandy. My partner, who also loves cherry scents and birds, but didn't know this contained cherry until it arrived, was thrilled that the cherry note is so prominent and was glad that the scent is just as amazing as the artwork. We will both enjoy applying this one for a boozy cherry fix during the winter months!
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First Noel, First Base is a blast of apple at first, backed by the beeswax, but it doesn't take long for the beeswax to take the center stage and become the dominant note, sweetened up further by whatever remains of the apple. I've tested this myself and slathered it on my partner, and it has great throw. I typically say I have too many beeswax scents, or too many apple scents, but this is the first scent I've had featuring both notes, and it did not disappoint. I'm excited to have another Yuletide apple scent in my collection.
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This is amazing. I get lots of lavender, cardamom, and an airy cream that smells like a homemade vanilla-infused whipped cream, with a smattering of almond paste that's most noticeable during the first few hours of wear. Then it mostly becomes all about that cream, which I am delighted to say is not a butter bomb in this case. This is the least bread-y of the lavender bread scents -- I didn't get any yeast-y baked bun scent, but that could come out more as it has had more time to settle, or maybe my skin ran away with the other notes (I don't mind). My partner doesn't even care for baked good scents and thought this smelled delectable. One bottle will not be enough! I like this more than Lights, Camera, Something, a scent from a Lilith update of yore which also featured lavender and cardamom notes. This features way more lavender with the cardamom, and the cream makes this scent more floofy.
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Golden Peach and Butterscotch Soda.
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A dream hearse for anyone who grew up presiding over numerous doll funerals: flashy pink guava, strawberry jam, sugared pink grapefruit, blackberry, bergamot, and pink champagne adorned with a gleaming chrome Landau bar.
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Nothing will squash our interest in creating new pumpkin scents!
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Saying “bone apple teeth” instead of “bon appétit” seems to take on a special meaning in the context of Halloween treats. Here’s a scent commemorating the allure of everything our dentist would have us avoid: a luscious red apple rendered nigh impenetrable by armored plates of toffee and caramel, sprinkled with bone-dry cinnamon-glazed almonds and hard bits of popcorn.
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A deep rumbling purr: myrrh, sweet almond, spiced rum, brown sugar, honeyed dates, golden amber, scorched marshmallow, and toasted vanilla musk. Cornelis Visscher
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Prototype for a perkygoth project: red velvet cake with strawberry buttercream frosting.
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Snake Oil slithering into a pan of baked blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries in a warm pastry crust, topped with vanilla ice cream and molasses.
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With apologies to Bram Stoker: though sympathy alone can't alter facts, it can help to make them more bearable… and so can a mouthful of gummi fangs! Daub your pulse points with the scent of chewy red fruit gums and shining white vanilla teeth.
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A BPAL favorite since 2005, affectionately nicknamed ‘The Devil’s Bake Sale.’
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Vex, the Bone Goddess – summoning rituals of skulls, bones and stones, chanting into the dancing flames, pits of black ash and spice, the door opens. A bone goddess’ sacred incense: fire and ash, bone shards, and stone.
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Sugar-dusted and overflowing with Luxardo maraschino cherries and a hint of blackberry.
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Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. And he is your board and your fireside. For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace. When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.” And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart; For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed. When you part from your friend, you grieve not; For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain. And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit. For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught. And let your best be for your friend. If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? Seek him always with hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness. And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. The warmth of shared meals, the pleasure of shared laughter, and the hidden language of sweet, comfortable silences: warm bread, roasted chestnut, oakwood smoke, sparkling bergamot, lentisk resin, and honeyed labdanum.