doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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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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By moonlight—the moon shines in all night when there is a moon—I wouldn’t know it was the same paper. At night in any kind of light, in twilight, candlelight, lamplight, and worst of all by moonlight, it becomes bars! The outside pattern I mean, and the woman behind it is as plain as can be. I didn’t realize for a long time what the thing was that showed behind,—that dim sub-pattern,—but now I am quite sure it is a woman. A perfume of veils and bars, moonlight slashing through prison walls: silvered lavender and white iris shuddering like lamplight on stained plaster, ambergris frothing through vanilla husk, and the phantom outline of a rose-touched woman’s silhouette.
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For the spooky kids down the shurr.
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Who wants to go Dutch with us on a warm slice of buttered pumpkin bread covered in chocolate candy sprinkles?
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A glass of midnight stout, thick with black chocolate and roasted barley, its foam kissed with bitter espresso. A pale disc of buttered shortbread rests against the rim, crumbling into the inky depths. A strange eclipse of comfort and shadow: warm, crumbly biscuit and golden butter swallowed by a swirl of dark malt, molasses, and cocoa.
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Golden Peach and Butterscotch Soda.
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There’s still a little time to kill before the viewing… surely it wouldn’t hurt to stop for a short stack? Black coffee, syrup-drenched buckwheat cakes, and a crusty cruller for the road.
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An experiment in single-notes that never went live.
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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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Thick slices of coconut-frosted coconut cake dunked in a vat of Snake Oil.
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Prototype for a perkygoth project: red velvet cake with strawberry buttercream frosting.
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By loving friends you are surrounded, Oh, be not blind to this, I pray. They wish that joy and mirth unbounded May crown your happy Christmas day. Winter oak, hazelnuts, and butterscotch rum.
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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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Billowing bulbous blobs of grapefruit marshmallows.
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A BPAL favorite since 2005, affectionately nicknamed ‘The Devil’s Bake Sale.’
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Pine sap and amber ashes.
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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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Slushy white mint, vanilla cream, lemon drops, grapefruit, and yuzu!
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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.