doomsday_disco
-
Content Count
11,643 -
Joined
-
Last visited
Everything posted by doomsday_disco
-
An experiment in single-notes that never went live.
-
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.
-
Ugh, you guys/gals/non-binary pals. This may be the least lavender-y of all of this year's Lavender Kitchen scents (the lavender is strong when it is freshly applied, but it is quick to fade) 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!
-
A goblet of pale liquid gold infused with an almost iridescent shimmer of lavender essence.
-
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.
-
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.
-
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.
-
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.
-
We're that relative who tries to make everyone try a green pie! This one dances lightly on the palate.
-
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.
-
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.
-
Black leather flecked with remnants of a gloopy food court cinnamon bun.
-
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.
-
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.
-
The dark, roasted bite of freshly crushed coffee beans folded into the sinuous heat of Snake Oil’s infamous bestseller. Bitter espresso grounds smoldering under a curled-up hiss of sugared patchouli, spiced amber, and velvety vanilla.
-
On Monday, when the sun is hot I wonder to myself a lot: “Now is it true, or is it not, “That what is which and which is what?” On Tuesday, when it hails and snows, The feeling on me grows and grows That hardly anybody knows If those are these or these are those. On Wednesday, when the sky is blue, And I have nothing else to do, I sometimes wonder if it’s true That who is what and what is who. On Thursday, when it starts to freeze And hoar-frost twinkles on the trees, How very readily one sees That these are whose—but whose are these? On Friday—— Hot, sunny cardamom amber and milky musk, honeyed rice and snowy slush.
-
“Piglet,” said Rabbit, taking out a pencil, and licking the end of it, “you haven’t any pluck.” “It is hard to be brave,” said Piglet, sniffing slightly, “when you’re only a Very Small Animal.” Rabbit, who had begun to write very busily, looked up and said: “It is because you are a very small animal that you will be Useful in the adventure before us.” Piglet was so excited at the idea of being Useful, that he forgot to be frightened any more… Pink clover and wild strawberries, red bean paste, pink vanilla, sweet acorns, apple blossom, caramelized almond, and a shy puff of sugar.
-
Winnie the Pooh is among my very favorite books, and Eeyore is my favorite character from the series, so this was the Hundred Acre Wood scent to which I was most looking forward. I used to have a mug with Eeyore's good morning quote on it, too. I wish I still had it! I'm not familiar with the thistle note, but I, too, get lots of purple and grey from this scent, with the iris, lavender, and lilac swirling together to make that grey and purple floral bouquet, and the high-pitched iris and lilac being particularly loud on me (although this grey lilac seems to be tamer than some other varieties). The floral notes combine with the rain-soaked moss, which I believe may be the same note found in 2024's The Storm, to just exude melancholy -- but over time, the grey musk peeks out and smooths over the loud iris, lilac, and moss notes, so that it is less like having a cry and more like a deep sigh. I mean, you would be sighing the deepest of sighs, too, if you lost your tail, or your house made of sticks kept falling down. By the end of the day, I'm left a soft, clean scent of grey musk tinged with tea leaves, a few flower petals, and some raindrops on moss. Needless to say, this one is a keeper and a must-try of the Hundred Acre Wood collection. I haven't tried layering this with The Donkey's Tail yet, but I'll update this review once I try layering them together. I adore that scent even more with its lavender, vanilla, and fuzzy cotton notes and may just have to get a back-up of this for more of The Donkey's Tail. Petition for The Donkey's Tail to be released as a bottle in a future installment of the Hundred Acre Wood scent series!
-
A handful of dates and black figs plopped into a frosted glass frothing with cranberry champagne.
-
After thirty years of reluctantly drinking coffee, Ted has become a bean aficionado thanks to a local shop called the Head Nut. Recently, we bought French vanilla and bourbon chocolate beans from them and ever since that day, Ted has been hooked. Of course, Ted’s morning coffee is the breakfast beverage equivalent to a cozy hug: a slow-simmered swirl of brown sugar melting into steamed milk, wrapped around the soothing, sweet warmth of vanilla-infused espresso.
-
I like Rabbit's scent more than I thought I would! It starts off with a blast of lemony white tea, followed by some lemon verbena, and a smackerel honey. Then the oats and condensed milk emerge and eventually overtake the bright notes, making it more like a sweet, toasty oat scent. I am pleased to report that the vetiver seems to be missing in action on me, so if it's lurking beneath these notes, it is very well-behaved and not a strong, smoky variety. I think this would be perfect to wear during spring and am so glad it worked out (especially since the White Rabbit from the Mad Tea Party collection does not jive with my chemistry).
-
Pomegranate Loukoumi and Champagne.
-
I don’t know if all kids love Krampus, but mine sure does. She first met him a decade ago at Dark Delicacies, where he was portrayed by our dear friend, Bill Rude. She loves Krampus so much that we took her to the Gnigl Krampuslauf in Salzburg in 2017. Her intention to join the Los Angeles Krampuslauf as a wee Krampus was curtailed by the pandemic, but hope springs eternal. Kids love horror. They’re attracted to the strange, the uncanny, the mysterious. This is why they love characters like Krampus, despite the threat of being scooped up into a bag and tossed into a river. Kids embrace horror. They always have. Children understand that the world is stitched together with shadows, and that sometimes the shadows have teeth. They’re drawn to the strange, the uncanny, the impossible; they see the edges where reality blurs. Horror is not a trespass for them, but a playground: a place where the monstrous becomes knowable, where fear becomes understanding. Terror tales are a ritualized fear, safely cocooned in myth. This is why they love figures like Krampus, even with his clanking chains and sacks full of disobedient little souls. To a child, Krampus is not simply a morality lesson or a grim parental warning – he’s a symbol of freedom, of things that are wild, dark, and uncontrolled. Children instinctively know that monsters serve a purpose, that they give shape to anxieties too formless to name. They let kids practice both bravery and defiance, and they teach kids that though the world can be frightening and unpredictable, they can traverse its tangled forests and survive the darkness. I believe that children also know in the deepest part of their mythic, dreaming souls that monsters protect, challenge, and guide. Sometimes, the monster under the bed is the only one who truly understands you. Kids love Krampus, not in spite of his menace, but because of it. His is the shadow that makes the light shine brighter, and the rattle of his chains reminds them that stories, both light and dark, belong to them. A playdate with monsters: crimson musk stirred into molten sugar, ruby pomegranate syrup, tart cherries, a dusting of clove-spun candyfloss, and a drizzle of warm vanilla resin.
-
Tangy cream cheese folded through warm bakery dough, still puffed from the fryer, and thick, dark wild blackberry jam.
-
Strawberry preserves twisting through clouds of pink cotton candy and marshmallow fluff.