doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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My skin brought out none of the nuance of this blend. I tested this twice, because the first time I tried it, it was so lemony that I wondered if some of the lemon juice I had used to make Vaughn Vreeland's Boozy Apple Crunch Cake got on where I applied it. But no, it's all citrus and ozone on me throughout wear, with no reprieve. The neroli is the strongest note at first, but it isn't nearly as sharp or as intense as it usually is on me, and once that calms down, it's a lemon and ozone party. And I'm not getting the sugared aspect of the lemon. I would have liked to get the lavender from this, but at least the neroli was tamer than usual on my skin, and I didn't get any powdery heliotrope or indolic jasmine.
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Black Fly Butter Moon is a very strong, almost toffee-like, buttery shortbread cookie scent on me. I swear there's some orange zest in these cookies even though there's no orange mentioned, because I get it very strongly, especially during the wet phase of the scent. It stays mostly about the cookies for a while, but then I was doing dishes some hours later and was hit with a blast of coffee and cocoa which was really nice. I didn't deathmatch the two, but I think this shortbread cookie might be somewhat similar to the cookies in A Little More Tea from the 2016 Lilith scents (if I ever do deathmatch the two, I'll update this post with my results). It also has the richness of Chocolate Stout Cupcake from Yules of yore. I don't think I need a whole bottle of this one, but I think I'll hang onto my decant!
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the butterfly having disappeared my spirit came back to me — Wafū, trans. R. H. Blyth Wings unfolding in darkness, an echo of silence, the softest flutter, and then gone. Shadow-dappled tuberose and black orchid, buffeted by crumpled violet leaves and ink-dipped tea roses. A glint of obsidian musk slinks beneath, woven with scorched vanilla resin, dusty myrrh, and the faintest touch of crushed blackberry skin.
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This is a very purple scent that is mostly about the violet and blackberry on me, although the tuberose, orchid, and rose are definitely not far behind those notes (I think my skin just tends to amp the violet). I get some of the myrrh in the background, and dusty is an apt description of this variation of that note -- but I don't get much in the way of the scorched vanilla resin from this on my skin, except when layered with the Vanilla-Infused Frankincense and Raspberry duet. After several hours, the tuberose and orchid do end up overtaking the violet and blackberry, and I get some musk with those notes, as well as more of the myrrh. I layered a drop of these duets with the lunacy scent, and these were my experiences: Layered with Black Butterfly Moon: Vanilla and Tobacco Flower - I mostly got the dirt and sheer vanilla floating over the blackberry-tinged purple flowers of the lunacy scent. Layered with Black Butterfly Moon: Vanilla-Infused Frankincense and Raspberry - I enjoyed the combination of the two scents more than the moon on its own. I'm not sure if the lunacy scent brought out more of the vanilla-infused frankincense from this, or if this brought out more of the vanilla resin in the lunacy, or what, but I definitely get some vanilla and resin with the tart raspberry that floats over the blackberry and purple flowers from the lunacy scent, and the vanilla and resin note make me think of the Bourbon Vanilla bath oil from several years ago (deceptively sweet: bourbon vanilla oleoresin and benzoin resinoid). This isn't a scent that is typically in my wheelhouse -- I don't really enjoy fruity florals or florals with resins, but I got it to try those layering combos, and because the artwork and the goth-y scent description gave me of Yuko Ichihara from xxxHolic vibes. This isn't something I need more than a decant of, but I am glad that I decided to try it.
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An experiment in single-notes that never went live.
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A bottomless swirl of black leather, dead branches, and flaming pumpkin guts.
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Looks like someone’s been nibbling a bit too much grass! A sun-faded, plasticky shell of rice milk and marshmallow illuminated from within by 420 watts of weed-wafted glowing green amber.
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From Edward Gorey’s Scènes de Ballet. A glimmer of white tulle in a thicket of ink-black pines, graceful as a half-spied pirouette between a silhouette of clawed branches. The hush of forest moss under satin slippers, a wisp of candle smoke, the flick of a wrist as pale as lilies beckoning through thick myrrh shadows.
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The cadaver, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind: a chilly whoosh of dead leaves seasoned with the perfect amount of smog.
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Don’t you just love that new hearse smell? A stylish, contemporary corpse-carrier for the most discriminating clientele: traces of embalming fluid clinging to white satin curtains and fresh white leather seats.
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Cascades of balsa filigree lace, white kid gloves displayed on cherrywood mannequin hands, and a frilly sachet of dried tea rose.
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It is a big, airy room, the whole floor nearly, with windows that look all ways, and air and sunshine galore. It was nursery first and then playground and gymnasium, I should judge; for the windows are barred for little children, and there are rings and things in the walls. Radiant emptiness: a breezy citrus-touched aldehyde with a hint of sunny amber and dusty heliotrope, and the metallic tang of sun-warmed iron bars.
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But there is something else about that paper—the smell! I noticed it the moment we came into the room, but with so much air and sun it was not bad. Now we have had a week of fog and rain, and whether the windows are open or not, the smell is here. It creeps all over the house. I find it hovering in the dining-room, skulking in the parlor, hiding in the hall, lying in wait for me on the stairs. It gets into my hair. Even when I go to ride, if I turn my head suddenly and surprise it—there is that smell! Such a peculiar odor, too! I have spent hours in trying to analyze it, to find what it smelled like. It is not bad—at first, and very gentle, but quite the subtlest, most enduring odor I ever met. In this damp weather it is awful. I wake up in the night and find it hanging over me. It used to disturb me at first. I thought seriously of burning the house—to reach the smell. But now I am used to it. The only thing I can think of that it is like is the color of the paper! A yellow smell. Scorched wood and oversteeped chamomile petals pressed wetly into beeswax, brittle fossilized amber, a whisper of honeyed hay and saffron, and the sweet decay of overripe butter figs.
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Goth music and goth culture are for everyone. The more, the scarier! But try telling that to the troll who’s appointed themselves as guardian of an entire subculture, which they alone seemingly understand every nuance of. So purely for fun, we asked Drew Rausch to visualize this archetype for us as an undead horror host called the GOTHIC GATEKEEPER, who smells like every record store dickhead demanding that you name three songs from the band whose shirt you’re wearing… but the goth version. Behold: pleather, incense, and a ton of vinyl.
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A crimson corset unlaced in candlelight. Rain against stained glass. The slow heartbeat of desire beneath black velvet. Dark rose steeped in spiced wine and blood orange, tangled with clove and plum, while a pulse of smoky labdanum and black vanilla drapes the air in velvet shadows. A perfume of ruin and rapture crafted for lovers who haunt each other through centuries.
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Lace curtains tremble as candle wax tears drip onto the edges of faded love letters. Love that lingers beyond the grave: violet shadows blooming in chilled air, the hush of moonlight on marble skin, a tremulous veil of moonflower petals, and sandalwood incense smoke drifting through cracked glass.
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Addressing you directly, dear reader, with this important message: NYAHHHH!! Cheeky blackcurrant against a backdrop of scorched goat’s milk, festooned with ribbons of scarlet musk, dried plum, and sweet rose-infused amber.
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A rich bourbon cream skin musk, formulated to announce and enhance whatever version of oneself is currently coming forth.
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A rich bourbon cream skin musk, formulated to announce and enhance whatever version of oneself is currently coming forth.
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A rich bourbon cream skin musk, formulated to announce and enhance whatever version of oneself is currently coming forth.
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Violet and Hay Absolute.
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Cocoa butter, coconut, tiare, and a squirt of pumpkin juice. (This is a perfume oil inspired by the scent of old school 80’s tanning lotions. Do not use this as a sunblock, as it’s… a perfume oil. Please be cautious with sun exposure, use sunblock every day, etc.)
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Smoked tonka bean, vetiver root, white patchouli, oolong tea, hazy, muted brown amber, and vanilla husk. Odilon Redon
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Dead Leaves, Molten Lava Cake, and Raw Cacao.
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Dead Leaves and Apple Pie.