doomsday_disco
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In the bottle and freshly applied to my skin, I swear this smells just like a bowl of Cap'n Crunch Berries Cereal? đź‘€ This is not a bad thing. I wonder if it is the malted aspect of the milk with the berry notes giving me that Cap'n Crunch vibe? Then the cherry pops up, and it's glorious, but fleeting, leaving behind mostly a strawberry milk scent with like... a spoonful of Cap'n Crunch instead of a bowl of it. After a few hours of wear, the scent is pretty faint, but I think I smell some papaya behind the strawberry milk, because I briefly smelled something that reminded me of the Papaya, Passionfruit and Candyfloss b-side. I'll be keeping my decant (in the original bottle -- woot!), and I'll spend more time with it to see if I need more of it. I really enjoy the unexpected Cap'n Crunch... I just wish this lasted longer. But maybe once I wear this for my scent of the day and slather it all over, it will have much better staying power. I should also mention that Fairy Lobster Foam was a funky dairy disaster on me, but this one, fortunately, is not!
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Green Lovebat starts off with the green apple and peppermint in full force. After a while, the green apple loses its sugared aspect and becomes more tart, and the green currants emerge, making the scent even more tart. The peppermint is quick to calm down, and the milk emerges; it's definitely a dairy milk note, but it isn't super buttery (and it is a very accurate milk note). By the end of the day, this is a milky green apple and currant scent with just a hint of coolness left behind from the mint. Green Lovebird is my preferred Lovebird, but oddly enough, Pink Lovebat is actually my preferred Lovebat! If you're looking for a milky green apple, though, this one is for you!
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Sidewalk Apples starts off with a blast of tart (but not green!) apple and a whoosh of dead leaves on some pavement. I wouldn't let the fermented aspect of the scent scare you away, as I believe that is just highlighting the intense apple at first -- there's no whiff of decay! At one point, I couldn't help but wondering if there were some motor oil or something akin to the Lab's ink note on the pavement, as it veered into a more industrial phase, before settling into what I would describe as Dead Leaves and Cement Atmo plus apple. Dead leaves and I don't really get along, so this isn't a bottle for me, but if you and dead leaves get along and you're looking for a more atmospheric apple-y scent, give this one a try!
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The red apple is the star of the show on me throughout wear. I say sweet because there's no tartness, not because of the caramel or toffee -- because neither of those notes are distinct on me (there's a candied aspect, but I'm not getting any buttery caramel or toffee), and the same goes for the cinnamon and almond, shockingly. I do get the popcorn by the end of the day, where it manages to cozy up to the apple note, but by that point, the scent is pretty faint. This comparison will probably help maybe only a handful of people, but it reminds me of the jar of scoopable County Fair wax I have from Zeep Bath (which closed this year). That one also reads mostly a sweet red apple to me, although it is said to contain funnel cakes, handmade caramel apples, and kettle corn. I'd recommend this to someone who wants a pretty straightforward, non-spiced, sweet red apple scent.
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I've tested this three times on myself, and once on my partner. The first time I tested this was the best time I tested this. Here's the review I shared with another member of the forum: "Bright red cherry that's more like the cherry on the outside of a tootsie pop, similar to the cherry in Lilith Poundcake, but amped up, with some tartness from the red currant, a little bit of industrialness from the ink, and some creamy vanilla. The ink is really subtle in this, though!" However, the next two times I tested this, the cherry was quickly overtaken by the currant note. So bright cherry, quickly overtaken by the tart currant, and that just lasts and lasts with only a smudge of ink and hardly any vanilla cream anymore. This is also how it smelled on my partner, who said, "I'm not getting a lot of cherry from this" after I slathered it on them. But maybe we're just both amping the currant? It's still good, but I'm a little sad that it has gotten less cherry and vanilla forward as it has had some time to settle. I'll be hanging onto my bottle to see how this ages, but I really wish the cherry would stick around.
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The moment when the vivid pigments of autumn recede and the forest exhales into browns and golds. It’s the taste of bark, the scent of soil, the quiet dignity of endings. The tannins remain when all else drains away, leaving a leathery resilience; the echo of structure, the memory of what once was green. It is autumn’s afterimage: subdued, steadfast, and softly beautiful in its restraint. Brown jelly with yellow and green micro shimmer.
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The art of surrender, the moment when green life releases its hold and transforms into fire. It’s the graceful unraveling of chlorophyll, revealing the hidden pigments that have waited all year beneath the surface. Each leaf becomes a brief flare of gold, crimson, or bronze — a final, luminous exultation before the fall. Antiqued brass red jelly with a golden-yellow and green shift.
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Sweet and strange, like a love letter scribbled at midnight. Soft pink jelly with an iridescent shift, semi-sheer.
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The fading of color under relentless sunlight, obliterating pigments until the leaf is nearly luminous, pale, and ethereal. It’s the quiet surrender of golds and reds to light itself, a whisper of brilliance that lingers in ghostly reflection. Like frost catching the last sunbeam, photobleaching turns vibrance into serenity, leaving the leaf luminous in its delicate, waning glow. Light consuming what it once created: a translucent pearl white with a glowing blue shift that can be painted on its own or used as a topper.
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Mellow, honeyed light that lingers after chlorophyll’s retreat. It paints the leaves in shades of corn silk and marigold, a gentle radiance that doesn’t blaze but glows from within. Lutein is the warmth that softens the edges of decay, the quiet joy that remains when all else fades. Sparkling sunny yellow.
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The dimming of autumn’s lantern: sunlight softening as it filters through thinning canopies, scattering into bronze and rust. The leaves catch what light remains, turning it to fire before letting it fade, the blaze surrendering to shadow. Shimmering rust with the shifting shades of dropping leaves.
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Witchlight in a bottle: crisp orchard green charged with supernatural glow. Spooky apple green with brilliantly eerie orange shimmer.
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The crunch of leaves beneath your feet: an autumnal jelly packed with glittering, falling flecks. The forest floor caught in mid-rustle.
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A sudden, passionate flare before the frost. It floods the veins of the dying leaf with crimson and wine, a defiant burst of color born from stress and sunlight. Where carotene glows warm and steady, cyanidin burns — fierce, fleeting, and emotional. It is the leaf’s last heartbeat made visible, a brief rebellion against the coming cold. Umber oxblood duochrome.
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The green blood of life itself, coursing through every vein with the vibrant glee of sunlight turned to sugar. As it breaks down, the forest exhales its last green sigh, and the world begins to dream in gold. The forest’s heartbeat, pulsing beneath decay — a vivid, vegetal gleam: deep olive jelly with orange and green spark.