Reedsong

Reviewing two decants I received today: 127: In the vial, very resinous and a little bit boozy. On my skin, it's bright, woody, resinous - cedar, maybe? and perhaps some myrrh judging from the almost syrupy-sour sweetness. It's pretty well-blended and sexy-smoky in the imp; there's someone out there, I'm sure, who would love this. I wish it worked better for me. 14: Incense and flowers? Oh, this is pretty in the imp... On my skin, let's see, what's coming out here...a bunch of different things. I get hints of cherry, rose, lily, a bit of resin, and the other notes are fading away in favour of lily. At this point, it smells like the freshly-washed skin you get after using a strong French-milled floral soap, and that's not a bad thing at all. It's sweet and perfumey... And then it fades a little more, and...Malibu Musk from the '80s? Holy toledo. The floral perfumey quality has crossed a line and is starting to give me a headache. Very interesting scent, though, and as with 127, I don't think it's one of the "unusable" CTs - like the poor vinegar reviewer's above! - just one that doesn't work on me.

I opened my imp of Quicksilver Phoenix today and was instantly reminded of Yvaine! I'm not sure what notes exactly are similar - I don't have the notes for either in front of me - but wanted to pass that along as a possible balm.

In the bottle, this is soapy, perfumey, heady; I feel almost dizzy just taking a whiff! Once I apply it, it starts as a fruity-floral with an undertone of coconut oil, the sort of scent you might associate with a really fine tanning oil, and it's very pleasant and summery. As it dries down, it seems to 'bloom' on my skin; the only BPAL flower that swells to this sort of wet-fruity lushness when applied is lotus, so that must be what I'm getting here. There's something more gentle in the background, and whether it's violet, lily, or white rose, I'm not entirely sure. The overall effect of this scent is the way your skin smells when you use a good-quality French milled flower soap, and that's not a bad thing at all. It's subtle, sweet, and would make an excellent scent for professional situations, close quarters, or quiet occasions like church. It's quite classically feminine and is how I wanted some of the softer Lunacies (like Kindly Moon) to smell. I wasn't expecting to like PX39 this much, but it's grown on me. I think this bottle may be a keeper.

In the imp I get a nice floral-aquatic vibe, but on my skin PX39 turns to an odd resin/pencil-shaving combination with only a hint of the lovely flowers. There must be either white sandalwood or frankincense in here, maybe both, as there's a sour overlay to the unpleasant woodiness. I agree with the commenters who compared this to softer aquatics like Tears, but on me, it just doesn't work.

In the imp, Forest Reverie is just that - an almost drugged forest, drunk on its own mystery and delight, exactly how I hoped it'd smell. Sadly, the oil becomes this weird, pervasive, fake-sweet rose on me, something like Crabtree & Evelyn's Rosewater soap mixed with faintly rotting leaves and forest underbrush. I was really looking forward to this one, but it smells so old-ladyish and so un-enchanting on me. Away it goes.

Pencil shavings with a slight hint of dried rose petals in the background. That would be the frankincense doing its usual "Hi, I'm here to be a complete JERK" thing on my skin. Frankincense is usually a death note, and in this scent, it's too strong. Sadness.

I tested just a tiny drop at first and was rewarded, briefly, with a hint of sweet jessamine and honey. However, the fragrance started to turn soapy, so I decided to try a larger amount to make sure I really didn't like it. AUGH! AUGH! OLD GROSS BANANA! It smells like rancid banana oil mixed with honey. Truly vile, and probably the most unhappy BPAL honey scent I've ever tried. Dammit. I love yellow jessamine, I love honey, but the two together clearly do NOT love me.

Holy toledo. This is liquid white flower honey syrupy whoaness, and it's strong and overpoweringly sweet. I feel like I've just been hit over the head with a two-ton brick of honeycomb wrapped in wet oleander petals. As it dries, a green stem sort of note starts to emerge and gives the scent a little more depth. I like the leafy green sappy quality, but the oleander is becoming a little plastic-y. The notes are fighting all out war, trying to settle someplace comfortably on my skin. I...think I like this? but will probably need a few more tests to figure it out.

This is an intriguing blend. The four notes are blended so beautifully - the lime comes out strongest on my skin, but that's typical for my chemistry when citrus is involved, and in the imp, it's hard to choose any one note as predominant. I knew that this scent would be interesting when I read it, and I'd definitely recommend it for anyone whose skin doesn't amp citrus into blaring candy like mine does. I agree with the reviewers who call this a lovely summer fragrance!

This scent makes me giggle. I thought it was impossible for the Lab's orange blossom note to get any sweeter than it already was...but of course: just add champaca, and it's instant Syrup of India! This stuff is strong, radiant, straight-up heady flower nectar. My fellow fans of L'École des Filles should definitely give this one a whirl. It's so very joyful.

At first, the sandalwood and the bay were the most prominent notes in this scent, which meant Lemon Dusty Death the minute it hit my wrist. I was about to banish it from my collection with a loud HMPH; I haven't ordered a Lunacy in months and was mad that Raptor had fooled me so viciously by its delicious-soundingness. And then, and then, and then, it dried down. And it dazzles me. Fledgling Raptor Moon is a primordial scent; it joins one of only a few BPALs (Jezirat al-Tennyn, The City in the Sea, The Black Tower, Graveyard Dirt, Dana O'Shee, and Obatala being others) that cross the line from "unique" into "archetypal." Here, for my enjoyment, we have archetypal green-musk-wood, how I'd imagine an ancient forest on an island of spices might be. It's the fragrance of a freshly-cut branch, still running with sap, and a wind carrying heavy dark-sweet aromas from afar. I smell the rich green top notes, and then as my nose is moving away, I catch that deep-sweet after-scent and think, "Wait, what was THAT?!" and lean in for another long sniff. This is gorgeous, and I am so pleased for taking a chance on this bottle; I certainly wouldn't have wanted to miss this one. A masterpiece, and one of the best Lunacies - indeed, the best BPALs - I've tried in years.

28: I have NO clue what to make of this one. This is a tilt-a-whirl for the senses, that's for sure. In the bottle, bright fruity sweetness with a hint of floral and a hint of anise. If Skittles were made by a gourmet candy company, this would be it. On the skin, I get cherry and...what is that? Tuberose, or lotus, some sort of intensely sweet floral, and it's sweet and perfumey and oh-so-appealing. Then all of that floral-fruit loveliness vanishes, and I get men's cologne. Darn you, men's cologne! You smell like Zest! WHY do you smell like Zest? You are supposed to be random, not crappy soap! Then...all of THAT vanishes too, thank goodness, because "Zest" and "BPAL" don't belong in the same paragraph, much less the same bottle. Final drydown gives me a slight skin-muskiness, combined with a sweet and subtle floweriness and the tiniest hint of fruit. This has inexplicably become subtle and soft. This scent is light and fairly unisex; it's oddly charming, but very light at this point (less than ten minutes), so it's off to swaps with this one.

718: It smells like vanilla and plastic in the bottle, but when it hits my skin, it's instant absinthe and mint with a subtle sweetness, sort of like if Cathode and Absinthe decided to reproduce. As it dries down, it smells more and more absinthe-esque, with the vanilla fading to only a slight deepening note in the background. Then, within five minutes, the licorice and mint notes vanish, and what's left is a very close-to-the-skin fragrance of a boozy vanilla, dried rose petals, and...lotus, maybe? I can't quite figure it out, but the overall effect is of freshly-washed, lightly floral scented, sexy skin musk with a slight but soothing rubber-y note. (You know the way that Luctor et Emergo, or a good pencil eraser, or Play-Doh, shouldn't smell good but does? It's like that.) It's fairly pretty, but too light and fades too quickly for me. Off to swaps with you, my Absinthe-Flower-Musky Antique-ish Stuff. Someone out there is going to LOVE you.

So, I'm having a bad day, and fortunately it's the same day my partial bottle of Joy arrives. Sweet orange creamy popsicle in the bottle. If this were a dessert, I'd have already swallowed half of it. On my skin, at first it keeps that orange-cream quality. This is a soothing sort of joy, a wise, discerning peace rather than an exuberant bounciness. I start to feel a little better. As it dries down, it smells at first like rainwater and orange, a bizarre combination. Then, the aquatic vanishes, and this odd, wet, extremely soapy floral note starts to emerge. And gets stronger. Argh. What on earth is this? Lily? Moonflower? Sweet pea? I think I've covered all of my floral death notes, but there's this waxy-soft-soap flower in there that's bugging me. My new-found oil-induced joy starts to vanish as my hand reeks of old-lady soap. This weird settling phase lasts only about ten minutes total, though, and what it finally turns into is a very simple, fresh fragrance: orange and honeysuckle. It's a mild honeysuckle vine simmering in the sunlight, next to a single orange blossom and maybe a small piece of orange candy. Still a little soapy, but pleasantly so. I can see that Joy and I are going to get along very, very well. I think I know why this one isn't part of the general TAL catalogue; there's an 'intermediate to advanced user' vibe to this one. It seems to demand, as a condition of feeling joy, that you reach outside of yourself and recognise there's more to life than your own narrow concerns. It's not an instant pick-me-up, but it does work.

Great Sword was one of the first BPALs I ever tried, back in 2006, and I remember being so impressed by the complex meshing of ingredients, the mandarin, tonka, tobacco, and cocoa creating such a discordant impression yet producing a very likeable fragrance. It seemed to be the oozing scented version of the clashing of swords. A few years later, when I tried my imp of Great Sword again, it was less complex. Like another reviewer above, I found that the bright mandarin and herbal notes had vanished, and what remained was a primarily red musk, tonka, and tobacco blending. Tobacco leaf is a death note on my skin, and the scent was oddly rotting. It was as if I was smelling the aftermath of wielding the Great Sword of War. I still think the Come and See fragrances are all under-rated masterpieces, Great Sword especially so, but advise anyone interested in this one to purchase it new and use it quickly. It's one of the few BPALs I've tried that does not improve with age.

Scent-wise, I get the same lovely lavender of Yvaine with some sweet, warm spices, the kind of spices that make a freshly-baked pie or gently simmering holiday potpourri so appealing. I would wear this oil for the fragrance alone. But as a lovely bonus, the effect is perfectly matched to the scent; I call it Hug-in-a-Bottle because it's precisely that. Anthelion has the sweetest, most loving energy of all of the TALs I've tried. If your particular breed of depression and ennui is best helped by loving-kindness, as opposed to the 'purification' effect of White Light or the 'courage inspiring' effect of Lionheart for example, I would recommend Anthelion most of the Joy and Inspiration blends. I wear this oil when I feel lonely and misunderstood, and it really helps, like being wrapped in a warm blanket when you're very cold.

This is a musky, sensual, dark scent and, as many reviewers have pointed out, it seems to express something of the primal feminine rage. Based on the scent description, and the many notes that usually don't work for me, I'd never intended to try this one - but I received a sniffy recently, gave it a chance, and am intrigued. This works better on me than any of the other Ashtanyikas did.

In the imp, it's exactly as stated - sweet peaches, magnolia, a lovely little Southern-style scent. Then it hits my skin. "AUUUUGH! AUUUUUGH! GET IT OFF OF ME NOOOOOW!" was the sound of my mental scream; it turns to really strong, plasticky department store potpourri. I'd hoped that, since peach blossom is a lovely note for me, peach might be the same, but once again it reinforces the valuable lesson that me + fruit in perfume = disaster. I hope someone else will enjoy this imp more than me!

Yummy, yummy, delicious honey! It's that lovely bright-lemony honey from Hony Mone AND the rich dark-sweet honey from Honey Moon AND that warm appealing vibe from Bezoar, all rolled up into one. This is gooooooood and, despite having an imp and a half already, may have to be a bottle purchase. Did I mention YUM? Just checkin'!

Queen Gertrude is perfumey sweet and brings to mind a lovely meeting between C. Howard's violet candies and Crabtree & Evelyn's wisteria perfume. It's antique, faint like the breath from a flower garden, and dignified without seeming stuffy or decayed. This fragrance wafts pleasingly from my wrists every few minutes; it's strong enough to satisfy my senses, but light and fresh enough to suit a professional, solemn, or other kind of occasion in which a heavy or sexy oil wouldn't be appropriate. This is a must-try for flower lovers, especially if you like the fragrance of violet flowers but find (as I do) that many violet perfumes turn to soap or powder on your skin; the delphinium and wisteria in Queen Gertrude bring out the beautiful, subtle nuances of the violet and keep the soap smell away.

I agree wholeheartedly with Ravenclaw79 - while Andreiphontes is an interesting, vaguely spicy and pleasantly unisex fragrance in the imp, it goes to Charmin instantly on my skin, with a slight after-scent of baby powder. I also spilled half of my imp on myself, so now I smell like I've been rolling around in a huge pile of TP. ARGH!

This oil smells exactly like Double Bubble bubble gum in the imp, and released a cherry-orange wax-bottles sort of fragrance when it hit my skin. I'm having a horrible day, and as I smell the Mojo more, I can feel the relief of a dark fog quietly lifting from my mind. Smelling like 1980s candy is not usually my thing, but the effect is more pronounced than I expected, and the scent is certainly more charming to my nose than some of the TAL formulas. A keeper for sure, and I think even people who don't do well with foody fragrances might do well to try this one - especially if they're moody and grumpy like me.

Oh, Yeats, my favourite poet/playwright/magician/everything of all time. So, I saw the Bards of Ireland series and scrolled down the list reacting accordingly: "Huh, interesting, hmmm, okay, huhHOLY CRAP THEY MADE A YEATS SCENT EEEEEEEEEEEEEK MUST BUY NOW!!!" I'm not even sure I actually read the scent notes, for woe, I am a pitiful fangirl. In the bottle, the juniper berry and grassiness of The Host of the Air are most prominent, with a slight berry sweetness softening the effect. Then, I applied it to my skin and got wet old-lady soap. Just as I was about to sob, though, I realised that the powdery soapiness was my old nemesis, dandelion, and after five minutes, the wretched weed retreated. The dry-down is sighingly exquisite: a sweet, warm radiance not unlike that of freshly-washed skin. I smell subtle notes of wet grass, soft flowers and pollen, and a tart berry or two, like a wind blowing through a beautiful natural place. I want to be wherever this scent is. I am immensely pleased that I took a chance on this fragrance, and I agree with other reviewers that, if you've failed with other grassy/earthy/valley sort of scents (like Nowhere in Particular), you would do well to try The Host of the Air; I'd also especially recommend it to anyone who liked Val Sans Retour but found it too faint (as I did) or too sharply grassy. This is a beautiful homage to Ireland's brilliant poet laureate! (Edit because I do not grammar good.)

I agree with the other assessments of 'green' and 'sharp,' but this scent is strangely likeable, despite starting out so sharp I was afraid the oil would eat through my hand. Ya-Te-Vo reminds me very much of Snow Moon, in that both are tree-tastic and extremely medicinal in the bottle, but dry down to something sweet, softly wintry, and appealing. I didn't want to like this one - my exact reaction to the imp was "Ugh, Lysol!" - but the longer it dries down and wafts through the air as I wave my hands, the more I enjoy wearing it. Keeping my imp for sure, and glad this is a GC so I can always get more if need be.

I adore Longing. The mix of spice, rose-sweetness, and resin is just gorgeous, in the bottle and on my skin. It amps so perfectly; I can smell it, and so can everyone around me. I get complimented by everyone, even my mailman!, when I wear this one. It's a beautiful expression of the warm love that every line of the poem exudes, and one of my favourite BPALs ever.