jasmine

On first application, this is stark red -- not in scent, but in color. I suspect it’s more than dark enough to stain, and I’d better be careful if I apply it while wearing white (which I’ve just done. Hmm.) For a dragon’s blood scent, this doesn’t have a lot of confidence. It’s not a thin scent, precisely, but it seems diluted. I can pick up the salt faintly, but only by concentrating. Without that concentration, it just seems like bored dragon blood, and I prefer it with a bit more zest. Given some more time, the scent broadens, but I’m still not particularly impressed by it. Were it the first dragon’s blood scent I had encountered, I might be -- but the Lab has too many superior offerings.

This is surprisingly perfumey straight out of the bottle. There’s a high floral note that I didn’t expect, though it has a warm spiciness underneath. After a moment, the perfuminess is gone, as is the high floral, and low musks kick in underneath the warmth. The longer I wear it, the stronger the musk gets. This is definitely my least favorite of the Ars Draconis thus far. While I’m sure that it’s supposed to be doing what it’s doing, I’m just not a fan of dark musk. Given a bit more time, it manifests a touch of cinnamon scent that I appreciate more. The heavy muskiness isn’t quite as bad as it was, but it’s still very musky. This is unsurprising (after all, it’s right there in the notes list) but I want to try everything I have, even if I’m fairly sure it won’t get along with me. So... yes, I'm afraid this one wasn't for me, but I knew it wouldn't be, and that's all right.

This is a high-pitched, pale floral scent that blossoms on my skin and, after a time, darkens into a reddish smell. I can’t confidently speak to the scent of osmanthus or daffodil, but the ylang ylang is here. I don’t detect anything that smells like berries to me. This is a highly perfumey scent. Normally, this bothers me, but there’s a certain level of sophistication here that convinces me to let it go. After more time passes, I can pick up a touch of the berry when I concentrate -- a subtle blackberry -- but the florals are strongest. The mood of it seems somehow haughty and distant. (I know that description fits “ice maiden”, not “snow maiden”, but I really am trying to judge the smell instead of the name!) The elegance of this scent is undeniable. This seems like a scent that would go well with upswept hair, heels, and mascara. I’m afraid it clashes a bit with my personality, but it’s a beautiful creation nonetheless.

On the wand, this is instantly one for the foodies: wine and buttercream. I am alarmed, as I do not do so well with buttery or cake-like scents, but... here goes. (If worst comes to worst, and it turns into something horrifying, at least I’m in the privacy of my own home.) On my skin, it metamorphoses into something that I find painfully familiar, but cannot place at first. Finally, I recognize the scent as the way a bag of dried fruit smells when I first open it. To be specific, Haloa smells like a prune. It smells very precisely and very strongly like a prune, with just a hint of buttercream-laden cake underneath. Frankincense, myrrh, grapes: forget it. The mighty prune scent has come, and it sweeps forth like a wave, conquering all in its path. While I recognize that the mighty prune scent is, in all likelihood, a skin chemistry-twisted grape, it doesn’t smell like grape and it does smell like prune. I am boggled. I’m impressed by this scent... and it’s quite impressive... but I just can’t imagine wanting to smell like this. It’s a rich, dark scent that establishes and maintains its identity, and I have all kinds of praise for it in that regard, except... prunes! If you want to smell like prunes, and your skin chemistry is sufficiently similar to mine, then this is definitely the scent for you. That’s about all I can say.

Concentrating, I can detect the upper citrus note, but that’s about it. Trying to pick single notes out of the melange is really a lost cause. It doesn’t help that there’s multiple citrus notes, and I really have no confidence in telling them apart. But that’s all right, I suppose, because this is going soapy on me. The entire mass is fading into citrus-scented soap. It’s nice soap, fragrant soap, but it’s... soap. I don’t mind a clean scent, but there’s a difference between clean and soapy. The soapiness is wavering in and out. When it isn’t soapy, it’s high-pitched and floral, but when it’s soapy, it’s citrusy soap. Peculiar. Not actively offensive, but certainly not for me. More time passes, and the soapiness fades -- thank goodness. Now, Sol Invictus is a soft floral haze. I can’t pick out the citrus any more. It’s subtle and fresh and appealing, but it isn’t appealing enough to wipe out my distaste at the “hello, soap!” stage. ...and then it goes back to soap again. Ah, seesaw scents. I don’t think my opinion is going to improve.

Eee! Candy cane! Really. This isn’t just peppermint -- it’s sugared peppermint. Holy cow. It smells exactly like candy cane. As it dries, it becomes a touch more complex. Now, instead of smelling like straight candy cane, it smells like a peppermint cupcake. The “white cake” scent from in Eat Me and Cockaigne is here. Unlike those two, however, I like it. The peppermint makes it a clean, delicious smell instead of allowing the maddened cake armies to rule the world. (On a side note, I think my skin amplifies the BPAL “cake” note. I wish I knew what to call it when it isn’t called cake.) The peppermint denatures within the hour, as does the cake. I don’t know quite what to make of the underlying scent; it’s warm (not spicy, merely warm, in contrast to the earlier chill of the peppermint) and possibly resinous, but I’m still very bad with resins. The stage following that one seems like the cake has deteriorated into its component chemical parts -- a quiet, unimpressive, and weirdly artificial result. I suppose it takes some effort to make such a tasty candy cane. Despite the rapid failings of the scent, this is some serious tasty goodness upon opening and first application. I can wear it without being afraid that I’ll sear people’s noses with peppermint for days, and that’s not so bad. Still, I would rather have it stay pepperminty for a while, and I wish that the scent hadn’t fallen apart so swiftly. It was delightful and sugary, but reapplying every hour would be rapidly deadly to those around me. Darn.

Chemical and strange initially on the wand -- in fact, this smells distinctly swampy. I’m definitely picking up the jasmine, but it doesn’t seem like happy jasmine... it seems like rotting jasmine. While that may be appropriate to the name, I’m not at all sure how I feel about smelling like it. Fortunately, the rotting quality eases up promptly, and the chemical note is mostly gone as the jasmine comes out more fully. My skin amplifies jasmine, so I’m not terribly surprised. As time continues, New Orleans grows more acceptable, but I still can’t pick anything out save jasmine, and it’s a lush, overripe jasmine. I’ve met jasmines that I preferred to this one already.

The fern is most evident on the wand. This is initially a dark green scent, like broken plant stalks. Given some time, it remains that way. However this is supposed to smell, it’s plainly not doing it on me. This is such a “plant” scent that I really would have expected it to be from Rappacini’s Garden. Rose, lilac, sugar -- nothing. Very odd. I don’t know what absinthe smells like, so it may be the absinthe overwhelming the scent -- I just know that I have no desire to smell like this. After a bit, it turned into non-noteworthy florals and faded out. I was duly unimpressed.

The first impression is one of fruit -- cherry with some florals on it, but not sour almond-cherry -- a low, plummy cherry instead. After a while, it metamorphoses to smell more like florals, but the fruity undercurrent remains, to my surprise. This was very impressive initially, but it faded rapidly into my skin within an hour. I can detect it, but only faintly, and I can tell that it’s vanishing. Ah, well. Still a faint wisp of fruitiness left behind. Oddly, that wisp of fruit is fairly determined to stick around. Pretty... but very, very subtle. I liked the non-subtle stage better.

This is very light -- the lightest BPAL scent I’ve smelled yet. Wet, it’s a gentle blend of spiced oils that instantly strikes me as Snake Cousin’s shy, reclusive cousin. I catch a touch of ginger, but the note list explains it isn’t there, unless it’s under “spices”, so I’m puzzled. This is extraordinarily quiet -- it’s nice to have a scent with no chance of offending someone, certainly, and it’s elegantly subtle, but... it’s so quiet. I’m surprised. Over time, it gradually develops into a soft, subtle, gently spicy aura. It’s a neat effect. I’m not overwhelmed, but it’s nice, and it scores points for nice.

Evil apples! I’m instantly in love. It’s tart, sweet, crisp apple... with dragon’s blood resin. Ooo! There’s something floral under the apples and the dragon’s blood resin, but without the scent list, I can’t figure out what it is. Looking back, I conclude that it’s hyacinth. The apple smells more like a Gala than a golden apple to me, but this may be because Galas are my favorite apple ever. I love this scent so good. I want to hug it and snuggle it and possibly have its hundred-headed children, as long as they started out non-scaly and possibly compacted into comfy eggs first. (Eggs seem so much more sensibly shaped than infants for coming out of orifices.) Reading back over this paragraph, I swear Ladon is making me giddy. SEXY EVIL APPLES. ...I’m going to let it dry a bit and see if I’m still this crazed with enthusiasm. The answer: it lasts, it has good throw, and, while it didn’t maintain the intense crispness from the beginning, it went into a lovely perfumey state that I also adore -- the musk came out, and it gives it this slightly hollow, pale note under the apple and dragon’s blood. Ladon, I adore you. As soon as the imp runs out, this is bottle time.

My first impression: it’s a woody, green scent. The florals sway out from between the wood after a moment, but which floral I’m picking up, I can’t say -- it’s simply a bouquet. It’s worth mentioning that, wet, this scent is very clean without being soapy in the slightest. It strikes me as unusual and appealing for its unusualness. Like Aeval, this strikes me firmly as “a scent that should be somebody’s signature scent”; unlike Aeval, I feel that I could wear this scent, though I don’t see it as my own signature. As time passes and the scent dries down, the flowers become less prominent and the woodiness returns. I like it in both aspects. I’m pretty sure that the primary floral I detect now is the lily-of-the-valley. It’s a graceful, unobtrusive scent. I find myself thinking of deer wandering quietly through the forest (though that probably has more to do with the Lab’s description than anything else.) This is becoming subtle on my skin, but I don’t mind; there is something indefinably lovely about it, although it wouldn’t be a first recommendation from me to a new BPAL user. After more time, it goes back to being clean and then straightaway starts being soapy. (That hardly seems fair when I was so very enamored of this scent!) I can’t pick out the wood any more at all, and the florals are just coasting atop a bar of Dove. Reapplication to avoid this stage will plainly be necessary if I want to wear this scent. How disappointing.

On the wand, this is much more perfumey than I expected. I pick up the white grape right away, but it’s nestled into a bloom of florals that I can’t quite tell from one another. On my wrist, rather than being complex and multilayered, the scent settles immediately into a low, pale floral muddle. That was unexpected. Also, there’s a decent throw on the muddle, so it’s low, pale floral muddle everywhere. Hmm. The muddle has stopped being so muddly, but it’s still one scent rather than layers. I really can’t pick anything out of this. All I discern is a perfumey, pale floral with a touch of sweet fruit juice under it. As time passes, this scent grows prettier on me and I come to like it more. It doesn’t seem quite so muddly any more, though I have no illusions about being able to tell its aspects apart from one another. The flowers that I detect become a bit darker as the scent fuses into my skin. In the end, it’s very nice, and I could cheerfully wear this again, though it’s not bowling me over.

Very sweet -- almost candied. It has a distinct familiarity about it, which is pleasing, and it had a citrusy zing at the moment of application that made me happy. Something about it reminds me of going to the fair. Now, however, there’s a clayish-floury note coming through that leaves me mumbling, “Please don’t turn into clayish-floury stuff. I have this great theory about how I’m going to like you, but it sort of depends on you not smelling evil.” ...but it did. This is the second scent in very short succession (the first being Imp) that reminded me strongly of unbaked pastry. I have no clue what’s causing it, since it definitely seems to be a skin chemistry problem instead of what the scent is actually supposed to do. There’s still something sweet and candied overlaying the pastry scent, and I really like whatever-it-is, but inevitably, the pastry triumphs -- at least in the short run. I’ll wait it out and see if it improves. I really like the throw off this -- it’s only close up that the scent turns into flour. At a distance, it’s just sweet and familiar, and the closest thing I can think of to the scent is that it reminds me of Mike n’ Ikes. The pastry aspect is also fading, which leaves me deeply relieved. Now the scent is sweet and familiar and somehow impossible to place, but still very pleasing, aside from the tinge of flouriness. Without the flouriness, this would be one of my favorite BPAL scents; as it is, though... appealing, yet without living up to its full potential.

Chocolate! All kinds of things, actually -- vanilla (tonka? no, the description tells me that it’s vanilla after all) and something floral and something spicy and something woody, but... chocolate! It was my first impression, and I can’t get over it. Not chocolate into which I would want to bite -- too many peculiar quirks for it to be tasty -- but definitely chocolate, despite not being a scent for foodies. Digression: I recently ate a piece of floral-flavored chocolate at work. Really. There’s a company that makes gourmet chocolates, and they sent us samples for various reasons, and I consumed both a piece of lemon chocolate (not lemon cream, just lemon-infused) and a piece of alpine flower-flavored chocolate. This reminds me of the way those tasted. Chocolate... and yet... not chocolate. This is a unisex scent (though, if the Lab told me it was designed for men, I’d believe it faster than if they told me it was designed for women.) It’s warm and dark and appealing. Chocolate was the dominant note for a while. Now it’s tapered back, but it’s still detectable. I can pick up some of the other notes if I close my eyes and concentrate, I think, but the truth is that I might be hallucinating them -- this has become softly blended instead of being layered, a soft, warm, dark brown blend that leaves me impressed and contented. I’m happy that I splurged for the bottle, since the next blend of 13 won’t show up until April of 2007.

Peach and... pastry? Upon immediate application, this smells floury to me -- not even like finished pastry, but like unbaked bread dough. I’ve got the peach, but it’s not a full, juicy peach -- it’s a weird artificial edge. Drying, it’s still obviously pastry -- only now it’s turned into a cold peach pastry... not totally done, but removed from the oven and dropped on the counter. It’s not even just that there’s a scent like dough -- the peach scent is suggestive of sterotypical peach filling, complete with the heavy syrup around it. I wonder if it’s going to actually bake and be finished in a bit? The peach would be nice if it didn’t smell so artificial. Flour flour flour flour. Wow. I re-read the description on Imp, and I can’t even conceive of what’s producing that effect. It’s plainly just one of those odd skin chemistry things. Amazing. Now it’s made it all the way to... a baked peach pastry. It no longer smells underbaked, but it does still smell like peach tart syrup. I feel on some level like a kitten owner who’s just been presented by Fluffy’s First Mouse: I’m proud of Imp, since it was plainly trying very hard, but the result still isn’t something that I treasure.

Ah, yes, that would be skin musk. It comes out immediately and unmistakeably. Surprisingly, I don’t find myself disliking the note in the way that I’ve disliked other skin musk scents (by which I mean, it isn’t Play-Doh yet. I have no confidence in that state of affairs continuing.) This is a complex scent, smooth and subdued. It’s definitely another “second skin” scent: it doesn’t immediately announce itself as a perfume, and it has a light sensuality to it. I can definitely detect a floral presence, but I can’t determine which floral presence it is -- probably calla lily? The notes are so balanced that telling them apart is really quite impossible for me -- aside from the skin musk. The skin musk owns this scent. “A shimmering veil of unearthly beauty”... nah. Even if it hasn’t gone Play-Doh, the skin musk isn’t pretty. It might be sensual, or interesting, but it isn’t pretty to me. Florals and fruits -- those are pretty to me. Perhaps that’s my big problem with skin musk. (It also smells far too alive to be vampiric... unless she’s just eaten. And then I would want a bit more redness to the smell. It strikes me as very orange-red right now, like honey-golden skin by candlelight... afraid these descriptions do reek of synesthesia, but they make sense to me, at least!) Or perhaps (I’ve wondered this before about skin musk) I just don’t have the hormonal balance to appreciate it? There’s a difference between “this blend makes me feel sexy and confident” and “this blend smells sexy”, and, while I recognize the former when I smell it, I don’t know about the latter (at least, not on me.) Of all the skin musk scents I’ve tried, though, I feel most inclined to experiment with this one and with Les Bijoux. Incidentally, this has a strong, persistent throw. It’s not a perfumey scent, so it took me a bit of time to realize, but it’s controlling a lot of the airspace around me now. Since it never went Play-Doh, which I do appreciate, I guess I'll experiment with it in the future.

Wet, this is a dark, unsweet smell with something chemical underneath. I expected something sweet, but there really isn’t anything sweet in this. It’s a dark, dry smell that reminds me more of prune than plum. While I’m still not a vetiver expert, I think I sense it here. There’s something resinous as well. Time passes; Oya settles, but that doesn’t mean I like it any better. I’m starting to suspect that perhaps the plum in Morgause is what makes me think of toilet cleanser when I smell Morgause, because it certainly would qualify as “dark fruits” and it’s definitely present in both. Hrrrrm. In fact... the longer I wear Oya, the more that chemical note seems to be coming forward. That’s scarcely encouraging. Now it’s fading. Smart chemical note. I can’t detect it at a distance, but it’s unpleasant close up. At that distance, the throw isn’t overwhelming, yet it really fills the air around me. I can barely detect anything except Oya here. More time passes. I really can’t pick up the chemical note now. Aside from the chemical waxing and waning, I’m struck by how little the main scent changes... it’s just a dark, dry, faintly spiced smell surrounding me. Interesting, but not my thing.

I killed this imp cap while opening it to sniff. On the up side, I think I’ve figured out how I’m killing them. On the down side (sort of), this turned out to be a scent that I really enjoyed. I fell asleep while drowsily sniffing Santa Muerte on my fingertips and woke up knowing that I’d better review it before I lost the imp to evaporation. Initially applied, this is a smooth, peppery scent that doesn’t shout about its florals. The peppery aspect is probably chrysanthemum, and the smooth undertone might be the vetiver; I can pick up the roses, but they’re very low and subtle. I can’t figure out for certain what part of this scent is the cactus flowers, but there’s a very faint hint of something that strikes me as greenish-citrusy (very faint: closed-eye concentration to find it) and I suspect it’s related to the cactus flowers. This scent has smooth, elegant confidence without bothering to drape and drown it in either sexuality or femininity. It doesn’t strike me as an androgynous scent; it just takes gender for granted instead of shouting about it. The roses are present, but the spiciness of the carnation prevents them from being dewy or loud -- the impression is one of roses with a practical bent, if that makes any sense. This is exactly the sort of thing that I want in an evening scent when I’m not planning to be flirtatious -- something dusky, calm, and reserved. It doesn’t strike me as particularly pretty, and it doesn’t demand my attention (or, probably, the attention of those around me), but I don’t feel the need for it to be pretty or to demand my attention. In its own way, Santa Muerte is exactly what I want it to be.

Wet: tropical fruit! Neat! Banana, citrus, maybe starfruit... oh, it’s all tasty and good. There’s a wisp of something floral veiling the fruit, but the fruit is so lovely and juicy and clear... I’m delighted by this scent. As it settles, the banana blends in, and now I can’t be certain what the primary fruit is that I’m detecting -- it just says “fruit” to my nose. The sweetness has tapered off, but it’s still simply gorgeous. I want my hair to smell like this -- just a wash of orangey-red fruit scent flowing around me when I toss my head. After a bit, I realize that I probably thought of shampoo because the scent is becoming cleaner. It isn’t outright soapy right now, but it is very clean. It’s rainwashed -- not a steamy, sultry, sweaty rain, but a brisk, cool rain that leaves everything glistening and wet. Delicious. Unfortunately, it’s fading into my skin. If I try wearing this, I may have to use it as a hair or clothing scent specifically to keep it from vanishing on me. As impressive as it was at the outset, it’s becoming a muted blend, much to my puzzlement. I was so happy with this scent! Darn darn darn. After another two hours, it has developed into something faded and plasticky. What a disappointment! Nevertheless, I see no reason why I shouldn’t wear this -- I’ll just have to reapply often when I do.

I want to like Bastet, but it reminds me wet of Bengal... which turned into instant Play-Doh. Let’s see how this goes. Wet, it’s a slinky scent. The musk is very prominent (and I really think this is the exact same skin musk scent as Bengal used.) I catch some spices and a trace of floral shimmering through the musk, and, as the scent settles, the musk/honey combination fades, much to my immediate relief. This isn’t going to go bad the way Bengal did. I’m so glad! In fact, it’s becoming rather pretty -- a delicate melange of various odors, sweet and dry at the same time. I can detect the almond most distinctly, but also sense the saffron. I can’t spot the lotus very well. Still... although Bastet isn’t going fully Play-Doh, it just doesn’t seem to be my kind of thing. There is a clayishness about it that makes me wrinkle my nose. I have concluded that I don’t like skin musk. I’ve now tried several scents that are supposed to be sexy and sensual with skin musk in them, and it just doesn’t appeal. (O seemed to have the exact same resonance on me.) As if aware that I disapprove, Bastet is now settling down on my skin -- definitely present, but subtle and quiet. This is becoming a second-skin scent, now: something that could be mistaken for the scent of my skin, but actually isn’t. It has a trace of pretty warmth, and that’s nice, but it’s still skin musk. Even if this is what it’s supposed to smell like, it doesn’t do it for me. Half an hour later, it’s developing throw... quite an enthusiastic throw. Bastet, dear, I’m done here, I really am... no matter how much you purr at me, you will be hard-pressed to inspire love. Bastet has staying power, too... it remained true to its skin-musky-self for a good three hours without metamorphosing or fading in any way. A good scent for others, I’m sure... just not for me.

Wet, the majority impression I receive from this is all flowers -- a high-pitched, dizzying floral blend. Still, there is something beneath that strikes me as fruit; I would think there was white grape in this, except that the lab description says there isn’t. Hmm. As it dries, I think the predominant note is lily, but it really is quite a swirl of scent. I can’t find the bubble-gum scent that I’ve come to expect from lotus, and I’m honestly not sure what “water blossom ivy” smells like. The rose is subtle enough that I can’t pick it out precisely. For all of the note confusion, this is a powerful blend with a broad, fierce throw. For real beauty, however, it needs something to provide underpinning -- everything in it is high and pale and bright, and I think it may be giving me a headache. More time passes, and I can pick out the lotus, though the lily is still loudest. (This scent is far too powerful on my skin to strike me as either wistful or vulnerable.) As it starts to fade, it becomes prettier, but it fades at a terribly slow speed. After another hour, it’s further faded, and now I really rather like it. However, two hours seems a bit long to wait for a scent to reach a point that I actually enjoy. ...and then it went soapy. Ophelia, my dear, you are definitely not for me.

Wet, I detect almonds, honey, and something that I’m realizing is the Lab’s “buttercream” scent. (The resemblance to Hellcat is extremely strong.) This is incredibly sugary; smelling this seems like it should be fattening! There’s a low hint of fruit, but it’s quite subtle, and I think it’s the wine note referred to in the description. The funny thing is, as it dries, it really does smell like cake -- a piece of cake that’s been broken open, if you hold it to your nose. The faint wine note is a bit off, but the milk and honey certainly aren’t. This is definitely one for the foodies. The throw on this is ferociously strong. “CAKE! CAKE! CAKE!” (The honey has faded after a while, leaving only the maddened cake armies behind.) It’s certainly not a perfume that strikes me as smelling “perfumey”, but I’d want to dilute it quite a bit or possibly layer something else on (a wine scent, perhaps, to bring out the existing trace of wine?) before rewearing it. Having the constant sugary presence is actually starting to make me nauseous. This is just too much to stand tonight; perhaps I'll retry it another night.

“A bite” is absolutely right. The alcohol scent was startlingly sharp on the wand, as was the almond. On my wrist, the almond is strong, and the honey is starting to blossom out. I was afraid that this would be another scent (like White Rabbit) where the honey would go evil, but it seems to have decided against it. The rum appears, blending with the honey scent as the almond starts backing down. This scent lasts well on me, and the honey hasn’t gone evil. The honey, almond, and rum remain most prominent, in that order. It stays strong, and has good throw. The one thing I find myself wishing is that it had a bit more subtlety or complexity. Up close, it’s just a bit too much; the throw is beautiful, but a direct sniff remains dizzying even after a few hours have passed.

On the wand, that’s beautiful. I paused and inhaled several times, just completely taken by the sweetness of it, before finally remembering to put it on my wrist. I detect... yuzu, I think? (After reading the lab description, I see that it really was just grapefruit. I can’t tell the difference between the two yet.) There’s a familiarity to this melange of flavors, but figuring out everything is difficult. As it settles in, it retains its beauty. It’s not overly sweet or sugary or citrusy, but it has traces of all of them... just a smooth, beautiful medley of fruit, with a hint of spice (ginger?) underneath. I can definitely detect vanilla. Oh, I like this one so much! Not much lasting power on this, regrettably... it faded softly into my wrist within the hour... but it still has a delicate, ethereal aura that pleases me. Reapplication would probably be needed to wear this one, but it would be worth it.