bettybaker

Thanks for the help with opening and closing imps; I've carried your advice in my head every time I've played with one!

Guess who smells of Jack? Yes! It's me. I smell absolutely wonderful right now. So? Yesterday? In a fit of decadence and stress? I bought six more imp's ears - all cat themed. I can't own a cat, because my sweetie's allergic to them (in a big, he ain't kidding kind of way), but I'm a Leo, and I like cats. Here's the haul: Hellcat The Lion Lyonesse Bengal Black Cat Bastet *happydance*

Oh man, a Sekhmet scent would be awesome. =) I'll have to prowl through the scents to go looking for it (oh, the horror!).

In the imp's ear, Kumiho is sweet, bright, and sharp; a white glow. Wet on my skin, she's an intense waker-upper, all confidence, sunshine, and intelligence. Kumiho is morning-person-style start-of-the-day exuberance. She gives me the same sensation I get when I drink that first glass of orange juice. Kumiho isn't citrus-y, but she has the same sort of energy. I can imagine putting her on just after a morning shower and radiating joy all day. After about an hour, her sweetness and light fades, becoming milder and milder until she's a “come closer” scent. Several hours later, Kumiho smells like baby powder; she's unoffensive and clean smelling.

Oh my. I'm going to abandon the approach of telling you what this smells like in the imp, wet on my skin, and during the stages of drying. I'm going to tell you the place this takes me. Last night, I participated in an intense pagan ritual. Afterward, we all stayed up, talking, processing, and making quiet jokes. Early in the morning, when everyone else was finally going to sleep, I put on a coat, poured myself some red wine in a pewter chalice, and went for a walk outside. In the early morning hours, the modern day seemed more present than it had during the midnight ritual -the sounds of the freeway rushed over me on the overpass. I walked through the wet field where we had gathered during the night, and found the spot of our campfire, with its dew-damp ashes. Standing there, I sipped my red wine and meditated on all that had gone before. Overall? This is a hypnotic, evocative scent with an almost repellent charge. It's the scent of the end of mourning and the beginning of moving on; it's the breaking down that happens before rebuilding starts, in a very personal way. It isn't a pretty scent, but it might be good for reflective work. Notes that I scented: red wine, green grass, wet, and lots and lots of ozone, with the very tiniest hint of ritual sandalwood and prettyboy leather.

The first thing I did was sniff the imp. At first, I smelled butter and rum. I closed my eyes and sniffed again; this time, I smelled flowers. So far, I was delighted, so I applied some to my left wrist. At first, all I smelled was cinnamon. Some of the oil had leaked when I closed the imp, so I'd wiped a smear of that on my right wrist. Interesting. The left wrist, with its heavy smear, smelled like straight cinnamon, while my right wrist (with it's light smear) smelled almost entirely of butter. During the first stages of the drydown, Jack still smelled strongly of cinnamon, but the cloves and nutmeg were making an appearance. Lovely. I was surrounded by an aura of pumpkin pie. Now, a few hours later, Jack is still present, but now he's smelling softly of peach, clove, and nutmeg. I'm very happy with this.