Eris

My first impression of Belle Epoque on was that it was like smelling a sweeter version of my beloved Penitence. Or perhaps Hymn without the rose. When I went back and re-read Belle Epoque's ingredients, I discovered the tell-tale lily of the valley, also in Hymn. This made me happy, as that works well with me. As the scent settled more deeply into my skin, the resiny backing started to fade. That lily of the valley top note stayed, along with some else greeny and floraly. Mandarin? I doubt it's the opium. Regardless, the overall effect reminded me a bit of Amsterdam. Further play on the skin finally made Belle Epoque walk--but not quite cross--the soapy line. And there it stayed. Like so many BPAL blends, I enjoyed tracking its morphs and was pleasantly surprised by all its nuances. In the end, though, this one doesn't 'do it' enough for me to keep.

Be careful what you wish for. Pine and skin? Yup, it's all here, hands down. Upon first application, the pine about blew me away, along with something else...animalistic. I guess musk is definitely the best way to describe it, but this is truly the most 'musky' musk I've ever smelled. White musk is light, Arabian musk is sweet...but Hexennacht's musk? It's like hardcore, marking-your-territory, hear-me-roar kind of musk. As it dries into the skin, the strength of the pine drops a little but still holds its own with that powerful musk. I get only the faintest smoke note in the background; mostly the others claim center stage. This reminds me very much of a famous men's cologne whose name is alluding me... It also reminds me of certain New Age stores I've been in (not to be confused with the craft store smell, which is much sweeter). I'm surprised by the comparison to Hunter Moon because that one was very berry-ish on me. There's none of that in Hexennacht, nor any other sweetness I've read about from others. Overall? Hmm. I don't know. I'm not sure if I'm woman enough to handle this. I suspect it would be terribly sexy on a man, however, so I may have to go do some reconaissance...

I was excited for this one, as I am a fan of both Katharina herself and the whole peach/apricot family. So, when I got it as a frimp, I was like, "Ah, bonus." When first applied, I get a perfectly balanced apricot scent, not too strong or too light. I think there's a little of the orange blossom there as well. It reminds me a lot of Tamora in this phase, albeit a little less creamy. As Katharina dries, the true difference comes out. I think Tamora's vanilla holds its peachiness to my skin better. Katharina's apricot fades quickly, and the musk is too thin on me to be particularly noticeable. This would take a lot of reapplying, I think. In the final verdict, the opening note is quite nice, but it doesn't last long enough on me. I'll stick to Tamora for my peachy/apricot fix.

I got this as a frimp, and happily, it's one I've been curious about for a long time. As soon as it hits the skin, I get the sweet citrusty scent of bergamot, backed by a few other friends in the citrus family. As it dries, the bergamot diminishes, and I get kind of a faint musky floral. That eventually gives way to the teak and vanilla, which on me form a faintly-sweet, musky wood scent. It reminds me a little of the wood notes found in Cathedral and Damnation, but not quite. This stage lasted a VERY long time and drew me back to keep smelling it again and again. Overall, I'm not sure I associate this blend with desire, exactly, but it is one of the most complex and delightfully changing (in a good way) scents I've come across.

Whoa, violet and tuberose. Hardcore. Despite the immediately overwhelming power of this as it goes on the skin, I will say that this is one of the better violets on me I've tried. The tuberose seems to save it from getting too out of control, though they still pack a mighty punch. On the bright side, the strength dims pretty quickly and hangs out at a much more tolerable intensity for a few hours before disappearing altogether. Another perk of this one is that the scent doesn't morph or change; it stays pretty consistent from wet to dry, which I like. Unfortunately, while not exactly opposed to violet, I'm just...well, not a violet person. So, this little frimp will go off to swap for me, but for a fan of violet and tuberose, this is about as good as it gets.

Hmm. This one's gone through a rollercoaster of changes on me. The thing I pick out the most is the honey, and thus far it's had three distinct phases. Wet on the skin, it was pure honey--like what I expected sniffing a jar. Then, it turned medicinal--think honey cough drops. Now, it's settled down into a more sugary, sweet honey. So where do the other notes come in? Honestly, I can't pick them out. There's something backing the honey definitely, but it's elusive. I detect a very subtle spiciness, which is probably the clove. Maybe the patchouli? Unclear. No, I think it's the clove. I detect no Ylang Ylang, but I'm always bad at identifying it. Further reflection makes me think the sweetness amplifying the honey may be the fig. So, it's hard to make a final analysis on this. It's kind of a spicy honey with...something else. I neither love it nor hate it; I just kind of sniff and go 'hmm.' That indecision probably means it'll go off to swapland, alas. For someone looking for a unique perfume that smells like nothing else, however, this may be the one.

A gentle white scent, breezes laced with the scent of springtime blooms and citrus. Lemon, lemon verbena, neroli, white musk, white florals, white sandalwood, China musk, bergamot and a drop of vanilla. I've said it once, and I'll say it again: some of the best blends I've ever tried are freebies from the lab I never would have otherwise considered. Zephyr is light and clean, a summerry haze of pale yellow and white. The lemon adds a necessary high note to the creaminess but does so without being Pledge-y, which is what happens to so many lemons on me. The musks and white sandalwood ground it, and the vanilla smooths it all into a delicious, skin-loving melange. It's funny, I've noticed with so many scents that my perception of them affects how I smell them. When I smell this and think of the description, I think of warm weather and the Greek god Zephyr. If the lab's description had said something about lemon cake or some other baked good, I suspect I would see that too. Both are appropriate for this one. The question now is whether this is a 'me' blend. I definitely love smelling it, but I tend to associate resins and spices with my personality. Am I brave enough to cross boundaries? Time will tell.

Bitter almond and sweet almond always smell the same to me. Regardless, I love them both, but they always dissipate as soon as they settle into my skin. Once that almondiness disappears, the myrrh and dark musk of Hecate blend into one thick note. It's very similar to a single note I bought from a local shop called "dark amber." Hecate is like sweet smoke, rising darkly into the sky. Not exactly incensey, but the kind of thing you might smell if someone were burning wood in a forest and threw a dash of sweet perfume oil into it. However, don't mistake me: this is not a scent that would easily be classified as 'sweet,' at least not in the traditional sense. It is deep and mysterious, the kind of thing that melds with your skin and becomes one with it.

A profound symbol of an individual’s personal initiatic process, spiritual refinement and evolution, synthesis, grace found as a result of trial and suffering, and the alchemical process by which we transform the raw essence of our souls through light in extension. This is a holy oil, a representation of the triumph of spirit over matter: purest rose with sacred frankincense. Despite mixed luck with roses, I had to get this for the sake of the frankincense. The first thing I notice about this is that there is no significant morphing from bottle to skin. Sure, there's the eventual fade-down that always occurs, but it doesn't do any crazy magic acts or change in alarming ways. That being said, it is exactly as the description claims: rose and frankincense. The rose is a nice rose, very much like what I would expect walking up to a blossom and sniffing, rather than an artificial or commercial rose. The frankincense gives it a nice grounding, sort of thickening the rose and giving the whole scent an incense field. It reminds me a lot of Hymn, albeit less complex since Hymn has more notes. While I do appreciate that simplicity, I do wish it had a bit more of the frankincense or some other spicy, incensey note, simply because those always work so well with me. Overall, I'm positive about this one and like it as a change to my regular Churchy blends, though I doubt I'll go beyond the imp.

I couldn't stop sniffing this one in the bottle. It had a green, herbaly and faintly floral scent edged with an unexpected sweetness. Maybe the tonka? Regardless, it was gorgeous. Excitedly, I applied it, and my first thought was WHOA! That's strong. A dab will do you. But it still smelled good, so, rock on. Then...minutes later, it began to morph. The sweetness disappeared, and I was left with something sort of herbaly and green but not quite. It was vaguely familiar and NOT pleasant. Sniffing again, I tried to peg it. Then, I knew: Palmolive. It had turned to dishwashing soap! No wonder I didn't catch it right away; I probably haven't washed a dish by hand in ten years. Alas, I've experienced the phenomenon of scents turning 'soapy' on me before, but this was the most literal time it's happened. And I did so love the story of Aeval. Sigh. For someone whose chemistry doesn't muck with and who can keep that lovely opening scent, this will be superb.

Interesting. In the bottle, I smelled a soft, rounded floral. Not too cloying. I was very happy because I thought, "Ah! Another floral for those that don't usually like florals." On my wrist, it promptly turned into a thick, layered almost-soapy-but-not-quite-soapy green and white floral. In fact, it reminded me strongly of Danube without the opening watery blue note. They definitely have a similar core, at least on me. In the end, I'm just not a floral person, alas. This is definitely a unique floral, clean more than perfumey sweet, and it doesn't offend me like some. Unfortunately, it just doesn't do much else, and I'm sure some other person will love it more.

Somehow I never reviewed this. Anyway, I detected a lot of the elements already described. For me, it was sort of like the medicinal smell of Laudanum combined with a green, herbal base. So, whowever made the Vicks comparison was pretty right-on. Unfortunately, it was all too sharp and strong for me. Not my thing. Off to swap.

Maybe I'm crazy, but Cairo smelled like Nag Champa on me.

Whoa. Someone described this as 'manic,' which I'd say is mightily accurate. It went on lemony and creamy, just managing to stay more on the meringue side than the Pledge side. Unfortunately, that phase was short-lived, and the whole scent darkened and turned on me becoming more like...well, the only way I can really describe it is to say it reminded me of decaying leaves and fruit. Not exactly rotten, but definitely well past prime. I washed it off, and a sort of bitter fruit scent--not good, but much less offensive--remained. I'm glad this has worked so well with others because this one will be a swap for me, alas.

Mmmm...really, really nice. This is very light and creamy. Almost like a floral vanilla. It's not quite innocent, but I can't really say it's a sexy musk either. It sort of walks the line. I guess you might say it's a teasing musk. Yeah, this musk is definitely a tease. Its volume and staying power aren't particularly strong on my skin, but I don't mind reapplying since the overall fragrance stays consistent--a rarity with my odd chemistry. It would figure that this has been discontinued.

Hmm, a nice floral fragrance. It almost reminds me of BPAL's apple blossom with a little less greenery and earthiness. Stargazer has more of a traditional floral overtone, sweet but not unbearably so. Despite this one's pleasantness, however, it doesn't really smell like the stargazers I had at my wedding. They had more of a spicier, almost carnation-like scent, which was what I was hoping this one would be like.

Dana O'Shee all the way! Except DOS on me ends in a sort of soft, rounded finish that fades pretty quickly. Snow White is a little drier on me, with more of a stretched-out, wispy finish that lasts much longer. Kind of sweet and creamy, a little floraly. Nice stuff all around.

I got less citrus in this and more green, herbaly types of impressions. Very grassy. I liked it very much out of the imp and initially on my skin; unfortunately, like so many green blends, my chemistry made it go soapy pretty fast. This would be a lovely summery scent for someone whose skin can hold onto it. If I don't end up swapping it away, I might make a candle or something where soapiness won't take hold.

Ooh...spicy and sweet. Awesome. It's a tad more spicy than I tend to think of carnations as being, but my friend--a carnation freak--approved heartily of this one. This will definitely be a keeper, though it does seem a bit short-lived on my skin and will require multiple applications.

Sweet, sweet, sweet. Literally. I always thought lotus had more of a bite to it, but this is sugary sweet. My friend may have put it best when she described it as "liquid smarties." Like of all the single notes, it's amazing how you can start picking them out in other things. This note makes up a good deal of the sweetness in Forbidden Fruit. It's not entirely unpleasant, but I'm not all that sweet of a person...

Figured I should review this one before I forget, now that I've sold it. Going on, I got the semi-tart berry smell I also found in Tintagel. I guess that would be the wine. Unlike Tintagel, Hunter Moon's wine scent didn't fade away. It stayed on and settled itself roundly on my skin, backed my some notes that sort of made the berriness fuller but which I couldn't identify. They didn't smell much like musk or smoke to me. Not bad over all, but it didn't do much for me.

Alright, someone had to do it. The gardenia in Sacred Whore of Babylon was so strong that I just had to determine once in for all how different it and the single note are. I put SWoB on one wrist and the pure Gardenia note on the other. The results? First sniff shows striking similarities. For those not familiar with gardenia, the previous reviews did an excellent job of describing it: it is flowery, but with buttery and nutty tones to it. In SWoB, there are some other notes added, making it turn spicy. The single note, however, fades into a creamy white floral, reminscient of flowers blooming at night, their scent lingering on the air. This single note is very true to the gardenia corsage I wore to my prom. Very very lovely and worth keeping around.

Sometimes I wonder if my frangipani and mimosa imps got mixed up, based on my differences with previous reviews! Frangipani on me came off as a spicy jasmine. In fact, the more it dried, the more it actually started to resemble my beloved Penitence, which I found completely baffling since that blend is frankincense and myrrh. Frangipani rounded into more of a final floral note than an incense note, however. The whole effect is interesting, but I suspect this one will still end up in swap land for me.

I'm starting to become a pro at identifying BPAL's blackberry. I got Bewitched as a freebie, and it's by far my favorite blackberry blend, though still not something I expect to wear regularly. Initially it goes on smelling a lot like Glasgow, but the berriness of Bewitched is eventually tamed down by a nice, green herbal background. I thought I read someone saying this would make a good lotion, and I'd have to agree. I see it much more as a hand lotion or soap scent than an all-over perfume type of fragrance.

I adore coconut, but I did not get much of that in this blend, not like I do in Black Pearl or The Star. Yet, I can clearly pick out something that's sort of in the coconut/vanilla/tonka range, plus the leather and smoke. When my husband smelled this on me, his first comment was, "You smell like gingerbread." It's weird, but I can see where he's coming from. This dries down into a definitely spicy, gingery sort of smell. I also get the same leather drydown that happens in the background of Tintagel, though fortunately not in such a fabric softener kind of way. Final verdict, I just can't decide what to think of this one. The tobacco and leather overpower the other stuff too much on my skin--I wish it had just a hair bit more sweetness to compensate. I might try doing some blending with other scents and see what happens.