Juushika

In the vial: Astringent warm resinan odd combination, no doubt, of cypress and frankincense. On me: After an initial overwhelming hit of cypress, it calms down to a mere accompanying note. At its heart the scent is warm, smooth, and solid, frankincense perhaps touched by hazelnut. There's a bit of herbal dryness from the oakmoss, slightly powdery and masculine, and a bit of airy astringency from the cypress. The scent is very faint, throw is very low, wear length is low as well. Scent-color is smooth light neutralsgreen, touched by brown. Verdict: The initial strength of the cypress is outright intimidating, but the drydown is surprisingly pleasant. The resin, moss, and cypress is an odd combination, earth-warm but air-cool. It's a very quiet scent, subdued, just a hint of something surprisingly pleasant. But I'm not a fan of pine, and so I can't get past the astringency; the scent is also a bit too light and short-lived for my preferences. This was an interesting blend to try, but I'll pass it along.

2008 version. In the vial: Pine! A white pine, and I already think that this is not going to end well. On me: Commercial perfume, lightened by snow, brightened by pine. At first the commercial perfume is the dominant aspect, but the pine quickly overwhelms. Bright, astringent, and strong, it's just too much for me. I had to wash this off. Verdict: Absolutely not my scent and not a keeper. I'm learning that I truly hate pine, and this is a shining example: it's too astringent and too strong, and I can't stand it. Even without the pine, the underlying commercial floral perfume doesn't appeal to me. I'll pass along my imp.

In the vial: Airy, watery, bright, golden, and a touch floral. On me: The florals are predominant, light and perfumey, even a touch commercial. The herbs barely make themselves known, leaving the scent a bit too light and almost cloying. There's aquatic here, but there's nothing nighttime about it—this is a bright daylight scent, like sun on swiftly-fading mists. There may even be a touch of lemon. As it wears and fades, the headiness dies down and this becomes an airy, misty light floral which is quite pleasant but very faint. Scent-color is translucent pear yellow. Throw is moderate dying down to low; wear length is short. Verdict: I'm unimpressed. I was expecting something a bit more delicate and unusual, but instead get a light commercial perfume misted with aquatics. It's light, floral, gently glowing, and not unpleasant, but not really my thing. I wish it were more subdued or a bit more herbal—something to cut down the headiness of the floral. All told, this just isn't the scent for me. I'm glad to have tried it, but I'll pass along my imp.

In the vial: A great deal of sharp, bright, light lemon over a light-colored floral perfume. On me: The lemon calms on the skin, turning into a glowing yellow brightness cast over the other notes. The florals are white, perfumey, and a touch sweet. Something, probably the pale musks, has come out to provide a slightly deeper and more solid grounding. Over time the rose of the rosewood amps on me, as it is wont to do, pink, velvety, and a bit cloying. It reminds me of similar blends in the catalog which feature lemon and pale florals, but this blend is particularly pale and glowing. Scent-color is gold-tinged white light. Verdict: This is perhaps the antithesis of everything I look for in a blend, so it's no surprise that I don't like it. But, were my tastes different, perhaps I might—this is a light, gently radiant, slightly masculine, perfumey-floral blend of bright lemon, white florals, and just the hint of a solid background. It's not unpleasant, it's just not something that I'd ever want to wear. I'll pass on my imp.

In the vial: Smokey sweet and redI'm actually reminded of candy. On me: This is not what I expected, but it is delightful. The dragon's blood resin is smoky, spicy, rich, and darkmoreso than I expected for this blend, and moreso than it usually is on my skin. The honey and vanilla are smooth and deep and gently sweet. On the skin the candyness disappears, leaving just a hint of non-foody silky sweetness; the usual fruity/floral aspects of DBR are incredibly subdued, mostly contributing a round redness. This is dark, spicy, warm, full, and slightly sweet. Scent-color is a dark dim red; scent-color is spicy powder floating over silky cream. Throw is moderate to low; wear-length is moderate to high. Verdict: I think I was expecting a sweeter, lighter, candy-like scent, but the dragon is not missing from Dragon's Milk. I don't know where the spiciness comes from, but I'm glad it's here. This is a spicy, warm, sweet scent with radiates from the skin like one's own warmth; it's unexpectedly deep, and perfectly intriguing. I am so thankful that I have a whole bottle of this blendI imagine I'll be wearing it often, and I'm equally excited to see it age. Absolutely a keeper, and a new favorite.

The 2006 version. In the vial: Smoky, dark, and sweet—in the bottle, it's a darker cousin to Glowing Vulva, oddly enough. On me: Smoky, dark, and remarkably smooth. I get caramel, tobacco smoke, and opium—the caramel has lost some of its sweetness, calming down to a deep browned, slightly burnt sugar; the tobacco and opium balance each other beautifully, smoky yet solid, dark yet smooth. There's also a touch of spice and a heart of resin that further makes this a smooth, solid blend. I'm still reminded of Glowing Vulva—like GV's teak and lotus, this is a smooth but sweet combination, though Red Lantern is many shades darker. Scent-color is dark caramel; scent-texture is gummy opium wafted by dark smoke. Throws is moderate to low. Verdict: I was wary of the tobacco and the smokiness, but Red Lantern is a delightful surprise. This blend works, and it works like a dream. It's rich, dark, smoky, smooth, sweet, with a sense of intimate sexuality. It hovers just above the skin. The smooth smoke is a delicate balance. I can't stop sniffing, and I sort of want to bathe in it. So, yes, this is absolutely a keeper, and I'm so glad to have stumbled upon this lovely aged bottle.

Having just recieved an imp of it, I had to come back and add: aged Smut. (I don't know about the fresh stuff, since I've never tried it.) It's not the thickest I've tried, but it's got a pretty nice consistency. What's remarkable is the color, which is so deep and dark that it's almost black. It's a truly lightless oil.

In my sudden windfall of pomegranate scents, I found Queen of Clubs similar to Hymn to Proserpine. The Queen is a more nuanced, complex scent, but Proserpine is her somewhat similar cousin. Both are bright pom subdued by a dark background.

In the vial: Why hello there, rose—but it's a sweeter, smoother version of rose than I'm used to. The pomegranate is not as tart as I expected, and rather rounds out the scent into a very rich, warm, sweetened fruity-floral. On me: Ah, there is something of the missing tartness—which amps at first and then fades a bit during wear. Pomegranate and rose indeed: the rose is velvety, lush, and thickly floral; the pom is full, rich red, and fruity. The touch of tartness makes the scent more unique and less Glade candle. It's not particularly complex, but this scent is pleasant, lush, feminine, and full. Scent color is crimson. Throw is moderate to high. Verdict: Persephone is pleasant, but it's a bit too simple and too floral for my tastes. I don't love it as much as the other pomegranate scents which I've had the pleasure to try lately. I do like it more than I expected, so don't necessarily let the rose scare you away—but this is without doubt a feminine fruity-floral blend. I'll forgo this for my other, darker pomegranate loves, but I'm glad I had the chance to try it.

In the vial: Deep fruit against a dark background. It's slightly tart, almost reminding me of plum; there's a faint floral component in the background. On me: Rose usually steals the show on my skin, but thankfully it stays subdued here. And goodness, with obedient rose this is simply lovely. Slightly tart, full, red fruit (primarily pomegranate) just touched by velvety red rose, set against a shadowed background of resin and a touch of dirt. Full, rich, dark, tart, slightly sweet—and I am in love. It reminds me distinctly a more nuanced, complex itteration of Hymn to Proserpine. Scent color is shadowed and subdued burgundy. Throw is moderate, but wear length is very long. Verdict: I've wanted to try Queen of Clubs for a while, though the rose and rarity made me hesitate. Receiving it as a gift has been a blessing—because it is lovely and has bowled me head over heels. When I need something more complex than Hymn to Proserpine, I'll reach for this treasured imp. Feminine, powerful, rich, fruit against darknessthis is everything the description implies, but more lovely than I had imagined.

In the vial: The faintest whiff of something sharp (carnation?) and fruity (plum?). On me: Yes indeed, carnation, plum, and musk. The plum is the fruity heart of the scent, dominant, full and dark. The carnation is spicy and gives the scent lovely warmth. The musk is a rich, sensual aspect which melds the two notes together and contributes to the carnation's warmth. There's some odd bitterness in the scent at first, but on drydown it becomes a touch of tartness—which is not particularly pleasant, given the other notes, but remains largely inoffensive. Scent-color is a dusky reddened plum; scent-texture is a touch powdery and dusty. The throw is fairly low, but wear length is medium to long. Verdict: I like the idea of Bathsheba more than the scent itself—which, despite the lovely notes, doesn't quite capture my heart. I wish the plum were less dominant and less tart. Nonetheless, it is lovely: warm and rich; feminine and seductive and yet an unusual take on both. I'm not in love, and the boyfriend think it's just nice, but I like it enough to keep my imp for now and see if I wear it and how it ages.

In the vial: Very fresh—effervescent is a good word for it. On me: I get Sprite, which (needless to say) is a bit odd. The boyfriend smells Irish Springs soap. After ten minutes, I also get the soap—soap topped by carbonated lemon-lime. After a bit longer some darker tones come out, and under their shadow I see how this scent can truly be lightless yet effervescent. The soap still lingers. After a bit longer, I get a touch of eucalyptus and the soap and aquatic die back (though they're faintly present). Verdict: Despite its strange and ongoing evolution, this is a scent which suits its description: the effervescence of lemon-lime and the airiness of eucalyptus against the shadow of dark aquatics. But those aquatics are a touch soapy on my skin, and regardless this isn't my sort of blend. It's unusual and I'm glad to have tried it, but I'll pass along my imp.

In the vial: Sweet, warm, wet, with a touch of floral that tends towards golden fruitiness. It's lovely. On me: The fruitiness is more prominent (though still a minor component), and I think it's along the line of a white grape. At its heart, however, the floral is the star: golden and slightly tropical, it's definitely ylang ylang, giving the scent a perfumey edge. Beneath that, the scent is warm and golden, sticky, palpable—a very physical, bodily scent full of resin and honey. I don't get much in the way of musk. Color is pinkish gold; throw is moderate to high. Verdict: This is a lovely scent, a wonderful match to "being"—it's sweet, golden, and very physical, in the line of O but with a more solid and less powdery resin. But I'm sad to see the ylang ylang amp so much, simply because florals aren't my thing. Where that aspect more subdued, I would love this scent; as it is, it's just too flowery and perfumey for my tastes. I'll trade away my imp.

In the vial: Blood over vetiver, a smoky, ashy, dark-red combination. On me: It goes on with a plume of dry smoke and ash which honestly makes me feel like I need to cough. Slowly it calms, growing richer and lower, and the other notes rise—more blood than tears, and neither particularly distinct. This is an odd scent: thin ash settled over dark dry wood, made slightly richer by flakes of dry yet ruddy blood. It's surprisingly light and hovers like smoke over skin-level. Scent-color is charcoal gray just touched by dry dark red. Verdict: I'm not quite sure what to think. For all its vetiver and blood, this is a surprisingly light and unassuming scent. It's not unpleasant, but neither is it lovely. It's just sort of there, unusual but uninteresting, somewhere between acceptable and pleasant, and I'm not sure what to make of it. I guess I'll keep my imp and test again, and then decide whether or not I want to keep it.

I was just thinking the same thing! And there I thought I didn't know what I wanted to spend them on...

In the vial: Nose-biting, astringent woods over a deeper, darker background. On me: The astringency calms but lingers, a sharp, dry note above the rest. Incense frames it, smoky and dark. The wine is a light touch of fruit, not golden honey, rounding and fleshing everything outbut on the whole, this is woody astringency over incense. It doesn't morph much, either. Scent-color is dark gray. Verdict: For someone that likes astringency, this may be lovely. Balanced against smoky incense, it's unusual and intriguing. For me, however, it's a deal breakerI'm just not fond of it and certainly don't want to wear it in a perfume. I'll pass my imp along to someone else.

For Christmas I wore Inez. It as a Christmas gift; Morocco is my signature scent and Inez turned out to be exactly what I was looking for: Morocco but deeper, richer, and winter friendly. Plus, it has a nice carnation spice that well suits the holiday, and it lasted all day long. All in all, it was perfect. I don't celebrate New Years, so I'll probably just have any other night in with the boywhich means Penny Dreadful, his personal favorite.

A frimp for the Lab, or I would never try this—they're not my sort of notes. In the vial: Strange, bitter, unidentifiable florals? Honestly I have no idea. On me: This is not what I expected—which is to say, it's not a mass of busy florals. In fact, it's almost pleasant. The opium smoke tones down the florals into something suitably languorous, but this never becomes airy. A body in repose, Languor is palpable florals, rich in texture but light in color, smoked and subdued by opium. My skin is loving this, and somehow I think ... I am too. Verdict: I was expecting to hate Langour as I do most predominant florals, and yet I am somehow pleasantly surprised. This is not a cloying floral nightmare, but a smooth blend of fleshy florals hazed by opium smoke. It is unexpectedly lovely, suits the inspiration quite well, and I like it. This is outside of my usual tastes so I don't know how often I'll wear it, but I'll keep my imp for a while and find out.

In the vial: Sharp and sickly floral—lavandar and jasmine, I'd say. On me: Less bitter, more herbal, but predominantly jasmine. I suspect the honeysuckle rises to balance out the lavender a bit; the lavender loses its sharpness and grows more like a powdery herb, a nice dry backing for the scent. But the jasmine is predominant—it's not unpleasant, just strong, and so this reminds me of every other scent with jasmine in it (specifically Nyx). Verdict: Once it dries down, this is a pleasant scent: powdery herbal, slightly bright, starring well-rounded jasmine. Given how the jasmine amps, Twilight is surprisingly well-balanced. Unfortunately, I'm just not a big fan of jasmine—while it doesn't morph to anything strange, I don't want to wear it as a predominant note. And so I'll pass along this imp.

The darkening amber of faith’s sunset, deepened by the dark fruits of Proserpine. Another magical frimp from the Lab—I've been curious about trying this one for a while. In the vial: Well then, that's pomegranate—or at least I assume so, I've never smelled it before. It's a candied juicy bright red fruit, sweet and slightly cloying. On me: After a short hit of sugary artificial red fruit, this calms dramatically. The amber settles the pomegranate, smoothing and darkening it into something softly beautiful. Rich but not too strong, warm and red, dimmed and shadowed, smooth and just a touch powdery. The longer I wear it, the deeper, darker, and more beautiful it grows. The throw is low, hovering at the skin and sending out a few stronger tendrils of scent; the color is a shadowed, slightly muted, deep dark red. Verdict: In the imp the bright artificial red fruit scared me, but on the skin this is lovely. It calms and deepens to a remarkable scent, warm, dark, and intimate. The description is right on, this is dark amber and dark red fruits—but you have to sniff it to truly appreciate it. Though it hasn't jumped to the top of my favorites list, but I shall certainly keep my imp and I expect to wear this again.

A psychic frimp from the Lab—I've wanted to try this, and almost ordered it this time around. In the vial: Plum—fruity, bright, but a bit dusty. On me: I didn't know that craft stores had a certain smell but as it turns out—they do, and they smell like Frumious Banderstatch. Or, rather, FB is a craft store, a touch toned down and a touch more wearable. The plum is predominant, fruity, full-bodied, and bright; it does smell a bit like a candle, but not enough to put me off. Carnation and a touch of chrysanthemum back it up, a spicy accent which is slightly floral and sweet. To my sadness, I don't get any musk. The overall scent smells a touch artificial, a touch like potpourri, and definitely has the fruit-floral-spice scent of a craft store—but it's quite pleasant. Warm, cheery, vivid, this smells like winter holiday cheer. Scent color is highly saturated purple leaning towards red. The scent is strong but the throw is only moderate; wear length is average. Verdict: I'm not head over heels for Fumious Bandersnatch. I like the scent and the notes, but not the craft store image they conjure. Perhaps if it were a bit less vivid and a touch more subtleor if I got any of the muskI would love it more. As it is, I'll keep my imp around, wear it a few more times, and make my final decision as to its fate.

A frimp from the lab, or I never would have tried it. Only one or two of the notes appeal to me. In the imp: Juniper against melon and tobacco smoke. The smoke is particularly harsh. It's distinctive, and potent, and I don't like it. On me: For the first time, I feel brave just for testing a scent! On skin it's not near so smoky, and some of the potency and bitterness fades away. I can smell fruit (though I couldn't say which), cigar smoke, and juniper; I don't get any of the other notes except perhaps a touch of spice from the pepper. It's something of an odd mix: smoky, masculine, which an unexpected gleam of fruity brightness. A calmer, smoother version of the vial scent. Verdict: The scent calms down once it hits skin, thank goodness—but it's still not something I would wear. This is unusual but still distinctly masculine, rich with smooth tobacco smoke, and it's not really to my taste. But then I knew that before I even opened the imp. I'll pass this one on.

My Satyr is a medium red-brown color. I definitely think that with those, it all comes down to agingthe longer the better, especially if you want the thickest and darkest that you can get. Fenris Wolf didn't take long at all to age for me, but then it is in an impand those seem to age faster. My bottle of Satyr still looks pretty fresh, despite being a good few months old. Hopefully the longer it sits the better it'll get. On the same note, if you still have than new Fenris Wolf, and if it's in a bottle, it may be worth decanting so that the aging process speeds up a bit.

My bottle of Saytr is just about ten months old, and it's not thickI'd call its consistency average to thin. Ivanushka has become remarkably thick, although aging hasn't really affected the scent much. It's still golden in color. Penny Dreadful has become gloriously thick (my imp is one year old), almost like syrup, and I think it's darkened a smudgeit's now a deep coppery brown. That aging has also made the scent thicker and a bit darker. Fenris Wolf is average to thick with a deep red tone that's grown darker with age (mine is ten months old). Heavenly Love and Earthly Love is only (darkish) golden brown, but it's remarkably thick. And aged Snake Oil of course is very rich, very dark, and very thick. I agree with Paperrose on resins and musks growing thicker with age. Resins in particular seem pretty dark and thick both new and old.

I think "light" is sometimes harder to pin down than "strong." A strong scent is pretty obvious, be it a thick rich thread of lovely scent or an overwhelming dark cloud of perfume. Light scents can be scents with little throw, scents which seem more like skin scents than perfumes, scents lightly applied, or scents that just have a light feel to them. Therefore, it may be easier for us all to veto scents than suggest them. Do you have anything particular in mind? I'm sure that we all would be happy to tell you if it's a particularly strong/loud/heavy oil. Suggestions, meanwhile, aren't so easy and have quite a bit of range. If you have any idea of what notes or scents in general that you do/don't like, that may help people make better suggestions. I don't think you need to be wary of florals in general, especially since there are some in the scents you like. Not all florals are equal—some are light, some can be heavy or cloying, and they can even differ depending on what accompanies them. I'm absolutely not a florals expert (or even wearer, for the most part), but you may have good luck with "white" flowers, either as a general descriptor, as in The Unicorn, or as a particular, as in white roses. In my experience, those white florals are generally lighter and more gentle. Meanwhile, in the vein of direct recommendations: I think Apple's list is wonderful, and would add a few of my own, all of course subject to my particular measures of light/heavy and my particular skin chemistry: Velvet, Envelop yourself in the soft, sensual embrace of gentle sandalwood warmed by cocoa vanilla and a veil of deep myrrh. It's a subduded but lovely scent—soft is a good word for it. Morocco, Arabian spices wind through a blend of warm musk, carnation, red sandalwood and cassia. Like skin, but better. This is an intimate, gentle, close-to-the-skin scent and one of my absolute favorites. Ivanushka (LE), Soft, velvety fur and warm musk, brushed by forest woods and dusted by dry leaves. Applied with a light hand, this is a lovely personal scent, like fur replacing one's own skin—the most gentle musk. Dana O'Shee, Offerings of milk, honey and sweet grains were made to placate these creatures, and it is that the basis of the scent created in their name. I slather myself in this one and it's still a gentle, softly sweet scent. Some foody blends may be too rich/heavy/cloying for your tastes, so I mention this one as a lighter, whiter alternative. The Lion, The dry, glorious warmth of the Savannah. A golden, spiced amber, proud, regal and ferocious. Like Apple, I find this to be a gentle, warm scent. Death Cap, A warm, soft, ruddy scent, earthy and mild. A soft, vanilla-sweet, warm earth scent which is quiet and low-through—present, but never even close to overpowering. The Unicorn, A misty, almost luminous perfume: wispy linden blossoms, white flowers, and a touch of sweet herbs. It's like just a touch of body glitter: sparkling, white, lovely, but only barely visible/sensed. I also second Sudha Segara, which was indeed so faint on me that I could barely smell it.