Juushika

In the bottle: There's something in here which I can't name but is very familiar. Soft, dry, slightly powdery moss and herbs. Color is somewhere between sage and moss green. On me: Lurid Library—that's what this reminds me of. The blends don't share similar notes, but mayhap it's the combination of smooth, barely-powdery sandalwood and the darkness of patchouli which reminds me of parchment tinged by time. I'm not sure, and honestly I don't care; I just want to bathe in it. This parchment is gently touched by mosses (which are not nearly as masculine as I expected), and it's thinner and lighter than LL, but on the whole they're very similar oils on my skin. Color is creamy, muted, pale moss green; throw is moderate to low. Verdict: Lurid Library is one of my top ten, and so the similarities I smell in Mole delight me. On my skin, to my nose, they're definitely scent cousins: Lurid Library is a thick stack of expensive cream-colored parchment and Mole is a piece of thin parchment abed dry moss. It's a beautiful scent, unisex and soft and comforting. If a decant lands in my lap I'll be thrilled, but I already have a bottle of LL so I'm not in too much a hurry to get more than this sniffy of Mole.

In the vial: Why hello there, rose. This is white rose to my nose, sharp but pale. There's just a hint of some other note in the background, but I can't pin down what. On me: Roses and spices, indeed. I still believe this is white rose, because it's light-toned and gentle and hasn't begun screaming bloody murder, as other roses are wont to do on my skin. The sharpness has fled, leaving the rose petal-smooth and softly sweet. I can't pick out individual spices; warm, slightly powdery, more smooth than sharp, they seem like a sprinkling of powdered clove over a smooth dark resin. Verdict: The boyfriend likes Lucy's Kiss, but the boyfriend is fond of rose. I am less so—I'm not a big fan of the scent in general, red rose goes awful on my skin, and I already have a preferred white rose blend (Magdalene). Still, this is far more pleasant and well-behaved than I expected. The rose is light but distinct and spices are a beautiful compliment, grounding and warming the scent. I'm almost fond of this, but I'm not sure how often I'll wear it. For now, I'll keep my imp.

In the vial: Sharp sugary pink floral—that's lotus all right, with anything to tame it. On me: Gross cloying bubblegum, a rise of bitter companion notes, but within half an hour they both calm down. The drydown, is unexpectedly fruity: fruit by the way of lotus, similar to dragon's blood resin. A reddish-pink tone with a kick of sharp and sweet, not a real identifiable fruit but no longer a floral. The resins mute and darken the color of the scent, providing a smooth, warm, slightly smoky base. Verdict: I had great hopes for and fears of this blend, but it's managed to fall somewhere between. This is an unexpectedly fruity scent, reddish, sweet, shadowed—but not particularly complex. The lotus is palatable, but the notes which temper it strip away its defining brightness without adding complexity or character, creating a moderate scent which is nice but unremarkable. I'll retest this once more, but I expect to trade it away. Hopefully someone else will have better luck with my imp.

It's not a tart fruit, but there is always Banana Peel in a Graveyard, A banana peel discarded among tombstones and crypts. And along the same line, since reviews theorize patchouli in Banana Peel: perhaps (black) patchouli as the dirty/earthy note in your dirt + (tart) fruit combination? That opens up a lot of possibilities. Off the top of my head: Depraved, Earthy black patchouli swelling with apricot. (Seems like a good bet to me.) Samhain, Truly the scent of autumn itself -- damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein. (Which is the only one of these I've tried, and it seems like a good bet.) Fortunato, A deep, rich sherry encased in dusty darkness, touched by oak, and damp catacomb stone. The scent begins with a sense of drunken glee, of orange peel, bittersweet berry and rose hip, and moves inexorably towards the dread and terror expressed in black patchouli. Tweedledum, Absurd! Green mango, fig, patchouli and green tea. And there are, I dunno, approximately a billion other patchouli blends—so it gives you a bit more content to browse through for fruit combos.

I'm testing the original formulation, circa 2004. In the vial: Sappy, piney woods and, dare I say it, a touch of wintergreen or eucalyptus. On me: Whatever the methanol-like note is, it disappears in drydown (thank goodness), but so does the sap of the woods—this is a light and gaseous scent. It is a breeze floating through dry woods touched by moss, and the florals are only a bare touch of sweetness in the air. The note are all very light and indistinct, and I get nothing of the spices from other reviews. More than anything, this is the scent of air—thin, dry, still, cool. Color is a light mossy green, texture is as light as air, throw is very low. Verdict: On my skin, to my nose, it's like Yggdrasil mixed with evaporating alcohol—the same dry herbal woods, lightened into air. I prefer the solidity of Yggdrasil, and even then I only use it to layer with other blends. This, by contrast, feels almost like an absence of scent, and it's not something I want to wear. I don't dislike Hamadryad, and it was nice to try, but I'm not sad to have missed this blend.

This made me think immediately of El Dia de Reyes, Hot cocoa with cinnamon, coffee, and brown sugar. Different notes, and cocoa rather than creme brulee, but a similar sense: it's a powdery dark gourmand, reminiscent of brownie mix powder, but a wearable perfume and not too sweet. (I, in fact, am wearing it now.) As a GC cousin, I second the recommendation of Velvet. It's not as dark and not quite as foody, but it's a similar powdery gourmand cocoa with the slight sweetness of vanilla (similar to tonka).

What amber blends have you tried? How and where have you applied them? There are different sorts of ambers, which may each behave differently on your skin. Sometimes I find that if I over-apply some amber-heavy blends, they go powdery—those may require a more gentle hand. And you could always try them in a scent locket, on your hair, or on a hidden scrap of cloth, where the scent can warm and waft without reacting to your body chemistry. If you're looking for more ambers to try, I would reach far and wide for remarkably different amber based blends to see if certain parts of the spectrum work better than others. For example... Ambergris (a salty, light, amber-like): Masquerade, Patchouli, ambergris, carnation and orange blossom. The small selection of notes really showcases the ambergris. Perhaps Lyonesse, Golden vanilla and gilded musk, stargazer lily, white sandalwood, grey amber, elemi, orris root, ambergris and sea moss, where it's one note among many in the softly-aquatic of ambergris. Egyptian amber (in my BPAL experience, a lighter golden amber, slightly cedary): Leo 2007, Egyptian amber, walnut bark, chamomile, frankincense, and saffron.. The only GC to contain it is Hollywood Babylon, The essence of innocence shattered: glittering Egyptian amber and heliotrope, infused with the sweetness of strawberry and vanilla - dragged into debauch by lusty red musk and a dribble of black cherry. Black amber (as implied: dark amber, rich and shadowed): I've actually not tried any from BPAL, so here's the full list. Lucretia looks great, Iris, black amber, sage, Kashmir wood, vanilla musk, mandarin and violet. Grey amber: Another I've never tried; I'd look to Lyonesse, as it may be similar to ambergris, and here's the full list. Golden amber (that softly glowing amber, BPAL's most common specific amber variety): Jacob's Ladder, golden amber, galbanum, benzoin, ambrette, rockrose, costus and tonka, a beautiful glowing golden epitomic amber. For GC, Haunted, Soft golden amber darkened with a touch of murky black musk. Just amber (the general, unspecific variety; I think there's some overlap here with golden amber in particular): The Lion, A golden, spiced amber, proud, regal and ferocious. O, Amber and honey with a touch of vanilla. Bastet, Luxuriant amber, warm Egyptian musk, fierce saffron and soft myrrh, almond, cardamom and golden lotus. This is also where you're most likely to find amber medleys: Brisingamen, five ambers, soft myrtle and apple blossom, myrtle, and carnation. And you'll find amber as a supporting figure, but of those there are simply tons. And there's gilded amber, amber musk, brown amber, blonde amber, red amber, rose amber, white amber, Tunisian amber, Nepalese amber, Sudanese amber, each appearing once or a handful of times in the BPAL catalog. Golden amber and "just" amber are the most common, and they're probably that golden, slightly sweet, gorgeous resin that you like—and have tried. It is possible that golden amber will always go bad when it interacts with your skin chemistry. But, because there are so many blends, because there may be different formulations, because there are other notes to temper it, or just because there many be a random exception to you skin's no-amber rule—you really don't know what works until you try. I would ... Try selection of different varieties, to see if something like dark amber or Egyptian amber behaves better on your skin than golden amber. I would try a handful of different golden/plain ambers (Jacob's Ladder, Haunted, and The Lion are each very different on my skin while still being personal favorites and strong ambers) to see if they all react the same. Try applying more or less to see if that changes the reaction on your skin. Keep your eye open for amber as a supporting character, and don't rule that out just because you have a problem with strong amber. And if all that fails, I'd try a scent locket or my hair, because amber is just too good to go without. Good luck! I know I've written a novel, and I'm sorry, but hopefully it helps.

In the vial: The spicy, musk, wet, red-blue scent of the leaves in To Autumn with just a hint of sharper greenness. On me: On wet it's a bit of rotting vegetation and too-sharp grass, but upon drydown this is lovely. I was expecting (and wary of) crayon-bright red leaves and green grass, but this is a beautifully subdued and more realistic interpretation. To my nose, the leaves are predominant: deep red edged with purple-black, gently spiced, dusty dry but also damp—they remind me precisely of the maple leaves that fall from the tree at my house. To the boyfriend's nose, the grass is predominant: green but not sharp or bright, more like the rain-fed and rain-hushed lush grass of autumn. There's nothing but the leaves and grass, but they are wonderful together. Unfortunately, the throw is very low. Verdict: I'm in love—my only wish is that it were stronger. Blade of Grass is a natural, artistic, beautiful rendering of autumn leaves fallen on grass—shades of deep red, muted green, and tinges of purple-back, a touch damp, a touch dusty, softly spiced. This one is worth slathering to make it stronger and longer-lasting, and I'm very glad to have my partial bottle. Exquisite.

The 2008 version. In the vial: Slightly bitter golden resin. But don't mind me, I never love the bottle scent. On me: The bitterness fades, but the sweetness of the tonka never comes out. As this dries and warms on the skin, it blossoms into something beautiful. It's not particularly complex, nor that different from the vial, and no one note is distinct to my nose. But together, they create an epitomic golden resin: not an individual, but an ideal. Golden, softly glowing, smooth, not too deep, powderless but not quite polished to a shine. I don't get any powder, or sweetness, or women's perfume—just lovely golden resin. Sadly the throw is short, but the wear length is long. Verdict: This is not my perfect amber blend (that's Haunted), and so it doesn't quite send me into throes of ecstasy. But Jacob's Ladder is undeniably beautiful. This is golden amber, pure but never simple, exactly what I wanted. It's a must for amber lovers, and I shall treasure my decant—and I'm considering a bottle because it's sure to age well. Lovely.

The 2008 version. In the vial: An astringent woody scent, but not quite balsam—this is probably the cypress. It's pungent, a touch bitter, and clears the throat and eyes. On me: The cypress is joined by a slightly less pungent balsam fir. Together they're light (in scent, not in strength) but astringent, almost like eucalyptus. The woodiness is gone—this is the scent of freshly crushed foliage. And that's it. No matter how long I wait, I don't get any of the other notes, there's no morphing, the blend never grows dark or bitter. The scent is colorless to my nose; the texture is gaseous, like evaporating chemicals. It's potent with a strong throw. Verdict: I was hoping for the brightness of mandarin against a dark setting, but all I get from Winter of our Discontent is astringent pine—which isn't my favorite scent. I'm a bit crushed. I don't think I'll hold on to my decant. Unless a week or two of aging makes a significant change, this just isn't the scent I was hoping for or one that I can come to love.

My imp is aged two years. In the vial: Thick, dark, unsweet vanilla and red musk. On me: Snake Oil goes on as dark vanilla, dark spices, and a whiff of musk. It's not a sweet blend, initially, and the spices are the furthest thing from foody. It reminds me of the cap of an old bottle of mid-grade vanilla extract, where the extract has dried to a thick, crusty sludge, the scent is too dense to be sweet but is still somehow cloying, and the alcohol makes it smell medicinal. Needless to say, it's interesting but not particularly pleasant. No matter how much I slather, the scent disappears after about ten minutes. But some time later when I least expect it, up pops a ghost of deep, dark, sweetened vanilla infused with a wealth of rich foreign spices—complex, sensual, dark, and beautiful. This belated drydown is divine but frustratingly insubstantial, only enough to catch whiffs of glorious vanilla from an uncertain source. Verdict: I keep returning to Snake Oil, hoping that now that I've tried again, now that it's aged, it will be as miraculous as everyone else claims. Sadly, in two years it just hasn't worked out that way. I love the concept, and long for those ghostly whiffs of dark vanilla, but the oil itself is pretty unremarkable on my skin. I'll save my imp for oiling my hairstick—as that dries down, it releases more potent tendrils of that beautiful dark vanilla for days, a much more satisfying way to enjoy the scent. (On a similar note: Boomslang, the only Snake Pit I've ever tried, also does a perfect disappearing act on my skin after ten minutes, leaving not even a whiff of Snake Oil behind.)

Perhaps: The Lion, The dry, glorious warmth of the Savannah. A golden, spiced amber, proud, regal and ferocious. The spices are light, and perhaps they'll more counteract potential sweetness than be outright spicy. It has a warm, dry-grasses feeling which makes it dry rather than sweet. or Leo 2007, Egyptian amber, walnut bark, chamomile, frankincense, and saffron. Similar to The Lion, it's a golden warm dry amber, and the bark, chamomile, and herbs may counteract potential sweetness with a touch of herbal dryness.

I definitely second Wezwanie/Hold. It's a strong, golden, creamy hazelnut. Very nutty and absolutely wonderful. It looks, from early reviews, like some people are getting hazelnut and chocolate from Gelt. I'm hoping against that, myself, but it still may be worth checking out.

It could be any of the above, but my theories: Imps age faster, because they have more exposure to light and (with the wand and the push-cap) more exposure to oxygen—which deteriorates the oils but also makes them age faster. Some blends, especially if they're not citrus or floral, become deeper and more potent with age. Therefore, the "aged" imp might seem more vibrant and complex than a "fresh" bottle. You may find that the bottles smell better the longer you hold on to them. Imps warm faster and mix easier, because of their size and the wand cap. Have you tried gently rolling bottles between your palms before use? A glass wand cap might also help. Warming the oil to skin temperature before applying can bring out the nuances of the oil. Rolling the oil or using a wand also makes sure that you're getting the entire mixture of oils, not just what has separated out to the top, making for a more complete and complex scent.

In the vial: Chocolate and dark herbs. Color is dark algae green. On me: I once saw this described as an algae-covered fish tank, but in a good way—and, oddly enough, it is. The heart of the scent is dark, bitter chocolate—bar chocolate, not cocoa powder, but not the least bit foody. It's accompanied by dark green herbs, damp and almost rotting. They remind me distinctly of green algae, and make the scent dark and organic. Thirteen is deep, dark, unexpected, almost unnerving—but somehow delightful, in a way I can't quite explain. The oil is incredibly potent, and both the throw and wear length are strong; the color is a dark algae green shadowed by black. Verdict: I find this scent easy to describe but impossible to convey. Chocolate and rotting herbs may seem disgusting, but Beth manages wonders. This is an intense, deep, organic scent. The scent of rotting vegetation sometimes sits on the line between disgusting and enticing; Thirteen has just crossed that line. It's cocoa without being foody, herbal but not dry, and unusual but somehow amazing. It's my favorite Thirteen, one of my favorite chocolate blends, and I cherish my imp.

In the vial: A slightly bitter, golden scent which is too complex for me to pin to down notes. On me: The bitterness fades, revealing a heart of warm amber, a touch of golden hay, a whiff of opium, and (over time) a touch of sweet smooth vanilla. But it's much more complex than that description implies—I can pick out those notes because I know them, but the scent has a well-blended, indescribable complexity. It's warm, golden but gently smoked, and slightly perfumey. The color is light gold, the throw is low, the wear length is moderate. Verdict: I picked up Kubla Khan for my love of the poem that inspired it. The perfume is a partial match: it beautifully represents the golden facade of the pleasure dome, and the opium smoke begins to hint at its shadows, but the perfume never delves into the darkness beneath. This complex, well-blended, golden scent is a bit too perfumey for my usual tastes, but I keep my imp handy and when the mood strikes, it's lovely.

In the vial: Mexican hot chocolate—cocoa powder, milk, and cinnamon. It's pungent and spicy but foody-sweet, dark tan in color. On me: The pungency fades and this resolves to powdered cocoa, powdered milk, and a touch of spice and coffee. It smells like the puff of dry ingredients from a just-opened bag of brownie mix, refined but cinnamon and barest hint of coffee which make it more mature, flavorful, and slightly less foody. (The boyfriend, however, smells chocolate chip cookies.) Wear length and throw are both moderate to low; color is the same powdery pale cocoa of brownie mix. Verdict: A bag of brownie mix may not seem like the ideal perfume, but El Dia de Reyes is unexpectedly wearable and wonderful. The powderiness creates the sense of a delicious, silky second skin; the dry cinnamon makes for a more mature, less straight up foody scent. This isn't a personal favorite, and I wish it stuck around longer, but it's a delightful, sensual, delicious scent and I enjoy my decant.

There's a whole thread dedicated to GC equivalents of LEs. Here's the results for Snow, Glass, Applesit looks like The Hesperides or perhaps Poisoned Apple, even better if layered with a snow or ozone blend, may be a close fit. On the same note, either one may be a good crisp green apple.

There's some green apple recs here in the apple recommendations thread. These two threads will probably be merged, but that'll save you time in going straight to the greener apple blends. I highly recommend Verdandi, Deep herbs and apple with black amber. On me, it's a bright green applenot quite tart, but definitely green, sharper than most of the red apple blends. It may be perfect for you, and it's a GC blend so it's easy to check out. Of course Snow, Glass, Apples may also be a good betif you can get your hands on it. I've not sniffed it, but reviews indicate that it's a crisp, tart green apple with snow notes, which seems like exactly what you're looking for.

I usually wear what I feel when I feel like it, and that rotation doesn't change too much depending on the time of year. Unexpectedly, however, this autumn has brought on some changes: the Halloweenies seem to be even more wonderful now that Halloween has come and gone. Fearful Pleasure (dried orange peels floating in simmering cider, roasted apples, smoldering firewood, chimney smoke, sassafras beer, warm hawthorn wood, and oakmoss) has become my go-to scent, and it is now much better than I first thought—it's rich, warm apple cider is perfect for the weather. Samhain (damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein) likewise: its sweet woodiness was too strong for me earlier in the season, but now that it's cooler it's become wonderful sap-sticky warmth. I was almost disappointed with both when they first arrived and I tested them in warmer weather, but now I can't keep myself away—especially from Fearful Pleasure. I'll probably wear both a bit during warmer weather, but probably not with the same enthusiasm of daily slatherings as I have now. On the other end of the apple spectrum: Verdandi (deep herbs and apple with black amber) is a bright green apple on me, potent and sweet/sour and heady, and I find that I can only wear it in spring and early summer—even if that's not when green apples actually grow. It's just too vivid and fresh a green for any other time of year.

I get a touch of anticipation from The Tell Tale Heart (blood musk, cocoa, black pepper, allspice, dragon's blood resin and vetiver)—it's a very close match to Poe's inspiration, and so it has a sense of dreaded, fearful anticipation: the threat of a beating heart and imminent discovery. That's all I've got. I often tend towards the opposite extremes of anticipation—scents for enjoyment, relaxation, decadence, satiety, calm. Tell-Tale Heart has some of that, but it also has the anticipation of things to come.

Using Scent Scribbles, I found two possibles: Troll, A lurching, hateful, bitter scent. This is a gruesome blend of ghastly greens and blacks: vetiver, pine pitch, troll musk, black basil, clove smoke, and scorched cumin. Thanatopsis, A deep, solemn earthen scent containing pine, juniper and musk. Neither description specifies red musk, but reviews (one for the former, a few for the latter) think it may be. Pine is in both, of course. That's all I have for suggestions, and I've never personally smelled a red musk/pine blend which is or isn't listed in the notes, but I hope that helps.

Paperrose's suggestions are wonderful. I definitely second Grog for butterscotch—I hate booze and was expecting to hate this, but it's pure butterscotch on me: yellow-golden, sweet, cheerful, and rather wonderful. Agrat-Bat-Mahlaht would be my choice for caramel: rich, dark, sticky, not overly sweet. (The apple blossom may make it feel caramel-apple; on me, though, it's mostly a perfumey/floral component. You may also want to consider Enraged Groundhog Musk: Cranky groundhog musk sweetened up by chocolate-covered black cherries, cardamom, French vanilla, and caramel. It's an LE, but cheap and easy to get. If the cardamom works on you, it may be a good dried cherry, chocolate, and caramel blend, rich, foody, and highly textured.

From the description, Zarita, The Doll Girl sounds perfect. Likewise Diary of a Lovestruck Teenage Cannibal, should you happen to have either on hand. If you don't, I think that the same basis—soft, gentle, feminine florals with something sharper or darker beneath—sounds perfect. Perhaps Alice or sometime else soft and sweet, probably floral—Antique Lace? Pink Moon? from the looks of your favorite scents, you may have a few of those on hand. Layered with a touch of something heavy on vetivert, lemon/lime/other sharp citrus, ginger, pepper—Three Witches may go very well with Antique Lace (the sharpness of Casanova is a perfect twist for it too), but will lack a predominant floral component. Perhaps the spices of Three Witches to bring out the spicy carnation in Alice or Pink Moon? Mostly, I can't suggest specific layering combos because I don't know what you have on hand. It may not necessarily need to be a "creepy" scent; just something sharp and/or dark to layer in and twist the pure sweet creamy florals to something unexpected. But if you provide some hints about the darker/sharper blends in your collection, you may get more responses and better help.

Velvet is comfortable, beautiful sexya very flattering, likable, sandalwood-and-dry cocoa scent. Intrigue is powerful, mysterious, femme fatale sexysweet ripe fig shadowed by wood and cocoa. Boomslang is melted chocolate and Snake Oil, rich, indulgent, slightly exotic sexuality.