gentle-twig

When I first tested Apricot Vulva, I didn't like it. It wasn't that it smelled "bad," but the combination of apricot and bergamot brought to mind my mother's bath products from the 90s. Taking it on a full day spin today, I experienced something different, and I am smitten. At first, the apricot and bergamot do behave as they did in that initial test, obliterating each other's individuality to produce a bright generic fruit accord, but this phase is very short. Soon the apricot becomes recognizable, made somehow brighter and darker by the bergamot. As the cream musk and vanilla come in, the bergamot effect swings decidedly toward dark. The bergamot feels daringly, bracingly, wonderfully, arrestingly bitter in contrast with the sweet and juicy apricot and this bitterness elevates the scent away from teen girl territory. This isn't an extremely shadowy scent, but does bring the apricot from a bright juicy fantasy to something more nuanced, bringing out the tawny undertones one sometimes sees in unsulfured dried apricots and which are certainly on display in the label art. As much as the lab's shungas deal in classic springtime accords, I find them to be the most "serious" of the recurring BPAL seasonal collections, and Apricot Vulva works this magic on one of the most youthful and frivolous of fragrant fruits (cf the lab's use of apricot in Katharina). I thought surely that this would not be in FB contention, but this may be the surprise winner of my Luper decants.

This blend checked a number of shunga boxes for me: polished woods, honey, tea, and silk notes. I was curious about mint, and plum can often work on me. But I was concerned that it may go haywire. Bluberry blossom? And would the plum combined with lemon and mint go too fresh, too shampoo? Reader, fear not. My worries were unfounded, and this indeed provides a wonderful shunga experience that is also different from other scents I have tried. On me this is mostly about the blueberry (blossom silk), plum, ebony, and mint for the first several hours. The blueberry is the first note I experience, and it doesn’t smell particularly floral or silky. In fact, it has an almost gourmand, cooked blueberry nuance, an almost spicy character that some berries and other fruits have that really helps balance the sharpness of the plum rind. Together, they produce a lovely dark fantasy fruit that is suspended between the dry ebony wood and a hovering, subtle, but glorious mint. Indeed, the mint helps this whole scent almost to glow—maybe the silk is helping out here too. I don’t get the classic aldehyde silk, but there is a certain steamy impression I associate with the first lab silk scent I ever tried, Impressions of the Floating World. There is a suggestion almost of a landscape in the contrast between bright chilly mint and dark fruits and woods, a decidedly moonlit landscape, dark and cool-toned, filled with snowy peaks and valleys deep in shadow But the scent is more complex even than this, and for me suggests almost the perceptual alternation of an illusory nocturnal landscape (atmospheric, airy herbs and fruits), and the insistent material fact that this is (in my imagination) a landscape painted or carved on an ebony folding screen. About four hours in, the honeyed tea comes to the fore. For some time before, I perceive it as a vague chocolatey quality that I think is part of the otherwise bone dry ebony. But as it comes into its own I recognize it as the honeyed tea, as if I zoom out from the landscape scene to find myself cozily contemplating it in its frame with a cup of (black) tea steaming before me. The tea plays so nicely with everything else going on here, especially the ebony. And so even as its arrival signals a drastic shift for me—from exterior to interior, from night today, from cool to warm, and from nature to artifice—I find it quite welcome, and oddly consistent with what has come before. Despite the ephemeral quality of some of the notes here, the tea, honey, and ebony do not blot out mint, fruit, or silk. Somehow all these notes stick around all day for me and the scent just seems to build up in layers. I’m really glad I got to experience this blend, and I will probably get a full bottle. We’ll see, though, because my shunga decants are all so tempting!

The lilac cream is the first to element hit my nose, followed by the “polished” aspect of the polished amber. It seems that lemon is a subtle through line in this year’s shungas, and I think that citrus is a subtle part of the sheen on this scent. I love BPAL lilac but find it difficult to wear, too blowsily feminine for my construction worker ass. Here it is wonderfully subdued by the soft cream and (probable) lemon, and soon by the spiced honey. Honey and beeswax haters of all but the most extreme stripe need not fear—I don’t get beeswax at all from this, and from the spiced honey I mostly get the spices, and even these are subtle. But they are there, and their effect is to turn Inyo Gozassu Nozu into almost a fougère. The oakmoss is absent, but there is a hypnotically paradoxical calm yet thrumming quality to this blend that emerges from the contrast between the lilac cream and that almost astringently spiced honey. I don’t know tolu balsam well enough to recognize it, but I may love it! There is a bittersweet balsamic quality indeed supporting this quasi-fougère that works with the cream to smooth everything out and fill in every gap between any potentially sharp notes. I never do get teak or beeswax specifically. In my BPAL pantheon, this is like the unexpected child of Lesbian Maidservants Cavorting With a Tortoiseshell Dildo and Dumb Cake. The fougère quality of the latter meets the airy and spiced amber of the former, and the mosses in both must be recessive because this is all smooth balsam, cream, lilac, and subtle spice with no moss to rough things up even to the level of velvet. This is such a wonderful blend and definitely FB worthy. I wonder for myself it it is too similar to Dumb Cake to justify a purchase. It also reminds me strongly of Hiram Green Arcadia, a spiced fougère fragrance I was already considering purchasing for late summer/fall (my fougère season). I will be death matching this against those fragrances, but mostly I will advise this is just a pure shunga delight. If you like shungas and like the notes here this is a no brainer. It is just lovely, dreamy, yet alive and buzzing with interest.

Fresh out of the mail, this was reminding me of liquid hand soap, but now that it has settled for some months it has really turned into something quite lovely. The lavender, sharp when freshly applied, mellows into a round purple thing, accompanied by the lavender ash. I would never identify this note as ash independently: there is nothing smoky or dark about it, just a soft, dry, powdery quality that I recognize from Dumb Cake. The resemblance to Dumb Cake is actually quite strong, with Dumb Cake feeling leaner, more austere, more luminous to the round and cuddly GG. It makes me wonder if there is a little unlisted vanilla here, or maybe that is just the musk somehow. The musk is definitely adding VOLUME to this blend, but I don't feel like it is very important to the actual scent. I realize I am neglegting the thistle, which is really the main player here ! Kind of a simple, but romantic floral note. Not much to say for me really, but I don't want lack of words to make you feel like it's a supporting player. There is also a suggestion of dewiness here, but this is in no way aquatic (the soapiness I got initially is due to the thistle rather than any aquatic element), rather just seems to glisten somehow. Further in the dry down I experience a slight spiciness--an unlisted touch of clove or allspice? Very textural now, like a threadbare, well-loved stuffed donkey. I wonder if the moss is contributing to this experience. I don't smell anything mossy per se but it may be blending with those phantom spices, whatever they are. Then the iris takes over -- if you are an iris hater, I would still give this a chance. The romantic watercolor meadow of the rest of the scent keeps things from going too creamy/powdery/cosmetic. Nor do I experience any strong lilac, but its thistle-adjacency may be boosting what I perceive to be that note.

This is one easy breezy scent. Lots of Pom up front but but firmly chypric. It reminds me a lot of the tobacco and cherry Chypre duet from last year’s goose moon release. The same textural interest from the Chypre, with the dry tobacco switched out for a gleaming aldehyde and the cherry switched out for the (much more wearable to me) pomegranate. I really like this, but find it a bit feminine for me. After the first hour or so it has an earthy but put together Chypre thing that reads as tweedily unisex today . Simple-ish, fun without losing diginity. One of my favorites of this year’s Yules.

When I first tested this it was all tomtegröt on me and I thought this was another gourmand fail. Now it has thankfully improved. The porridge note is still overpowering for the first minute or so, and I am disappointed that it seems to be made out of oat rather than rice on my skin. But soon the scent becomes much more complex and compelling. Lingonberry is the strongest note and I also get something akin to date (maybe part of the tomtegröt accord). Along with the bright lingonberry, there is an elusive cool note, smoother and less obtrusive than other BPAL frost notes I have encountered. Next the frankincense and woody branches appear. I don’t read the frankincense as such, it just provides a slight incense touch to the spindly woods. As yulween dries down, it shifts from cold to warm on my skin. There is still a hint of porridge but I largely get a warm dry wood, reminding me a little of the inside of a sauna. This is still too gourmand for me to desire a full bottle, but I will enjoy using up my imp on days I want something warm and cozy but with a little bit of gauntness.

I just used up the last of my decant of this and I have to say I really love it. I get milk and carnation in equal parts, not much of the other notes. I like Alice as a perfume oil but this just does it for me on another level. Pretty present for a day or more but not overwhelming. There is just something a little reserved about the scent that plays nice with other fragrances and is always welcome.

This reminds me a lot of other greenish BPAL blends that have woods and resins in them. As in many other cases, this is a little too sweet on my skin. Still, the weedy green accord, just this side of spa, was enchanting this heat wave morning. Very much a scent that evokes just escaping a blast of summer (or in my case spring) heat — on a dewy morning or in a pool of deep shade. On Teaching is certainly on the traditional masculine side of things, and indeed there is a calm and staid quality in line with the best of that heritage. I say this reminds me of a bevy of other, half-remembered BPALs (Anubis, some dead leaves blends), but this is best in class, with the cloying resinous notes fading to tolerable levels after the opening. Still, as a devotee of non-BPAL perfumes as well, I don’t think can oust CdG Laurel from its niche in my collection. I will probably dump the rest of my imp into a hot bath on a cool summer morning and then apply that number for the heat of the day.

Ghoulnextdoor is right on the money with this paradoxical sliquid scent. A blizzard of frosty aldehydes clears to reveal a vast white tea glacier—limpid, smooth, frozen solid. As it cracks and slides, it reveals glimpses of moss below until it meets a frozen ocean where sea spray is suspended in the air, the salt and ice forming nacreous, flowing sculptures where land, sea, and sky meet in a reconciliation of the elements. In a different register: I tried this decant after Snowman Beatdown, which immediately won me over. They share that frosty opening, but the Crumpet-Fanlight Expedition is less of a total white out and dries down to a remarkably polished white tea chypre—genteel indeed, full of textural interest but somehow also smooth, polished, with a fastidious quality that feels appropriate for the ball gowned and smoking jacketed world of Edward Gorey. White tea and ambergris are both hit or miss for me, but they work so wonderfully together here, the ambergris encrusting the sharper edges of the tea, the tea lending an herbaceous backdrop to the salt sparkle of the ambergris. The musk here is not a classic white musk, but nor is it particularly funky. It casts a silver sheen on the proceedings, and lends this scent a wonderful sleekness. Color associations: Blinding white and the lime green version translucent blue glacial ice. Scent associations: Lyonesse in a cold snap, Mars and Venus takes to the tundra. More complex and hence not quite as chilly as Snowman Beatdown. A pale green chypre counterpoint to the deep red Pomegranate and Scarlet Chypre. Verdict: Love, my immediate favorite of my (overall exceptionally successful) Yule decants.

This one is kind of the inverse of what I expected: a snowball with a shadow of wood and incense rather than a frost dusted branch. In the opening I get the same aldehyde frost as in other Yules like The Crumpet-Fanlight Expedition and Snowman Beatdown. Here it is subtler than in the other two scents, scrubbed quite clean by eucalyptus and given heft by ambergris. I would say this is an ambergris-dominant blend, and it is doing a kind of gourmand frosting thing on my skin that I don’t care for. There is a supporting sizzle of opoponax and at times I get a dry splintery wood, not something I would necessarily recognize as oud. Over the life of the scent, the wood gets stronger and there are moments when it really does conjur rime-coated branches. At these moments this is a love for me, but they are too fleeting. I know from other blends like Lace Lichen that the particular effect of the ambergris that I dislike here is likely to fade with time, so I will hold onto my imp but so far this is unlikely to inspire a full bottle purchase. Overall, a chilly, chiaroscuro scent but with an emphasis on the bright white notes. I would recommend for people who are looking for a frosty scent that isn’t just a blast of ice.

All frosty aldehydes—the kind used in sport colognes like Polo Sport, and more recently and intensely in CdG’s Odeur 10–and a little bit of sprightly sage. Great staying power and moderate throw, an easy breezy chilly scent. Yes, it goes cologne-y. That is part of the charm here! If you are looking for a cold, soapy, (now) classic masculine profile, with a little cheery herbal twist, this is definitely for you. It is very simple and enjoyable. With simple scents like this it’s hard for me to know whether I will continue to simply enjoy them or get bored—time will tell!

Got this as a free decant from a lovely decanter here on the forums and I love it so much. Soft and sparkly patchouli, frosty aldehydes. Not much vanilla for me. Really hope this one gets brought back some day !

2025 Version: This is one that is difficult to parse based on the description. There’s a lot of overlaps between “cologne” and “herbs,” and possibly even “ashes” and “cake” ! I will say that there is a gourmand aspect to this iteration, albeit subtle. The opening is buttery with a bit of herbs and possibly moss? But quickly a luminous citrus enters the scene. I imagine this is part of the cologne accord, but it brings to mind a barely sweet panettone (or another austere Italian dessert) with candied citrus peel. The scent straddles the divide between herbal citrus cake gourmand and classic fougère for a while, before the cologne finally wins out. Now it is in line with some other masculine BPALs of the more fae sort. If I had to take a stab at some of the components in this cologne it would be: bergamot (and possibly petitgrain), lavender, tonka, oakmoss, possibly musk. I totally get the Dorian comparisons and I also see a resemblance to Jareth. There is a kind of gold fougere glow to Dumb Cake that both of those scents also have. Ironically, I find Dumb Cake to be much less sugary and therefore more wearable than Dorian, whose cotton candy halo always feels like it belongs to someone else on me. Instead of sugar, this Dumb Cake is dusted with… flour? It may be the ash accord (if not I don’t know where the ash is here) but it isn’t smoky at all, and it reminds me a lot of the flour accord in Marlou’s Doliphor. I eyed this back when it first appeared in 2014 and didn’t get a bottle, so I’m glad I could snag one this year! It’s everything I was hoping it would be: a little dapper, a little spooky, a little cold, but a little cozy too. For the moment it’s quite soft, but surprisingly persistent. Very very happy with this blind buy.

I ordered an imp of this recently along with Morocco and Scherezade to try out some of the lab’s spiced musk blends. At first, Morocco felt the most wearable to me, a vivid blend of bright spices. It wasn’t super exciting to me but it was very nice. Now that it has settled, the honey and musk do something on the drydown that I don’t like very much. It’s not even weird or funky, just not to my tastes. Conversely, as Morocco ages its surprisingly buttoned-up charm wins me over more and more.

This is mostly about the citrus for me, perhaps mixed but mostly LEMON! The amber and heliotrope sweeten it up and I get the impression of a lemon cough drop, only with more depth and complexity. I think the amber is really keeping this from going into commercial cleaner territory despite its subtlety. The aldehydes make this feel open and airy where it could go all sticky otherwise. At times they read a touch soapy but mostly they just make the scent feel bright and make this one pretty addictive for me. I have been loving using this as an air freshener in my bathroom, where the squeaky clean elements feel right at home. I don’t get anything metallic at all.