Casablanca

Buttery almond fortune cookies with an incense close to that in Midnight on the Midway.

This is the scent of roadside-stand fortunes told... about futures that involve almonds.

At first, this offers mostly a burst of lemony citrus, stronger than the hints from some hay notes. But soon the citrus fades and there emerges a soft, hay-flecked linen. 

Later, some patchouli and woods ground the linen somewhat, but even so, it grows powdery on my skin.

I've enjoyed this decant, but I happen to have a Traditional Sheet Ghost bottle for lemony linens.

Complex, multi-layered boot-leather blast from the second of application. 

This is the soul (and sole) of a boot.

Sweet toasted sandalwood. If sandalwood could behave as a marshmallow does when toasted over a fire, it would smell like this.

Oak and tobacco blend in well with this first impression --- interesting how I notice oak more in the front of the inhale, and tobacco on the back end --- and there's a soft, complex woodiness even behind all these leaves and wood. Yet there is nothing wild or forested about this blend; it's entirely cultivated, sophisticated, and intentional.

Well-crafted.

Powdery violet and iris against a marshy-green swamp, its background cypress boughs draped in moss.

This blend smells like images that have come up when I've searched for swamp cypress roots, with the addition of chalky, blue-purple flowers.

In dry-down, I also find a pine dry enough that it smells ready to immerse in flames at the slightest spark.

Overall, this blend is like a swamp in an off season, a driest season of the year, when the water is lowest and exposes the pale bones of the roots and any vulnerabilities.

Sour rice milk with sort of an odd little cheek-pinch of bergamot on a backdrop of grainy sandalwood and palo santo.

Sourness isn't a usual milk effect on my skin, but there it is. It's working strangely with the citrus of bergamot and the slight lemony note common to palo santo.

The creaminess grows as this matures on my skin, and loses some sourness... but overall, this one is an oddball on my skin, and not in a way that draws me.

Dark and red fruitiness against a sultry backdrop of sugar and red musk.

The fruits bring to mind red and black currants, raspberries, and blackberries. The predominant color of the blend is red, and a lot of it against the red musk... but there is some lush fruit-juicy darkness to be had here, as well.

To my delight, the sugar stands out. Ung, sugar.

This is a strong blend, which I'm enjoying in its early phase... but I'm also kind of waiting for the red musk to turn to stinky midday Pennsic tent sweat on my skin (if you know, you know). But these sugared fruits make me happy.

I remember that when a friend and I first sampled this, it was unexpected for the listed notes... but nothing else about it.

It has rested longer now and flies closer to what one might guess. It goes on my skin downy-quiet at first, a barely there scent that sometimes happens when a blend has lots of notes and mostly of the middle and base variety. Freshly applied, I just catch a breath-soft smoky patch and that's about it.

The smoky patchouli grows and develops a little vanilla as this dries and matures, but it never becomes potent. There are hints of myrrh and dust. Surprisingly, though, I never find a trace of spice or black musk. I'm not sure if further aging will bring them out, and may never know, as this decant will probably go back to my friend tonight.

Soft, brown, fuzzy-powdery, and a bit feather-down fluffy.

Tonka is most prominent for me, smelling pale and a little vanillic and cloud-like, but the other notes lean brown and grounding. Sandalwood and oak suggest their woods, but I don't notice vetiver adding its own. Beeswax comes into its own later on. The almond is present throughout, but mild on my skin.

The Little Owl is a quiet scent, suitable anywhere, though a little too powdery for me.

Tea, amber, dried leaves, and maple. This blend is a moment of watching outer seasons change and reflect shifts in the inner world.

Really lovely. Autumn Sun I reminds me of October 32, with their shared autumnal vibes of dried leaves, amber, and tea. Autumn Sun lacks October 32's prominent wool, but it does give off just a breath of its vanilla, possibly from the amber. They are both Autumn as a Mood --- a few quiet moments taken for oneself, gazing across a sun-stained field of dying grasses and dead, blowing leaves, anticipating the coming withdrawal of the land's life into winter.

Here is one for licorice lovers!

Freshly applied, Portrait is sweet black licorice candy on my arm --- brash and unapologetic. The sweet black licorice brings Black Licorice Smut to mind, a blend I still wear on some fall and winter nights.

Touches of soft taffy waft in and out, adding to the candy vibe. The twin darknesses of patch and oud add some wooden stability to the mad licorice whimsy.

This is primarily sweet and candied, so dark it blackens my tongue to smell it. I don't think I need bottles of both it and Black Licorice Smut, but I'll enjoy this decant.

Die Pest begins with a soft, dusty, black-peppery cedar and patchouli on my skin. It's an opening that leaves me curious how it will develop --- until it's obscured by a soft cloud of cologne.

I didn't anticipate cologne from the published notes list. Not my thing, and I do wish I'd known.

A smooth, chewy patchouli sweetened and made nommy with vanilla marshmallow and a bit of caramelized sugar. Light hint of pepper fading in and out, nothing intrusive.

This is in the sweet vanilla patchouli family and I love it.

I was just writing about notes I experience as "homey" in a review of Chocolate, Cinnamon Bark, and Chipotle Honey. Here's another one for that topic... cedar and patch (and sometimes smoke) are my other main homey players, so I figured this one would be as cozy as can be.

But this isn't a specific cedar note that really takes me there. This one smells a little more rough-edged and rustic to me --- more the rugged wilderness than the rugged homestead. A fuzzy, earthy patchouli dirties it up a bit and leaves me with an earthy, woodsy camping impression. The patch and Himalayan cedar are the stronger notes on my skin.

I've had a few wearings of this where I can smell the smoke and caramel, but this morning they're not showing up for me. They guest at this camp but aren't always around.

This blend differs from my hope for it, but I like it regardless.

CCBandCH could be a delight for lovers of all its notes; each of them is present and accounted for.

Out of the gate, I'd say the cinnamon bark (which is quite barky) may be the most potent on my skin. There's also plenty of honeyed cocoa to sip here, however. The trio is cozy and evocative. Cinnamon bark is one of the notes that can feel very homey to me, and this blend is bringing the hominess, well, home.

After a moment, the chipotle comes into its own. I very much loved the especially-limited-run Temptation of St. Nick, with its chili-peppered and spiced cacao --- my perfume boxes have been missing something vital since I ran out of it and had no other blend with Central or South American peppers. I'm thrilled to have this one and have been wearing it often.

Freshly applied, the chestnut and candied fig stand out --- especially the latter --- with a rust-colored tone overlying everything. Pecan soon joins in, even somewhat taking over the pasture where chestnut was playing.

The musk here is present, but never heavy on my skin. This stays mainly about the russet candied fig and nuts, especially the pecan.

Warm and attractive blend for the art.

You know when, as a kid, your parents kept you occupied and relatively out of trouble by having you pull all the husks and those millions of little pale yellow strings from the corn cobs for dinner? This is that scent.

And it's beautifully blended with a soft, pale yellow silky note, a little whiff of clean green hay (like green alfalfa), and a faint creaminess and summery warmth.

Lovely perfume, unique and atmospheric. Considering a bottle.

Anticipation opens as a quiet white pumpkin-and-black-pepper blend with an odd lilt of bergamot and orange blossom.

That last, the blossom, is a lighter touch than in many blends --- oftentimes orange blossom or neroli turns to orange lollipops on my skin, but that isn't happening here. The white pumpkin reminds me of the similarly soft white pumpkin notes sometimes found in Bath and Body Works candles, but a touch nicer (and more subtle).

As the blend dries, it turns cologne-like on me. I don't personally wear colognes well, but this had an interesting and delicate early phase.

This is a pretty, semi-powdery ozone with a mild, natural beeswax and aged yellow paper.

The ozone begins fresh but fairly quickly shifts more and more powdery --- and dryer sheety --- as the blend dries.

Lovely atmospheric blend that just unfortunately becomes too particulate on my skin.

Spicy bell-pepper dead leaves accent a leather that... Well, I have no idea how it smells specifically like boot leather, but it does. 

The leather is a well-worn grayish-brown leather that smells hard-packed with caked dirt and some preservative blackish oil or boot polish. This is a very specific and distinctive leather for leather lovers.

There is a later-developing bit of dried, stalky sweetness that mingles in as the sweet grass.

The combination of these three notes is deeply outdoorsy and rugged AF. I simply have no better way to describe it.

First impression: Sweet, damp herbal clay. This smells like a craft from the thatch-roofed cottage of an artisanal country witch.

The dampness here is a more-than-mild aquatic touch to herb-littered, moldable clay. I seem to smell ginger and sage and something a bit dried and stalky, and something else that reminds me of a heather plant --- could those be the rushes?

The blend also carries an ambient dustiness or fuzziness, which develops quite a bit more in drydown. I believe this is the feathers and fur. I'm a complete animal nut. But animals to me are usually like foods are to many... I love them out doing their thing, or in my hands, but not necessarily worn on skin as a perfume. Unfortunately, after the pretty herbal clay opening, this goes all feather dust and animal fuzz on me. The beginning was charming and lovely, though.

This yellow balsam is interesting: It smells to me like sprigs of balsam pressed and dried against yellow parchment. The leather, which smells a dull grayish-brown and indeed well-worn, adds to the impression I’m getting of an old leather journal, perhaps abandoned with everything else at a rustic explorer’s camp… its mysteries waiting to be solved.

There's a scent of candle wax, too, also a bit yellowed and even cracked with age. It’s a little creamy, still, despite its age and abandonment.

I don’t notice musk or mud, but there is a wan darkness and some dusty wool fallen into disuse.

Without looking at the art at all, this smells to me like a scent of rustic isolation and some manner of wistful departure, whether of an area, or of a life, is unclear.

Freshly applied, La Danse is a cloud of sweet, sugared and honeyed ambers on me… with a nuanced, indeterminate background.
 

But before long, I too seem to notice an unlisted pinkish rose. The gleam-polished woods also peek out in drydown, and the early notes fade. This has gone from sugared honey amber in its early phase to woods rose in its midlife. Quite a midlife change, but not a crisis.

I liked the sugary opening. I don’t need a woods rose blend, though, so I will need to pass on a bottle.

Craving bay rum apples? Daddy may have you covered. Bobbing for Daddy is essentially bay rum apples (which do, by the way, smell gleaming and well-polished) in a soft cloud of fougere.

I never notice incense, but cologney bay rum apples? Oh, yes.

I'd like to note for the record that the oil in this decant is a light teal color. Now that that is out of the way...

Mostly, I'm getting a not-quite-aquatic musk, what I assume is the inky musk. The other notes are quite soft, almost hollow and ghostlike. This smells to me like a faint, perfumey bluish apple musk, with a touch of saffron-like dryness. That dryness combines with the apple musk to read almost like a dry cider, and I can see the craft cider comparison.

This is a little odd, and certainly perfumey, but interesting and likable.