Bard

Interesting - my brain went a completely different route. I was picturing the dusty, sandy planets, and thought of Coyote and Tombstone for Luke.

 

Coyote was my first thought as well, although I think it ought to be layered with the subtlest hint of something with ozone. Perhaps Nyarlethotep.

 

 

Your humble and obedient Renaissance Man,

 

Bard

There's a song by Jeff Wayne from his musical version of The War of the Worlds entitled "Forever Autumn." Out of respect for copyright, I'm not going to share the lyrics here, but I encourage you to look them up and to listen to the song. If one could encapsulate the fragrance and mood of October in a song, that would be it.

 

Fresh out of the bottle, October is a chilly autumn afternoon in the woods, the earth carpeted in gold and crimson and brown. The faintest of drizzles plays on our faces and shoulders. The nearly naked branches of elms and maples glisten in the damp. Ahead of us, nestled amid the trees sits the groundskeeper's tiny cottage, woodsmoke from its chimney hanging in the air.

 

If you can identify with the scene I laid before you, if you can see the sullen gray of the cloudy sky in your mind's eye, hear the colorful leaves crunching underfoot, feel the prickle of raindrops like kisses on too-warm skin, you know what this scent smells like. October is memory in a bottle, a perfect moment suspended in oil.

 

One word of caution, however. This blend his delicate, oh so delicate. In the heat of an early September day it feels stolen, out of place. It is in want of cool weather to work its deepest magic. Even body heat can upset the balance. In order to achieve its full potential, some of the gentle souls here may find a scent locket most efficacious.

 

 

October Haiku,

When bright leaves did fall

In scarlet hue, then so too

Did my heart for you.

Mme. Moriarty, sultry and seductive as the unknown itself, like a heady incense of smoldering passion lost amid dreams deferred. She is both Magician and High Priestess, the sun and the star and the aching longing of the moon. She is your judgment, your very world. And you? You are her fool.

 

For me, there are four elements at work here vying for control: pomegranate and plum together, like the tender compassion of the house of cups; a heady vanilla, warm, but intellectual, representing the house of swords; fiery red musk to be our house of wands; and deep, sultry patchouli to be our earthy coins. At any given time, one or two notes are dominant, leaving me with the impression that my fate is uncertain and changing at every moment, like flipping through a deck of tarot cards.

 

It's a beautiful combination, whichever notes are prevalent. Red musk doesn't typically work well on me, but here it blends beautifully with the other notes.

 

This one is a little wrong for me, but it's gorgeous nonetheless.

 

 

Mme. Moriarty Haiku,

Looking at the cards,

She smirked and read my ill fate,

"Twenty-one. House wins."

My Dearest Ladies of the Forum,

 

How can you mock me so? To compare me—less than favorably I might add—to the base fragrances of callow youths and two-bit rapscallions. Must you so wound me? I? Who have poured my heart, my soul, my very quintessence, into a cobalt blue cage and entrusted its key to your keeping? What more must I do to please you?

 

In all this weary world I long for nothing but to touch your bare skin, to kiss your wrists, caress the nape of your neck, to bury myself in the heady pleasure of your bosom. And if, as you so cruelly insist, I am so bourgeois and commonplace, transform me then, with the heat of your body. And I shall rise anew like a phoenix, your golden Adonis, and fall like rose petals at my Venus's feet.

 

I remain, your most ardent servant,

 

Valmont

 

And so it is with our good Vicomte who will tell you all the pretty lies you wish to hear.

 

The fragrance? Masculine, certainly. I really can't imagine a woman wearing this scent. Of course, I don't wish to discourage you. By all means, try it, ladies. Still, I really do think this is more a scent for the gentlemen among us.

 

So many have said that it reminds them of commercial men's cologne, whether for good or for ill. There are similarities, to be sure, and that's to be expected. The description itself says this is based on a classic men's cologne. Surely, those perfume companies don't live entirely in a bubble of their own monomania? They must, to a certain degree, borrow from the traditions and learning of perfumers of the past. If our good Lady Beth is drawing from the same inspiration, they are likely to be comparable.

 

That said, there is really nothing cheap about this fragrance. It is deep, more sophisticated than Villain, but with a certain austerity. Feigned passion. It's a very... cynical... fragrance. There is air against the stature, and there is transcending it all a certain aloofness. It's a well named fragrance and a charming, seductive scent for men.

 

 

Viscomte de Valmont Haiku,

Lie with me Mistress.

In all of France none can say

I do not lie well.

I was given a decant of this by a lovely, generous benefactor, and she merely asked that I compose a review. I fear it's taken me far too long to get around to that. This is mainly due to the fact that I lost the box wherein I'd placed the decant.

 

But, ah, the box is found!

And I shall now expound

On pastries fair, and berries rare

And fragrance in the August air

That billowed as we marched the square

Like flags amid the sound

When rebel drums did pound.

 

How to describe The Crumpet Rebellion? Well, one must think, naturellement, of le 14 Juillet, that historic day that symbolizes such triumph in the struggle of the common man. Hearkening to that fateful revolution, when royal crumpets rolled, and jam stained the streets of Paris. Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, Pâtisserie!

 

Except, of course, that crumpets are an English invention. What were you doing going on and on about the French? Silly person.

 

No, to effectively describe The Crumpet Rebellion, we would be better served keeping this image in mind: a cavalcade of tawdry young wenches in low-cut dresses, standing on a balcony, hiking up their skirts and making lewd comments while pelting the distinguished members of Parliament standing below with plates of jam. That, gentle reader, is the very heart of this fragrance.

 

To be sure, this perfume is delectable. It perfectly emulates a golden brown crumpet, heaped high with berries, Devon double cream, and a hint of sugar and spice. It's just slightly naughty, in a tryst-after-three-o'clock-tea sort of way. Lovers of food scents shall wail and tear at their hair for want of more of this. For others, it may be more hit or miss. Do beg, borrow, or steal a vial, however, as it's worth a sniff at least. Then, when you're done sniffing, kindly send the vial my way. I shall be over there, wailing and tearing at my hair. Would that I could procure more of this.

 

 

The Crumpet Rebellion Haiku,

Rebellious jam:

Soiling my finest cravatte

In liberty's name.

Directly from the bottle, Black Pearl evokes hot summer days on the beach or at the pool. The coconut is prevalent in this and the association to sunscreen is, to my nose, unavoidable. The presence of the white musk, hazelnut, and Iris give this a deeper, more complex scent than any UV protective lotion could hope to produce. Nevertheless, if this reacts to you as it does with me, you shall probably hear friends and coworkers say, "I smell coconut... is someone wearing sunscreen?" Sadly, coconut has become so prominent in skin care products that it doesn't necessarily register as a "perfume" scent.

 

This is a shame, because Black Pearl is lovely. It is playful and a sensual without being overly flirty. There is, as others have noted, a slight boozy note to this. Whether it is an unlisted ingredient or simply the combination of the fragrances darker elements, I'm not quite sure, but it lends an air of decadence and nonchalance. And of course, I adore virtually anything Beth creates that features white musk as a note, and this is certainly no exception.

 

Anyone who adores the scent of coconut must try this, and anyone who wishes to be reminded of a sultry tropical evening ought to try this as well. Just remember, should anyone ask you if you're wearing sunscreen, simply reply, "No, Mate, that's the Pearl."

 

 

Black Pearl Haiku,

"Just how strong is this

Sunscreen, Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"Forty-five proof, Love..."

Delight is a sensual bouquet of florals that will overwhelm and overpower the unwary wearer. This particular scent is not one to slather, as a little of this oil truly goes a long way. At first, the floral notes may seem discordant, giving the blend a sharp, pungent, almost animalistic quality. As they settle, these notes find a beautiful harmony together, and this is where Delight truly shines.

 

Because Delight is so intensely floral, and because it tends to swing wildly with skins chemistry, I recommend trying this, but in a manner other than on one's skin. Wear it in a scent locket. Burn it in an oil burner. Apply it to your sheets an hour before you intend to use them. Add it to a romantic bubble bath for two.

 

 

Delight Haiku,

Lay me down, my Love

Upon a bed of flowers:

No sweeter repose

As I applied this scent, I did a double take and checked the label. Did I grab Snake Oil by mistake? Indeed, Vixen is close on my skin, although I suspect this is an illusion brought on by the spiciness of the ginger. It's a sultry and intoxicating scent that pervades the senses. This is bold and brazen: the sort of lady (and I use the term... loosely) who prefers to make the first move.

 

Although I personally prefer Snake Oil, I would recommend this to someone who likes Snake Oil in the bottle but has trouble wearing it. You may have more luck with this.

 

 

Vixen Haiku,

The thrill of the hunt

Orange tail darts through the brush

Chasing the Huntsman.

On first application, Cordelia's white cedar note captures my senses immediately. Although I have not worn Lear in perhaps two years, the scent of Cordelia instantly connected with that fragrance. In fact, it was this olfactory memory that prompted me to recall the origins of Cordelia (to my shame, I had been drawing a blank). The fragrance of this blend is very much a sweeter, more feminine Lear, with a slightly spicy undercurrent (not so strong on me) befitting of the young princess's strength of character.

 

Where the father is old dry and venerable, Cordelia is brimming with youth and life. It's an enchanting fragrance, and I actually prefer it to Lear. Although I can't particularly imagine myself wearing it, I wouldn't hesitate to give it to special lady in my life.

 

 

Cordelia Haiku,

Be not so decieved,

Her sharp words bear more love than

Any flattery.

Roses have something of an unrequited love for me. When I wear rose scents they lavish me with as much attention as they possibly can, providing a long lasting scent with a very nice throw. Having put it on well over 12 hours ago, the fragrance remains constant in its devotion: a predominantly rose scent with the resins subtley playing beneath it. The scent is gorgeous, and I love her in my own fashion, however I am just not sure I can wear her.

 

Still, this is a beautiful scent and I love it. It gets the Fuchsia Tights Award of 2006.

 

 

Parlement of Foules Haiku,

I hadde suche a dreme!

The bloming rose of her breste

Al tendre whyte mete.

The gnome lord hurls a cobalt potion. The jar crashes on your head and breaks into shards. You smell resins. You feel better.

Call a cobalt potion:

 

Off the top of my head, I'd suggest Tombstone, which has cedar and vanilla. It's been a while since I've worn it, but I think you might like it.

 

 

Your humble and obedient Renaissance Man,

 

Bard

This was very minty on me the moment I applied it. Beneath the mint, I caught the faintest hint of Juniper beneath, but nothing else. As it dried the mint never lost its dominance, and indeed it quickly strangled everything until only it remained. It too promptly vanished, only an hour or two after application.

 

I would love to say something more, but this one simply didn't work on me at all. I hope others have better luck, as it certainly smells worthy in the bottle.

 

 

Undertow Haiku,

Juniper, lotus,

Pulled under by a current

Of merciless mint.

Titania is a gorgeous chilly scent: like a sudden frost in an orchard laiden with ripe frui. It's beautiful, clean, and pale white by my reckoning: suitable fragrance for a faerie queen if ever there was one. The fruits come out ahead in this, but the florals keep it very balanced. I want to douse this on a particular lady, take her to bed, and worship her.

 

Barring that, it's not exactly something I would wear. I think this is too light, sweet, and effeminate for most men to pull off. However, I am ever one to encourage the expansion of gender roles, so feel free to experiment with this one. It's a beautiful scent and you may be surprised.

 

 

Titania Haiku,

"What about Sarah?"

"No," Mark took both his hands, "you

Play Titania."*

 

*Apologies to the Dead Alewives.

Dark musk and black amber with frankincense, red sandalwood, neroli and bergamot.

 

Titus Andronicus is a bold, dark scent: warm and masculine, with a dash of anger and a tinge of anguish. It's a very rich, pleasing scent with, as many have said, a citrusy overtone. There is a smokiness to this scent that keeps it from being too cloying. This is a tough guy scent, but it's not a butch scent, if you get my meaning. It's not about machismo, bravado, or proving a point. It's the tough guy who is tough because he can either be tough or he can curl up and die. Life doesn't give him another option.

 

I'd recommend this to all the males on this forum.

 

 

Titus Andronicus Haiku,

Swift and merciless

their plots. Swift and merciless

His retribution.

Intoxicating. Sensual. Pacifying. Mesmerizing. These are words I might use to describe Hamadryad. The sort of scent turns males into a sort of pliable jelly to be molded as the wearer pleases.

 

At first whiff there is something old fashioned about this scent. It reminds me of scented Christmas garlands and potpourri. It's a scent that I associate with grandmothers, which seems utterly contradictory to its underlying sensual nature, but the mind doesn't really care at this stage. It does not want to debate whether or not this scent is age appropriate. It simply wants to be wrapped in this smell and comforted.

 

This is precisely what a nymph should smell like, in my opinion. Not alluring in an overtly sexual sense. If this were about sex, my defenses would go up. No, this is sexy, but innocent, guileless, and somewhat otherworldly. It slips under the radar and lures me in, and I understand suddenly why so many men were led away by nymphs to never again be seen.

 

Ladies, wear this, and I just might be your slave.

 

 

Hamadryad Haiku,

He needs the firewood,

But spares the tree. Grateful, she

Warms him with her love.

My first impression of The Emperor is regal, masculine, dominant, though not precisely austere. Initially it reminds me of men's cologne in the same way Antony does, as it dries and fades, it smells a bit more floral on me. This is, perhaps, a kinder, gentler Emperor than I might have expected. Not without authority, but certainly lacking something of the rigidity that I would expect from this card. I suspect he is a rather doting Emperor.

 

It is not something I personally would wear, though I think this scent is quite wearable.

 

 

The Emperor Haiku,

A heavy, grey beard

Grand, grave, and grim to behold

Hiding tender smiles.

Is there a scent that accompanies cold, cruel, malice? If there is, I believe it must be bottled and labeled Yog-Sothoth. I would like to describe—not merely how this smells, for the reviews that came before mine have done an excellent job describing it's rather other-worldly nature—but how this felt as I wore it. I do this because I find the shift in mood rather alarming.

 

Application - Seemingly innocuous. The scent of bubble bath, or dryer sheets as others have put it. Filmy. It's barely noticeable to my nose. I slather on extra in order to do a proper review. I am exchanging messages with friends, trying to be supportive of one friend in particular.

 

30 minutes - The scent is stronger. I'm begining to feel like emptiness as others have put it. Vastness. There's a certain amount of delicious power to it. A friend is soliciting me for an art critique. I withold it from her teasingly. She asks if I am going to make her beg. I tell her I like it when she begs, but all the same, I don't make her beg. I'm still trying to be supportive of my one friend.

 

1 hour - Pure air and darkness, the scent is even stronger now. I'm picking up traces of deeper smells but I can't place them. There is a hollowness growing inside me. A conversation has shifted to relationships. I'm starting to feel rather cynical about relationships in general. "People using one another for their own gains. An equitable trade of need. Isn't that what relationships are all about?"

 

1 hour 30 minutes - There is an acrid curl of smoke in the vastness of space. It's like a disease, a taint, fouling the emptiness. Still focused on relationships, I am thinking: "what relationship isn't by nature bourne of pure selfish or totally dysfunctional?" I am feeling total contempt for my fellow human beings. A cat tries to jump on the bed only it misses and falls on the floor. Stupid cat.

 

2 hours 30 minutes - I can smell something like vetivert in this now. I'm not sure it is vetivert, but it's gone beyond darkness or air now into a cloying resiny smoke that fills my senses. Something is scraping at my insides with a dull knife. I am beginning to think, quite literally that it might be an interesting experiment to peel the skin off someone like an apple. Except for the bleeding and possibly the screaming, which would be troublesome.

 

At which point something in my brain shouted, "for the love of God, wash it off." Which I did, and applied something else.

 

I confess, I most assuredly have a dark imagination, but I'm not the sort of person who idly contemplates torturing others. Something in Yog-Sothoth brings it out in a steady, remorseless torrent. I'm quite startled by the way I felt while wearing this, and yet intrigued. It might merely be coincidence, but it might be something deeper.

 

 

Yog-Sothoth Haiku,

What pity could stir

The uncaring mind of space

Vast, bloodless, and cold?

There comes a time when one sits down to write a review and they realize all they can write is a love letter. This is that time for me.

 

Snake Oil is the finest scent Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has to offer. It has no equal amongst its peers or anywhere else in the perfume market. It is the perfect blend of the familiar and the exotic, the spiritual and the carnal. It is sensual, seductive, hot with passion. Every woman should smell like this. Every man should as well.

 

When I wear Snake Oil, I feel powerful, seductive, charming. I don't receive compliments on it, I'm afraid, andI wonder if that's because I am a man. I wonder if it intoxicates me because I'm a man and thus swayed by its charms. I don't mind. If no woman ever complimented my Snake Oil, I would still wear it. It's simply that good.

 

The bottom line is this: if you only ever buy one scent from the lab, choose this one.

 

I can't do this scent justice in haiku, but out of love, I will try.

 

Snake Oil Haiku,

Soft, silken sheets stir,

Where, serpent-like, entwining,

The two become one.

Wearing this, I am wrapped in a swirling eddy of mint. The green of the cucumber and the pepper are lost on me, and instead this scent flickers from one mint to another, like the green flame of the description, but flickering with white and blue tones as well as the mints vye for dominance.

Tulzscha lasts a few short hours gradually fading to embers and disappearing. It's a refreshing scent, though not one I'll likely wear often. However, it is a mint lover's dream.


Tulzscha Haiku,
Fire burning coldly
In the dark depths of our hearts:
Verdant jealousy.

On me, King of Clubs is warm, and sweet, the fig being the most prominent note, but blended subtly with tobacco to create a scent that the nose has trouble placing. For me it lacks the wild earthiness that many have discussed, but it is darker than King of Spades, which to me is has a similar presence. Where Spades embodies a certain mirth and passionate strength, his cousin Clubs is a quieter sort of scent. equally powerful, but more intense and withdrawn. It does little to lift my spirits, but I can sense the animal magnetism of this scent.

 

It's my least favorite of the Kings Diamonds, Spades, and Clubs, but that's not saying much really since I adore all three of them.

 

 

King of Clubs Haiku,

Lord of the Forest,

The Oak his royal scepter,

The warm earth his throne.

For me, Miskatonic University is almost entirely coffee and cream. In fact, it smells so much the creamer I put in my coffee (creme brulee) that I always want a cup when I put this on. Occasionally, very occasionally I will get a hint of something boozy, and even less frequently, I'll catch the scent of wood or old books. However none of those scents come out strongly enough on me to really elevate this scent past its coffee roots.

 

However it does conjure for me a dean's study, warm wood paneled walls, old tomes, and the ever-present scent of gourmet coffee that lingers in the room of a habitual coffee drinker. Whether this is my subconscious picking up the underlying notes or my projection of the scents title, I'm not quite sure.

 

In all, this is a wonderful scent sure to please coffee lovers.

 

 

Miskatonic University Haiku,

 

Coffee's reflexion:

Catching a glimpse of the thing

Behind the bookshelf.

Although Dublin isn't a particularly "feminine" scent. There's something about Oisín that reminds me of a "masculine" Dublin. It may be the Irish blossoms that were so prevalent on me in Dublin echong in this scent and deepened by the white musk.

 

This scent is not as strong as I suspected it would be. It lasts a long time, but t never becomes too prominent on the skin. That might be a blessing or a curse. It's also masculine, but it's not overpowering. It reminds me of an elfin hero. It seems almost too refined for a human warrior, bardic or not.

 

I like this one a lot, but I have a feeling I'll be experimenting with it and laying other scents over it. It may become a scented soap in the future.

 

 

Oisín Haiku,

Warrior-Bard of yore:

He of valor great and name

Unpronounceable .

I was very intrigued by this scent when it came out and added it to that month's order. However I've only gotten to this one just now.

 

On application, my immediate thought is it's conservative and very masculine. It reminds me--pleasantly--of Old Spice, but with subtlely different character. Yes, very much like a commercial men's cologne, but with a depth that I ascribe to the use of organic oils versus synthetics. It's very nice wet, and it feels extremely stately and dignified.

 

As it dries however, the base notes die away and this becomes very sweet and lavender with a hint of sharpness. I was a bit put off by the change, as it suddenly reminded me of baby wipes.

 

Which leads me to quite a conundrum: I want to love this scent, and in fact I do love it initially, but I'm unsure about the later stages of the fragrance. Ideally, I would love to perform an alchemical experiment with this, and apply this in the presence of 3 or 4 BPAL ladies. I'd be very curious is they get the same sense of "Eau de Chiffons de Bébé," or if it's merely my own nose's sensitivity to lavender.

 

At very least, it merits another trial.

 

 

Saint-Germain Haiku,

When nine-hundred years

Old you reach, only wish you

Smelled this good, you shall!

I generally don't read the descriptions of a scent before I put it on, and sometimes I'll try something new without taking a whiff of the bottle. So when I applied this scent this morning, it rather went:

 

*ahem*...

 

CITRUS

 

Then patted me on the head and told me I was a clever boy.

 

This is a very nice, sweet, pleasant scent. Manic, as some have put it. It doesn't make me think of the Cheshire Cat to be honest. I'm reminded of the insanely cheery dancing flowers and suns in the early Warner Bros. cartoons. Somehow I find that more disturbing.

 

As a scent, I likely won't wear this. It's just a little too artificial in its cheeriness. I'd rather wear something like Horn of Plenty or Coyote that just makes me feel good, rather than Cheshire Cat, which makes me feel like I've got my eyes and mouth taped open in a perpetual smile, like some disturbing Carrollian vision of A Clockwork Orange.

 

 

Cheshire Cat Haiku,

"Why is it you turn

Invisible?" asked Alice.

Said he, "Just for grins."

This is a very unusual green scent. It's so light, delicate, and otherworldly. It's a stroll through an enchanted forest on a cool dewy morning. I'm very drawn to the scent. I would love to meditate in a glade that smelled like this.

 

I love the scent, but I doubt I'll be wearing it. Somehow this scent is much too large for me to pull it off. It needs to belong to a place, not a person. Perhaps it can be made into tarts instead. I could hardly complain if my house smelled like a faerie glade.

 

 

Dublin Haiku,

Sidhe still walk this wood.

Everywhere, the morning green

Glitters with their tears.