starbrow

The Butterfly is one of my alltime favorite expressions of bergamot that truly capture the essence of that oil in perfume form. Wet, it is vibrant and shimmering green with that fuzzy-lime smell that is classically bergamot, no doubt enhanced by the petitgrain but without the bitterness petitgrain can sometimes have. Here, the citrus is just shy of sweet, with a kiss of tartness, and fuzzy fuzzy fuzzy. The tonka is like a chocolate popsicle, it's so very fuzzy. The golden amber is a warm, sunny haze setting the bergamot-colored butterfly's wings sparkling. The drydown gets more snuggly the more it sinks into the skin. The Lab's tonka is my dream: the softest, dreamiest blanket to wrap around one's shoulders on a cold afternoon. This is the tonka I remember from Tonka Bean, Black Tea, and Vetiver trio. It's so nice. With time, the woodiness of the petitgrain peeks out too, never turning bitter, but a bit like a gentle cedar. The bergamot stays soothing and fuzzy, beginning to end, just like In Splendoribus Sanctum. Rarely do bergamot perfumes do what the essential oil does to me. Most perfumes take it in a cologne direction, attacking my nostrils and doing the opposite of calming. A good bergamot, like The Butterfly, has an instant tranquilizing effect on me. In combination with the other notes here, especially the tonka, this blend is one of the snuggliest BPALs ever for me. I would wear this while: doing some serious snuggly hibernating

With a name like Wander Darkling in the Eternal Space, this Grishaverse fan had to acquire. And the perfume does not disappoint. This is a darkly brooding Romantic, through and through. I could absolutely picture the Darkling wearing it, the smoky elements hinting at his fire-and-brimstone true nature, the sweetness like his lovely exterior. Almost extravagantly blended to be a gothic's dream. Two tricky notes for me, rose and myrrh, are both given a beautiful treatment. The myrrh is deeply embedded into dark smoked resins that keep it from taking over, and the myrrh just brings a lightness to the resins. The rose, meanwhile, is that gorgeous blackened kind that is very mysterious and gothic. Still quite present in the blend, but it doesn't take over either. Blindly guessing, I would have said opoponax rather than vetiver was the lacing in here. The touch of vetiver is very light-handed for this vetiver lover's taste. Either way, it is an elegant resin darkening and smoothing the patchouli. The ambrette seed is deliciously smoky and earthy, almost spicy. Such good presence, representing synesthetically the grey moral area of the Darkling. Lots of velvety (unf) darkness in the three resins, balanced by the lightness of the vanilla and rose petals, and in between, ambrette seed, complex and intimate, at the core of who this Darkling is. An incredible blend that will only get better with age. Bottle forever. I would wear this while: watching the next season of Shadow & Bone (or reading the next Grishaverse book), duh!

Mysore sandalwood always give me a bit of a toasted vibe, which is what it's doing here, thankfully since it gives the sandalwood a much-needed twist from the powdery white kind that I haven't been vibing with lately. In Kit, it smells almost vanillic - thanks no doubt to the benzoin - and dusty rather than powdery. A creamy, comforting heart keeps the blend from feeling pale or cold. I am not sure if I smell anything specifically fabricky or inky, but it does smell old. There is ancient dust here. It is the scent of a scholar's room who hasn't dusted in twenty years. Comparing this perfume to my marjoram essential oil, I can barely even smell it in the blend. That grassy thyme-like herb would be a welcome presence here, to cut all the soft fuzzy resins and dust. It might even be nice to layer on a bit of the essential oil. I would really love to smell more marjoram already in Kit, that's my only real complaint. Keeping my bottle for now and seeing how it ages. I really enjoyed my aged imp and was moved to upgrade to a bottle, so it has a home in my collection for a while. I would wear this while: dusting

Pursuing all the book scents, I acquired this one blindly. Mine is well-aged. Through the initial haze of resins pops white sandalwood to say hello. I sigh. I've been seeing him everywhere this days, powdery white and crumbly, and I'm not amused. Fortunately, leather strolls in later, a mellow lived-in-jacket-leather of brown lambskin. A touch spicy, the way good resins can be. Love this stage! Still waiting for the tobacco leaf and incense. Over time, the papery element of this scent emerges, dry and crackling like papers that have gotten wet and dried to a fine crisp. It lacks any element of ink, which is probably for the best, since that can go pickly. Personally, tobacco and incense only showed up as the faintest suggestion late in the game when I put my nose right up against my wrist and inhaled deeply. The other elements have a low and gentle throw. If leather usually screams for you, this might be one to try. This ends up as a snuggly scent, surprisingly cozy and warm. Scholar's Tower has a bigger throw for me and a more complete picture of scholarly scent, so I think I will be letting Buggre Alle This Bible go. However, I still think it is one to try if you're on the hunt for the perfect book scent. It just might be yours. I would wear this scent while: reading Neil Gaiman, of course!

Smelling blindly, this was a deeply earthy, nutty, nutmeg-rich fruitcake to me. Good throw, to the point that I could smell it wafting from my wrists (many scents don't have that much throw on me). Once I checked notes, it kind of made sense! Roots and mosses and patchouli for deep earthiness, acorns for nuttiness, clove and allspice and perhaps even nutmeg did sneak in here to round out the spices. I wonder where the baked goods is coming from? This is not cake-cake like birthday cake, but a substantial pudding that takes a month at least to set up. It could sustain life for many days. That kind of cake. This smells like fall, but an earthy fall that's off the beaten track of the usual suspects of leaves and pumpkin spice and toothsome gourmands. I'm a bit obsessed with the combination of spices and earth elements here. Mare Foecunditatis is a blend with an impossible-to-spell name and a forest enchantment all its own. I'm going to put it more in the category of Deep in Earth and Death Cap and The Grave-Pig than the traditional Weenies, with also a touch of Hildegard's Cakes of Joy! (Seriously, WHERE is that baked wheat + nutmeg scent coming from?). I adore my half-bottle and will treasure it in my fall box. It's also not too heavy or sweet to wear in the hot days of "fall" such as August and September! Perfection! I would wear this while: sweating it out until October 1.

This is so much myrrh and red wine, but in strong permutations when wet that don't sit perfectly with me. A very full-bodied bubble gum myrrh, with a bright red wine made from unripe grapes. But the spices beneath are rich and copious, with cinnamon being the most present of them for me. The cinnamon absolutely saves this early stage. It has a bit of mulled wine vibe, just smells like it needs to mull a lot longer. The primary color to me is maroon, with red and purple fighting for dominance. As everything mellows down on skin, the metallic sides are given room to breathe. Mmm, the copper and iron are really lovely. They seem to sizzle in the wine. The brightness from before settles down, and a soothing Egyptian musk creeps in - thanks ambrette seed and cinnamon/cardamom. The myrrh also calms, and the labdanum is indeed dark and spicy but not cola-y. I love this stage. Every time I think of finding this bottle a new home, it is this stage that convinces me I actually need to keep it and wear this beauty. Aging has done wonders for Thutmose's Nefertiti, and I think more years will only bring more richness and subtlety to the wine and presence to the resins in it. Happy to see where this goes. I would wear this while: rereading Mara, Daughter of the Nile for the 9000th time

Ooo this is very interesting. Blindly, first applied, I get myrrh and wine, but the kind of wine note I like best, mellow and dark and well-aged, not a bright red vinegary wine, and a myrrh that is not powdery or bubble-gummy, nice and calm. Something pleasantly rubbery here too - opoponax - and sweetly herbal like hyssop. When I peeped the notes again, the myrrh and opononax were right on. The wine note I was getting is probably the beautifully aged black fig plus the spices of carnation and nutmeg. Gorgeous. The more it dries, the deeper it gets (thanks opop!) and the more the nutmeg and chewy fig come out for something that reminds me of the warmth of Christmas, yet light enough to wear in summer (now!). This may be because once it has fully dried, a fruit-infused green tea sits alongside the figgy wine, refreshing and nourishing. To be honest, it reminds me a lot of aged Tweedledum! Both have green tea and fig with a darker resin (patchouli or oponanax) and a lighter sweeter note (mango or carnation). Apatouros is smoother and less fruity, a little more grounded, a little darker overall, and I love it. Happily, the myrrh sinks into the background very quickly and does not make this perfume the Myrrh Show. The one thing I wished I got more of was the Brazilian vetiver. I know it must be in here, darkening everything, making it a bit smokier, a bit grassier, but I honestly can't smell it much, alas! I may have to layer this with a bit of something vetiver-heavy to get my beloved vetiver to pop in the blend. Otherwise, Apatouros is perfection and I am so glad I have a bottle of my own to keep! I would wear this while: dreaming of Christmastime in the middle of a hot-ass summer

Pericardium was whisper-soft when I first tested it, and so I never upgraded my decant to a bottle until more recently, when I pulled it out to test and it was much more full-blown! Having acquired a bottle, and gone through a few Yules in the meantime, I'm finally getting around to reviewing. Pretty, very pretty. The sandalwood is the pale, powdery kind that (like Little Bird) doesn't suit me quite right, but I know it works well for others. It is a white resin rather than a big dark stompy one, but it does predominate over the other two pale resins (amber and frank) for the first hour. Instead, the sandalwood dances with the familiar BPAL perfumey rice milk, which is a creamy semi-sweet waft straddling gourmand and rich perfume. If you've smelled it, you know what I mean! For me, the clove is gossamer-sheer, just like the vanilla. I can almost smell carnation here too, but I know it is an illusion. Compared with others that were similar in my head (There Is No Bliss Like This, Wan Wan), Pericardium is far less spicy, much more mellow and calm. It continues to shimmer as it dries, doing the inexplicable amber thing that is just...pretty. It almost reminds me of a softer, sheerer Vision of the Courtesan. They share the rice milk and frankincense, so no wonder! I think if you like that one but it's perhaps a bit much, you will love Pericardium. For me, Vision was everything I needed from this kind of perfume, but without the sandalwood, so Pericardium will be moving on and finding a good home! I would wear this while: scrolling through cottagecore inspo on pinterest

Two years of aging have swirled this into a gloriously fuzzy, spicy-sweet, almost Egyptian kind of blend. The cinnamon bark (a hot and gritty kind of cinnamon, to my nose) stands out fiery-red, amplified by the clove. The carnation lends its own creamy floral spice that is absolutely perfect in this blend. Those three together always take me back to Egypt embalming spices. I don't know that the vanilla is standing out to me really strongly, but all that spice is nicely balanced by some sweetness, some pink girliness that is charming and cheeky. Anchoring it all is a friendly, vanilla-sweetened patchouli, easy to get along with. So is the ylang ylang, it just contributes a little upward lift in the nose here without being a star. Comparing it to ylang ylang essential oil, I can in fact smell it in There Is No Bliss Like This, it's this herbal whoosh amidst the spice, but it's in the background and is not very floral or heady. If ylang ylang is holding you back from trying this blend, I wouldn't let it stop you! I suspect There Is No Bliss Like This will only continue to age into a more gorgeous beauty through the years. Highly recommend this to fellow cinnamon/clove/carnation fans like myself! I would wear this while: strolling an Egypt exhibit at a local museum

If I was just looking at the notes nowadays, I would probably be scared off by the neroli and peach blossoms. But fortunately, I have a bottle from my inexperienced days of BPALing, and it's beautiful! It's one of the loveliest cherry blossoms, lightly kissed by other fruity blossoms of orange and peach, bathed in a pool of sweet water. The florals are soft-petaled and easy to live with for this non-floral-wearer. I have a soft spot in my heart for cherry blossoms, and often they are presented in a "fancy soap" kind of way. The Stream and the Waterfall is a dreamy, creamy take on cherry blossom; nothing so prosaic as soap. I am so not a fan of aquatics, but this is not at all an aquatic perfume to me. This is the sweetest, clearest water pouring over mossy stone in a dark, old forest waterfall. I think the frankincense and cedarwood are contributing to that impression of ancient stony forest. When many florals have moved along from my collection, this one has stayed all these years thanks to those grounding, calming elements. The one downside to this blend is its low throw. It does last for 2-3 hours but it is a fairly quiet one, so if you want to simply sniff your wrist from time to time and remind yourself of a cool pool of flowers, this is your ticket. I would wear this while: sweating my toes off in the middle of summer.

Dead Leaves strike again. Here, they are pale, wet things, aquatic in a moldering damp puddle way that is nicely atmospheric. They aren't going super cologne on me. Sage and mahogany are here; they read masculine to my nose in this setting, though pleasantly so. I don't get a strong mint or coffee, but something pleasantly herbal and also a little bit like wet coffee grounds, bitter and bright. There is something stately about these dead leaves. I can believe that they lay scattered in front of an aristocratic household. I think that is the mahogany and ambergris elevating the blend to an elegant, old-fashioned, slightly spooky level. I like that part of it! I kind of wish I could just take the leaves out of it and be left with the rest. I am never going to be about the Dead Leaves I think, but this is one of the more wearable ones I've ever tried. I'm glad I got to try an empty, and might hang on to it just in case I want to drop a decant in there for aging purposes. Not a full bottle upgrade for me, however, this would make a beautiful Weenie-for-Spring to someone who does enjoy that traditional DL line.

Minamoto has dipped in and out of my potential sales pile for years, but last time I was testing it (along with a bunch of other things), I ended up with a patch of skin that I could not stop huffing with amazement, and it turned out to be this one. So it was saved! Now, a more thorough testing. The initial sniff is oblique. Somehow both smooth and bold; masculine; rugged. Dry tobacco and expensive cologne. That translates well onto skin, with a wet stage that goes on like a handsome cowboy. A good balance of sweetness and strength, with individual notes melded over ten years of aging. It's hard to isolate individual notes. It's so interesting how this reads both masculine to my nose and a bit sweetly floral (thanks no doubt to the tobacco flower + bourbon vanilla). I don't smell it and THINK those last two notes, but knowing they're in there, I can see how they contribute a woody, smoky floral presence to the blend. It's surprisingly sexy, picturing it on a man. That softer edge sets it apart from a lot of more aggressive perfumes in the tobacco-woods vein. It even tones down the teak! (Aging has helped with that a ton too, I'm sure!) For me, now, the magic is not quite happening this time. However, I know this WILL be magic on the right skin, and it's an easy decision to let this bottle go and find its rightful wearer! I would wear this while: sauntering through some swinging saloon doors in some impeccably polished boots

The Curator was another one of those "weirdly smells like books" recommendations that I had to pick up. This is surely a blend that time has mellowed, for what could have been a sharp and stabby scent is very mild, cooling and unobtrusive. It reminds me of aftershave in that "cooling, clean, herby" sense. I usually use the word cologne as a bad thing, but in this, aftershave is not a bad thing at all. It hugs the skin closely and gives off a cleanly masculine vibe that I think lots of people would be into, both wearing and smelling. Any and all sharp edges have been smoothed out by time. This is all smoooooth, like a good shave. Does it smell like books? To me, no. The resins are lowkey, the herbs dried and comforting, but the combination doesn't say "books" to my nose. I don't get much incense either, which can often remind me of books for some reason. However, this is a nice herbal blend that gives me toned-down No. 93 Engines or another Phoenix Steamworks, or maybe even Prince Lir. I don't often wear this kind of scent, so my low partial bottle will be moving along, but it's a really nice option if you do enjoy more masculine, smoothly herbal blends. I would wear this while: chatting up a woman on an English train through the countryside in the late 1940s

2011 bottle: I acquired this because I heard it was a bookish scent! And indeed, when I was testing it out again today, the first sniff of it reminded me so much of Scholar's Tower, I had to go compare. The cedar is very much the same, lovely and sweet! Bony Moon's sandalwood, the pale bonelike variety, brings an amazingly papery twist to the "old cedar bookshelves" atmosphere. It's fairly quiet and powdery, but has a nice intimate throw for the wearer's pleasure. What are the radiant crisp lunar herbs? No idea! Maybe a bit of rosemary and time? But very dry and very old, like they've lost most of their crackle by now and are mostly dust. And almost assuredly clary sage at the opening? I wish that stuck around longer! Over time, this becomes a mostly sandalwood scent that nevertheless has that wood-pulp smell of fresh paperbacks, with the dusty smell of OLD paperbacks. If you like sandalwood and are looking for a book scent that does NOT have leather in it, Bony Moon could be one to try! I think ultimately while I enjoy it, the sandalwood component - and its similarity to my favorite, Scholar's Tower - means that I just won't wear my bottle as often as I could. I think it will find a new home. I would wear this while: rearranging the books on my bookshelves and dreaming of the days of Scholastic book fairs and Pizza Hut

A lot of spiced dried fruit, like this seriously smells like something that would fill up someone's Christmas stocking in 18th century Poland or something. It's very hearty, with a big kick of growly vetiver, but that combo here is not really working for me somehow. I wouldn't have guessed leather, but it is a big beefy vibe of something hard and toothy. I get some booziness - this is a rummy cognac, to me - and the prunyness (totally a word) of dried apricots and cherries, thickly spiced with black pepper and some brown-sugared sweetness. Don't let that last bit fool you; Joyful Dalliances has a bite, and she is here to sink her teeth in. The vetiver never really emerges all silvery like I like it; it's always tied up in that dark, fibrous web of fruits and ferocious spices. Ultimately, I think this is for someone who wants a bit more kick in their fruity blends than I like. This is one big boot-stomping scent, and it reads more like a gothy Yule to me than a Luper. That's super cool to me in theory, but I guess in my actual wearing habits, I like my scents kind of segregated by occasion! Bottle finding a new home, but glad I know what Joyful Dalliances in the Underworld smells like. World domination and regularity. I would wear this scent while: casually flaying my enemies before Christmas dinner.

The notes look amazing! I think this is one of the blends where it truly is better to smell first and see how it goes, than to be swayed by what's listed. A sharp bite of herbal greenery (clary sage?) plays with a squeeze of astringency when it goes on wet, then as drydown plays out, the harder edge falls off and suddenly a white plum floral emerges. The perfumy, flowery haze has a softness and femininity that other white florals lack because they're so loud. This one is delicate and dreamy. I am reminded of white musk - it must be the tobacco flower + ambergris - but thankfully this has all the benefits of white musk without the dryer sheet quality. This scent really hugs the skin after the first few minutes, kind of poofing away into nothing. The last stage, a ghostly vetiver, is my favorite, but I also can't smell it unless I put my wrist right up to my nose. This is the pretty, grassy vetiver that is so comforting, that I would just wrap myself in a blanket with if I could, so I definitely wish it would throw big! There are a lot of notes missing in action. Like, most of them. If lemongrass or coconut are usually problems, don't be scared off; I didn't even know they were here. I would expect this perfume to be a lot more resinous from the opium tar, frankincense, and cedar, after aging 10 years, but no, this little butterfly is floral and airy. If you like that kind of scent, I absolutely think Zebra Heliconian is worth exploring past the fierce opening stage (which reminds me a bit of Insects, honestly, I might have to compare?) and seeing if drydown is your cup of tea. Ultimately, I'm thinking this bottle will find a new home because that's not the kind of scent I reach for, but it's very pretty. I would wear this while: caring for my butterfly garden in springtime.

When I first got this bottle, I could barely smell anything. I kind of liked the hint of what I smelled in it, but it was almost like water - nice scented water. Fortunately, I put it in a box and forgot about it, and just took it out to see if it was worth keeping. Oh my goodness! It has aged into something gorgeous and fragrant! It reminds me most of The Butterfly from the Last Unicorn collection, but fuzzier, browner, even more cuddly. Goatweed Leafwing's tonka is snuggly and vanillic (but not foody), adorable (but not cloying); much like the Tonka Bean, Black Tea, & Vetiver trio, this one is as comforting as a worn-in blanket. The orange blossom is the other element reminding me of The Butterfly; it's totally bergamot essential oil to my nose, a soft fuzzy-edged lime-adjacent herbaceousness. Not cologne in the slightest! Grounding those higher notes are ambrette seed, earthy and sweetly smoky, and the brown sandalwood, which comes wrapped in a smooth tranquility that is like the best Shungas. These are both not flashy notes but they are part of the warmth that this scent exudes. With time and skin-warming, a subtle, deep spice emerges. Almost like tea, but less bitter-tannic than most teas. It's stunning. I am absolutely keeping my bottle and wearing the heck out of it! I would wear this while: reading in bed on a stormy weekend afternoon

The Lab's red wine and I have a tempestuous relationship. The struggle is real in this scent, with a big hit upfront on the skin: sour, potent red wine that always reads as a strange perfumey version of what actual red wine smells and tastes like. I think it's amplified by the grape flower in this case to really underscore a floral twinge of grapiness. Upon drydown, the powdery just-shy-of-bubblegum myrrh steps forward and takes center stage. I don't really smell any frankincense or vetiver in the mix, alas. Those were the two I was really hoping for when I acquired this blend, and I miss their resinous and grassy presence a whole lot. The black currant is very quiet, just a whisper of dark fragrant berry, but whether you love or hate black currant, it's definitely not a big player here. Overall, this is a musky red wine-dominant blend with some floral and myrrhish tendencies. It does mellow out as it sits, and gets quite pretty, even fancy. The vetiver never even peeks its head out. I ended up liking Weeping Faces of Wearied Loves a lot more than I thought I would, but I think someone else would like this more than me. Off it goes! I would wear this while: having a reverse night out where I start out with lots of wine and gradually get more sober and sophisticated.

2017 version: This is one of the softest lavenders wet that I've smelled from the Lab yet. It reminds me of what an old lavender sachet made of lace would smell like. There is in fact something lace-like about how The Air and the Ether goes on wet, like the memory of sweet tobacco and crocheted lace, the drop of vanilla, the ghost of cognac dabbling the faded herbs of lavender. Lightly applied, this scent stays close to the skin, but with its old-fashioned vibes and dreamy quality, it would make a gorgeous sleep scent. I look forward to being able to slather! Bottle, here I come!

Chocolate poudh, a la fresh How Doth the Little Crocodile. I am already nursing a bottle of that poor GC along, trying to get it to turn into the lovely musky chocolatey sex that I know it can be, so I definitely don't need another. I am sure Rogridiss will age into a beautiful smooth leathery chocolatey ride, with hints of tobacco and hemp and that strange dusty note that I know is rosin. However, I don't think I'll be along for the ride in anything bigger than a decant. Right now, it's big leather, big chocolate, big indoles. A weird and unsettling combination that never truly morphs on the skin the way How Doth does.

Atmospheric is dead on. The blasts of gunpowder are here, but so are the ghosts. A thick black smoke lies heavy in the air after a pitched battle, while all around, the cold skeletal fingers of ghosts reach out with something like shimmering white musk and pine pitch to clasp you in a prison of bare branches and snow. It dries down surprisingly beautiful. Ethereal, almost? If gunpowder can ever be called ethereal. It reminds me a bit of the smokiest parts of Amaxophobia - probably the I too am not in need of a full bottle of this, because I don't know how often I would reach for it as something to put on my body, but if this ever came in an atmo, hold my beer because CLICK CLICK CLICK.

Whoaaaaa everything is accounted for here. A true black cherry, NOT death by poisonous almond! Big-ass spices, led by cinnamon and punctuated with mulling spices. And bourbon, a woozy boozy swig that will warm down to the toes and cure what ails ya. Even though I tend to not like cherry + syrup or alcohol at all in scents or in real life (cough syrup vibes are real), here it's oddly charming. I really, REALLY enjoy the just-dried stage, where I'm vibing with this super adult, super Christmasy beverage. It has fantastic presence too, swirling around me in rich billowing waves. This is why we wait several hours before hitting purchase, people. The long drydown brings a screechy rubbing alcohol end to this party. EEK! This has plagued many a 2021 blend for me so far, and no exception here. I won't be upgrading, unfortunately, but if you don't have this problem, I can highly recommend Spiced Cherry Bourbon as a deliciously naughty drink to enjoy on your skin. I get a similar effect (without the booze, and without the rubbing alcohol) from Bloody Mary Bloody Mary, and so I will have to stick with that for now, I think.

Chocolate but make it GHOSTLY. A rose-tinged cacao, nice and bitter, dances with a lot of spectral white musk. Not quite dryer sheet category, but it has the bright sparkly "clean" vibes that often come with white musk. This is a very clean ghost, y'all. I enjoy the grounding effect of ambrette seed, which is a little earthy, a little smoky, but definitely overwhelmed by the more vocal stars of cacao, rose, and white musk. I think ambrette seed would have needed one less of those to truly have its moment. Still, it gives a bit of vetiver-light to the blend, and I appreciate that. Missing in action for me is patchouli. I would have liked more darkness here. There is some woodiness, yet if you told me this was a Cacao, Rose, and White Musk trio, I would believe you. The patch doesn't really have a part to play in this blend, unfortunately in my opinion. Nor does this go to foodie places, with cacao playing out like coffee instead of dessert. I won't be upgrading to a full bottle, but I think if you enjoy ghostly rose blends, this one is rather beautiful.

Oh, this is a heartbreaker! In its decant, this smells as weird and wonderful as the collection of notes suggests. Hard to pin down, but something wild and green and creepy and creeping. There's some oak in there I think, some cold grass, and something strange and twisting that I can't wait to try on skin. The first few minutes have a glorious edge that keeps me coming back for more sniffs and enjoying the mentholic punchy note in the blend. Then, tragedy strikes. The whole scent starts to scream like badly mixed chemicals. Think ammonia + bleach. It is beyond burning. Something visceral in me says "TOXIC. DANGER. DO NOT INHALE." I don't know what the heck is in this little sucker, but I got similar reactions as reviewers above. If you are sensitive at all to 2021's Lab blends, or to the alcohol in mainstream "fast fumes" body sprays like Bath and Body Works, then Move On Please might have you saying, indeed, NEXT.

Wow, the sniff from the bottle gives BIG lemon peppermint. Like, essential-oil strongth! Something sweet too, almost marshmallow floof but I've never met a marshmallow this strong either, it's like marshmallow's sturdy cousin Bertha. Curious how this will go on skin. Once applied, the peppermint is 1000% winning. It's a sweetened peppermint, and still has a drop of lemon's bright kick in there, but it's minty minty peppermint. This is absolutely the kind of thing that used to pass for candy back in ye olden days, but now it's the last thing you eat from the stash of the Halloween candy, and that only because everything else is gone and it's slightly better than nothing. At least it's crunchy and leaves your mouth fresh and tingly! I'm interested in the sweet poof of marshmallow that peeks its head out a bit, but I don't enjoy most peppermint-dominant scents, and that's definitely what Ghosts at Aldershot serves up for me.