garbagewitch

This one's almost entirely floral on me—the combination of rice flower and champaca reminds me of the old-fashioned paper-wrapped bar soap in asian markets. As it settles down, the amber comes in to smooth the florals and give it all a powdery touch. Still VERY floral soap to me, though—no rice milk at all, which is unfortunate, as that was the note I was most excited for.

My skin just eats this one up, which is a bummer, because it's one of my favorites out of the Shungas I snatched up from this batch. Starts out as a soft, almost soft, almost powdery vanilla musk and syrupy apricot, with the brandy coming out to give it a boozy touch. It's soft and powdery and sweet, but in a dark, shadowy kind of way—it reminds me of The Cat, almost, but smoother, not as raspy. Makes me think of drawn curtains, kisses stolen in dimly lit, out-of-the-way rooms, sweetened with a bit of liquid courage.

Tart, sweet lemon!! Very similar to Lemon-Scented Sticky Bat, but a little brighter and sharper. The tartness mellows out as it dries down and gets warmer and smuttier, but it's still distinctly lemony. A very straightforward scent, but loads of fun! Where LSSB makes me crave a nice thick, dense slice of lemon pound cake, Sour Lemon Smut makes my mouth water for sour candy—the extra citric acid zip make me really wanna hold onto this one, even though I could easily borrow my roommate's LSSB.

Warm, smooth vanilla—gourmand, but in a very mellow way, the pleasant scent of a freshly baked cupcake with a bowl of frosting at the ready, rather than a fully iced cupcake shoved right in your face. It gets sweeter as it dries down, with an almost buttery note to it? Definitely a foody scent, but not at all heavy or cloying or unpleasant. There's a smidge of something floral or herbal along the edges that balances things out, and something cool and breezy that gives the makes the scent as a whole so much lighter than it seems like it should be. Makes me think of baking in a cozy, sunlight little kitchen—a breeze through the window ruffles your curtains, skates along your shoulders to send a gentle little shiver down your spine. When you turn back to the counter, you realize that you're short a scone or two, but there's no one around who to play thief. I've never tried any of the Laces, but if this fits into the Lace family, then I understand why people adore them as much as they do.

Funky! Opens up with bright ozone alongside something dark and murky, maybe the leather or the feathers? It's almost grassy, earthy and wet—it reminds me of my lola's garden after a heavy rain. As it dries down further, something else comes into play, sharp and almost... chemical? Weirdly still reminds me of the province in the rain—actually, it almost kind of reminds me of my uncle burning the dead branches and leaves cleared out of the yard. Weird, verging on almost unpleasant, but very interesting! Definitely fulfills the stormy-and-threatening promise from the description.

Opens up bright and almost grassy green. As it settles, some sweetness from the blackberry comes out, but the white tea keeps it on the more reserved side. A citrus-y brightness from the bergamot blooms as it continues to dry down—overall, it's very light and clean, but not in a soapy way. It's like a very light, bright fruit tea, crisp and barely sweetened—makes me want to find a shady spot under a tree and enjoy the sunshine. Very pretty, but I don't think this one is a keeper for me.

The opening is sweet and fruity and LOUD, more plum than anything else, but not just plum. As it dries down, the oakmoss comes through to round things out and give it a little more depth, fuzzy and a little shadowy. With the oakmoss in play, it's still very fruity, but not foody—warm and sweet and a little dark. It might be the heat, but I feel like it has a decent amount of throw; I keep catching little whiffs of it off my wrist while I move around my desk. The overall impression is sweet and bold, straightforward, but not flat—very inviting, the kind of scent that would draw me in on a warm summer night. We're going through old Shungas to try and destash, but this one might actually end up surviving the purge. ㅠ.ㅠ

Famine starts out smooth and dark and almost herbal, black tea with the soft sweet rasp of tobacco and lilac. It’s shadowy and refined, like a pair of sleek, well-worn black leather gloves. As it dries down, it gets lighter, sweeter, and more floral. The lilac and white musk overtake the tobacco, though the black tea lingers to give them a smooth, dry base that keeps it all grounded. We’ve gone from sleek black leather gloves to an elegantly monogrammed handkerchief. Famine is the kind of scent that wouldn’t feel out of place anytime or anywhere; it feels classic the way a three piece suit or a vintage bottle from Guerlain do, almost timeless in its simplicity.

Coffee up front, with the slightest hint of sweetness and creaminess. It’s a very true coffee scent, but not as dark or toasty or rich as I would like it be—there’s a flatness to it that makes me think of coffee that’s been sitting for a while, like the cup you leave two or three sips in just to justify your seat in the coffee shop. The sweetness and vanilla grows more pronounced as it dries down, but it consistently stays smelling like a cup of coffee; it’s just getting closer to the bottom of your vanilla latte and realizing you’re getting to all the vanilla syrup that sunk to the bottom. Very pleasant, makes me weirdly nostalgic for marathon study sessions, but I’m not too bummed that I didn’t snag a bottle for myself.

Wet, Jareth starts off with that same delicious, distractingly heady vanilla-musk that Dorian has—you know the one, it vaults past all your attempts to properly describe it and just slams down on that ‘WANT’ button in your dumb animal brain until all you can write are vaguely pornographic descriptions of Victorian teatime and damp gloves. As it settles, Jareth’s polite pretense slips as something dark and polished—almost slick?—starts to peek out from under that refined facade. Once it’s out, that dark, sharp note quickly gets stronger, without overpowering the sweetness, and that’s definitely leather, black and sleek—and I could swear I’m picking up a hint of latex, too. Woof. Eventually, the intimidatingly dark, slick leather softens and melds with the vanilla-musk, creating a light, buttery smooth musk with a dark edge. It suits Jareth perfectly, smooth and softly menacing, but drawing you in all the same. It smells like someone with gentle hands and a quiet, steady voice suddenly pulling out a crop and grinning with feral fangs. While it’s definitely similar enough to Dorian to warrant every comparison in this thread, it’s also distinct enough to justify owning both, if you’re so inclined. I wouldn’t say it’s less sweet than Dorian, but the leather cuts through the sweetness to give it a very different tone—they have the same refined sensuality, but Jareth is less mannerly, more shadowy and fey. Rather than an elegant Victorian gentleman sitting down to tea, it’s. Well, it’s David Bowie brandishing a riding crop. 😏

Depraved smells like biting into a perfect, golden-pink apricot, so ripe the juice runs down your chin, dropping it in dark, damp soil, and then taking another bite out of it without bothering to clean it off—and something about this scent is so visceral that I almost feel like I can taste it. It starts off with apricot, bright and sweet and wet, immediately chased by something dark and dirty and wrong—black patchouli, natch. The patchouli wraps itself around the apricot, but doesn’t truly blend with it—they both smell distinct, and I think that contributes to the weirdness of the scent. It’s not a dark apricot or a sweet patchouli scent, but two distinct things that that contrast beautifully together—the brilliant gold of an apricot’s flesh, the rich black of fertile soil. The drydown is linear and consistent: the patchouli recedes a little, but is still persistently, darkly dirty. It stays a sweet, sunny fruit edged with with dirt all the way to the end. Fuck, this is the first scent I’ve ever tried with black patchouli, but I already love it. It’s dirty, but in a dark and deeply earthy way rather than the sexual, animalic dirtiness I’m used to from musk and civet. I’ve always been a little bit disappointed by patchouli—it’s lovely in a rough earthy-spicy way when people don’t try to clean it up too much, but it never quite seemed as alarmingly dirty to me as other people described it. This is the patchouli I’ve been hoping for every time someone describes a patchouli you’d hesitate to wear in polite company. I love it when other people can catch a whiff of my perfume—as long as it’s not aggravating, that’s part of the point, right??—but Depraved is funky enough that I actually keep it hidden away while I’m staying with my partner’s family. Along with Debauchery, it’s one of the few scents I’d actually be nervous wearing around certain people, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing!

I was so jazzed when my friend pulled this imp out—Al-Shairan is a scent I've been wanting to try for a good long while, but never managed to make it to the top of my priority list. All the notes are things that I enjoy, if not outright love, and there are no notes I'm inclined to be even a little worried about. What could go wrong??? As soon as I put this on, it smells like someone’s garbage can after Christmas. I get the clove and cinnamon and orange, and it should be great, but there's something mingling with them that makes Al-Shairan go seriously wrong on me. I can’t pick out exactly what it is, but it makes the whole scent smell spoiled somehow. It's like someone took incense from Christmas mass, some beautiful wreathes full of cinnamon sticks, and the leftovers from Christmas dinner, then threw them in the same trash bin and left it all to sit for a few days. 💀 This is the only scent I’ve tried that’s been so bad I’ve actually had to scrub it off, and though I really want to give it another chance, just the memory of the scent literally turns my stomach.

Still wet, The Cat starts out spicy and warm, a rough but friendly rasp of cedar and benzoin that reminds me of being ‘bathed’ by one of my cats. As it dries, it stays warm and sweet, but the cedar calms down to just a slight sharp edge, and the whole scent takes on a soft-focus powdery quality—I’m guessing that’s either the black musk or the honey. It’s definitely not a foody scent, but something about it reminds me of chocolate—I think it’s the sweetness of the benzoin/honey mingling with the spicy-sharp cedar. It dries down to a soft, warm woodsy-skin scent—very natural and pretty, not the kind of thing you smell on someone and register as ‘deliberate’ or ‘perfumey’. The benzoin, musk, and cedar blend perfectly to create something that’s warm and fuzzy, but just a little shadowy, and the honey adds just the slightest touch of sweetness. I can certainly see a very clean cat smelling like this. I was hoping for something darker, deeper, a little more animal, but I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised—the Cat in the movie was more of a comforting presence than anything else. I’m on the fence about keeping it, but even though it wasn’t what I was expecting, I’ve definitely enjoyed wearing it and I think it fits its concept perfectly! The Cat is a good scent if you want to smell like you’re not trying at all—clean but not overly fresh, warm and lived in and friendly. Wear it when you want to be as approachable as a kitten snoozing in the sun.

Ancient books, crackled parchment, faded ince nse, and candle wax. This is a weird one for me. Philologus starts off sharp and clean and strangely glossy? It reminds me of a magazine, or the pages of a brand new hardback textbook. It sweetens up, but that weird, shiny magazine-scent sticks around. As it dries down, it takes a sharp turn into a kinda generic cologne scent for a bit, but then quickly goes back to that clean, glossy paper scent. This is also a really strong one on me—once it goes on, it just seems to expand, and if I apply as much as I do with other bpal scents, I end up with a headache (and I very rarely get headaches from scents). The friend who bought it also ended up smelling similar when they wore it, and we spent a while puzzling over what notes could have started out as candle wax, incense, and ancient crackling parchment, then end up as something closer to magazine perfume samples. We've both chalked it up to a sad skin chemistry flub. Queue sad trombone.

Golden amber, hyssop, North African patchouli, and embalming spices. Wet, Mr. Jacquel is warm, golden, and honey-sweet. It’s mostly smooth, glowy amber, with just the slightest herbal rasp underneath it, which I’m guessing is the hyssop. The spices and patchouli are much more subdued than I was expecting, they might be warming up the amber a bit more, but they’re not particularly distinct at this phase. It’s very edible without being straight-up foody; if I smelled this on someone else, I’d want to lean in close and smell them again. As it dries down, the patchouli comes out more and the whole scent gets a little less smooth, a little… ‘dirtier’ isn’t exactly the right word, but it takes on a more lived-in quality. The patchouli in this is very approachable; it avoids being dark or dirty or funky, while still smelling unmistakably like patchouli. Mr. Jacquel is somehow solemn and dignified, but comforting at the same time, which is perfect for the character. This is also one of those scents that’s not overtly sexual, but could definitely be sexy on the right person—it’s so warm and welcoming, if I smelled this on someone else, I’d immediately want to lean in close and smell them again. If the patchouli got just a little dirtier, this would definitely be a full bottle for me, but as it is… I’m not quite sure. I adore the regality of Mr. Jacquel—it’s part of what makes the scent absolutely spot-on for the character—but it’s just not me. It smells like someone much taller than me, with a voice much lower than mine; it smells like someone with gentle, careful hands, like someone who knows how to be patient and still in a way that I’ve never been. I really do love it, though, so much that I might end up snagging a bottle anyways to use as a comfort scent. I might even feel like I’ve grown into it eventually.

Starts out sweet and red and warm, almost fruity? Not at all what I was expecting from the notes—I think it’s a combination of the lemon, vanilla, and musk, especially since red musk always seems to veer slightly candied/fruity sweet before it settles on my skin. The fruitiness starts to calm down and the musk gets warmer, and takes on a little of that rougher, living quality I like so much in red musk, but it stays sweet and warm. The oakmoss starts to come out, too, and now it reminds me a bit of Fae, which my friend used to wear religiously. It has that same fuzzy sweetness that Fae has, just redder and warmer and rougher from the musk. Something about it reads as almost foppish to me, like Montparnasse from Les Mis (“…his cravat knowingly tied, a bludgeon in his pocket, a flower in his buttonhole, such was this dandy of the sepulchre.”), or like Dorian with mussed hair and a split lip from a bar brawl. I think this suits Crowley rather well—he’s a stylish demon, but he’s also a demon who destroyed his car then held the burning wreckage together with sheer force of will and kept on driving. Crowley also has quite a bit of throw—I kept catching whiffs of it on myself when I wore it, and my friends definitely noticed—I really don’t think he’d mind, though. I think this might lean a bit sweeter on me than it’s meant to; quite a few of the leather blends I’ve tried seem to go much sweeter than I expect (Perversion, Jareth, and now Crowley), and when I passed this on to my friend, it dried down to something much more complex (and bitable). Either way, it’s warm and stylish and more than a little sultry—a scent for sauntering and seducing angels if there ever was one.

Opens up bright and tart and just a little juicy, a really nice straightforward yuzu. I wanted this specifically to use as inspiration for a character I’ve imagined smells like yuzu—there’s no other citrus that smells quite like it—and this opening doesn’t disappoint. As it settles, something soft and slightly creamy starts blooming underneath the yuzu—I don’t think I’ve ever smelled a proper cherry blossom scent, and I think this might be it? The yuzu’s calmed down a little, but is definitely still very bright and tart, and the creamy undertone adds a nice contrast to it. The creamy note gradually gets stronger, and takes on an almost almond-y vibe? The bit of reading I’ve done on cherry blossoms indicated that they’re generally scentless, but the few that aren’t usually have a soft almond scent to them, so I think this must be the cherry blossom. The citrus is still mostly yuzu, but the mikan/orange is starting to show itself as well. At this point, Aizen-Myoo is a creamy, slightly nutty citrus scent which… if you’d said those exact words to me before I smelled it, I’d probably wrinkle my nose in disdain, but it’s absolutely enchanting. The orange tempers the yuzu into a less biting citrus without ever dulling it, while the cherry blossom creates a soft, fluffy background that highlights the vibrancy of the yuzu. The citruses eventually back down as it dries down further, while the cherry blossom becomes more prominent and the persimmon finally makes an appearance with a mellow, sunny sweetness. The final drydown is soft and sweet and dreamy, but still has a touch of vibrancy from the citrus—it makes me imagine a cascade of pale petals fluttering through a brilliant ray of sunlight. Aizen-Myoo turned into something I really wasn’t expecting, but it’s one of my favorite scents now. I’ve never smelled anything like it, and it does one of the things I really love the Lab for doing—it pulls together contrasting notes in a way that lets them play off of each other instead of clashing or overpowering each other. This scent jumped up to the top of my favorites the very first time I tried it, and it’s managed to stay up there while about a half a dozen other scents have rotated out. Would recommend to anyone looking for a friendly and unique citrus scent.

Freshly turned earth, dark and slightly damp—the kind of earth that smells alive, not just dirt, but soil. It gets sweeter and greener, like something living that’s been carefully dug out from the earth, with a little soil still clinging to its roots. Then the rosiness steps forward and takes over the whole scent, elegant and sweet, though the mossy, earthy notes are still definitely present. There’s an interesting contrast of dry and damp here: I don’t know how it was done, but the rose here is definitely a desiccated rose, while the earth keeps that damp, living quality to it. Not an inherently creepy scent to me, but a little unsettling—it could just be the scent that lingers on someone who's spent the morning at work in their garden, but it could also be the elegant perfume lingering on someone who’s just clawed themselves out of their grave. I originally shrugged it off as interesting!, but unlikely to see a lot of use. The more I try it, though, the more I really enjoy it. If you’d like to know what Lucy’s Kiss smells like when she’s heaving herself out of a shallow grave (or perhaps simply repotting a rose bush), give Zombi a try!

Mage starts off warm and a little peppery—between this and No. 93 Engine, I’m starting to think that peppery note might be frankincense? Whatever it is, though, the peppery note isn’t as overwhelmingly biting as it was in No. 93 Engine. Instead, the whole scent is warm and sweet and incensey, with just the slightest kick. As it dries down, the spiciness smooths out a bit, but overall the scent stays warm and sweet. Like Lawful, it's very straightforward all though the drydown, which I suppose makes sense for layering. This isn’t an explosively magical or darkly mysterious scent—it actually reminds me of Dracula and Lisa’s labs in Castlevania, golden-warm and sparkling, as inviting as it is enchanting. I feel like this is what my Circle mages in Dragon Age would smell like, all well-organized spell components lined up on a rough wooden workspace alongside carefully sketched out rituals and precariously balanced cups of tea. I don’t wear Mage quite often enough to merit a full bottle y e t, but it’s definitely not out of the running. I have high hopes for layering this one, especially with the more exciting-looking alignment options. 😙

Wet, Lawful smells just like the efficascent oil my mom used to rub on our stomachs when we were feeling ill: dark green, cool, and strongly medicinal. The main ingredients in it were camphor, menthol, and eucalyptus oil, so I have no idea how it’s doing that. As it settles down, it gets sweeter and smoother, becoming more of a gentle woodsy-herbal scent. It’s a very calm, soothing scent, sort of what I imagine an apothecary on the edge of a forest might smell like: cool, faintly sweet, and gently medicinal. All the notes are pretty well-balanced, but it definitely gets more woodsy as it dries down—I’ve never thought of oak as very distinctive from other woods, but I think it stands out pretty well in Lawful. Overall, it’s subdued but pleasant, and I can see this working well for certain characters. I probably won’t buy a full bottle unless it layers amazingly well with something else, but I’ll definitely be snagging another imp if/when this one runs out.

Opens up with a strong, intense red cherry that’s just soooooo good, sweet and wet and red, somewhere between a real ripe juicy cherry and a fluorescent red cherry lollipop. If we could just stay right here, it’d be perfect, but it’s chased almost immediately by a sharp black licorice that just gets stronger and stronger until it completely takes over. As it settles, the anise starts to chill out and become a little more wearable, but it’s still basically straight licorice quite a while. The cherry finally comes back for the final drydown, with just a sharp hint of anise to contrast it — I actually like this phase quite a bit, but it takes much too long to get to it. I wasn’t sure about the star anise, but I was hoping two notes I love up against one wildcard would be enough to balance things out. Unfortunately, the star anise kicked cherry’s ass, and red musk didn’t even show up to the party. I'm gonna give this one a couple more tries, but I think Kabuki is probably a scent for someone who likes licorice a lot more than I do.

Sin starts out with a flash of amber, warm and sweet and golden, which is quickly overtaken by cinnamon and sandalwood. The cinnamon and sandalwood blend together seamlessly—sweet, spicy, and a little rough. Something about this sandalwood feels almost unfinished, like a carving that hasn’t been sanded down, and it’s gorgeous in a very raw way. As it dries down, the amber starts to come back out to give it this halo of light golden sweetness. Between the amber and the cinnamon, it’s dangerously close to smelling like hard candy, but the sandalwood keeps them in check and prevents the whole scent from getting too candied. Beneath the spicy-sweet rasp of the other notes, something that has to be the black patchouli peeks out. It’s dark and earthy and smooth, and it tips Sin just over the line into ‘jump me!’ territory; I’m definitely going to have to try more scents with black patchouli. To me, this is more comforting than truly sinful, though it is pretty sexy. It smells like snuggling up in the flannel shirt of someone much sturdier than you, like running away to the mountains with someone who makes you feel safe and protected. It smells like shuffling out of a cabin still half-asleep to see someone with rough, capable hands chopping wood, haloed by the morning sun. Wearing this makes me feel like the buff, capable flannel-wearing lumberjack of my dreams. Would recommend to anyone who wants to smell like Steve Rogers ripping a log apart with his bare hands.

Les Bijoux starts out delicious, sweet and golden with a slight spicy-floral edge, honey mingling with frankincense and orange blossom; this opening actually reminds me a bit of a lighter, brighter Blood Kiss. As it dries down, the spiciness of the incense backs off and the fruits come forward, creating a sweet, delicate scent that’s a perfect blend of floral and fruity and honeyed. It strikes a lovely balance between the fresh, juicy sweetness of an apple and the thick, golden sweetness of honey. Once it’s dried down, the honey gets a little lighter and the musk warms everything up, making this sheer, golden veil of scent that’s just unbelievably alluring. This smells like sitting in the middle of fragrant garden with someone radiantly beautiful, eating crisp, pale slices of apples and peaches drizzled with ribbons of golden honey. It smells like licking honey and juice from their fingertips and breathing in the scent of their skin, flushed and glowing in the sunlight. Sweet and golden and ripe, Les Bijoux occupies that space of unselfconscious sensuality that so much of Victorian porn seems to take place in; it’s the kind of scent you instinctively want to sink your teeth into, the kind of scent you just want to ravish. Like Oberon, this one straddles the line between smelling perfumey and natural pretty well, though it veers a little closer to perfumey than Oberon does. I think it could work whether you want to smell like you’re making an effort or you want to smell like you’re not trying at all. A+, would recommend to anyone who wants to smell delicious and biteable.

Cinnamon, hot and tingly, with just the barest hint of something sweet and floral behind it. Red, hot, and strong, this is the kind of scent you can almost taste—it’s like chewing an entire pack of Big Red while a breeze carries the scent of a faraway bouquet of flowers to you. The florals gradually get stronger, but the cinnamon never calms down. The final drydown smells like Big Red put out a limited edition jasmine flavor. Odd, but fun! Leaves my skin feeling warm, tingly, and just a little irritated; it wasn’t especially bothersome, but I would definitely recommend a carrier oil to anyone with sensitive skin. Doesn’t seem to do much for sexual inhibitions in my experience, but then, neither my partner nor I have all that many to begin with. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

No. 93 Engine starts off very sharp, in way that reminds me of accidentally pouring out way too much black pepper, with something warm and sweet underneath. After a while, that peppery-sharpness gradually starts to calm down a little, and the warm sweetness that was in the background starts to become more prominent—it’s very well-blended, but I can pick out benzoin and frankincense. As it dries down more, the warmth starts to take on more of a woodsy quality, with a cool edge that I’m guessing is the lemon balm. I actually really enjoy the final drydown: it's warm and smooth and just a little sweet, with a touch of minty-coolness that keeps it interesting, and that biting peppery note has finally backed off enough that I don't feel like I'm going to sneeze with every sniff. Unfortunately, it takes a few hours to get to this phase, and that's much too long to spend smelling like I've just been a party to kitchen crimes. A well-blended and interesting scent; if it weren’t for that pepper-sharp note, I think I could actually love it, or at least like it enough to finish off the imp. Unfortunately, whatever is giving me that black pepper vibe doesn't do anything for me except distract from the notes I actually enjoy. Not quite a scrubber, but I’m definitely passing this one on to a friend who wears it much better than I do.