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Showing results for tags 'Halloween 2009'.
Found 35 results
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PUMPKIN PIE BATH OIL Devilishly decadent and a little bit ridiculous! I was thrilled to see a pumpkin pie bath oil show up on the last update. I love pumpkin pie, and anything spicy and autumnal is right up my alley. The scent is DIVINE. The tiny bit of spice I got in the bottle amped like whoa when applied. In the bottle, I also get a fairly strong whiff of what's probably pumpkin and buttery crust, but what reminds me very strongly of SEX, a little musky and rich and oh so devilishly decadent. Applied, it's all clove, nutmeg, cinnamon, and star anise -- all the beautifully warm spices that go into pumpkin pie. I only just used it in the shower, applying the usual way by putting a small amount in my hand and then rubbing over my arms, shoulders and upper chest. The scent is strong and makes me want to eat my hand. Those with extremely delicate skin should probably not apply. I don't normally get red patches when I use spicy blends, but this one made the crooks of my elbows and the skin under my breasts (plus a nipple and my nose, which I must have accidentally touched while I still had oil on my hands) BURN. As is normal with BPTP bath oils, it's definitely moisturizing; my skin is soft to the touch.
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LUCY'S BOUDOIR Rose water and lavender with stargazer lily, white carnation, bois de rose, white iris, violet, and honey. I love every note in this but lily and carnation don't work on my skin, so YAY! Room spray! It's very heavy on the lily and carnation, too, funnily enough--slightly sweet from the honey but mostly this is flowers, flowers, flowers. Delicate and girly and beautiful!
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LUCY IN DARKNESS And then insensibly there came the strange change which I had noticed in the night. Her breathing grew stertorous, the mouth opened, and the pale gums, drawn back, made the teeth look longer and sharper than ever. In a sort of sleep-waking, vague, unconscious way she opened her eyes, which were now dull and hard at once, and said in a soft, voluptuous voice, such as I had never heard from her lips, "Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come! Kiss me!" Denn die Todten reiten Schnell. Black opium poppy, laudanum, blood, and a chaplet of garlic flowers. So, to give some background, I should admit here that my undergrad thesis was on Dracula, one of my all-time favorite books. Specifically, my thesis (the thesis of my thesis, if you will) was that Dracula was Jonathan Harker's penis. Yes, I got a degree for this. It makes sense when you think about it (sort of). I mean, it gives a reason why Dracula's reflection doesn't appear in the mirror (because his reflection WAS in the mirror BECAUSE HE WAS SECRETLY A PENIS). And it explains all the ridiculously flagrant phallic imagery, talking about how he is alternately flaccid/limp/pale and gorged with blood "like a filthy leech" (my favorite quote - I put the thesis title on my CV to this day, even though it has nothing to do with what I do now, just because I want to have "like a filthy leech" and "penis" on my CV). Anyway, that gives you some background on my enthusiasm for Dracula and all characters contained within, even those that aren't secretly a penis. So can I just say how super happy I was to see a collection devoted to Lucy. I am eternally sad that I missed the Dracula series from back in the day, and I am pumped x1000 to get to go nutzz over some Lucy-themed awesomeness. After that extremely lengthy prelude, here are my feelings about Lucy in Darkness: For serious, this is awesome. I feel like all of my reviews are overflowing with praise, but it's because I never review anything I hate because my review for something like Malediction would just be "BARPH" and that would be it. I can only go on like this about things I luv. And I luv Lucy in Darkness. Allow me to finally get to the stuff y'all actually care about (thanks for putting up with me until now; it made me happy to write about Dracula and penises). This smells amazing. I'm not sure how I'd feel about it if it were a perfume or anything other than a room spray. But as a room spray it is seriously amazingly evocative. Wantonly voluptuous, one might go so far as to say. It definitely does make me think of the scenes of her changing, lying in bed while a bunch of her buds forcibly insert their "blood" (ahem) into her for her own (supposed) good. It is very womanly and kind of old-fashioned smelling. In fact, it reminds me a bit of Red Lantern and Chrysanthemum Moon insofar as the opium poppies and laudanum make the smell feel very languorous. The blood really adds to it, too. Other people may not be too pumped to have their living rooms (or wherever) smell like the aftermath of a metaphoric bizarro blood-rape, but in my opinion this is about the awesomest thing ever.
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OCEANS OF LOVE AND MILLIONS OF KISSES Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble? Orange blossom and honey. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. The orange blossom is definitely floral, and the honey is not the same honey as in, say, Tomoe Gozen. It's more of a musky floral than anything else, lightly sweet but not cloying. I love it!
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An Irish Halloween tradition! This fruit bread is used as a method of divination: a medallion of the Virgin Mary, a sliver of rag, a pea, a coin, a stick, and a ring are baked into the pastry. On Halloween night, it is cut up and served to the household. If you received the stick, you would spend the next year in conflict… if you received the medallion, you would be called to the priesthood… if you received the rag, you would be plagued with misfortune… if you received the ring, you would be married within the year… if you received the pea, you would not marry within the year… Each bottle of Barmbrack spray comes with a toy coin and a wish for your good fortune in 2010! Oh wow! First to review! It smells like really good sweetbread with a touch of cinnamon and dried fruit. Foodies rejoyce! However in my place it tends to dissapate and is not so strong. Also mine came with a pirate coin and a jack-o-lantern yoyo, fun.
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LUCY, KISSED There was a long spell of silence, big, aching, void, and then from the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s!" He pointed, and far down the avenue of yews we saw a white figure advance, a dim white figure, which held something dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of moonlight fell upon the masses of driving clouds, and showed in startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of the grave. We could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we saw to be a fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and dreams. We were starting forward, but the Professor's warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew tree, kept us back. And then as we looked the white figure moved forwards again. It was now near enough for us to see clearly, and the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognized the features of Lucy Westenra. Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed. The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness. Van Helsing stepped out, and obedient to his gesture, we all advanced too. The four of us ranged in a line before the door of the tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide. By the concentrated light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the lips were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her chin and stained the purity of her lawn death-robe. Diabolical voluptuousness, a siren song from the grave: juniper and yew brushing against blackened violets and funeral roses, red musk and hot blood, veined white marble and icy, brittle musk, all pulsing with the sinister, hypnotic scent of patchouli, amber, oude, and cubeb. Wow, I am first!!! Received it today and it immediately reminded me of Spellbound - has to be a close relative for sure! Just a little dab will do ya, this doesn't warrant slathering! Just a bit and the throw was great, not too strong, not too light. I don't pick out single notes, just a heavenly, incensey/musky rosy blend. It's dark without being musty or evil! I adore it and will love wearing it for a night out on the town - definitely an evening/night scent - a bit too heavy I think for warm weather during the day...
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KNOCK-A-DOLLY Ding Dong Ditch! Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's Samhain scent with cinnamon sugar and candy dust! This one would be perfect to set the mood for a Halloween party ... it's very, very dark, harshly so, very dungeon-y. Unfortunately, it's all Samhain and no cinnamon, no sugar, no candy, at least not to my nose. But if you love Samhain, you'll love it.
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COUNTESS DOLINGEN OF GRATZ (Dracula's Guest, the omitted introduction to Bram Stoker's Dracula) Now and again, through the black mass of drifting cloud, came a straggling ray of moonlight, which lit up the expanse, and showed me that I was at the edge of a dense mass of cypress and yew trees. As the snow had ceased to fall, I walked out from the shelter and began to investigate more closely. It appeared to me that, amongst so many old foundations as I had passed, there might be still standing a house in which, though in ruins, I could find some sort of shelter for a while. As I skirted the edge of the copse, I found that a low wall encircled it, and following this I presently found an opening. Here the cypresses formed an alley leading up to a square mass of some kind of building. Just as I caught sight of this, however, the drifting clouds obscured the moon, and I passed up the path in darkness. The wind must have grown colder, for I felt myself shiver as I walked; but there was hope of shelter, and I groped my way blindly on. I stopped, for there was a sudden stillness. The storm had passed; and, perhaps in sympathy with nature's silence, my heart seemed to cease to beat. But this was only momentarily; for suddenly the moonlight broke through the clouds, showing me that I was in a graveyard, and that the square object before me was a great massive tomb of marble, as white as the snow that lay on and all around it. With the moonlight there came a fierce sigh of the storm, which appeared to resume its course with a long, low howl, as of many dogs or wolves. I was awed and shocked, and felt the cold perceptibly grow upon me till it seemed to grip me by the heart. Then while the flood of moonlight still fell on the marble tomb, the storm gave further evidence of renewing, as though it was returning on its track. Impelled by some sort of fascination, I approached the sepulchre to see what it was, and why such a thing stood alone in such a place. I walked around it, and read, over the Doric door, in German: COUNTESS DOLINGEN OF GRATZ IN STYRIA SOUGHT AND FOUND DEATH 1801 On the top of the tomb, seemingly driven through the solid marble-for the structure was composed of a few vast blocks of stone-was a great iron spike or stake. On going to the back I saw, graven in great Russian letters: 'The dead travel fast.' There was something so weird and uncanny about the whole thing that it gave me a turn and made me feel quite faint. I began to wish, for the first time, that I had taken Johann's advice. Here a thought struck me, which came under almost mysterious circumstances and with a terrible shock. This was Walpurgis Night! Walpurgis Night, when, according to the belief of millions of people, the devil was abroad-when the graves were opened and the dead came forth and walked. When all evil things of earth and air and water held revel. This very place the driver had specially shunned. This was the depopulated village of centuries ago. This was where the suicide lay; and this was the place where I was alone-unmanned, shivering with cold in a shroud of snow with a wild storm gathering again upon me! It took all my philosophy, all the religion I had been taught, all my courage, not to collapse in a paroxysm of fright. And now a perfect tornado burst upon me. The ground shook as though thousands of horses thundered across it; and this time the storm bore on its icy wings, not snow, but great hailstones which drove with such violence that they might have come from the thongs of Balearic slingers-hailstones that beat down leaf and branch and made the shelter of the cypresses of no more avail than though their stems were standing-corn. At the first I had rushed to the nearest tree; but I was soon fain to leave it and seek the only spot that seemed to afford refuge, the deep Doric doorway of the marble tomb. There, crouching against the massive bronze door, I gained a certain amount of protection from the beating of the hailstones, for now they only drove against me as they ricocheted from the ground and the side of the marble. As I leaned against the door, it moved slightly and opened inwards. The shelter of even a tomb was welcome in that pitiless tempest, and I was about to enter it when there came a flash of forked-lightning that lit up the whole expanse of the heavens. In the instant, as I am a living man, I saw, as my eyes were turned into the darkness of the tomb, a beautiful woman, with rounded cheeks and red lips, seemingly sleeping on a bier. As the thunder broke overhead, I was grasped as by the hand of a giant and hurled out into the storm. The whole thing was so sudden that, before I could realise the shock, moral as well as physical, I found the hailstones beating me down. At the same time I had a strange, dominating feeling that I was not alone. I looked towards the tomb. Just then there came another blinding flash, which seemed to strike the iron stake that surmounted the tomb and to pour through to the earth, blasting and crumbling the marble, as in a burst of flame. The dead woman rose for a moment of agony, while she was lapped in the flame, and her bitter scream of pain was drowned in the thundercrash. The last thing I heard was this mingling of dreadful sound, as again I was seized in the giant-grasp and dragged away, while the hailstones beat on me, and the air around seemed reverberant with the howling of wolves. The last sight that I remembered was a vague, white, moving mass, as if all the graves around me had sent out the phantoms of their sheeted-dead, and that they were closing in on me through the white cloudiness of the driving hail. Hailstone-pounded cypress boughs, olibanum, and an ozone blast of lightning. First of all, as you can tell from the description, this does indeed have a big shot of ozone! I've never had a problem with ozone, but if you do, you probably already know this scent isn't for you. Okay.....with that out of the way, this scent will be very familiar if you like the Lab's aquatic and wintery scents, especially Archangel Winter*, but the olibanum does set this apart. I guess olibanum is frankincense, and it brings a little more richness to this scent. And then as the scent dries, the cypress starts to come out, just adding a slight woody element. It's very ozone and icy, fierce winds blowing hail through the tree-tops, and sweet in that slightly fruity way that the fresh-water aquatics can be. So.....no real surprises for me here, but definitely something I can wear, since I love this kind of scent. My only problem with aquatics is that they can be hard to tell apart, but that just makes it more fun to try them all! This one is somewhere between Archangel Winter and Eanach Duin, maybe with a touch of Death Of The Gravedigger. *Edit: After some comparison/testing, this definitely does not smell like Archangel Winter and I'm sorry if I misled anyone. Maybe it was the Snow Storm that I'm thinking of, I tend to get them confused. The Countess has a lot more wood than Archangel Winter (which has no wood at all that I can smell).
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JULIA STONE (The Room in the Tower, E.F. Benson.) And then, with a sudden start of unexplained dismay, I saw that there were two rather conspicuous objects which I had not seen before in my dreams: one a life-sized oil painting of Mrs. Stone, the other a black-and-white sketch of Jack Stone, representing him as he had appeared to me only a week before in the last of the series of these repeated dreams, a rather secret and evil-looking man of about thirty. His picture hung between the windows, looking straight across the room to the other portrait, which hung at the side of the bed. At that I looked next, and as I looked I felt once more the horror of nightmare seize me. It represented Mrs. Stone as I had seen her last in my dreams: old and withered and white-haired. But in spite of the evident feebleness of body, a dreadful exuberance and vitality shone through the envelope of flesh, an exuberance wholly malign, a vitality that foamed and frothed with unimaginable evil. Evil beamed from the narrow, leering eyes; it laughed in the demon-like mouth. The whole face was instinct with some secret and appalling mirth; the hands, clasped together on the knee, seemed shaking with suppressed and nameless glee. Then I saw also that it was signed in the left-hand bottom corner, and wondering who the artist could be, I looked more closely, and read the inscription, "Julia Stone by Julia Stone." Rotting once-white fabric, spotted with mold. I just had to try this, because it seemed not many other peolpe wanted to, and I have a thing for the underdog sometimes. : ) The first thoughts I had were "green" and "fresh", not mildew-y or rotted at all. It reminds me of an aquatic scent that has been dried out. And by aquatic I mean one of the sweeter ones, a little fruity, not cologney in my opinion. But.....the 'fabric' note adds a dry element to this scent, so that it ends up not really being aquatic, just reminiscent of aquatic. As it dries, it strikes me that this is a complex scent. Here and there I get hints of plant-like greenness, sort of a freshly cut stem note, just hints of that though. I also start to smell little 'flashes' of something dark, but that could be the power of suggestion. After all, I was expecting to smell something moldy, so I was actually surprised at how sweet this is. For the record, my nose tends to pick out sweeter notes more than usual, for example, I get a lot of 'sweetness' out of Oblivion. And I should add, there is nearly a powdery element to this scent, almost powdery but not quite. It's actually really nice and I think it will be more popular once people get 'wind' of it. If you like the green quality of Velvet Cthulhu, you may like this as well. I think it's similar to that but softer and sweeter, without the zippy bite that V.C. has. Edit to add.....after a while, this becomes even more dry and more powdery. At this point it reminds me of 51, with the addition of linen or fabric. It still has that sweetness.
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PERLE VON MAUREN (Revelations in Black, Carl Jacobi) I stumbled forward, my eyes quickly accustoming themselves to the half-light from the almost opaque windows. At the end of the corridor a second door barred my passage. I thrust it open - and stood swaying there on the sill staring inward. Beyond was a small room, barely ten feet square, with a low-raftered ceiling. And by the light of the open door I saw side by side in the center of the floor - two white wood coffins. How long I stood there leaning weakly against the stone wall I don't know. There was an odor drifting from out of that chamber. Heliotrope! But heliotrope defiled by the rotting smell of an ancient grave. Then suddenly I leaped to the nearest coffin, seized its cover and ripped it open. Would to heaven I could forget that sight that met my eyes. There the woman in black - unveiled. That face - it was divinely beautiful, the hair black as sable, the cheeks a classic white. But the lips - ! I grew suddenly sick as I looked upon them. They were scarlet.... and sticky with human blood. Heliotrope, grave soil, and blood. O.M.Gee! YES! I get to be the first reviewer on a scent! Hehe, sorry. I've just been wanting to do this since 2007. Hope I do this right. OK, my bottle just arrived this afternoon, and here are my impressions: In bottle : Sweet, a little powdery, ethereal. I can definitely smell the tang of the "blood" note, and I assume the sweetness is the heliotrope. The dirt note is there, but not as strong as in, say, Graveyard Dirt 2008, Premature Burial or Zombi. On me, wet: At first I get a burst of sweetness, almost like honey. Not exactly cloying, but definitely very nectar-y. After a moment, the sweetness becomes powdery, almost talcum. This must be the heliotrope. If I sniff really hard, I can almost smell the dirt. dry down: Sweet and light, almost pure heliotrope (I'm guessing). The dirt is still very, very light, but comes out a little stronger as the scent dries further. A very, very dusty light floral. verdict: I'm a little disappointed. I had really hoped that this one would be earthy and bloody, but it's sweet and effervescent -- kind of what I thought The Girl would be. Fans of Heliotrope and skin musk (which isn't one of the ingredients, but which mimics it perfectly on me) will probably love this one. People who are cautious around dirt scents probably don't have a lot to worry about. ETA: Wow. On second thought, I think this may just be a scent that I need to put on in larger quantities. When I dabbed on a little more, I found that I liked it better. It's definitely a soft and very weird scent for me, but that's not really a bad thing. Not really sure if I'll ever try another perfume with a heliotrope top note, though, since I think this floral may not be my thing. Throw is average to a little below average on me, and I'm guessing it's wear-length will be short to average. Not sure if I want to keep this one yet.
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CRISTINA (For the Blood is the Life by F. Marion Crawford) He was near the village now; it was half an hour since the sun had set, and the cracked church bell sent little discordant echoes across the rocks and ravines to tell all good people that the day was done. Angelo stood still a moment where the path forked, where it led toward the village on the left, and down to the gorge on the right, where a clump of chestnut trees overhung the narrow way. He stood still a minute, lifting his battered hat from his head and gazing at the fast-fading sea westward, and his lips moved as he silently repeated the familiar evening prayer. His lips moved, but the words that followed them in his brain lost their meaning and turned into others, and ended in a name that he spoke aloud -- Cristina! With the name, the tension of his will relaxed suddenly, reality went out and the dream took him again, and bore him on swiftly and surely like a man walking in his sleep, down, down, by the steep path in the gathering darkness. And as she glided beside him, Cristina whispered strange, sweet things in his ear, which somehow, if he had been awake, he knew that he could not quite have understood; but now they were the most wonderful words he had ever heard in his life. And she kissed him also, but not upon his mouth. He felt her sharp kisses upon his white throat, and he knew that her lips were red. So the wild dream sped on through twilight and darkness and moonrise, and all the glory of the summer's night. But in the chilly dawn he lay as one half dead upon the mound down there, recalling and not recalling, drained of his blood, yet strangely longing to give those red lips more. Then came the fear, the awful nameless panic, the mortal horror that guards the confines of the world we see not, neither know of as we know of other things, but which we feel when its icy chill freezes our bones and stirs our hair with the touch of a ghostly hand. Once more Angelo sprang from the mound and fled up the gorge in the breaking day, but his step was less sure this time, and he panted for breath as he ran; and when he came to the bright spring of water that rises half way up the hillside, he dropped upon his knees and hands and plunged his whole face in and drank as he had never drunk before -- for it was the thirst of the wounded man who has lain bleeding all night upon the battle-field. She had him fast now, and he could not escape her, but would come to her every evening at dusk until she had drained him of his last drop of blood. It was in vain that when the day was done he tried to take another turning and to go home by a path that did not lead near the gorge. It was in vain that he made promises to himself each morning at dawn when he climbed the lonely way up from the shore to the village. It was all in vain, for when the sun sank burning into the sea, and the coolness of the evening stole out as from a hiding-place to delight the weary world, his feet turned toward the old way, and she was waiting for him in the shadow under the chestnut trees; and then all happened as before, and she fell to kissing his white throat even as she flitted lightly down the way, winding one arm about him. Chestnut trees, juniper berries, violet leaf, labdanum, dazzling, moonlit white musk, and night-blooming summer flowers. Wow, I love this one! Smells like buttery chestnuts and sweet florals and yet there's a sophisticated loneliness in the sharpness of the musk....nom nom nom. I can see a big bottle of this in my future. Nom.
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The Girl actually reminds me a lot of Bath and Body Works' brown sugar vanilla scent, except waay more sinister. I was on the fence about this one for a while. It's got the kind of appeal that makes Snow White so popular. All the aspects are so well blended and you've probably never smelled anything quite like it. I think my indecision was due to the fact that I'd get a waft and be like "That is just so God damn creepy." For such a pretty scent it squicked me out to the point where I didn't want much to do with it. It's been a couple years and I'd like to try it again. It's so hard to find though, I wish they'd bring it back next Weenie time.
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PUMPKIN II Pumpkin, rosewood, red sandalwood, and tea rose. This is a very elegant, Victorian pumpkin. The tea rose balances the inherent pumpkin buttery-ness, and the rosewood and sandalwood give it a refreshing, slightly dry coolness.
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TATTIE BOGLE Alane upon the field she stood, The tattie-bogle, tall an' prood. But certie, she wis smairt an' braw, A bonnie lass, tho' made o' straw. Her gowden hair wis made o' oo. Her dentie goon when it wis new Langsyne, hid been the guidwife's best. Sae trigly wis the bogle drest! The beasts they cam' frae a' the airts. (The tod ran tours frae furrin' pairts.) They cam' by day, they cam' by nicht, To see a maist byordnar sicht. An' craws an sparras by the score, A wale o' burds, mair nor afore. The fermer roared an' raged aboot. 'A'll cast yon tattie-bogle oot!' Pair tattie-bogle, she wis wae. 'Eh!' said the houlet, 'Whits a dae?' He flew doon frae the elder tree. 'Noo, dry yer e'en an' herk tae me. 'See, lassie, tak ma guid advice. There is nae yiss ye bein' nice. Can ye nae glower an' skreich an' a' Tae sen' thae cooardie burds awa'?' The bogle grat nae mair: instead 'A'm much obleeged tae ye,' she said 'Ma voice is lood - jist like the craik!' 'Then sing,' he said, ' for ony sake!' It chilled the verra bluid tae hear The bogle's sang : frae far an' near The burds rose up, a' frichtit sair An' nivver cam back ony mair. Sae should ye pass at skreich o' day Alang the road frae Auchenblae, An' hear a strange uncanny soun, That scares the burds for miles aroon, A soon like pincils on a sclate, Be on yer way an' dinna wait. Ye can be shair as onything Ye've heard the tattie-bogle sing. Hay, gunpowder, patchouli, autumn herbs, and sun-baked wood. In the vial, this is a very sharp, dry scent. Freshly applied, it's scorched and desolate. This scarecrow may be in a field, but it's a field that's been harvested and only has the stumps of the plants remaining, waiting to be plowed under. You know those post-apocalyptic movies where there's the obligatory scene with the main character looking out over an utter wasteland? This is the smell of that scene. As it dries, it gets slightly lighter and prettier. The herbs are coming out a little bit. Dry-down, the wood comes out and it turns into high-school wood shop, as almost always happens with wood notes on me. I just keep hoping.
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SARAH (The Tomb of Sarah, F.G. Loring) By half-past ten we were both getting very tired, and I began to think that perhaps after all we should see nothing that night. However, soon after eleven we observed a light mist rising from the 'Sarah Tomb'. It seemed to scintillate and sparkle as it rose, and curled in a sort of pillar or spiral. I said nothing, but I heard the Rector give a sort of gasp as he clutched my arm feverishly. 'Great Heaven!' he whispered, 'it is taking shape.' And, true enough, in a very few moments we saw standing erect by the tomb the ghastly figure of the Countess Sarah! She looked thin and haggard still, and her face was deadly white; but the crimson lips looked like a hideous gash in the pale cheeks, and her eyes glared like red coals in the gloom of the church. Unholy mist congealing into soft, white flesh, with black marble, remnants of liturgical incense, wolf's fur, and black flecks of froth. I've never been the first to review a scent... here goes! I had to try Sarah because of our shared name, and also because of the intriguing description. Black froth???! For me, Sarah calls to mind an old, abandoned church. The windows have been broken out, rot and mildew have set in, and the only visitors are wild beasts foraging for food. The marble altar is cold and wet with a layer of fuzz growing on it. The incense smoke was so thick in previous years that it became embedded into the pews and wall hangings, never to fade away completely, but now it is combined with the dusty, funky scent of thick animal fur. It's not an instant favorite. The mildew/mist note is kind of a turn-off, and the marble, incense, and fur notes are subtle and, at times, barely discernable. It's not a powerful enough scent, overall, for me to love it.
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CLARIMONDE (La Morte Amoureuse, Theophile Gautier) I do not know whether it was an illusion or a reflection of the lamplight, but it seemed to me that the blood was again commencing to circulate under that lifeless pallor, although she remained all motionless. I laid my hand lightly on her arm; it was cold, but not colder than her hand on the day when it touched mine at the portals of the church. I resumed my position, bending my face above her, and bathing her cheeks with the warm dew of my tears. Ah, what bitter feelings of despair and helplessness, what agonies unutterable did I endure in that long watch! Vainly did I wish that I could have gathered all my life into one mass that I might give it all to her, and breathe into her chill remains the flame which devoured me. The night advanced, and feeling the moment of eternal separation approach, I could not deny myself the last sad sweet pleasure of imprinting a kiss upon the dead lips of her who had been my only love. . . . Oh, miracle! A faint breath mingled itself with my breath, and the mouth of Clarimonde responded to the passionate pressure of mine. Her eyes unclosed, and lighted up with something of their former brilliancy; she uttered a long sigh, and uncrossing her arms, passed them around my neck with a look of ineffable delight. "Ah, it is thou, Romuald!" she murmured in a voice languishingly sweet as the last vibrations of a harp. "What ailed thee, dearest? I waited so long for thee that I am dead; but we are now betrothed; I can see thee and visit thee. Adieu, Romuald, adieu! I love thee. That is all I wished to tell thee, and I give thee back the life which thy kiss for a moment recalled. We shall soon meet again." Her head fell back, but her arms yet encircled me, as though to retain me still. A furious whirlwind suddenly burst in the window, and entered the chamber. The last remaining leaf of the white rose for a moment palpitated at the extremity of the stalk like a butterfly's wing, then it detached itself and flew forth through the open casement, bearing with it the soul of Clarimonde. The lamp was extinguished, and I fell insensible upon the bosom of the beautiful dead. Pallid skin musk, white roses, and a languorous vapor of Oriental perfume. Oh man my first OP ever! And only my second review ever too. Boy am I nervous. The first thing I notice upon placing this on my skin is the white rose. It seems like a more restrained, slightly dry kind with a very slight sharpness and delicate sweetness, to my nose at least. Generally I love roses, though I find sometimes I am put off by the sharpness some varieties have. The barely there edge to this one is really nice, though! It’s an almost youthful, pure rose (after I read the story this was based on that is almost ironic, but it 'fits' the idea of Clarimonde to me). I can smell the “oriental perfume” aspect floating just behind the rose. I am debating what it might be, still. I could be totally off the mark but there may be amber in there. It reminds me of the “idea” of oriental perfume from a bygone era, actually. Is that you amber...? It's perdy. The skin musk note is floating around vaguely in the forefront now it's warmed up, it’s my first experience with “skin musk”. It comes off to me as a light, slightly fragile musk. There is something antique and lady-like about this blend that is pleasing in it’s simplicity. Not much throw for me. A very "pale" scent. Overall; I am afraid that this may translate as the “old lady rose perfume” to some! But if you are into scents that evoke the elegance of bygone eras, this may be one to look into. I certainly am! Now I have the urge to design something… I dunno… maybe Victorian inspired to wear with this. UPDATE Sept 16 2009: I have been wearing Clarimonde to death and will have to break my #1 rule and let myself get backup bottles for the first time EVER I am already 1/3 of the way through the bottle I received last month, and this is coming from someone who makes a single bottle last a several years.
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The Cave of Cruachan in Connaught, a province that was given to the Formorians after the Battle of Mag Tuired. On the first of November, a flock of malevolent copper-colored birds bursts forth from the mouth of the cave, ushering a host of restless ghosts and wicked goblins that torment the living by blighting crops, killing livestock, stealing away brides-to-be, and replacing infants with changelings. Smoldering brimstone, bitter labdanum, clove, black musk, and copper-colored feathers. This is fantastic! in the bottle: very dark and smoky, there's a tang of something almost citrus wet: smoky clove and the black musk is just barely there dry: mmm. the bitter labdanum is definitely making it's presence known, and it's keeping the clove from being too overpowering. it is very, very dark. the black musk is subtle. there's a note that smells almost like dirt, but not quite. I don't know what copper-colored feathers are supposed to smell like, but whatever it is isn't very strong. It's got a lot of throw and isn't fading. There's something about the clove note BPAL uses that my skin chemistry just adores. This is a hoard-worthy winner!
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Pumpkin Patch III Pumpkin, fir needle, pitch, rosemary, and tomato. In bottle: Whoa! This is the most pumpkin pumpkin patch I’ve ever smelled. The fir and tomato complement the pumpkin beautifully. It smells like early autumn garden. Nice. Wet: Even richer on the skin The sweet pumpkin does lovely things with the tomato/rosemary/fir. I think I’m in love. I was hoping for a pumpkin cousin to planting moon and the gamble paid off. Dry: Almost apple cidery pumpkin with tomato dominant garden. The elements shift some, but it remains fascinating
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LORD RUTHVEN (the Vampyre, John Polidori) It happened that in the midst of the dissipations attendant upon London winter, there appeared at the various parties of the leaders of the ton a nobleman more remarkable for his singularities, than his rank. He gazed upon the mirth around him, as if he could not participate therein. Apparently, the light laughter of the fair only attracted his attention, that he might by a look quell it and throw fear into those breasts where thoughtlessness reigned. Those who felt this sensation of awe, could not explain whence it arose: some attributed it to the dead grey eye, which, fixing upon the object's face, did not seem to penetrate, and at one glance to pierce through to the inward workings of the heart; but fell upon the cheek with a leaden ray that weighed upon the skin it could not pass. His peculiarities caused him to be invited to every house; all wished to see him, and those who had been accustomed to violent excitement, and now felt the weight of ennui, were pleased at having something in their presence capable of engaging their attention. In spite of the deadly hue of his face, which never gained a wanner tint, either from the blush of modesty, or from the strong emotion of passion, though its form and outline were beautiful, many of the female hunters after notoriety attempted to win his attentions, and gain, at least, some marks of what they might term affection: Lady Mercer, who had been the mockery of every monster shewn in drawing-rooms since her marriage, threw herself in his way, and did all but put on the dress of a mountebank, to attract his notice -- though in vain; -- when she stood before him, though his eyes were apparently fixed upon hers, still it seemed as if they were unperceived; -- even her unappalled impudence was baffled, and she left the field. But though the common adultress could not influence even the guidance of his eyes, it was not that the female sex was indifferent to him: yet such was the apparent caution with which he spoke to the virtuous wife and innocent daughter, that few knewhenever addressed himself to females. He had, however, the reputation of a winning tongue; and whether it was that it even overcame the dread of his singular character, or that they were moved by his apparent hatred of vice, he was as often among those females who form the boast of their sex from their domestic virtues, as among those who sully it by their vices. The father of all dandy aristocrat vampires: Aqua Admirabilis with polished boot leather and blood. In bottle: Very aftershave. Lavender fougere and leather with a hint of the aquatic. Wet: Vaguely herbal. It’s an excellent masculine leather scent. The vaguely aquatic touch adds interest to the leather/fougere blend. Dry: Unusual. It’s still a leather dominant aftershave, but it has teeth and… powder. The blood is more noticeable. The whole effect is weirdly viscous and a little unsettling.
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PUMPKIN I Pumpkin, almond, brown musk, and honey. The Almond seems to combine with the Brown Musk & Honey for something of a skin scent with a slight earthy tone. It's quite a bit more laid back then many of BPAL's other Pumpkin scents.
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ARIADNE BRUNNELL (The Vampire Maid, Hume Nisbet) This contact seemed also to have affected her as it did me; a clear flush, like a white flame, lighted up her face, so that it glowed as if an alabaster lamp had been lit; her black eyes became softer and more humid as our glances crossed, and her scarlet lips grew moist. She was a living woman now, while before she had seemed half a corpse. She permitted her white slender hand to remain in mine longer than most people do at an introduction, and then she slowly withdrew it, still regarding me with steadfast eyes for a second or two afterwards. Fathomless velvety eyes these were, yet before they were shifted from mine they appeared to have absorbed all my willpower and made me her abject slave. They looked like deep dark pools of clear water, yet they filled me with fire and deprived me of strength. I sank into my chair almost as languidly as I had risen from my bed that morning. Yet I made a good breakfast, and although she hardly tasted anything, this strange girl rose much refreshed and with a slight glow of colour on her cheeks, which improved her so greatly that she appeared younger and almost beautiful. I had come here seeking solitude, but since I had seen Ariadne it seemed as if I had come for her only. She was not very lively; indeed, thinking back, I cannot recall any spontaneous remark of hers; she answered my questions by monosyllables and left me to lead in words; yet she was insinuating and appeared to lead my thoughts in her direction and speak to me with her eyes. I cannot describe her minutely, I only know that from the first glance and touch she gave me I was bewitched and could think of nothing else. It was a rapid, distracting, and devouring infatuation that possessed me; all day long I followed her about like a dog, every night I dreamed of that white glowing face, those steadfast black eyes, those moist scarlet lips, and each morning I rose more languid than I had been the day before. Sometimes I dreamt that she was kissing me with those red lips, while I shivered at the contact of her silky black tresses as they covered my throat; sometimes that we were floating in the air, her arms about me and her long hair enveloping us both like an inky cloud, while I lay supine and helpless. Poppy flowers, peat, sphagnum moss, gardenia, and white water lily. Gardenia given depth by the Poppy and a light hearted sweetness from Water Lily. There's the merest hint of some earthy notes. I adore this, it is really a beautiful, very classy floral. Not over done. This might work for people who've not had much success with Florals. This seems like a cousin of I Died For Beauty. After testing again last night & this morning: Last night, the mossy elements came out much more and this verged on being close to unisex. This morning, I got a whisper of something that put "powder" into my head but before I could decide my attention was drawn to how thin a scent this is. This seems like a rather prim, pallid Victorian vampire. After reading a synopsis of the story and the excerpt, I'd say it's a good evocation of Ariadne Brunnell
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The Spirit of the Eve of Samhain, an aspect of Cailleach, the Divine Hag, in her Destroyer aspect. While Brìghde rules the time between Beltane and Sahmain, Cailleach rules the Dark of the Year. On the night of Samhain, she transforms into Carlin, harbingering the death of the land and the onset of the snows. On Beltane, the Great Crone is slain by Brìghde so springtime can reinvigorate the land. Black sage, ivy-twined rowan, thistle, snapdragon, heather, gorse, fumitory, and anise. This has the fresh green one associates with evergreen without seeming like Christmas. There is a slight floral overtone from the Snapdragon with the Anise adding a subtle interest. VERY Green/Brown and lovely. It is much less heavy-handed than many other "Green" scents from BPAL. It exceeded my expectations which I purposely kept low on seeing "Black Sage" listed.
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According to William Shepard Walsh, the Gentleman's Magazine for May of 1784 stated, "this is a constant ingredient at merrymaking on Holy Eve." He also quotes Vallancey's etymological speculation: "The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, etc., and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, -- that is, the day of the apple fruit, -- and being pronounced Lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to Lambs-wool." A popular holy day beverage in 18th century Ireland: roasted apples mashed into warmed milk and ale, with nutmeg, sugar, ginger, and clove. bottle: softly sweet, warm spiced milk. this is not the same jarring milk note that i get from milk moon 2007 though, it's far more soft. wet: i can definitely smell the ale as this warms a bit on my skin. it's not "boozy" per se, just there. i get the mashed apple scent too. the milk and spices have faded quite a bit to be almost just a faint trace. dry: very lovely. the milk note creeps back in after about 15-20 minutes and mixes well with the apple. this reminds me of baked apples, filled with oatmeal and spices and covered in cream. (edited for spelling idiocy)
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I am the ancient apple-queen. As once I was so am I now -- For evermore a hope unseen Betwixt the blossom and the bough. Ah, where's the river's hidden gold! And where's the windy grave of Troy? Yet come I as I came of old, From out the heart of summer's joy. The Roman festival for Pomona, Goddess of fruit, orchards, and gardens, was celebrated on November 1. On this day, the stores amassed during summer were opened for winter. Azaroles, nuts, and apple blossoms with red apple pulp, mulberry, blackberry, and pomegranate juice. bottle: very warm and lightly fruity. apple with a nice whiff of berries and nuts. wet: this has a very slight boozy feel when applied but it's mostly a fresh apple and warm, roasted nut scent. the berries are indistinct but i can smell them. dry: this dries to wonderful rich red apples and very faint nuts and berries.
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MIRCALLA, COUNTESS KARNSTEIN (Carmilla, Sheridan LeFanu) Sometimes after an hour of apathy, my strange and beautiful companion would take my hand and hold it with a fond pressure, renewed again and again; blushing softly, gazing in my face with languid and burning eyes, and breathing so fast that her dress rose and fell with the tumultuous respiration. It was like the ardor of a lover; it embarrassed me; it was hateful and yet over-powering; and with gloating eyes she drew me to her, and her hot lips traveled along my cheek in kisses; and she would whisper, almost in sobs, "You are mine, you shall be mine, you and I are one for ever." Then she had thrown herself back in her chair, with her small hands over her eyes, leaving me trembling. Languid, melancholy fire: red musk, purple orchid, frankincense, smoky vanilla, Styrian herbs, peru balsam, tonka, Zanzibar clove, and patchouli. Wow. This is one freakin' gorgeous and sexy scent. At first it's mostly spice form the clove with the other scents in the background, but quickly the other notes begin to appear. I can pick up the red musk, frankincense, and patchouli, and the vanilla adds a really wonderful smoky sweetness. After it's been on a little while I can catch hints of herbs, but nothing I can pin down and they are light enough that this is in no way and herbal scent. The orchid is surprisingly faint and adds a touch of femininity to the blend. Also, for those of you that are scared off by red musk, don't be. It is not a a blend that screams red musk and it is really well blended here. Honestly, this is even better than I expected and I am sooo happy I bought a bottle right off. Back up bottles will find their way into future orders. ETA: Wow, this just keeps getting better and better. It's become richer and a bit sweeter and the red musk comes and goes. It is really really gorgeous.
