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Showing results for tags 'Halloween 2010'.
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POMEGRANATE IV Pomegranate, cognac, red musk, cocoa, tobacco absolute, star anise, and thyme. So: I opened my bottle of Pomegranate IV, cautiously sniffed, squee'd (thus frightening the cat out of the room), and immediately slathered myself. I am really into this and don't think I will regret buying a 5ml unsniffed at all. After ordering, I began getting concerned about the cocoa (which almost never works on me) and then even more concerned when Will Call reviews were like "Woah chocolate!" but I am actually not getting a lot of chocolate from this. There is a hint of dry cocoa powder hovering around the base of the scent, but it's mostly a tart pomegranate/silky red musk blend with a bit of dark, brown, smoky spice and anise. It's ever-so-slightly foody, but not in an obvious way. It's one that would be difficult to place in a "family" or category. Reminds me of a lighter, sweeter version of Mme. Moriarty (no patch, less musk, stronger pom)-- they could be cousins. Also reminds me a little of BBW "Midnight Pomegranate" but smoother and richer. I am seriously so excited about this one. For me, it totally makes up for the lack of a Pumpkin Patch. It is in no way a "traditional" autumn scent full of mulling spices and such, but to me it resonates as autumnal on an emotional level. I am going to bathe in this this fall. ETA: Oh, just noticed the thick layer of Boomslang-like cocoa sediment lurking at the bottom of the bottle. I did roll this bottle around before applying and there's some cloudiness, but I obviously didn't mix in all the heavy chocolately oil. Which is probably why I'm not getting the full force of cocoa. I'll try it again after a serious mixing, but considering I like it so much this way, I may end up deliberately avoiding integrating the chocolate too much....
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POMEGRANATE I Pomegranate, poet's jasmine, and benzoin. Pomegranate I - This is gorgeous. It's a beautiful, sweet pomegranate. The benzoin is far beneath the pomegranate, but gives the scent warmth, depth, and texture. And then there's the jasmine... jasmine can sometimes be scary on me, and it's pretty strong in the bottle, but it turns out to be balanced beautifully with the other notes and once it's on my skin, it harmonizes perfectly with my skin chemistry. This is a gorgeous fruity-floral scent that I just can't get enough of. It really packs a punch (a pretty punch!) when I first put it on, but once it dries, it has a pretty low level of throw and the staying power seems to be slightly below average. I it.
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THE INFERNAL LOVER She ceased. While She spoke, a thousand opposing sentiments combated in Ambrosio's bosom. Surprise at the singularity of this adventure, Confusion at her abrupt declaration, Resentment at her boldness in entering the Monastery, and Consciousness of the austerity with which it behooved him to reply, such were the sentiments of which He was aware; But there were others also which did not obtain his notice. He perceived not, that his vanity was flattered by the praises bestowed upon his eloquence and virtue; that He felt a secret pleasure in reflecting that a young and seemingly lovely Woman had for his sake abandoned the world, and sacrificed every other passion to that which He had inspired: Still less did He perceive that his heart throbbed with desire, while his hand was pressed gently by Matilda's ivory fingers. —The Monk, MG Lewis A creamy, sensual, honeyed red musk. Oh, wow, am I really the first to review? I've been on a honey + musk kick lately (I'm looking at you, Judith and Holofernes), so this was the Halloweenie scent that I knew I had to try. Wet, on the skin and in the bottle, it smells sharp and a bit perfumey. This, I think, is the red musk; while I've not smelled that on its own, it smells very reminiscent of the wet stages of other scents that reviews often identify as red musky (I'm thinking of LaFlamme, here). The oil itself is a rich, dark color, that stains my pale skin a bit, but I don't mind! As it dries, the honey comes out a bit and sweetens things up, but I'm surprised to see that it's not really a strong presence in this one. The musk really does predominate on me (not too surprising, since I seem to amp lighter musks--why not these, as well?) though it loses the sharpness and, as it smooths out, sits closer to the skin, making it a very sexy scent in part because I think it is a very intimate one, the sort of thing that someone is only going to smell if you two are in, ahem, very close quarters--not so much a seductive scent as one for when you've already been seduced. The verdict: I like it. It stays almost entirely musk, and very little honey on me, so I may hang onto it for a bit and see if the honey comes out a bit more with aging (I'm telling you, me and Beth's honey note have really got somethin' goin' on, if you know what I mean) but even now, it dries down to something really lovely on my skin. Edited to add: I've been wearing this, well, every day since it arrived, and I think it's not quite right to characterize the wet stages, or even the red musk itself as "sharp"--it is, but more and more, I notice this juicy side to it as well, as though the "red" in red musk is owed partly to some sort of delicious, ripe, red fruit--plum, berries, something. Really nice.
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THE UNSAVORY GRAVE-DIGGERS "The great thing is not to be afraid. Now, between you and me, I don't want to hang--that's practical; but for all cant, Macfarlane, I was born with a contempt. Hell, God, Devil, right, wrong, sin, crime, and all the old gallery of curiosities --they may frighten boys, but men of the world, like you and me, despise them. Here's to the memory of Gray!" It was by this time growing somewhat late. The gig, according to order, was brought round to the door with both lamps brightly shining, and the young men had to pay their bill and take the road. They announced that they were bound for Peebles, and drove in that direction till they were clear of the last houses of the town; then, extinguishing the lamps, returned upon their course, and followed a by-road toward Glencorse. There was no sound but that of their own passage, and the incessant, strident pouring of the rain. It was pitch dark; here and there a white gate or a white stone in the wall guided them for a short space across the night; but for the most part it was at a foot pace, and almost groping, that they picked their way through that resonant blackness to their solemn and isolated destination. In the sunken woods that traverse the neighbourhood of the burying-ground the last glimmer failed them, and it became necessary to kindle a match and reillumine one of the lanterns of the gig. Thus, under the dripping trees, and environed by huge and moving shadows, they reached the scene of their unhallowed labours. They were both experienced in such affairs, and powerful with the spade; and they had scarce been twenty minutes at their task before they were rewarded by a dull rattle on the coffin lid. At the same moment Macfarlane, having hurt his hand upon a stone, flung it carelessly above his head. The grave, in which they now stood almost to the shoulders, was close to the edge of the plateau of the graveyard; and the gig lamp had been propped, the better to illuminate their labours, against a tree, and on the immediate verge of the steep bank descending to the stream. Chance had taken a sure aim with the stone. Then came a clang of broken glass; night fell upon them; sounds alternately dull and ringing announced the bounding of the lantern down the bank, and its occasional collision with the trees. A stone or two, which it had dislodged in its descent, rattled behind it into the profundities of the glen; and then silence, like night, resumed its sway; and they might bend their hearing to its utmost pitch, but naught was to be heard except the rain, now marching to the wind, now steadily falling over miles of open country. They were so nearly at an end of their abhorred task that they judged it wisest to complete it in the dark. The coffin was exhumed and broken open; the body inserted in the dripping sack and carried between them to the gig; one mounted to keep it in its place, and the other, taking the horse by the mouth, groped along by wall and bush until they reached the wider road by the Fisher's Tryst. Here was a faint, diffused radiancy, which they hailed like daylight; by that they pushed the horse to a good pace and began to rattle along merrily in the direction of the town. They had both been wetted to the skin during their operations, and now, as the gig jumped among the deep ruts, the thing that stood propped between them fell now upon one and now upon the other. At every repetition of the horrid contact each instinctively repelled it with the greater haste; and the process, natural although it was, began to tell upon the nerves of the companions. Macfarlane made some ill-favoured jest about the farmer's wife, but it came hollowly from his lips, and was allowed to drop in silence. Still their unnatural burden bumped from side to side; and now the head would be laid, as if in confidence, upon their shoulders, and now the drenching sackcloth would flap icily about their faces. A creeping chill began to possess the soul of Fettes. He peered at the bundle, and it seemed somehow larger than at first. All over the countryside, and from every degree of distance, the farm dogs accompanied their passage with tragic ululations; and it grew and grew upon his mind that some unnatural miracle had been accomplished, that some nameless change had befallen the dead body, and that it was in fear of their unholy burden that the dogs were howling. "For God's sake," said he, making a great effort to arrive at speech, "for God's sake, let's have a light!" Seemingly Macfarlane was affected in the same direction; for, though he made no reply, he stopped the horse, passed the reins to his companion, got down, and proceeded to kindle the remaining lamp. They had by that time got no farther than the cross-road down to Auchenclinny. The rain still poured as though the deluge were returning, and it was no easy matter to make a light in such a world of wet and darkness. When at last the flickering blue flame had been transferred to the wick and began to expand and clarify, and shed a wide circle of misty brightness round the gig, it became possible for the two young men to see each other and the thing they had along with them. The rain had moulded the rough sacking to the outlines of the body underneath; the head was distinct from the trunk, the shoulders plainly modelled; something at once spectral and human riveted their eyes upon the ghastly comrade of their drive. —The Body-Snatchers, RL Stevenson An unearthed oakwood coffin, cemetery weeds, and a hint of booze. In bottle: Mmmmm….the dark liquor and old wood combination is strong, rich, and heady,. This is exactly what I hoped for. The sharpness of the weeds, gives this lovely blend teeth. I’m in love already and it hasn’t touched my skin. Wet: it’s not quite as lovely as in the bottle, but close. I can’t think of a blend with wood this wonderful, and the booze is softer here, but still adds a key sweetness to balance the plants. It’s wonderful, androgynous, and strangely sexy. I can’t stop sniffing it. I want to roll around in it. Dry: Mmmmm… I swear it’s even better. The plants come into their own, adding a real autumnal feel. I can almost swear I smell nitre too, though I think that’s a fungus, so it likely isn’t. The woods only get richer and more lovely and the booze smoothes everything out. Sheer brilliance!
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Puffy clouds of pumpkin candyfloss with a trickle of blackberry juice. What? I live all the way in New Jersey and I'm the first to review this? So I'm a notorious pumpkinphile, as some of you may know. Given that, it's probably no surprise this was one of the first Weenies I scrambled to order this year.In the bottle and wet, it seems to be just spiced pumpkin; it really needs some time on the drydown to reveal itself as "blue pumpkin floss" as opposed to strictly (still pretty damned delicious) spiced pumpkin. I have this dabbed on one arm and the proto on the other; I find the released to be sweeter and richer than the proto, with a more buttery pumpkin note (as opposed to the more squashy/fresh pumpkin of the proto) and more pronounced candyfloss and blackberry notes. Also, the proto seems to have more spice while the released seems to have no more than a pinch if at all (I do detect what may be a dash of cinnamon). The blackberry is not one of those cloyingly sweet and/or artificial berry scents at all but a real true-to-life dark, tart blackberry that adds a tart edge and even a wicked dash of evil to the sweet buttery pumpkin. The tartness of the blackberry also counteracts the sweetness of the pumpkin and candyfloss, with the candyfloss acting as a sugary support base for the two, not overtaking either of them but rather balancing them out on puffy sugary clouds as the description suggests. All in all it's a dentist's nightmare with a distinctly autumnal feel, which in a scent (for me at least) is an extremely good thing. If you're as crazy about pumpkin as I am, or just a foodie in general, don't miss out on this one because it's a uniquely delicious and very craveable variation on our favorite spooky gourd. :pheart:
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A circular pastry glazed with pink sugar that symbolizes the sweetness of life and the certainty of death. OMG num. I put this on, and then wandered around, and it was the strongest thing on my arm. Really pink and happy, it sat on my skin for two hours with a strong scent before it started to wane, and then took quite a few more hours to fade. It reminds me a lot of the pink scent from I fell in love with a floating brain, but Golletes is sweeter. Sugar rush, here I come!
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POMEGRANATE III Pomegranate, Tamil Nadu sandalwood, lavender, tamarind, hazelnut, Atlas cedarwood, sugar date, bitter clove, and Arabian myrrh. In bottle: This is sharp and dry and definitely Autumnal. The cederwood evokes wooden barrels. This is pleasantly bitter, yet sweet and spicy. Each element adds a special spin to the whole. The hazelnut is the least distinct, but all elements add to the special old time general store in autumn feel of this. I’m particularly impressed by the way the tamarind, lavender, and clove play with each other in this, but it’s all lovely and all unexpected. Wet: The myrrh is less friendly on my skin and the cedar sharper, but the strengthening of the pomegranate, date, and tamarind help it find a new balance with my natural skin chemistry. It’s still not as lovely as it was in the bottle, but it’s trying very hard. Dry: cloved pomegranate mostly, with hints of the others, enough to retain interest. It’s a bit desiccated, but it still works.
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HALLOWEEN: NEW ORLEANS I’ve spent many, many Halloweens in New Orleans. To me, it is the most beautiful, most imperfectly perfect city in the world. My strongest memory is of sitting on the banks of the Mississippi in the arms of my someday husband, the sounds of revelry in the distance, enveloped by the scent of water, moss, and sweet olive. The distinctive scent of the Mississippi at night mingling with sweet olive and Spanish moss. It's not the humid decay of the overgrown Bayou - this is the manicured city itself. The moss is light and sweet olive tree almost floral, giving this a bright, lemony kind of vibe. Because the scent is based on a happy memory, it doesn't surprise me that her scent memory is glorious, clear, bright and fresh. It's a memory of a quiet, unpeopled space save for the lovers looking past the trees into the water. I love it. In bottle: The moss is sharp, rising over gentle olive and a thick dark vaguely ozoney aquatic. I can’t decide if I like it, but I’m fascinated never the less. Wet: Warmer and spicier. I know there is no citrus listed, but it feels the way lemon smells, only dirty. The citrus effect is strong enough to overwhelm most of the rest of it, though I can still pick out moss and olive. Dry: Dry moss and olive with wet, dark swirling aquatic. The aquatic is dominant, modified by the plants. It’s a bit unsettling.
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THE SHADOWY AND THE SUBLIME Meanwhile, the deep impression made by this unknown tormentor, the monk, and especially by his prediction of the death of Bianchi, remained upon his mind, and he once more determined to ascertain, if possible, the true nature of the portentous visitant, and what were the motives which induced him thus to haunt his footsteps and interrupt his peace. He was awed by the circumstances which had attended the visitations of the monk, if monk it was; by the suddenness of his appearance, and departure; by the truth of his prophecies; and, above all, by the solemn event which had verified his last warning; and his imagination, thus elevated by wonder and painful curiosity, was prepared for something above the reach of common conjecture, and beyond the accomplishment of human agency. His understanding was sufficiently clear and strong to teach him to detect many errors of opinion, that prevailed around him, as well as to despise the common superstitions of his country, and in the usual state of his mind, he probably would not have paused for a moment on the subject before him; but his passions were not interested, and his fancy awakened, and, though he was unconscious of this propensity, he would, perhaps, have been somewhat disappointed, to have suddenly from the region of fearful sublimity to which he had soared —the world of terrible shadows— to the earth, on which he daily walked, and to an explanation simply natural. —The Italian, Ann Radcliffe A sudden and shocking insight into the vast, ineffable, overwhelming power of Nature, stirred by a vision or experience of perfected beauty and perfected terror, that changes the soul irretrievably. An epiphany: Moroccan amber, wisteria, ambergris accord, white rose, magnolia, white mint, angelica, bergamot, and myrrh. The Shadowy And The Sublime - Every time there's a big update, there's always one scent that I think I'll actually dislike, but which ends up being the biggest hit of the bunch. For the 2010 Weenies, this was the surprise winner. It has magnolia, bergamot, and wisteria, all of which are "iffy" notes that generally lean to the "no" side of the spectrum. But, it also has some of my favorites - amber, white rose, myrrh. When I sniffed it in the bottle the first time, it didn't do much for me, but the moment I applied it, those resins just blossomed with my skin chemistry, and I was surrounded by a swirl of myrrh and amber and ambergris, which are bolstered by the other notes -- the earthy angelica, the sweet mint, and the florals. The florals are not fully present in their own right, but they seem to boost the resin notes and make them bigger, better, deeper, stronger, and amplify their scent. The overall result on my particular skin is something that is strongly reminiscent of an opium-based perfume oil. (Or maybe there's just opium smoke/tar in this that's not on the ingredient list?) All of these notes blending together definitely leave an overall impression of a scent that I would categorize with my other favorite opium scents. I love this so much. It has amazing throw (a little goes a long way!) and above average staying power. (It's hard to get around to testing the other Weenies because I love this one so much I don't want to give up any skin time to things I don't think I'd like as much!)
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THE CREEPING MIST I stopped my horse, and looked round me again. Yes: I saw it. With my own eyes I saw it. A pillar of white mist—between five and six feet high, as well as I could judge—was moving beside me at the edge of the road, on my left hand. When I stopped, the white mist stopped. When I went on, the white mist went on. I pushed my horse to a trot—the pillar of mist was with me. I urged him to a gallop—the pillar of mist was with me. I stopped him again—the pillar of mist stood still. The white colour of it was the white colour of the fog which I had seen over the river—on the night when I had gone to bid her farewell. And the chill which had then crept through me to the bones was the chill that was creeping through me now. I went on again slowly. The white mist went on again slowly—with the clear bright night all round it. I was awed rather than frightened. There was one moment, and one only, when the fear came to me that my reason might be shaken. I caught myself keeping time to the slow tramp of the horse's feet with the slow utterance of these words, repeated over and over again: 'Jéromette is dead. Jéromette is dead.' But my will was still my own: I was able to control myself, to impose silence on my own muttering lips. And I rode on quietly. And the pillar of mist went quietly with me. My groom was waiting for my return at the rectory gate. I pointed to the mist, passing through the gate with me. 'Do you see anything there?' I said. The man looked at me in astonishment. I entered the rectory. The housekeeper met me in the hall. I pointed to the mist, entering with me. 'Do you see anything at my side?' I asked. The housekeeper looked at me as the groom had looked at me. 'I am afraid you are not well, sir,' she said. 'Your colour is all gone—you are shivering. Let me get you a glass of wine.' —Miss Jéromette and the Clergyman, Wilkie Collins A muculent, brumous, ill-omened scent: orris, yuzu, white ginger, linden flower, petitgrain, and lotus. The first to make a comment on a scent? This is definitely a "first" for me! In the bottle and wet on my skin, this is all lotus. After a bit, green (the petitgrain?) and the soft, white floral of the linden push their way in to take the edge off the lotus. Not getting much of a citrus note, however. Overall, this is quite a lovely, soft scent. Not a huge throw, but it seems to have some staying power.
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THE MADWOMAN In the deep shade, at the farther end of the room, a figure ran backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face. —Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte Dusty white sandalwood, ragged cloth, and a dry, long-dead bridal bouquet. This is a very appealing sandalwood scent. It reminds me of the sandalwood fans I sometimes see in import stores. Along with that there's a floral that feels clean and bright to me, or maybe it's how the floral interacts with the cloth note which seems maybe like linen. I'm not sure what's in the bridal bouquet but it doesn't seem to be roses or lilies - I get the feeling of a sort of pleasant sweet kind of flower, but I can't put my finger on exactly what. This scent is unusual enough to hold my interest but I think it's also innocuous enough to fit a variety of moods and occasions. ~edit for spelling
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POMEGRANATE V Pomegranate, carnation, amber, cardamom, neroli, vetiver, black pepper, and opium tar. Back in the far corner of the Pomegranate Grove is a single tree. The corner is a little dark and a little spooky, which tends to make the fruits of this tree a little dark and a little spooky. This oil comes from the fruits of this tree. I was a little dubious about this Pom. I like the ocassional spot of vetiver, but anything with the terms "pitch" or "tar" tend to be DAAAAAAAAARK on me, and opium almost never works. So, imagine my surprise when I tried this first of the Grove, decided I liked it, and then read the notes. The vetiver is just enough to give it a little hint of musk. The opium tar gives it a hint of smoke. And the rest of the notes give this secluded corner of the Pomegranate some dead sexiness that is still somehow homey. More than anything, this blend evokes the scents of an early autumn night - when there's a hint of smoke and leaves in the air and a touch of a bite of frost that's not quite ready yet and the grass and other greenery are still fresh. It's safe and comforting, with the tiny sliver of danger. Because it's still a dark and slightly spooky place.
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THE HERAEON OF ARGOS Argive Hera. The temple in the Argolid that was dedicated to Hera, the Queen of Heaven, in her aspect as the Great Triple Goddess. Pomegranate, apple blossom, fig, willow bark, and almond. Wet: sweet almonds On skin: acidic pom juice, great for a cocktail! Half-hour later: the pom juice has disappeared, leaving me with dusty sweet figs In conclusion: I had to scroll through previous reviews to find what this reminded me of: Miller v. California! I think it's the figs and the willow bark turning "brown paper bag" dusty.
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Pomegranate, white musk, lemon verbena, grapefruit, pink lime. This is lovely!!! It's a very sweet fruity citrus. It starts out very blended but as the time passes, the pomegranate becomes more pronounced. I would say it had about a 3 hour lifetime on my skin, which is very reasonable for citrus scents. I highly recommend this....it's pretty.......
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THE BYRONIC ANTIHERO He stood --- some dread was on his face, Soon Hatred settled in its place: It rose not with the reddening flush Of transient Anger's hasty blush, But pale as marble o'er the tomb, Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom. His brow was bent, his eye was glazed; He raised his arm, and fiercely raised, And sternly shook his hand on high, As doubting to return or fly; Impatient of his flight delay'd, Here loud his raven charger neigh'd --- Down glanced that hand, and grasp'd his blade; That sound had burst his waking dream, As Slumber starts at owlet's scream, The spur hath lanced his courser's sides; Away, away, for life he rides: Swift as the hurl'd on high jerreed Springs to the touch his startled steed: The rock is doubled, and the shore Shakes with the clattering tramp no more: The crag is won, no more is seen His Christian crest and haughty mien. 'T was but an instant he restrain'd That fiery barb so sternly rein'd; 'T was but a moment that he stood, Then sped as if by death pursued; But in that instant o'er his soul Winters of Memory seem'd to roll, And gather in that drop of time A life of pain, an age of crime. O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears, Such moment pours the grief of years: What felt he then, at once opprest By all that most distracts the breast? That pause, which ponder'd o'er his fate, Oh, who its dreary length shall date ! Though in Time's record nearly nought, It was Eternity to Thought ! For infinite as boundless space The thought that Conscience must embrace, Which in itself can comprehend Woe without name, or hope, or end. —The Giaour, Lord Byron An aristocratic cologne of titanic passions, moody and brooding. This scent is dark with disillusionment and cynicism: a Victorian fougère and a dashing carnation boutonnière tainted by a cloud of khus, yew, and patchouli. I had to have this for the name alone, even if it didn't sound like a dark and brooding Dorian! In bottle: Sharp vetiver and yew, a whiff of earthy patchouli, and the faint sweetness of flowers deep underneath. Wet, on skin: Lavender pops right out here, with the vetiver and yew underneath. Drydown: The carnation joins the lavender, with vetiver and yew hovering around, and patchouli forming a solid, grounding base for the scent. I was worried this was going to be too masculine for me to pull off, but it's turning into a fantastically unisex scent. It sort of reminds me of Samhainophobia meets Dorian. I love this one in a big way. Dry: This is one of the only scents that smells exactly like the description on me, which I thought from the florals might be a bad thing, since florals just never work on me, but this one is amazing. It's like wearing a victorian gentleman's coat in a graveyard on a chilly night.
