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Showing results for tags 'Yule 2013'.
Found 85 results
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Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa's wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away. Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black leather, dusty rags, and wooden switches. straight sniff from bottle reminds me oh so much of my beloved anne bonny!!! patchouli and red musk...l-o-v-e it!!! OMG...ok, honestly...i was so afraid this would be in the same league as "rat king"...i did want to love rat king....really i did....but it was far too hot and peppery for me... this one is truly, truly nothing as is described...it is all sweet and thick and resinous in the most amazing way possible...after 30 minutes or so, something almost green & herbal...anyway, for those who know me, know my chemistry with leather can be nothing less than spectacular...meaning whatever the masses smell, i usually don't ... but i do know that krampus is amazing on me and i love it beyond belief....gah!!! :D ETA: in my haste and amazement of this gorgeous scent, i found a misspelled word or two.....
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On the night of the Epiphany, a joyful, broomstick-riding hag clad in a tattered shawl drops into chimneys all over Italy, bestowing gifts to good children, and dropping coal into the stockings of naughty kiddies. La Befana vien di notte Con le scarpe tutte rotte Col vestito alla Romana Viva, Viva La Befana! As the Three Wise Men searched for the house of the Christ child, they found themselves lost. Eventually, they stopped at a small house and knocked on the door. A small, wizened woman opened the door, holding a broom in her hand. The Astrologers asked the woman if she knew the location of the child, but, unfortunately, she did not know who these men were looking for, and could not aid them in their search. It was deep into the night, and the air was chilly, so the kindly woman offered the three men her hospitality. They spent the night in her warm, comfortable home, and shared bread and stories with one another. The Astrologers explained to the woman why they were looking for this blessed infant, and invited her to join them in their search come morning. Though she was touched by their tale, she declined, as she had a great deal of housework to do. At daybreak, the Astrologers awoke. They thanked the woman for her generosity, gathered their things, and prepared to leave. Before they departed, they, again, asked the old woman if she would like to join them on their journey. Again, she declined, and sent them on their way. After they had left, she regretted her decision, and she set off to find the Three Wise Men. After many long and frustrating hours of searching, she still could not find them. Saddened, yet still filled with hope, she stopped to give a gift to every good child she passed. La Befana comes by night With her shoes old and broken She comes dressed in the Roman way Long life to the Befana! Candy charcoal, winter lilies, parma violet, a sprig of cypress, a poof of chimney dust, and holiday sweets. straight sniff from bottle is purely sweet and gooey....absolutely nothing else ... holy moly...once applied the violet is astonishing and the dust and candy charcoal....ZomG... if you are a violet lover of bpal blends this is for you!! words cannot even describe the beauty and depth of this one...it is heartbreakingly beautiful i love it to death
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It was the Yuletide, that men call Christmas though they know in their hearts it is older than Bethlehem and Babylon, older than Memphis and mankind. It was the Yuletide, and I had come at last to the ancient sea town where my people had dwelt and kept festival in the elder time when festival was forbidden; where also they had commanded their sons to keep festival once every century, that the memory of primal secrets might not be forgotten. Corrupt incense twinging through the huddled roofs of Kingsport on winter solstice night. To my nose, this has a salty, almost cold aquatic note to it, with ominous incense running through it. While it does turn a bit soap-like on my skin, it is not an unpleasant scent. Instead, it is strangely reminiscent of a perfume I used to wear a long time ago, but it has a darker edge to it. This perfume almost seems to have up a forlorn, secretive energy to it: it has not forgotten the rituals from elder times.
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Oh dear! I'm a quarter gone! Gingerbread and exotic Indonesian oils sugared with vanilla. Yay! The Yules of 2013 have begun!! I will start with my most anticipated one!! From the bottle: spicy warm gingerbread, yummy!! First applied on skin: I smell like gingerbread and warm cinnamon. A comforting, baked cinnamon, not the scary overly strong cinnamon that my skin can amp badly like Saw Scaled Viper. But no Snake Oil yet... After about 20 minutes: OMG I think I am in love.... Snake Oil is coming through and mixed with gingerbread it is simply AMAZING!!! I need to buy more bottles of this... like right now!! Verdict: When this scent was announced I was so excited! I even had mentioned in the Yule Stalking thread that I was hoping for a 'Snakes in the Gingerbread House' type scent! This scent combines two of my favorites into one and I am in heaven.... I never knew one could smell like a sexy gingerbread house, but it is possible!! If you like Gingerbread, if you Love Snake Oil, all I can say is HORDE THIS!! You'll be wanting more than one bottle, I swear!!
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The Snow-Shoe Goddess, Giantess, the Norse embodiment of winter. Frost-rimed winter berries, crisp pine needle, and a slush of bright snowy notes. This is one of the most beautiful things that I have ever had the pleasure to smell. Truly, they have encapsulated winter in this one fragrance. I don't know what the snowy notes are, but they are sparking and glittering throughout this icy-white/pale blue fragrance. It actually smells like SNOW. Pine is in the forefront, of course -- an evergreen forest, branches heavy with snow. There are hints of other evergreens that I cannot quite name -- spruce perhaps? The berries may account for the slight hint of warmth I get as an afterthought...bittersweet, frozen berries. Perhaps bayberry? This is absolutely an outdoor winter fragrance -- you can practically see the swirl of snowflakes escape from the bottle when you open it. One of my absolute favorite fragrances ever, and I only just opened it today! Pine/wood scents never change on my skin, but it has been going strong for a couple of hours now and just getting more and more beautiful, like a candle has been burning and it just strengthens as it warms. I hope I can get more when I run out!!
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Braving the Ice White mint cookies with a drizzle of pomegranate cream, dusted with confectioner's sugar. oh, my- the first review feels like more pressure somehow! And I want to do this one justice, since it's sooooooooooo delicious. I will also add a disclaimer that my skin turns most things into incense and powder/woods, so most sweet scents get toned down a lot on me. I got a bottle of this for a friend and because I'm a stinker like that, I tested a little on my wrist with a q-tip. I immediately ordered myself a bottle. It is taking all of my reserves to walk to the post office and mail it to her! HOLYEFFING*&*!! this is good... In the bottle it smells syrupy sweet, so I was a little skeptical. I was also a little nervous about mint notes as I tend to like soft, warm perfumes. Not to fear! The mint, on me is tame at best, mostly it disappears into the background to add a crispy freshness. The pomegranate cream note blends smoothly with the yummy, buttery shortbread cookie scent and creates a cloud of deliciousness. OMNOMNOMNOM. I don't know if it's my skin or the cream note but there is a musky softness to this that makes it a bit sexy as well, like a skin scent. But, in the end this is all about the confectioner's sugar. I smell like a pretty cloud of vanilla sugar, and it somehow isn't overly sweet but has enough throw to notice. It's all lovely- vanilla-cloudy-softness. My boyfriend LOVES it. And I can totally see this working with an Otto and Victoria theme! Yay! I edited this to say that it reminds me a little of Demeter's Angel Food, which I really like. For days I want to feel feminine and happy.
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Iced blackberries, blackcurrant honey, frozen white peach, and sweet vanilla cream. Oh my god, you guys. You guys, oh my god. Oh my god. Ice Princess smells so very good. For reference, I use the bath oils in the bath; I'm sure this will be a bit different on individual people's skin if you're a slatherer. Ice Princess is funny, because in so many ways, she's the opposite of what I'd envision from her name (or, I suppose, from the colloquial use it takes on). Rather than being cold or harsh, she's warm and comforting. The cream and (I suspect) the blackcurrant honey take on a sweet edge, in the water, that reminds me a bit of the sort of warm fuzzy-feeling I get from white musk, with a definite fruity edge--mostly it's too well blended for me to pick out a particular fruit, but sometimes I got hints of the peach sort of popping up above all the others, just for a moment. I also smell a bit of something floral, though it's not listed in the notes, and I can't think what I would be smelling--it reminds me of just the lightest touch of rose. Perhaps my brain is tricking me, there, because Ice Princess feels a lot, to me, like Winter Maiden? I can't say, but whatever the reason, I really love Ice Princess.
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Whether you’re flipping through poisoned apple recipes on Pinterest, researching dilapidated towers to house irritating princesses, or simply interested in a sporting match of croquet, dab a little of our perfume behind each ear, and you’ll be ready to destroy all those who stand in your way. Velvet red roses, mimosa blossom, heady magnolia, oudh, and black patchouli draped across a regal purple musk. In the bottle: A mysterious scent, really, the mimosa blossom is the strongest note. Wet: Musk and mimosa blossom. A little strange, unsure if I like this! Dry: Mimosa blossom and magnolia, I definitely like this better dry! Very interested to see how it ages.
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Dusted with mineral-rich salts dredged from the foetid depths of the Nameless Sea! In The Bottle: Wow. Straight outta the bottle I'm indeed getting: cookies. caramel. sea salt. Wet On Skin: The same. It's like the 2012 Sugar Cookie plus salted caramel. Dry Down: In the dry down, a touch of the 'depths of the Nameless Sea' have emerged- usually aqua and water notes go all Mr Clean on me and it's a bad scene, but the foodie elements of this scent seem to be keeping it this side of just briny, which is going pretty well, actually. In All: Low to medium throw, I didn't put a ton on this time and I might continue to be cautious until I see how that briny note plays out over the course of an entire day. It seems to mellow pretty quickly, so there may be no issue. but if you tend to be on the fence with water notes, I'll proceed- but with caution.
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Pointing to a chair, table, and pile of books, the old man now left the room; and when I sat down to read I saw that the books were hoary and mouldy, and that they included old Morryster's wild Marvells of Science, the terrible Saducismus Triumphatus of Joseph Glanvill, published in 1681, the shocking Daemonolatreia of Remigius, printed in 1595 at Lyons, and worst of all, the unmentionable Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, in Olaus Wormius' forbidden Latin translation; a book which I had never seen, but of which I had heard monstrous things whispered. Yellowed fragments of vellum and parchment scrawled with unnamable horrors invoking ghastly abominations: decaying papers and moldering leather with sickly-sweet tonka, inky musk, black sandalwood, black fig, sugandh kokila, and pimento leaf. In the bottle: Uhhh. Sushi. Not fishy but cucumber rolls, with a hint of wasabi. That is VERY interesting. I really smell cucumber. Wet: dusty cucumber, paper and leather, with a touch of sandalwood. Much better on, and I think aging will erase that cucumber smell, but boy it made me want sushi. Dry: Musk and mouldering papers with a bit of sandalwood and leather. Definitely worth keeping to age, I would love to see how this develops.
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Almond Blossom Even iron can put forth, Even iron. This is the iron age, But let us take heart Seeing iron break and bud, Seeing rusty iron puff with clouds of blossom. The almond-tree, December's bare iron hooks sticking out of earth. The almond-tree, That knows the deadliest poison, like a snake In supreme bitterness. Upon the iron, and upon the steel, Odd flakes as if of snow, odd bits of snow, Odd crumbs of melting snow. But you mistake, it is not from the sky; From out the iron, and from out the steel, Flying not down from heaven, but storming up, Strange storming up from the dense under-earth Along the iron, to the living steel In rose-hot tips, and flakes of rose-pale snow Setting supreme annunciation to the world. Nay, what a heart of delicate super-faith, Iron-breaking, The rusty swords of almond-trees. Trees suffer, like races, down the long ages. They wander and are exiled, they live in exile through long ages Like drawn blades never sheathed, hacked and gone black, The alien trees in alien lands: and yet The heart of blossom, The unquenchable heart of blossom! Look at the many-cicatrised frail vine, none more scarred and frail, Yet see him fling himself abroad in fresh abandon From the small wound-stump. Even the wilful, obstinate, gummy fig-tree Can be kept down, but he'll burst like a polyp into prolixity. And the almond-tree, in exile, in the iron age! This is the ancient southern earth whence the vases were baked, amphoras, craters, cantharus, oenochoe, and open-hearted cylix, Bristling now with the iron of almond-trees Iron, but unforgotten, Iron, dawn-hearted, Ever-beating dawn-heart, enveloped in iron against the exile, against the ages. See it come forth in blossom From the snow-remembering heart In long-nighted January, In the long dark nights of the evening star, and Sirius, and the Etna snow-wind through the long night. Sweating his drops of blood through the long-nighted Gethsemane Into blossom, into pride, into honey-triumph, into most exquisite splendour. Oh, give me the tree of life in blossom And the Cross sprouting its superb and fearless flowers! Something must be reassuring to the almond, in the evening star, and the snow-wind, and the long, long, nights, Some memory of far, sun-gentler lands, So that the faith in his heart smiles again And his blood ripples with that untenable delight of once-more-vindicated faith, And the Gethsemane blood at the iron pores unfolds, unfolds, Pearls itself into tenderness of bud And in a great and sacred forthcoming steps forth, steps out in one stride A naked tree of blossom, like a bridegroom bathing in dew, divested of cover, Frail-naked, utterly uncovered To the green night-baying of the dog-star, Etna's snow-edged wind And January's loud-seeming sun. Think of it, from the iron fastness Suddenly to dare to come out naked, in perfection of blossom, beyond the sword-rust. Think, to stand there in full-unfolded nudity, smiling, With all the snow-wind, and the sun-glare, and the dog-star baying epithalamion. Oh, honey-bodied beautiful one, Come forth from iron, Red your heart is. Fragile-tender, fragile-tender life-body, More fearless than iron all the time, And so much prouder, so disdainful of reluctances. In the distance like hoar-frost, like silvery ghosts communing on a green hill, Hoar-frost-like and mysterious. In the garden raying out With a body like spray, dawn-tender, and looking about With such insuperable, subtly-smiling assurance, Sword-blade-born. Unpromised, No bounds being set. Flaked out and come unpromised, The tree being life-divine, Fearing nothing, life-blissful at the core Within iron and earth. Knots of pink, fish-silvery In heaven, in blue, blue heaven, Soundless, bliss-full, wide-rayed, honey-bodied, Red at the core, Red at the core, Knotted in heaven upon the fine light. Open, Open, Five times wide open, Six times wide open, And given, and perfect; And red at the core with the last sore-heartedness, Sore-hearted-looking. - DH Lawrence Something must be reassuring to the almond, in the evening star, and the snow-wind, and the long, long, nights: almond blossom, hoar-frost, and snow-wind. When I first read the description for this scent I thought it would be full on almond, as in the nut, not the blossom! So when I first caught the scent when I opened the bottle I was taken aback! It had a very light flower scent, with no hint of the nutty goodness I was expecting. However the floral scent from the almond blossom was very light and pleasant so I applied a dab to my skin. The floral amped up immediately and I became a little nervous, floral and I do not get along much. But once my skin had a chance to work with the oils it blossomed into a floral I could actually wear! It is very light, and slightly warmed with the briefest touch of almond, and I think I could actually smell the cold snow-wind! The scent is almost alive, as if you would catch it on a breeze while walking through a forest in March, when some buds opened in anticipation of longer days and warm sun, only to be pushed back into winter with a surprise dusting of snow.... I don't know how she does it, but Bravo, Beth!!
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The perfected winter rose, dew covered and freshly cut. Red Rose. Limited edition. My favorite rose so far. This is the first rose scent I haven't melted off within an hour. (I was amazed the first time I wore it. Eight hours, and no need to reapply!) In the bottle, it smells like a rose from the florist - that cold hothouse smell. On, it warms up slightly, but not too much - it's got a slight bite, which is a nice change from most roses that fade to a powdery softness. I'll be very sad when I finish this one.
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Ghastly secrets and terror-numb revelations: white mint, black amber, tallow, antediluvian woods, and sickly resins. (For reference, I tested this as a linen spray) This is mostly mint. Definitely the famous BPAL "white mint" note, with a strong background of very sweet amber. There is just a hint of something earthy, almost a mineral note that I think is from the resins. It reminds me a bit of the long DC'ed Black Opal. On the drydown, the woods give this a slightly masculine edge, and it smells a bit like a very expensive aftershave or cologne. Classy! I wouldn't mind my house smelling like this. No sign of the tallow. The throw is somewhat weak, but it find that common in mint blends. It is however, very long lasting. If you enjoy other sweet BPAL mint blends like Tokyo Stomp, Snowblind, and Lick It, but long for something a little more sophisticated and less candy-like, this will be right up your alley. It is also great for people who miss Lantern Ghost of Oiwa.
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Because I am very, very crass this year. Slushy white mint, vanilla cream, lemon drops, grapefruit, and yuzu! I was hoping this would be more bright mint and citrus with a bit of creamy vanilla, but it is very much a "snow" scent with blend of citrus notes. I'm not sure I like it since I'm really not a fan of snow & ice blends. Those who like scents like Pink Snowballs, but would prefer a non-floral and fresher version, you should try this. The throw is good and lasts for hours. The label is also cute.
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Picture Books in Winter Summer fading, winter comes Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, Window robins, winter rooks, And the picture story-books. Water now is turned to stone Nurse and I can walk upon; Still we find the flowing brooks In the picture story-books. All the pretty things put by, Wait upon the children's eye, Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks, In the picture story-books. We may see how all things are Seas and cities, near and far, And the flying fairies' looks, In the picture story-books. How am I to sing your praise, Happy chimney-corner days, Sitting safe in nursery nooks, Reading picture story-books? - Robert Louis Stevenson The wild joy of story time on a frosty winter morning: the well-loved, well-worn leather of old fairy tale books, the sweet mustiness of antique paper, fae glimmers of twinkling crystalline flowers, and a chunk of Scottish Tablet. Wet and drying this is all foody and leather. A sweet, warm, worn leather. As it drys the foody quality tones way down and the paper comes out to play. This is old book paper, the most convincing that I have smelled yet. The kind that makes your nose twitch a little from its dustiness. My grandmother used to always give me very old books that she picked up at library book sales and garage sales. Titles no one had ever even heard of, but I loved them. This reminds me of being a kid, holed up in my room with a crumbling book and a cookie I stole from the cupboard. I never find the flowers, but I'm am more than okay with that. This is the epitome of cozy. eta: This kept reminding me a bit of Antikythera Mechanism, which my husband wears so I tried it on him. (Not to say that I think it is masculine. I think it is very gender neutral.)
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Popularized by the reality TV show "Real Cultists of Arkham Hills"! Wow....to be first!! Sniff in bottle: a slightly sweet pumpkin-ish, grainy scent. Maybe that is the treacle? On Skin: Don't get any pumpkin or pecan...although there is a sweetness to it, and that grainy scent. Drydown: Stays the same after a few minutes. Not sure if it's for me...even though I am a foodie lover, especially pumpkin scents, but this seems a bit too grainy. Was hoping for more of a pastry scent...might let this settle since I just got it!!
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Are you over your liege lord’s shenanigans? Do you think you could do one better? Look no further! We have the perfect Power Cologne for you! Overthrow the rightful regent with style: smoky vetiver cologne with black leather, black pepper, smoky coffee bean, Italian bergamot, and Mysore sandalwood. In the bottle: A dark, smokey vetiver with just a hint of leather. Wet: Oh ugh, my boy will love this A very sour vetiver with a bit of a sharp green edge, still a little smokey. This is the vetiver I like to call "hateful vetiver", it's dark and twisted and definitely makes me think of misdeeds. Dry: Sour leather and more hateful vetiver. I really can't wait to smell this on my fella because I think I am ruining it.
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BLACK ICE Lovely, dangerous, slick, and bitterly cold: chilly white sleet-like notes with a hint of vetiver, a breath of smoky asphalt, and winter wind. In the bottle: Vetiver for sure. This scent is unique in the Yule category, in my opinion. It is cold, but by being a cold 'perfumey' scent. It's interesting how I can pick up the 'winter wind' aspect. This scent is hard to pin down, it is light and airy in some way. Wet: There are things in here I could not tell from smelling the bottle. There is something dirty and almost acidic. I suppose this is where the asphalt comes in. It's a little plasticy and man-made at first. But I can already tell it's disappearing upon dry down. Drydown: The Vetiver is calming, and I once again can percieve that chilly, air feeling to it. The airy feeling though has finally become 'cold' somehow. The perfumey is becoming a bit more ethereal and less 'in your face'. I have to be honest, I didn't think I would buy another bottle of this until it was completely dry. I really enjoy it at this point, it's calm, and cool and delicate, yet a vibrant 'perfumey' blend. This would be great on a boy, too. It starts to remind me of being outside on a brutally cold night. This scent is definitely a wrist-sniffing scent.
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I'm three-quarters gone! Gingerbread fougere, with hints of lilac, lime, and citrus musk. Well, DAMN. This one is a manly cologne, sophisticated with the spicy gingerbread in complete balance with the lime/citrus which give it a sophisticated lightness, but at the base there's a smouldering spicyness. This actually smells like a commercial man's cologne (the name of which escapes me at the moment, but I sort of want to point the finger at Dior's Pour Homme, whichever the superspicy version is). This is the manly, spicy cologne version of gingerbread. AND IT SMELLS EPICALLY DELICIOUS, AND SEXY. It's DROOLWORTHY. In fact, the tagline should read "ALL GONE", because... well, you really just want to swallow this gingerbread man whole. (and yes, all the innuendo there is FOR A REASON LADIES). [here's to fingers crossed that this smells as good on mr. zee_zee as it does on me]
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A lighthearted winter scent: chilly vanilla rose snowballs! Dainty, soft, and certainly unfit for flinging! Pink Snowballs started out Snow White, with a hint of vanilla, and stayed that way for a while. After about two hours, I smelled it and snow white had wandered away, leaving the vanilla left with a single rose and a hint of her perfume. Rather soft, and pretty.
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Beside the road at its crest a still higher summit rose, bleak and windswept, and I saw that it was a burying-ground where black gravestones stuck ghoulishly through the snow like the decayed fingernails of a gigantic corpse. The printless road was very lonely, and sometimes I thought I heard a distant horrible creaking as of a gibbet in the wind. They had hanged four kinsmen of mine for witchcraft in 1692, but I did not know just where. Despair and desolation in a potter's field: black soil and memories of screams on the pyre. In the bottle: a hint of dirt, a bit of snow. Wet: Dirt and vetiver alternating with that burned meat smell that's in Gore-Shock. Ick. Dry: No longer smells like meat... mostly. It's actually fairly pleasant now. Not sure if I'd want a second bottle, though.
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There was an open space around the church; partly a churchyard with spectral shafts, and partly a half-paved square swept nearly bare of snow by the wind, and lined with unwholesomely archaic houses having peaked roofs and overhanging gables. Death-fires danced over the tombs, revealing gruesome vistas, though queerly failing to cast any shadows. Past the churchyard, where there were no houses, I could see over the hill's summit and watch the glimmer of stars on the harbour, though the town was invisible in the dark. Only once in a while a lanthorn bobbed horribly through serpentine alleys on its way to overtake the throng that was now slipping speechlessly into the church. I waited till the crowd had oozed into the black doorway, and till all the stragglers had followed. The old man was pulling at my sleeve, but I was determined to be the last. Then I finally went, the sinister man and the old spinning woman before me. Crossing the threshold into that swarming temple of unknown darkness, I turned once to look at the outside world as the churchyard phosphorescence cast a sickly glow on the hill-top pavement. And as I did so I shuddered. For though the wind had not left much snow, a few patches did remain on the path near the door; and in that fleeting backward look it seemed to my troubled eyes that they bore no mark of passing feet, not even mine. Icicles and stone illuminated by unholy fire. In the bottle: Snow and ice, as portrayed by camphor and mint. Wet: Minty camphor and a bit of something dusty and stale, like crumbling gravestones. Dry: Light, pale mint, with still just that hint of dustiness. I didn't get any fire at all.
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The Visionary Silent is the house: all are laid asleep: One alone looks out o'er the snow-wreaths deep, Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees. Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor; Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door; The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong and far: I trim it well, to be the wanderer's guiding-star. Frown, my haughty sire! chide, my angry dame! Set your slaves to spy; threaten me with shame: But neither sire nor dame nor prying serf shall know, What angel nightly tracks that waste of frozen snow. What I love shall come like visitant of air, Safe in secret power from lurking human snare; What loves me, no word of mine shall e'er betray, Though for faith unstained my life must forfeit pay. Burn, then, little lamp; glimmer straight and clear- Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air: He for whom I wait, thus ever comes to me; Strange Power! I trust thy might; trust thou my constancy. - Emily Brontë What I love shall come like a visitant of air. The wild freedom of the snow-gleaming heath thrusting through the dull safety of the hearth and the doldrums of the bleak, rolling moors. Lush, honeyed red musk twined with heart-thrilling white musk on passion-warmed skin against a backdrop of raw, iced peat, common heather, and hearth wood. In the bottle: This reminds me very strongly of the scent of a good metaphysical shop, the musk is really very lovely and there's a bit of wood. Wet: Heather and musk! What a gorgeous combination! Dry: Still heather and musk with just a touch of iced peat, this is really very lovely. I want a backup!
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EGG NOG Sweet brandy, dark rum, heavy cream, sugar, and a dash of nutmeg. Oh, Mama. This one is DEAD ON ACCURATE. I am madly obsessed with Egg Nog. For me, the Holidays wouldn't be the same without it. And a good batch of Egg Nog has a scent to it that is equally as appealing as the taste. And BPAL's limited edition masterpiece has that scent... the smell of the perfect batch of Egg nog, served up in an antique crystal and gold trimmed goblet. Brimming over with spice, rum, sugary goodness, and oh, oh, oh... that BRANDY. It really leaps out at me and my happy little nose! That's my 'First Whiff' experience. Now *on* gets even better... After some dry down time, the rum is really prominent. But it's accented by the nutmeg and the brandy. It's so sweet and subtle. Warm. Inviting. Almost... alluring. I can't believe I'm wearing an "Egg Nog" scented oil! It's downright delightful and so far, it's really holding. The spice of this scent gets better and better with my body warmth, too. About 30 minutes later: It's still going fairly strong. Much of the other notes had faded off, but that rum is still there. Sweet, sweet rum. I couldn't resist... I HAD to do a re-app, just so I could sniff the contents of the bottle again. I decanted some straight to an imp, and am applying from that so that I can really slather it on now. I hate Holiday shopping, and so I have decided this is going to be my "Holiday Shopping Blues Pick-Me-Up" scent. It does the trick! -Leslie
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I had seen maps of the town, and knew where to find the home of my people. It was told that I should be known and welcomed, for village legend lives long; so I hastened through Back Street to Circle Court, and across the fresh snow on the one full flagstone pavement in the town, to where Green Lane leads off behind the Market house. The old maps still held good, and I had no trouble; though at Arkham they must have lied when they said the trolleys ran to this place, since I saw not a wire overhead. Snow would have hid the rails in any case. I was glad I had chosen to walk, for the white village had seemed very beautiful from the hill; and now I was eager to knock at the door of my people, the seventh house on the left in Green Lane, with an ancient peaked roof and jutting second story, all built before 1650. The scent of ancient families harboring ancient secrets: thin dribbles of frankincense, bitter cistus, hollow myrrh, pale chamomile, and dark, furtive opoponax. I took a chance on this one even though I figured that the frankincense would dominate and not allow me to smell any of the other notes. It's a bit more complex at first but quickly dries down into all frank all the time. And then it's gone. Reminds me of Arcana, as most of the frankincense blends do.
