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Showing results for tags 'Yule 2017'.
Found 137 results
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Fear of Kissing Under the Mistletoe Pale, sickly flaps of vegetation looming over gaping archways, flaccid lips wet with hunger: cucumber and spearmint curling against the edges of dry, crumbling mistletoe. All I get is slightly dried cucumber peel. It's not bad; sort of the seasonal opposite of Squirting Cucumber. No mint, no mistletoe.
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Sevivon, sov, sov, sov Chanukah, hu chag tov Chanukah, hu chag tov Sevivon, sov, sov, sov! Chag simcha hu la-am Nes gadol haya sham Nes gadol haya sham Chag simcha hu la-am. A bounty of chocolate coins! Dry cocoa and golden amber! Gelt is gorgeous. I'm not a foody fan, but I will be hoarding this. In the bottle: perfect cocoa powder, with a dash of hazelnut. This is not very sweet at all, it's exactly like sticking your nose into a fresh box of expensive cocoa powder that's got some hazelnut flavor. Application: The same, but it immediately starts warming up. The amber is poking it's head through the cocoa and giving it a homey warm feeling. This is the scent of curling up on a chilly night with a steaming mug of cocoa, prepared from scratch the stove-top way, with a healthy splash of frangelico. 15 minutes: Much the same as application. There's still beautiful, dry cocoa and the golden warmth of amber. It hasn't sweetened up or collapsed in on itself. Overall: This is a remarkable scent. It smells precisely as described by the lab, and I think can be appreciated by both foody and non-foody fans. I will be stocking up on this before it vanishes.
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THE PEACOCK QUEEN In dramatic contrast to the soft innocence of Snow White and the dew-kissed freshness of her sister, Rose Red, this is a blood red, voluptuous rose, velvet-petaled, at the height of bloom. Haughty and imperious, vain, yet incomparably lovely to the eye, but thick with thorns of jealousy, pride and hatred. I love rose. Let me just get that out of the way. That said, The Peacock Queen is not necessarily my favorite incarnation of the versatile rose. However, Beth has flat-out nailed the concept of "haughty" in scent. This rose is haughty. It is very much a fresh, blooming rose . . . but there's something very distant about this rose. It's not a rose that's blooming from the earth. It's one dozen very expensive, perfect red roses, bought for a woman who expects that sort of thing. It's perfume. It's striking. It's very beautiful, but not approachable. Remarkable. Like I said, this isn't my personal favorite of the rose blends, just because the vibe it evokes isn't entirely "me," but I am incredibly impressed with the artistry of the scent and with how many different ways rose can smell and feel.
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Perchta, the Shining One, is the Lady of the Beasts, an incarnation of the goddess Holda. She, too, leads the Wild Hunt, and is the protectress of wild animals, and appears to mortals as either a white-clad, white-skinned, white-haired beauty, or as a brutish, bestial hag. She is called Berhte Mit Dem Fuoze; one of her feet is shaped like a beast's, which gives away her superhuman nature no matter how she is disguised. She is also called Perchta the Belly-Slitter, for, at Yuletide, she castigates the wicked, slovenly, and idle, and rewards those that are generous, good-natured, and kind. The Belly-Slitter enforced community taboos, punishing those that spun during holy days and those who failed to partake in sacred feasts, thus jeopardizing the next year's harvest. Her punishments can be a bit over-the-top, though: they include disemboweling the transgressor and filling the empty cavity with refuse. Her scent is a blend of wild musk, snow, and alpine flora: Nigritella lithopolitanica, aconite, crocus, touch-me-not, edelweiss, Iris variegate, and violet. bottle: very light snowy pines. this reminds me of old moon a bit, just less strong. wet: this reminds me very closely of old moon, but the pine is less strong, it's more a sweet pine and flowers. dry: i really never got any violet or musk to speak of. this is a light, soft snowy floral. (edited because somehow i posted this before i was done typing my review.)
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There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons - That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes - Heavenly Hurt, it gives us - We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are - None may teach it - Any - 'Tis the Seal Despair - An imperial affliction Sent us of the Air - When it comes, the Landscape listens - Shadows - hold their breath - When it goes, 'tis like the Distance On the look of Death - Thin, tinny ozone with frankincense, white sandalwood, white amber, hyssop, bitter violet leaf, and shadowy wisps of smoke. Was most looking forwards to this scent because of the amber and violet leaf... sounded like parts of my beloved Darkling Thrush. Wet in the bottle this has a slightly peppery warm kick to it, on my skin there's a shift immediately to a cooler pine-like aroma, not quite minty but there's definitely a green herb in this mix. I can start smelling the violet giving a little bit of a rough push to the green base, and underneath it all there's a creaminess. This does smell somewhat similar to The Darkling Thrush of past years except without as much frank mintiness - this is more of that deep violet-like floral, with a hint of peppery bite from the smoke at first, evolving into a dusky floral hanging out over a sandalwood amber that is more on the lighter side. It's nice. I'll keep my bottle but I don't know about hoarding... yet.
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Like brooms of steel The Snow and Wind Had swept the Winter Street, The House was hooked, The Sun sent out Faint Deputies of heat- The Apple in the cellar snug Where rode the Bird The Silence tied His ample, plodding Steed, Was all the one that played. - Emily Dickinson Sharp, metallic slices of snow and freezing wind with a faint hint of cellar dust, burlap, and apple. In the bottle: There is such a strong camphor note to this that I cannot smell anything else. Whew. On the skin: Bitter camphor and eucalyptus with a hint of sour apples. Dry: Medicinal and sweet, but not the usual apple note I am used to from the lab. Not... really what I was hoping for with this scent. This is off to the swaps.
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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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A splort of honey in a pile of snow. In short, this is pretty much Snow White with a prominent honey note, from what I can remember of Snow White. At the very least, it's very similar. The honey works nicely -- a sweet second skin scent reminiscent of Christmas goodies and cold air. It's not something I would normally wear, but it will make a nice cozy Christmas scent. Also of note: I had my husband sniff it blindly and he described it as "some kind of citrus leaf?" I don't get that, but it was cute and might be worth mentioning.
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Out walking in the frozen swamp one grey day I paused and said, I will turn back from here. No, I will go on fartherand we shall see. The hard snow held me, save where now and then One foot went down. The view was all in lines Straight up and down of tall slim trees Too much alike to mark or name a place by So as to say for certain I was here Or somewhere else: I was just far from home. A small bird flew before me. He was careful To put a tree between us when he lighted, And say no word to tell me who he was Who was so foolish as to think what he thought. He thought that I was after him for a feather The white one in his tail; like one who takes Everything said as personal to himself. One flight out sideways would have undeceived him. And then there was a pile of wood for which I forgot him and let his little fear Carry him off the way I might have gone, Without so much as wishing him good-night. He went behind it to make his last stand. It was a cord of maple, cut and split And piledand measured, four by four by eight. And not another like it could I see. No runner tracks in this years snow looped near it. And it was older sure than this years cutting, Or even last years or the years before. The wood was grey and the bark warping off it And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle. What held it though on one side was a tree Still growing, and on one a stake and prop, These latter about to fall. I thought that only Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks Could so forget his handiwork on which He spent himself, the labour of his axe, And leave it there far from a useful fireplace To warm the frozen swamp as best it could With the slow smokeless burning of decay. - Robert Frost Bald cypress and Spanish moss, spatterdock and sundew. This is a beautiful woody, aquatic. It's a touch too strong for me. But on the right man it would be amazing!
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The desire to inflict a mortal wound on the monster, Superstition, which, from a similar origin, a few centuries ago, inflicted on European society so vast an amount of misery, and by whose influence not hundreds, but thousands, of innocent persons died in tortures, on the rack and at the stake; the desire made me wish to make the experiment, if possible, of bringing a highly sensitive person, by night, to a churchyard. I thought it possible that they might see, over graves where mouldering bodies lay, something like that which Billing had seen. Eucalyptus blossom, lime rind, and white mint coalescing into a green-tinged amber glow. In the bottle this is soft and green. Sweet lime, zingy but not sour and puckering with the softest most gentle eucalyptus I have ever smelled. I normally think of eucalyptus as purely utilitarian for use in aromatherapy bath products, but I never find it pleasant or wearable (in regards to perfume). Beth has completely transformed the possibilities of this note for me. It dries down into a truly eerie green scent. Light mint (not a chilly mint) with the lime, eucalyptus, and amber all softly mingling. I cannot stress enough how gentle this blend is, despite the potential of the notes for being bright or bracing. Very soothing and relaxing, perfect for hectic winter celebrations.
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It freezes - all across a soundless sky The birds go home. The governing dark's begun: The steadfast dark that waits not for a sun; The ultimate dark wherein the race shall die. Death, with his evil finger to his lip, Leers in at human windows, turning spy To learn the country where his rule shall lie When he assumes perpetual generalship. The undefeated enemy, the chill That shall benumb the voiceful earth at last, Is master of our moment, and has bound The viewless wind it-self. There is no sound. It freezes. Every friendly stream is fast. It freezes; and the graven twigs are still. - Hilaire Belloc The steadfast dark that waits not for a sun: opoponax and myrrh, gum Arabic and frankincense, blackened juniper and bitter agarwood. In the Bottle: Juniper, resins and a tinge of agarwood On the Skin: The juniper is forward but pleasant. Eventally the frank and opoponax come forward to merge with the juniper and tame it somewhat On the Drydown: The agarwood adds a rich resinous woodiness. This dries down to a golden resin with a juniper overlay. If juniper isn't your jam you might want to reconsider purchasing this one but I quite like it and some age would benefit
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Unbound from her prison-throne, mirror aloft; within her cloak dance the stories of Bathsheba, Deborah, and Mary Magdalene. Plum velvet, red wine, and sweet, dark oudh. Caveat - this is fresh out of the mail. first sniff was the red fruit. Wet down had a nod to coffee syrup but as it's drying it morphs into red fruit powdery incense. I have high hopes. Praying it doesn't go full powder. It's light too not intense. Will revisit in a day or two once it settles. 2nd round ( a few hours later) - Gave in and it's already morphed into something more sophisticated. I'm going to have to think of what it reminds me of - the fruit is not forward now - its more of a dept store sophisticate. Can't wait to see what it turns into tomorrow.
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But on what could an impression be left? An impression of such a nature becomes a material thing and implies a material nexus, however subtle. So far as we know there are only two things there, the air and the ether. The air is a mobile thing and could not carry a permanent impression. But is the ether a mobile thing? It is pictured as a most delicate medium with vibrating currents flowing in it, but it seems to me that a most tenuous jelly with quivers and thrills would be a closer analogy. We could conceive the whole material universe embedded in and interpenetrated by this subtle material, which would not necessarily change its position since it is too fine for wind or any coarser material to influence it. I feel that I am rushing in where even Lodges fear to tread, but if it should prove to be as I suggest then we should have that permanent screen on which shadows are thrown. The block of ether upon the stairs is the same that it always was, and so conveys the impression from the past. the Edge of the Unknown, Arthur Conan Doyle Gentle, almost imperceptible, permeating all things: pale amber vibrating with ambergris and a thread of lavender. This is one of the purest, most beautiful lavenders I've ever smelled. It's up there with Hidden Purpose bath oil! It's the perfect balance between floral and herbal lavender, with just a hint of salty, spicy ambergris enhancing it. The ambergris gets more prominent as it dries down, with more of a 50/50 balance between that soft ocean scent and the lavender. It's amazingly, and yes, a little ethereal. I'm probably going to need more bottles.
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Golden-brown and sugar-dusted, plump with sweet blackcurrant jelly. Full disclosure: I am an enormous fan of the Sufganiyots of Yules past, so I blind-bought two bottles of this year's Black Currant variety, because I felt *certain* that I'd want backups of this one, too. And I was NOT wrong. In the bottle, and when first applied, this has the familiar -and delicious!- strong fried-dough scent of its siblings. And, as with raspberry and strawberry before her, black currant starts to come into her own within the context of the scent as it warmed on my skin. This years' version is perhaps a little sweeter than its predecessors, which I believe has everything to do with the chosen fruit. Both raspberry and strawberry have a bit of a tangy undertone. But black currant is more of a pure sweetness with nothing tart to counteract. It's not cloying, don't misunderstand. This is the epitome of a full fried doughnut stuffed to the gills with thick and sweet black currant jam. It's delectable! If you loved the other two, you'll be delighted to add this one to your collection. If you missed out on previous years, definitely give this one a try. I would only say proceed with caution if you're a foodie that only likes your food scents to have a little edge- you might need to tread lightly with this. Or possibly layer with a rich non-food, like sandalwood or vetiver, or layer with a spice, like the newly released Indonesian Clove SN. Now to decide if I need *another* backup bottle...
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"The case I allude to is that of an invalid woman who belongs to the humblest class of society. She is nearly thirty years old and very ignorant; her look is neither fascinating nor endowed with the power which modern criminologists call irresistible; but when she wishes, be it by day or by night, she can divert a curious group for an hour or so with the most surprising phenomena. Either bound to a seat or firmly held by the hands of the curious, she attracts to her the articles of furniture which surround her, lifts them up, holds them suspended in the air like Mahomet’s coffin, and makes them come down again with undulatory movements, as if they were obeying her will. She increases their weight or lessens it according to her pleasure. She raps or taps upon the walls, the ceiling, the floor, with fine rhythm and cadence. In response to the requests of the spectators, something like flashes of electricity shoot forth from her body, and envelop her or enwrap the spectators of these marvellous scenes. She draws upon cards that you hold out, everything that you want – figures, signatures, numbers, sentences – by just stretching out her hand toward the indicated place. “If you place in the corner of the room a vessel containing a layer of soft clay, you find after some moments the imprint in it of a small or a large hand, the image of a face (front view or profile) from which a plaster cast can be taken. In this way portraits of a face taken at different angles have been preserved, and those who desire so to do can thus make serious and important studies. “This woman rises in the air, no matter what bands tie her down. She seems to lie upon the empty air, as on a couch, contrary to all the laws of gravity; she plays on musical instruments – organs, bells, tambourines – as if they had been touched by her hands or moved by the breath of invisible gnomes… This woman at times can increase her stature by more than four inches. —Chiaia, in a letter to Lombroso Pale lilacs, white tea, and candle wax. The Lab's candlewax always starts out with a burst of citrus (to my nose, at least), in this case a light clementine-juice scent that obscures the lilac completely while wet. 10 min: Spicy? Tingly-spicy? I'm not sure where that's coming from, but the white tea comes out too, with the lilacs. 20 min: Lilac gets a bad rap around here sometimes, and I was really rooting for it, but the beeswax is making the floral part smell a bit sour and sweaty. It's a very light and inoffensive scent, but when I get in close to the wrist to go "where my lilacs at" it smells like someone holding a lilac bloom crushed in a sweaty fist. 25 min: Sweaty part over. Soft, light, citrussy floral. Flowery but not distinctively lilac. Verdict: Not for me. [EDIT: I don't know when I'm going to learn that it really does make a difference to let scents settle after coming here in the post, but this one was pretty different on second test. Way more wax, no weird citrus, a warm and sweet beeswax scent with a distinct high-toned floral. Though it still doesn't really smell like lilacs to me? I have no idea.]
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In Mr. Campbell Holms book, The Facts of Psychic Science, which is, and will be always, a most exact and valuable book of reference, there are a number of cases given where people have been transported through solid objects. Inexperienced and foolish people may jeer, but they will find it easier to do so than to refute the evidence. For example, upon June 3rd, 1871, Mrs. Guppy was floated from her own house in Highbury, and appeared upon the table of a room at 61 Lambs Conduit Street, where a séance was being held behind locked doors. A document was signed by the eleven sitters to testify to the fact and they had no possible object in perjuring themselves about the matter. Mrs. Guppy said that the last thing she could remember was sitting with her friend Miss Neyland. That lady deposed that Mrs. Guppy had suddenly vanished from her sight. Four of the sitters accompanied Mrs. Guppy home and heard what her friend had to say. It is difficult to find any flaw in such evidence and it would certainly have been conclusive in a court of law had it been a criminal case. But surely such a transposition is more remarkable than any of Houdinis, and had she done similar things in public her reputation would have been similar to his own. the Edge of the Unknown, Arthur Conan Doyle A séance in progress: polished oak and oxblood leather, rivulets of beeswax, a splash of rose water, and a pulsating throb of ectoplasm. This makes me happy. It's a rather masculine blend, and what comes across when I spray it ON something is mostly the oak with a hint of leather. It smells like a very nice "man office/study" with polished wood cabinets and svelte, leather furniture. In the AIR, the beeswax becomes the dominant feature to my nose, with a bit of spicy wood filling in the background. It's not a heavy scent, and there's something lovely and clean about it, along with something decidedly proper.
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A tribute to Lajos Pap, a spiritualist medium whose specialty was apporting snakes, lizards, rats, and frogs – live and dead – during séance. A pattering of night-creatures: indigo musk and patchouli croaking with oakmoss and a skittering of gleaming black olibanum. In the Bottle: Inky and dry in the bottle. Very intriguing. The oakmoss is apparent On the Skin: That indigo musk is stunning - slinky and velvety dark. Quite resinous, initially but the musk adds a gorgeous elegance. I like the use of the word "skittering" in the description because this is slick, dark and dry reminiscent of an insect carapace. On the Drydown: I almost get a dark purple (indigo?) floral from this. It is truly magnificent and dark as night.
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Fear of Gaiety Clacking white teeth bared in repugnant, feral upturned leers. Laughter, hideous laughter: bubbling white ginger gurgling through hot red carnations, shreds of orange peel, and cloying globs of honey. In the bottle - Ooh baby. It's sweet-citrus-ginger. I have a good feeling about this. Wet - Yup, that's carnation. Drydown - I want to say that I'm getting something else -- anything else -- but it's alllll carnation. Damn you, skin chemistry. Verdict - Although I like the scent, I didn't need a whole bottle. I might look for an oil burner so I can get that in-the-bottle ginger back in my life.
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Angeronalia, also called Divalia, is a Roman festival that takes place at the Winter Solstice. This celebration honors the Goddess Angerona. The Lady of Silence and Secrets is also She Who Stands As the Protector of Rome, and she is represented with her mouth bound, or with her index finger held over her mouth, commanding silence. On this day, the Goddess was implored to grant her children strength and protection. And, as it was believed that Angerona and Voluptia, the Goddess of Joy and Pleasure, were one and the same, sacrifices were made at the temple to Voluptia in order to drive sorrow, regret, and pain from the hearts of the people. Strength, passion, and the cleansing fire of joy: olive blossom, white nectarine, vibrant blood orange, honey absolute, lemongrass, elemi, sensual patchouli, and the quiet purity of gardenia. WET: I can smell olive blossom, light nectarine, and a touch of gardenia. DRY: This is a morpher. As soon as it hits my skin I get a shot of nectarine and honey absolute. Within 30 seconds the nectarine peaks and then suddenly, the patchouli and blood orange are there for a few minutes before returning to the background. From there I spend a few minutes smelling something slightly swarthy and fennel-like alongside the honey absolute; I believe it must be the elemi which is the only thing I am unfamiliar with here. After that point this scent sort of settles down and for the remaining wear-length becomes a beautiful medley of scent. The olive blossom lends an exotic feel while the gardenia is soft and gentle. Those two florals sort of envelop the rest of the notes as they mingle and fade in and out. Angeronalia has a festive, bright, sensual, joyous, and very warm feeling to it.
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Dust, rags, leather, and shining steel. Brown leather, steel and a touch of dust. Honestly, this makes me think of a cross between Quincy Morris and the Torture Queen. If you've ever been craving a replacement for Quincy Morris, I'd give this puppy a whirl. Good throw and wear length.
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Sweet pipe tobacco, cherry wood, the warm, worn leather of an easy chair and a pleasant, subtle waft of fireplace smoke. My yule order came in while my boyfriend was visiting so we both had the pleasure of trying this one out. Gorgeous, tons of cherries at first, this slowly mellowed into round, full, smooth cherry tobacco scents. Comforting and warm and very very masculine. This worked MUCH better on him than me, even though I loved it. It very much conjured images of warm fireplaces and leather chairs and men smoking pipes. Totally and utterly stunning and gorgeous and evocative and comforting. This lasted forever (one application took us both well over 12 hours and we could still smell it.) The bottle is going home with him so I can appreciate Hearth properly on his neck
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Four Calling Birds Three French Hens Two Turtle Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree Luminous golden amber, lemon peel, and royal agarwood, tonka bean and bone-white orris, and a splash of blood. In the bottle - Definitely got that "bone white" feel going on. Dry. Wet - Instantly juicy. These bones are fresh, with lemon zest and amber. Amber is dominating. Drydown - A lot more wood now. Damn, I rather like this. It's a vibrant amber-wood blend with a hint of juiciness. There isn't a lot of throw, so I don't have much more to report. The amber does go a little powdery as it wears on. I'm sneezing a lot. (Potentially unrelated since I've been breathing wildfire smoke for the last week, but thought you should know.) Verdict - For the most part, I like it. I'm going to have to give this a couple more tries, though. I haven't quite figured it out.
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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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A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. Limited Edition; December 2003. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has been outdoing themselves with the limited edition scents lately, and this is a sterling example! This is an airy, crisp, barely floral that is warm and soft, all the while making me picture the first snow and the sharp, clean scent that accompanies it. I know warm and snow don't sound like they go together, but let me assure you that they do! My all-time favorite. I wonder if Elizabeth would consider keeping some of the limited editions based on customer response ... I'd e-mail daily on this one.
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MIDNIGHT MASS I will wash my hands among the innocent; and will compass thy altar, O Lord: That I may hear the voice of thy praise: and tell of all thy wondrous works. I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house; and the place where thy glory dwelleth. Take not away my soul, O God, with the wicked: nor my life with bloody men: In whose hands are iniquities: their right hand is filled with gifts. But as for me, I have walked in my innocence: redeem me, and have mercy on me. My foot hath stood in the direct way: in the churches I will bless thee, O Lord. In Roman Catholic tradition, the Christmas season begins liturgically on Christmas Eve, though it is forbidden to celebrate the Christmas Mass before midnight. The most devout attend Midnight Mass, celebrating both the Eucharist and the drama of the Nativity. This perfume is a traditional Roman Catholic sacramental incense, most often used during a Solemn Mass. Traditionally, five tears of this incense, each encased individually in wax that has been fashioned into the shape of a nail, are inserted into the paschal candle. This is, of course, represents the Five Wounds of Our Risen Savior. Symbolically, the burning of the incense signifies spiritual fervor, the fragrance itself inspires virtue, and the rising smoke carries our prayers to God. Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, factorem caeli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium. Et in unum Dominum Iesum Christum, Filium Dei unigenitum, et ex Patre natum ante omnia saecula. Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine, Deum verum de Deo vero, genitum non factum, consubstantialem Patri; per quem omnia facta sunt. Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem descendit de caelis. Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est. Crucifixus etiam pro nobis sub Pontio Pilato, passus et sepultus est, et resurrexit tertia die, secundum Scripturas, et ascendit in caelum, sedet ad dexteram Patris. Et iterum venturus est cum gloria, iudicare vivos et mortuos, cuius regni non erit finis. Et in Spiritum Sanctum, Dominum et vivificantem, qui ex Patre procedit. Qui cum Patre et Filio simul adoratur et conglorificatur: qui locutus est per prophetas. Et unam, sanctam, catholicam et apostolicam Ecclesiam. Confiteor unum baptisma in remissionem peccatorum. Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum, et vitam venturi saeculi. Amen. at first: soft resins and incense. on: sharper than in the bottle, but still softer than i thought it would be. very lovely. exactly like church incense. half an hour later: this is still pretty much the same, maybe a tiny bit sweeter. 1.5 hours later: still the same. amazing! the sweetness is pretty much gone. 2.5 hours later: yeah, i don't know what else to say. overall: lovely stuff. this was the only yule LE i ordered and i'm glad i chose it.
