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Showing results for tags 'Yule 2018'.
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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.
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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. This is the Peacock Queen we all know and love, in hair gloss form! It’s a dark, lush, and velvety red rose. Simple, classy, and elegant. I was in need of a rose-y gloss, and this fits the bill perfectly.
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DED MOROZ Grandfather Frost! Accompanied by his granddaughter, Snegurochka, the Snow Maiden, he bestows gifts to virtuous and hard-working people, rewarding their decency and integrity, and punishes those who are lazy, shiftless, and unkind, killing their fields with frost, cracking the trunks of their trees, and destroying their homes. The first incarnation of Father Frost was not at all benevolent. He was the personification of the darkest aspects of winter, winter's destruction incarnate. He kidnapped unruly children, and slew people capriciously by freezing them to death. Light, darkness, kindness, and malice: golden amber, white amber, redwood, teak, bois du rose, sage, tree moss, and snow. The label is the same as all the 06 Yuletide scents. waaahhhhhooooo, this finally arrived, i couldn't wait! in the bottle:very light scent, slightly green smelling and something almost minty, this smells somewhat familiar, yet not something i can readily place my finger on. wet: hmm, yes there is something slightly minty here, even though i don't see mint as a listed ingredient, but it isn't a pepperminty scent, i am getting i think spearmint? and the very faintest whiff of "snow" and the barest touch of sage. this is such a soft scent, up close i get something greenish, and minty, but so amazingly light. the waft of teh scent is a soft almost powdery scent, but not old lady powder, more the soft fuzzy powder type feel. not florally, not slushy, just a fuzzy, almosty hazy, minty, goodness. i also at this point can detect an aura of redwood, it confused me at first i was thinking evergreen, but then when the scent settles, i realized it was redwood and teak, more redwood though. the longer this is on, the more the scent settles and melds into this beautiful, comforting scent, it is definitely a cool scent, definitely a soft scent and definitely a scent i am proud to own. adding after a long drydown time, this does get a hint of rose, it is a very soft rose, not sharpness even hinting at the edges, and teh amber really starts to step forward as teh mint softens i really hope beth can resolve the component issues, and offer this. i love it.
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In Latvia, the Ziemassvetki, or Winter Party, is a celebration of the birth of Dievs, the Sky God and Supreme Ruler of the Latvian pantheon. The two weeks prior to the Ziemassvetki is Ve?u laiks: the Season of Ghosts. Candles are lit to honor the gods and a fire is kept burning throughout the Season, burning away the unhappiness of the previous year so men's spirits can be renewed. At the feast of the Ziemassvetki, places are left as a courtesy to the ghosts, who arrive by sleigh. A scent created to burn away sorrow: bergamot, frankincense, rose geranium, ginger, lemongrass, and blood orange. I bought Season of Ghosts, because I know there is some sorrow coming up for me that I'm really going to want to burn away. Winter is always a difficult time, but this one is sure to be one of the worst. In the bottle, first sniff is sort of soapy, but with something soft and warm. The oil itself is very dry. ... or maybe that's my skin. Wet on, it is not so soapy now. i can definitely smell the rose geranium and the lemongrass. This isn't really bright and citrussy, though it definitely does have citrus. something is sort of dusty, maybe that's the frankincense? I think this will actually work! Yay. A soft scent for sad days.
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Crackling almond wood and the deep sweet smoke of burgundy pitch, Austrian amber resin, black copal, and frankincense. This is just beautiful. It starts off very green and pine-y (burgundy pitch = spruce) and then as it starts to dry down and melt into my skin, hints of smokiness come out and I start to get whiffs of woodsmoke and incense. Not sweet incense, pure and resin-y, with just a hint of smoke. You know how when you burn pure resin incense you smell the resin more than the smoke? This is absolutely that, and the little bit of smoke I get fades throughout the dry down. It’s a very clean, cool, resinous incense, and it makes me think of a tiny church in the middle of a pine forest in the dead of winter.
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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 examining and reporting these cases the witnesses averred that certain people, whom they called “materializing mediums,” had the strange physical gift that they could put forth from their bodies a viscous, gelatinous substance which appeared to differ from every known form of matter in that it could solidify and be used for material purposes, and yet could be reabsorbed, leaving absolutely no trace even upon the clothes which it had traversed in leaving the body. This substance was actually touched by some enterprising investigators, who reported that it was elastic and appeared to be sensitive, as though it was really an organic extrusion from the medium's body. —Arthur Conan Doyle, 1930 A luminous, viscid blend of white amber, lemongrass, white oakmoss, and davana. This is everything I hoped for. I'm not the world's biggest fan of lemongrass but I knew Beth would do something beautiful with it, something magical to take the harsh edge away, and that's exactly what she's done. This is a bright, juicy lemongrass that is tempered by the white amber. It has a sharpness when wet that completely disappears on the drydown. When dry and settled on my skin, it turns into an ethereal citrus that is uplifting and moreish. I adore this.
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Practical Occultism consists, first, of a perfect mastery of the individual’s own spirit. No advance whatever can be made in acquiring power over other spirits, such as controlling the lower or supplicating the higher, until the spirit within has acquired such perfect mastery of itself, that it can never be moved to anger or emotion—realizes no pleasure, cares for no pain; experiences no mortification at insult, loss, or disappointment—in a word, subdues every emotion that stirs common men’s minds. To arrive at this state, severe and painful as well as long continued discipline is necessary. Having acquired this perfect equilibrium, the next step is power. The individual must be able to wake when he pleases and sleep when he pleases; go in spirit during bodily sleep where he will, and visit—as well as remember when awake—distant scenes. He must be enabled by practice, to telegraph, mentally, with his fellow associates, and present himself, spiritually, in their midst. He must, by practice, acquire psychological control over the minds of any persons—not his associates—beneath his own calibre of mind. He must be able to still a crying infant, subdue fierce animals or angry men, and by will, transfer his thought without speech or outward sign to any person of a mental calibre below himself; he must be enabled to summon to his presence elementary spirits, and if he desires to do so (knowing the penalties attached), to make them serve him in the special departments of Nature to which they belong. He must, by virtue of complete subjugation of his earthly nature, be able to invoke Planetary and even Solar Spirits, and commune with them to a certain degree. To attain these degrees of power the processes are so difficult that a thorough practical occultist can scarcely become one and yet continue his relations with his fellow-men. He must continue, from the first to the last degree, a long series of exercises, each one of which must be perfected before another is undertaken. A practical occultist may be of either sex, but must observe as the first law inviolable chastity—and that with a view of conserving all the virile powers of the organism. No aged person, especially one who has not lived the life of strict chastity, can acquire the full sum of the powers above named. It is better to commence practice in early youth, for after the meridian of life, when the processes of waste prevail over repair, few of the powers above described can be attained; the full sum never. Strict abstinence from animal food and all stimulants is necessary. Frequent ablutions and long periods of silent contemplation are essential. Codes of exercises for the attainment of these powers can be prescribed, but few, if any, of the self-indulgent livers of modern times can perform their routine. The arts necessary for study to the practical occultist are, in addition to those prescribed in speculative occultism, a knowledge of the qualities of drugs, vapors, minerals, electricity, perfumes, fumigations, and all kinds of anæsthetics. And now, having given in brief as much as is consistent with my position—as the former associate of a secret society—I have simply to add, that, whilst there are, as in Masonry, certain preliminary degrees to pass through, there are numerous others to which a thoroughly well organized and faithful association might advance. In each degree there are some valuable elements of practical occultism demanded, whilst the teachings conveyed are essential preliminaries. In a word, speculative occultism must precede practical occultism; the former is love and wisdom, the latter, simply power. A Victorian occultist’s incense, invoking the Four Archangels: precious wildcrafted Indian frankincense with myrrh, cassia, sandarac, palmarosa, white sage, red sandalwood, elemi, and drops of star anise bound with grains of kyphi. In the bottle: kyphi! A fruity, wine-y kyphi scent with lots of cassia and a bit of anise. On skin: glorious spicy kyphi. This smells less like Cairo’s lemongrassy-rosy take on kyphi, not as wine-y or ashen as Philosopher in Meditation, it’s more like the kyphi note from the Oak and Kyphi atmosphere spray, or the Chthonic Kyphi incense from TAL. It’s spicy, resinous and complex. Cinnamon/cassia is the most obvious note, but it’s also full of myrrh, frankincense, red wine and honeyed raisins, there’s also a hint of fuzzy sage to it as well. The anise isn’t there any more. I absolutely love the resinous spicy scent this has. It reminds me a bit of Haloa but without the foody notes. It also reminds me of Egg Moon’s cinnamon frankincense. After a while: it doesn’t change too much but I think the honey and wine aspects of the kyphi become more obvious. The resins deepen further, the cassia becomes warmer. The myrrh is wonderful in here, it reminds me of the myrrh in Priala, especially with the cinnamon, but not as smoky. Something about it reminds me of a couple of last year’s phoenix scents. Verdict: probably the best kyphi scent by BPAL so far. If you are a kyphi lover, you must get this. It’s brimming with spice and resin and honeyed wine, all in balance. Yule is a perfect time for this scent to be on sale, there’s something almost festive to it because of the combination of red wine and cinnamon, frankincense and myrrh, at times it reminds me of mulled wine in a church during a Christmas service, but it’s got that undertone of mystery and darkness hinting at more ancient, occult origins for this particular incense blend. The great thing is that it’s cinnamony but doesn’t burn my skin. I’m glad I took a chance on this as it’s perfect, I think it will age amazingly. Is it a keeper? for sure. Maybe a backup? If you like this, try: Egg Moon, Pliny’s Phoenix, Tacitus’s Phoenix, Priala the Human Phoenix, Oak Leaves and Kyphi atmosphere spray, Saturnian Phoenix, Philosopher in Meditation, Haloa, Cairo, Saint Foutin de Varailles, Valentine of Rome
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Dr. E. S. Packard, of Corunna, Me., in the Eastern Star, states that Mr. David Prescott, of South Sangerville, over ninety years of age, “wandered away into the woods, and not returning, a crowd of over a hundred men hunted for him nearly two days; the mill pond near his house was drained. Search was made in every direction but to no success. “A gentleman of that place decided to call in the aid of Mrs. Stevens; she told him somebody was lost, and not being able to visit the place she drew a map or chart of the locality, giving directions, by which, on his return he was immediately found alive, but died the next day. The day following I was at South Sangerville, and stopping at this gentleman’s house, examined the map, which was perfect in every respect. The house and shed were correctly drawn, the mill and pond near the house were marked, the field and woods, two fences over which Mr. Prescott must climb, even to the swinging of the road by the house was definitely given. “The spot where she said he was, was shown by a large black mark, and he was found exactly in that place. When we consider that Mrs. Stevens never saw this place in her normal condition, it is to me a wonderful test of spirit power.” Absolute and perfect clarity: rockrose, white amber, Corsican immortelle, Siamese benzoin, white sandalwood, and life everlasting. Sniffed, I get clouds of sweet sandalwood incense and white cotton -- not "clean laundry," but something white and cottony and opaque. I think this particular iteration of white amber is doing the powdery thing. It's not floral-forward, though the flowers advance as the blend wears down. Mostly, it's reading as benzoin/sandalwood dusting powder. There's a non-foody but vanilla-like sweetness (probably the benzoin, which contains vanillin). Also, somehow, the blend smells white. The vanilla-resin-powderyness makes me place it in the XYZ Lace family of Lab blends (e.g. Antique Lace, Black Lace, Red Lace). So this is... Psychic Lace.
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The new discovery of “Table Moving,” by means of an unseen power from the human hand, has only been introduced into England within the last few weeks; but it would be difficult to dingle out any scientific subject which has with such rapidity, taken so extensive a hold of the popular mind. If we travel by railway carriage, steamboat, or omnibus, this is the universal topic of conversation. From the aristocratic saloons of Belgravia to the “Parlours” of Whitechapel – the Green Park to the Cat and Mutton Fields, “table moving” is all the rage. From the Royal Institution, where the secretary pokes his head through a forest of electrical apparatus, to inform the audience that the facts are established, down to the humblest Mechanics’ Institute, all are full of it, and the tables, to quote the words of the old song – “are all a moving, move, move, moving,” – Every evening party must of course have its experiments; accordingly, gentlemen come provided with very elegant chapeaux for the occasion, and many an innocent flirtation occurs consequent on the proper arrangement of the little fingers of some of the fair operators. As “sweet eighteen,” with her blue eyes and golden locks, gracefully links her little finger with Charles’s, in a retired corner, what wonder if the hat should tremble? And Charles, being of course fond of poetry (his very name is a guarantee for that), cannot resist softly breathing into Lucy’s ear, that exquisite line from Waller, on his fair one’s harp – “Touched by that hand – who would not tremble too?” And after a little more conversation of a strictly scientific character, they feel quite satisfied with the success of the experiment. Mamma, who has been watching the progress of the magnetic influence at a distance, “has no patience with such nonsense, and wonders young men and young women cannot find something better to do.” She forgets that there was a magnetic influence at work about twenty years since, and what little trifles served as conductors then. – Table Moving, its causes and phenomena: with directions how to experiment A spirit-touched courtship: sweet orange blossom, white honey, jasmine tea, white sandalwood, green apple, and lily of the valley. In the bottle - Very buoyant, happy greenery. Wet - Warm. I get lots of honey. Sweet green springtime scent. Drydown - I'm smelling honey, but thinking nectar. It actually reminds me of the Nectar hair gloss, and I'm picturing a miniature butterfly garden. Tickles my nose a bit. I'd have to re-sniff my decant, but my mind is drawing parallels between this and Venus Verticordia, which I also liked. This has more going on, though. Less grass, more tea. It gets less heavy as it wears. By the end of the day, this was a spectral memory of spring. Verdict - Just lovely. I can't see anyone being offended by this. Might even be a good work scent, since it doesn't have much throw.
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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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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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‘To make frumente. Tak clene whete & braye yt wel in a morter tyl the holes gon of; seethe it til it breste in water. Nym it up & lat it cole. Tak good broth & swete mylk of kyn or of almand & tempere it therwith. Nym yelkes of eyren rawe & saffroun & cast therto; salt it: lat it naught boyle after the etren ben cast therinne. Messe it forth.’ In parts of rural England, the last sheaf of grain from autumn’s harvest were added to a sweet porridge that was eaten on Christmas morning to ensure good health and strength during the dark of the year. Cracked wheat cooked in cream and ale with currants, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger. Frumenty to me smells like cinnamon, nutmeg and popcorn. I think its the effect of the cracked wheat cooked which smells like a cooked grain, which means to me... popcorn. Spiced porridge if you like. Medium throw and wear length.
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Every year at BPAL, we put up our tiny black Yule tree in the front parlor. It has red lights, and it’s decorated with whatever we have handy. I don’t remember when we got this little tree, but it’s been a Yule staple here as long as I can remember. There are always black and red candy canes on the tree; I don’t know what they actually taste like, because these things have been with us forever and are a bajillion years old. They are probably lethal by now. Red musk, star anise, clove bud, labdanum, opium pod, and black patchouli. Anise, clove, hint of opium and red musk underneath. There's a whiff of mint as well, I swear. This one is an anise-red musk blend. Good throw and wear length.
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YULE CAT The Yule Cat is a gargantuan Icelandic feline that feasts on indolent people who shirk their community responsibilities. Don't be lazy! - idle hands make for a very unpleasant Yule! Malevolent musk, a drop of infernal civet, vetiver, club moss, birch, goosefoot, and rowan. Make sure when sniffing Yule Cat straight from the bottle that you do the wafting thing you learned in chemistry class. I didn't do that at first and it's so strong, it burned my nose hairs and made my eyes water. I don't know what civet or really any of the notes smell like, but directly from the bottle, it's very strong evergreen wood. It's sooooo strong, I was scared to skin test this. But I did anyway. On skin wet: pretty much same as the bottle, but not quite as strong. I'm definitely getting more of the graininess of the wood. It's very... hmmm.... hard to describe... organic feeling, I guess. Drying on skin: It's calming down some, which is great, 'cause really. Yule Cat is potent. I think I might be catching some musk now, but still mostly a freshly cut wood kind of smell. Seems to be fading pretty fast, which is pretty okay with me. lol Dried Yule Cat isn't completely offensive, but I might consider layering this with something that might lend it a bit of sweetness, but that just my personal preference. Overall: very interesting, pretty potent and definitely NOT what I would normally wear. But it's actually turning out to be evocative of something that's teasing the edges of my conscience; I'm finding it inspiring in a way. Not because it's pretty or yummy, but there is a creepy darkness to it that makes me think of Hollywood villains.
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Blueberry-filled sufganiyot, blooping blue with jelly. GUYS. Guys. Not to sound (too) dramatic, but I've been DYING for a blueberry sufganiyot scent. I am beyond excited to get my hands on this and try it out. Wet: Very rich blueberries! Like a rich blueberry jelly or jam. There's a slight hint of a pastry note, but the blueberry jelly is pretty strong. Dry: I'm trying to think of a word that's better than "delicious" but I'm coming up short. This is an incredible, rich, blueberry jelly donut scent. While the blueberry jelly scent is still stronger than the pastry note, it's much more prevalent when the scent dries down. I had stupidly high expectations for this scent, and I'm not disappointed at all. I may need a backup bottle, which is rare for me. I've just been JAMMED. (... at Jamm Orthodontics.)
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[No additional description provided.] In The Bottle: The same slightly-lemon ginger-y gingerbread I got from another in this series, with coffee bean and smoked vanilla. As with that scent, the only thing I get from first sniff in the bottle is the gingerbread and no supporting characters. Wet On Skin: INTERESTING. Rather than the death-cologne version of oudh that sometimes happens with my skin or the yummy incense version, I get neither- instead I'm getting a death of spice that's adding to the gingerbread whilst taking away its foodie aspect. Dry Down: This reminds me *strongly* of one of the really old Tree of Life / Kabala scents from around 2005 or 2006. It's definitely not Hod but I'm not sure which one it's reminding me of. There's something that reads as intense and meaningful and spiritual about this, though, which is sometimes an aspect of oudh that gets overlooked I think. It feels like there's a reverence that it carries, something that I'm going to reach for during this long, cold winter ahead on grey days when I need to remember that winter is a necessary time of contemplation. Beautiful and deep, like Frost's vision of a winter forest at nightfall.
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A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. Yay! This is my first BPTP hair gloss, and I'm so glad it's Snow White, my one true BPAL love. Opening up the bottle I am hit with the Snow White I know and I love. I stopped and smiled for a moment- Snow White just kind of evokes happiness for me. This is a mist spray, not a pump or a squirt, which is good- I prefer mists. As a hair gloss, I will definitely want to spray it on my hands first and smooth it over my hair for better, more even distribution. Spraying it directly onto my hair can cause some strands to be way oilier than others. I am really quite pleasantly surprised- this really does make my hair soft and shiny. My hair's quite long (little below tailbone length), wavy, and prone to being frizzy with stubbornly coarse ends. I don't remember the last time they felt this soft. As far as smell goes, this is wet-out-of-the-bottle Snow White, all beautiful cold snow and a hint of florals. There also seems to be some other faint scent in there that I'm not familiar with- I don't know if it's this year's Snow White as I haven't gotten a bottle of the perfume from the Lab yet, or if it's just the hair gloss itself. I can't put my finger on it- it's a little sharp, maybe a little...earthy? Kind of...vegetable-y? My husband described it as "chemical-y." It's fading though, as the gloss settles onto my hair, leaving behind just pure Snow White. I bought two bottles of this on blind faith and love for Snow White alone. If I can't extract a promise from Puddin' that Snow White will reappear next Yule in hair gloss form, I may have to buy more. I don't ever want to be without this.
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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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Sweet candied chestnuts mingled with warm spiced oudh. The oudh is very warm, sticky, and woody, and is sweetened by the candied chestnuts. This is how I imagine the Addams family house would smell at Yuletide—dark, slightly festive. This oudh is indolic like the oudh note in Bestla.
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Lots of cocoa, adequate amounts of nog. I tend to not gravitate towards the foodie atmosphere sprays, but this one was a surprise love for me and I highly recommend it. It’s like rich, fancy cocoa powder with just enough eggnog to lend some creaminess and to keep it interesting with a bit of spice. If you’re into cocoa and chocolate scents, don’t miss this one!
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Snow and black leather. Very snowy, like Snowball fight in NYC snowy. A sweet, fruitier slush. I'm trying to seek out the black leather. I'm sure it's there, but this is not a leather-forward scent. I get a few hints of the cleaner, crisper cold black leather note but it's supporting the snow. I can imagine this would be a discarded riding crop lying in a snowbank. It's nice, and straightforward, striking more of the pine-slush-snow note buttons rather than leather, which was the opposite of what I hoped. Will take some more wears to get a full impression.
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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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NES GADOL HAYA SHAM But not long after the king sent a certain old man of Antioch, to compel the Jews to depart from the laws of their fathers and of God: And to defile the temple that was in Jerusalem, and to call it the temple of Jupiter Olympius: and that in Gazarim of Jupiter Hospitalis, according as they were that inhabited the place. And very bad was this invasion of evils and grievous to all. For the temple was full of the riot and reveling of the Gentiles: and of men lying with lewd women. And women thrust themselves of their accord into the holy places, and brought in things that were not lawful. The altar also was filled with unlawful things, which were forbidden by the laws. And neither were the sabbaths kept, nor the solemn days of the fathers observed, neither did any man plainly profess himself to be a Jew. But they were led by bitter constraint on the king's birthday to the sacrifices: and when the feast of Bacchus was kept, they wore compelled to go about crowned with ivy in honour of Bacchus. And there went out a decree into the neighboring cities of the Gentiles, by the suggestion of the Ptolemeans, that they also should act in like manner against the Jews, to oblige them to sacrifice: And whosoever would not conform themselves to the ways of the Gentiles, should be put to death: then was misery to be seen. For two women were accused to have circumcised their children: whom, when they had openly led about through the city with the infants hanging at their breasts, they threw down headlong from the walls. And others that had met together in caves that were near, and were keeping the sabbath day privately, being discovered by Philip, were burnt with fire, because they made a conscience to help themselves with their hands, by reason of the religious observance of the day. - The Second Book of the Maccabees, 6:1-11 In order to consolidate his power in Jerusalem and Hellenize the area, the Greek king Antiochus IV Epiphanes outlawed Judaism and ordered the population to worship Zeus and the Hellenic pantheon. As this was anathema to the Jews, they refused, and Antiochus moved to enforce his religious decree by extreme force. Some origin tales say that the dreidel was used at this time as a method by which the Jewish people were able to continue to study the Talmud in secret under the guise of gambling. Now, in addition to being a light gambling game, the dreidel is also a reminder of the strength, devotion, and perseverance of the Jewish people and the mercy of God. One scent in four parts: Nun, the Snake: nuun, nothing. Naḥš, in modern Arabic, means bad luck. Represented by scents of loss and remembrance: opoponax and lemon verbena. Gimel, the Camel: the Ship of the Desert. Represented by scents of abundance, fortitude, and determination: patchouli, heliotrope, pomegranate, and almond. He, the Window: sometimes used to represent the Unutterable Name of God, this is the window in our souls through which God's light touches us. Represented by scents of clarity and piety: frankincense, myrtle, and hyssop. Shin, the Tooth: also stands for Shaddai, one of the names of God. The hand formed into shin acts as a priestly blessing. Represented by scents of strength, generosity, kindness, and benediction: carnation, myrrh, red poppy, and hibiscus. The essences of Nun, Gimel, He, and Shin are blended to become Nes Gadol Haya Sham. Prominent notes for me are the Heliotrope and Almond. This reminds me of an old favorite, Tzadikim Nistarim, and also a few of BPAL's earlier 13 blends. Probably because of the wide range of notes. Maybe even reminiscent of Cleopatra Testing Poisons. Complex and unconventional from a perfume standpoint.
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And I saw when Rudolph opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four reindeer saying, Come and see. And I saw, and behold a white snowman: and he had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer. A wan, noisome slush, pale as peppermint: pestilent snow mounds with mint, white moss, lemon peel, benzoin and frozen sugar cane. Pine, mint, moss and a touch of sugar. This is one of the more traditional Snowmen, I feel. It's piney, cold mint, and a whiff of moss and sugar. It smells like being outside. Good throw and wear length.
