Dia de los Muertos

[fairybites]

In the Imp: Floraly sweet, similar to patchouli but not as strong

On Me: This was a frimp from a forum member. And my second Weenie! The floral scent has amped up and now I can smell a faint hint of smokiness, almost like incense. At first I didn't think I would enjoy this, but I'm glad I gave it a try. It's more pleasant than I hoped, but I can't see a bottle purchase for me. Since my imp was aged, I'm curious what a fresh batch of this smells like!

 

For reference, I was frimped the 2012 version.

[LavenderCoffee]

I got a 2007 version of Dia de los Muertos from the lab's etsy at the end of 2020. 

 

In the bottle it smells like sharp dried leaves (not quite like Dead Leaves ™️) and higher pitched florals. 

 

The oil is a dark amber color when applied, and all the sharpness goes away once it's on my skin.

 

This is a heady, intense floral with a healthy dose of tobacco and a dash of chocolate. If I get in real close to the skin I can smell some incense smoke and candy, but mainly this has a rich, sticky sort of resinous quality beneath the bouquet. I don't usually go in for heavy florals, but somehow I find this both celebratory and comforting. It's incredible.

[becca_s]

2023 version 

 

On me this is a heady, sweet floral with subtle hints of incense and dried leaves.

I'm guessing that the floral note standing out the most is the cactus blossom which is quite lush and sweet. I'm also getting another  note which I think is Lily from the funeral bouquets. I can smell the sweetness from the candy. The incense and dried leaves are very subtle notes on my skin. I can't smell any chocolate but this is a sweet scent so it must be hiding behind the candy notes. 

[ghoulnextdoor]

A dream, a classroom, you hear your name, but it's coming from both inside the lesson and outside the door. "The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead/ Did squeak and gibber...were it not that I have bad dreams," intones a distant voice, fading. Death wrapped in vinyl, a smear in a shower curtain, a red, red hand pressed against the film. A trail of something slick and sticky, honeyed tobacco, a fruity resin, and sweet, grassy, dried blooms in its wake. A shape beckons through the barrier, a dread, phantom thing in wrapped plastic, calling from beyond the corner, and you're walking toward it —you can't stop walking toward it.