Graveyard Dirt & some frimp reviews
A tribute to a somewhat nefarious and truly notorious ingredient in New Orleans spellcrafting. It is employed in hoodoo rootwork for various reasons, primarily in spells of protection, "tricking" your enemies, binding, and even love magick. The graves are chosen based on the type of working, and are determined by the type of spirit that lies there and the manner of their demise. Payment is always required in the form of offerings to the deceased. This is the scent of pure graveyard dust, spattered with grave loam and dusted lightly with tombstone moss.
Yep, this smells like dirt all right. It's a crazy rich, complex scent unlike anything else I've sniffed... aside from dirt. Wow. I like it.
From livid skies that, without end,
As stormy as your future roll,
What thoughts into your empty soul
(Answer me, libertine!) descend?
— Insatiable yet for all
That turns on darkness, doom, or dice,
I'll not, like Ovid, mourn my fall,
Chased from the Latin paradise.
Skies, torn like seacoasts by the storm!
In you I see my pride take form,
And the huge clouds that rush in streams
Are the black hearses of my dreams,
And your red rays reflect the hell,
In which my heart is pleased to dwell.
The perfume of a hellbound soul, gleefully lost to iniquity: blood musk, golden honey, thick black wine, champagne grapes, tobacco flower, plum blossom, tonka bean, oakmoss, carnation, benzoin, opoponax, and sugar cane.
In the bottle, I get musk, honey, wine, carnation, plum and sugar cane. It's crazy and interesting. On wet, it's mostly the same, although the musk is deepier, dirtier. Dry, this goes sickly-sweet and too floral for my taste.
A mournful, poignant scent, thick with foreboding. Soft golden amber darkened with a touch of murky black musk.
In the bottle, this has a sharp scent overlying the softness of the amber and musk. On wet, it still has that sharpness, although the musk deepens. Sadly, once dry, the sharpness disappears and it goes straight to powder.
The Dragon’s Isle: smoke and fire, earth and wind. The rage of the elements blasting over a primordial paradise.
In the bottle, I can smell charcoal, dirt and air. On wet, I get those, plus a hint of musk. Once dry, this is a very herbal scent. A bit of rosemary, dill, maybe chives? It's a lot of herbs. It's not bad, but I don't think it's something I'd reach for often.
She is the Goddess of the Sky, one of the Ennead, daughter of the air [shu] and water [Tefnut], lover of Geb and Hadit, the Eternal Mother, and the Receiver, Reviver and Protector of the Dead, whose loving, divine embrace shields our souls from annihilation. She is love, rapture, splendor, continuous and eternal birth and rebirth, infinite space, and the “the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night”. Nuit is Earth’s guardian, and shields her lover and her mortal children from the primeval chaos that threatens Existence. Her perfume is starry and crystalline, a jewel-clad and glittering paean to night: dazzling white musks, white rose and night-blooming jasmine with the soft moss of moonlit meadows, a waft of Egyptian incense, and a gentle breath of moonflower.
In the bottle, this is way too floral for my taste, strongly rose, jasmine and moonflower. On wet, it's pretty much the same. Once dry, it turns into floral soap. Not one for me.
The Tibetan goddess of love and wealth. Her scent is a harmonious, sweet, enchanting blend of three lotus blooms and three roses.
In the bottle, the florals are very sweet. Definitely lotus and rose. On wet, it's the same, although I get a slightly alcoholic note. It smells like sweet cocktails. Once dry, this is actually kind of nice, but it's just a little too sweet for my taste.
A piercing, radiant perfume: dragon's blood resin, lily of the valley, lilac and galbanum.
In the bottle, I can smell dragon's blood and lilac. On wet, I get dragon's blood, lilac and a bit of warm musk. It's pretty nice. Unfortunately, once it dries, it goes straight to powder.
Patron of the Aztec pantheon, he is the personification of light within darkness, warmth in the cold, and life in, and after, death. He is a creative and destructive God of Fire and Light, and is appeased only by sacrifice, trial, and the slaughter of his people's enemies. Copal, plumeria and sweet orange and the smoke of South American incense and crushed jungle blooms.
In the bottle, I get oranges, plumeria and a hint of incense. On wet, I can smell those scents, plus a hint of smoke, and the resiny copal begins to come out. It's not bad, but once dry, it's a bit too orangey and too floral for me.
Imperial violet softened by wisteria and chrysanthemum, but edged with the regal iciness of delphinium.
This is way too floral for me. In the bottle, I get violets and wisteria. It smells pretty. On me, however, violet just doesn't work. It's way too heavy and cloying.
'Herald, read the accusation!' said the King.
On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:--
'The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,
All on a summer day:
The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts,
And took them quite away!'
Crushed roses and blackcurrant tarts.
In the bottle, I get a lovely pie scent. Dark berries and sweet, warm crust. On wet, it's much the same, with a hint of rose and some added spiciness. Once dry, it's not bad. The rose is a bit stronger than I'd like, but the warm, spicy-berry pie scent is great.
Deep, mysterious, and full of dark portents: oakmoss, juniper berry, myrrh and patchouli.
In the bottle, it's much as described: juniper, myrrh and patchouli. On wet, the juniper is very strong. Once dry, this is nice. A lovely, smoky scent comes through. The juniper softens, and it's well integrated with the myrrh and patchouli. Not bad at all. Definitely one of the outdoorsy scents that I can actually wear.
Also known as Krisky, Plaksy and Gorska Makua, she is a nightmare spirit, the Night Hag of the Woods, who haunts Polish, Russian, Bulgarian and Slovak children during the darkest hours. The only protection against her torments is a circle drawn around a child’s cradle with a knife, or an axe or protective poppet hidden under the floorboards beneath where a child sleeps. Her scent is that of a lightless fir wood, nighttime air, wet forest mosses and upturned earth.
In the bottle, I get fir trees, cold air and damp earth, with a hint of sweetness. On wet, the pine softens. It's more earthy, but clean, and the nice sweet scent remains. Sadly, this goes a bit too soapy on the drydown.
We shall swim out to that brooding reef in the sea and dive down through black abysses to Cyclopean and many-columned Y'ha-nthlei, and in that lair of the Deep Ones we shall dwell amidst wonder and glory for ever.
A great undersea metropolis located below Devil's Reef. A swirling, lightless, effervescent scent: the deepest marine notes with bergamot, eucalyptus and foamy ambergris.
This is way too oceany for my taste, and I'm not wild about eucalyptus as something to wear. Doesn't quite work.
A rich, bold blend of imperial rose, carnation, lush jasmine, lily of the valley, dark musk, amber, bergamot and gilded tangerine.
Way too many florals and too much tangerine (another scent I'm not crazy about wearing). The musk and amber just aren't enough to balance it. Not for me.
Feminine sexuality in it's rawest form. Palmarosa, red sandalwood, attar of rose, patchouli.
Way, waaaaay too much rose. On me, it's completely overpowering.
A gentle white scent, breezes laced with the scent of springtime blooms and citrus. Lemon, lemon verbena, neroli, white musk, white florals, white sandalwood, China musk, bergamot and a drop of vanilla.
The florals in this are too heavy, and the citrus is too sweaty-smelling on me. Not for me.
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea
they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
Stephanotis, cyclamen, heliotrope, white rose and gardenia.
In the bottle, I get light, pretty florals. It might work for me. Sadly, it has gardenia, which almost never works for me. On, it's heavy and funereal.
Electrifying, mechanized and chilly -- the scent of crushed blooms strewn on cold metal. Lush violet and neroli spiked hard with eucalyptus and a sliver of mint.
Oh, dear lord. This is so awful on me. In the bottle, it's violet and mint. Once on, it goes wild. It's heavy menthol, like Vick's with flowers. Not a winner for me.
Thy fatal shafts unerring move,
I bow before thine altar, Love.
I feel thy soft resistless flame
Glide swift through all my vital frame.
For while I gaze my bosom glows,
My blood in tides impetuous flows;
Hope, fear, and joy alternate roll,
And floods of transports whelm my soul.
My faltering tongue attempts in vain
In soothing murmurs to complain;
My tongue some secret magic ties,
My murmurs sink in broken sighs.
Condemned to nurse eternal care,
And ever drop the silent tear,
Unheard I mourn, unknown I sigh,
Unfriended live, unpitied die.
Benzoin, cassis bud, patchouli, rose otto, and petitgrain.
Ugh. To me, this smells weird, bitter and vaguely medicinal. On, it's pretty terrible. Is it the petitgrain? The cassis bud? I don't think I've tried anything with either of those notes before, and there's definitely something in this that doesn't work for me at all.
My limbs are wasted with a flame,
My feet are sore with traveling,
For, calling on my Lady's name,
My lips have now forgot to sing.
O Linnet in the wild-rose brake
Strain for my Love thy melody,
O Lark sing louder for love's sake,
My gentle Lady passeth by.
She is too fair for any man
To see or hold his heart's delight,
Fairer than Queen or courtesan
Or moonlit water in the night.
Her hair is bound with myrtle leaves,
(Green leaves upon her golden hair!)
Green grasses through the yellow sheaves
Of autumn corn are not more fair.
Her little lips, more made to kiss
Than to cry bitterly for pain,
Are tremulous as brook-water is,
Or roses after evening rain.
Her neck is like white melilote
Flushing for pleasure of the sun,
The throbbing of the linnet's throat
Is not so sweet to look upon.
As a pomegranate, cut in twain,
White-seeded, is her crimson mouth,
Her cheeks are as the fading stain
Where the peach reddens to the south.
O twining hands! O delicate
White body made for love and pain!
O House of love! O desolate
Pale flower beaten by the rain!
Soft, lush myrtle and dry, sweet melilot with wild rose, pomegranate juice and peach blossom against a background of deep aquatic notes and a twirl of melancholy autumn breezes.
In the bottle, this is so pretty. Peaches, pomegranate and autumn leaves. On my skin, unfortunately, it turns immediately into soapy florals. Sigh.
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