lizling

Another one I was determined to like by virtue of name alone, and it did not disappoint. In the bottle, it smells indefinably classic. It smells positively innocent upon application, like the most high-quality honey I’ve ever smelled. As it sits, though, there’s a note that emerges – kind of floral, but it somehow brings through and works with the natural scent of my own skin to smell very sexy. Also, this never smelled strong, but it resisted my skin’s natural tendency to Hoover up the oil, and it stayed with me for a long time. (As a sidenote, I read in a book that the reason why we find reading “The Picture of Dorian Gray” to be such an disconcerting experience is because of the story’s emphasis on the sense of smell; as this is not a sense that is usually emphasized in literature, it leaves us with a slightly confused, vaguely unsettled feeling. I guess The Oscar was a scent man – and I can imagine him approving of this one.)

Lovely. Simply lovely. Very subtle, both in the bottle and on me. Dark, gently sweet, floral on top and on bottom with a fruitiness somewhere in the middle, with just a hint of smokiness. In the bottle, the fruity note seems strangely sweet and out of place, but as it sits on me the fruit note becomes less sweet and more complex, and the dark "incense" smell becomes more noticeable. Oh, heavens to Betsy (or to Beth, perhaps?), I just love this oil. Lovelovelove. The downside of this oil is that it's not very strong, and it fades as it changes; it gets really lovely after it's been on a while and I wish it would hang around to be awesome!

At first sniff, it’s woody and sort of plant-like (not floral, more like leaves). It’s also got a note that’s reminiscent of soap. As it sits on my skin, it gets soapier at first, but then the frankincense starts to come out, followed by a faintly floral-herby smell. The soapy undertone is still there, but it’s not strong enough to be bothersome; I think it lends a cleanness to the earthiness of the smell.

When I first sniffed it, it almost made my eyes water. I found it so strong that I couldn’t distinguish any particular parts of this fragrance (I have a very sensitive nose, so strong aromas are sometimes a punch in the sinuses for me). Even when I applied a drop to my wrist, it was still very strong, and almost bitter – is that the labdanum? After about half an hour, though, it calmed down into a delicate, powdery, floral scent (the rose dominates it, but I can still smell the orchid), with just enough of the biting bitterness to give it a backbone. It’s romantic, and yet it’s practical. Also, once it’s calmed down a bit, it hangs around at that intensity for a while before it fades. I’ve really liked other scents before, but I absolutely love this one.

Even upon pulling the envelope with the imp out of my mailbox, I smelled this one. (A funny story – as I was picking this bad boy up, I almost literally ran into the man who played Macbeth in our college’s production of the show last fall. Well, running into him was funny at the time; maybe you had to be there.) The first note to hit my nose was tangy, sort of lemony. As I unwrapped it, I got a spicy, herbal note (that’d be the thyme, I suppose). Sniffing the open bottle: Still tangy, but with a sort of winey undertone – smells like a sweet wine. And possibly with a bubblegum-like note somewhere? Wet: I do not believe this, but it smells exactly like a Tootsie Pop. The fruity sweetness is coming across loud and clear, but the dark herbal quality it has in the bottle is lost. (I hope that goes away; I am DETERMINED to like this one on virtue of name alone.) Drydown: Thank goodness, the candylike sweetness is dissipating. Still smells quite sweet, but the thyme note is beginning to shine out. The perfume is also beginning to fade out slightly (on the other hand, I didn’t apply it very liberally because it smelled so strong at first). It smells kind of like Manischewitz wine. Dry: It’s now far less sweet than it was at first; the spicy herbal note has come to the top, and the wine has backed down a little. It reminds me of my mother’s home-remedy cure-all: herbal tea with a hearty dash of wine. Also, the scent has continued to fade and is now fair fainter than it was initially; this might be one to slather on. Overall: A lovely, velvety, sort of deep-burgundy scent. A perfume I can see the Thane’s Lady choosing for herself, but it’s not the signature scent for me that I was hoping for. I’ll enjoy it, and perhaps snag another imp somewhere, but I doubt I’ll be buying a whole bottle.