Invidiana

Vetiver, you and I just can't get along...you overpowered everything as this dried down. I'll never know what lovely shadows this could smell like without the vetiver, but on me, at least, it overpowers everything, leaving just wisps of the other notes in the background struggling to make themselves known. That's what you get when your skin amps vetiver.

The next house, No. 55, is kept by Miss Addie Blashfield, the dashing brunette, who has eight or ten boarders, both blondes and brunettes. These are a pretty lot of girls, of pleasing and engaging manners. It is regarded as a first class house, very quiet and orderly and is visited by some of our first citizens. Night-blooming wildflowers, indigo musk, black currant, and clove. Anything night-blooming is a win for me, so this lady of the night gets along with my skin chemistry very well. Something in it reminds me of my beloved long-discontinued Midnight. It's all glorious, heady jasmine (and possibly gardenia, possibly even moonflower) that you'd expect to find growing around haunted Garden District houses in an Anne Rice novel. The midnight musk and deep purple shadows of blackcurrant only makes it even more intoxicating. It's like jasmine-scented skin wrapped in a velvet cloak. Wherever the clove is, it behaves. While it must be adding something, maybe a the barest hint of warmth, like the debauchery behind the brothel walls, but stays distant in the background. This makes me want to go read The Witching Hour again.

This is a first class Ladies Seminary, conducted by an accomplished and intelligent young lady, who has a class composed of seven beautiful young lady scholars who do credit to her establishment. The house is newly furnished in a magnificent style, is very quiet and orderly, and first class in every respect. A sophisticated arrangement of graceful blooms: cherry blossoms, Florentine iris, violet absolute, and wisteria, warmed by honey, almonds, and cacao. I can't possibly resist anything with wisteria, and the floral charms of Miss Anna do not disappoint. It's like the first flowers off spring blossoming straight form the bottle, and while lit starts off like a shower of petals, it is eventually warmed up by a lovely backdrop of honey and almond with a slight shadow from what I'm assuming is the cacao. Wisteria is one of my favorite florals and while I don't amp it, it doesn't vanish after the drydown. This is not a screeching floral but more of what I like to call a fairytale floral. It starts off innocent and slowly reveals something telling about its namesake. Who knew a painted lady could be so respectable?

No 138 West 27th St. Mrs. Lizzie Goodrich, the dashing brunette, whose smiling face is ever ready to welcome her patrons keeps this house. Mrs. Lizzie as she is generally called, has five good-looking lady boarders whose cheerful dispositions tend to drive away the blues. There is a regular physician attached to this house, and every attention is shown to visitors. As a first class house, it is neatly and comfortably fitted up, and is very quiet and orderly. A merry honeyed carnation dotted with dried ruby fruits. I was crossing every limb on my body this would work on me since my name is Elizabeth. By some kind of magic it did! Sometimes I amp carnation to the point of it crushing everything else, and red or purple fruits can sometimes go cloying on me, but not this time. What stays at the forefront is honey, honey, golden and glorious honey. Full disclosure: I amp honey. The carnation is not too strong, more like a decorative flower behind the madam's ear, and the fruits add a bit of a tart (see what I did there?) element with a blush of red. First-class house indeed.

The house No. 112 Spring street is kept by Mrs. Palmer. It is a low establishment and frequented only by the lagends of the community. The dregs: muddied leather, ragged patchouli, cistus, fig, black clove, and rockrose spattered by rum and vetiver. Ah, vetiver. Why must my skin chemistry turn you into a perfume of ill repute? I love leather and couldn't wait to see the Victorian whorehouse version of it until you crashed the party. Even the clove here doesn't amp too much on me and I'm notorious for ruining things like Voodoo Queen because my skin will not love certain types of clove. The vetiver is the perpetrator stealing into the brothel and terrorizing the ladies. Trying to put the vetiver aside, I can smell that the leather and patchouli, splashed with rum to sweeten the toughness with a boozy kick, are the 19th century version of badass.

The house No. 99 is presided over by Mrs. Bunce. It contains twelve lady boarders. The house is well furnished, very pleasant, and is well stocked with beautiful girls. It is the most quiet and orderly house in Mercer street, and frequented by men of taste. Tobacco leaf, amber, sweet golden musk, blonde sandalwood, and hay sugar. I had such high hopes for this, from the tobacco leaf to the golden musk to the hay sugar and amber. I wanted it to be like an autumn sunset in a bottle. As an atmo it probably would be an autumn sunset in a bottle. The only thing I was leery of was (skin chemistry strikes again) the sandalwood. Sandalwoods that are blonde to white tend to screech on my skin, and unfortunately, this one gladly gobbled up all the gold gloriousness I could smell in the background. In an effort to get past the sandalwood takeover I tried picking out the other notes. The combination of those is like the last honeyed rays of sunlight falling upon the hay bales of a harvested field. Sigh.

The house No. 101 is of the third class, and contains nothing worthy of attention. A little shabby: dusty sandalwood and cold black tea. I was really, really hoping this would be like All Hallows' Eve 1917 on me, that same scent of dusty light beaming in through a window at dusk. Alas my skin chemistry and the sandalwood just couldn't agree with each other. I amp many types of sandalwood and sadly I amped this one to the point of it going from swirling dust to the strong dry wood I was so desperately hoping wouldn't rear its Cerberus head. The black tea was completely overshadowed. It is, however, and atmospheric scent, and if it was an atmo, I would probably love it!

Mrs. Dunbar conducts her house of assignation, at No. 44 Grove street in the best manner. The utmost decorum is observed, and every facility is furnished to those who call for passing the time in the most agreeable manner. This is a first class house. A decorous, agreeable experience: crystalline vanilla musk, freesia, and white tea. Be still my beating heart. The vanilla musk had me at first sniff out of the bottle, and it only blooms on my skin the longer it dries down. This is more of a translucent vanilla as opposed to the foodier ones, but there is still something irresistible that could almost be called "delicious" about it. Ethereal freesia and white tea swirl into what is really an enchanting, almost fairy-like scent that would make me think more of a Victorian virgin ghost bride than a mistress of ill repute. I'm conservative with what I get backups of, but I had to get a backup of this one.

The house at No. 157 is kept by Mrs Valentine, who has four ladies in attendance and ready to receive gentlemen into their tender arms. This is a second class house. Lacy white vanilla, mallow flower, white sandalwood, sweet oudh, and a drop of red musk. I might be a fan of everything dark and unholy, but I love this ethereal white scent. Clouds of fluffy vanilla and mallow amp on me, like a more sophisticated version of vanilla marshmallows. White sandalwood is an iffy note for my skin but thankfully this one behaved on my chemistry and acted more as a hint of a something sultry along with the oudh and tinge of red musk rather than a screeching white sandalwood banshee. Mrs. Valentine is somehow innocent and sexy all at once, even for a proprietress of a house of ill repute.

The Lake of Hate: blood musk, pink pepper, and neroli boiling in a seething mire of saffron. This had me at "blood musk", and as a big fan of Beth's blood accord, it lives up to any and all evil, sultry, blood-soaked expectations I had for it. It's basically the love child of Blood (GC) and Oceans of Love and Millions of Kisses bath oil. It has that ridiculously sexy blood note entwined with come-hither musk (there has to be red musk in here somewhere), but it's also so much more than that. Neroli gives it a heady, almost honeyed feel that receives a sensual warmth and flame from the saffron. If I hadn't known there was no honey note in this, I would have guessed there was. It's a scent that burns with two colors of fire. Whereas the blood musk and slight bite of pink pepper give this moon its red fury, the neroli and saffron swirl the Lake of Hate with molten gold. Seething and boiling indeed, but in a really good way.

When I first smelled this I immediately thought leather, paper and ink--which I was dead on about--but there was something else, something sinister int he background that I just couldn't figure out. I didn't have a list of notes in front of me at the time but actually reading them for the first time, I see what it is that I had a hard time putting my finger on. It was the ghostly chill. Kind of like Beth's snow note, but more....evil, if you will. I love anything that smells like old books, especially haunted old books, so this is right up my dark and twisted alley.

Henry Fuseli Mandrake root, apple blossom, dusty brown sandalwood, coconut milk, woodmusk, and soft leather. This is a contemplative scent, soft and dusty in a pleasant way. The first things I smell in the wet stage are the sandalwood and coconut milk. I love the uniqueness of this sandalwood note, which really sets itself apart form the too-dry sandalwoods and the sexy sandalwoods that often appear in Ars Amatoria and the Lupers. This one is unexpectedly comforting, like a furry blanket you've just discovered in the attic and now can't let go. There is an additional, earthier woodiness behind it, which I believe is the mandrake root, and a hint of very well-worn brown leather. The creamy coconut milk and gently floral apple blossom also wrap themselves around you like that furry blanket. It's something I would want to be wearing during a long rainy day, curled up on the sofa, oblivious to everything else except the book I'm reading.

I love the juxtaposition of cold snow and smoldering woodsmoke notes here. It's not masculine at all, but rather cool and fresh with a smoky undertone that reminds me of walking outside in the winter and breathing in air that smells of fireplaces and impending snow. Putting my synaesthesia to use here, it also does smell "gray" if that makes any sense at all. There might be some cool musks at play here to contribute to that. This morning it was gray and snowing, so I couldn't have picked a better scent to wear.

Wow. This does something really magical on me. Honey isn't listed as one of the notes but it smells honeyed--must be the wine. I love how the wheat and grain notes are just bordering on the edge of foody but not dessert per se. They're warm, comforting and golden, just like wheat and grains that had been soaked in an autumn sun. Sometimes pear notes get too sweet on my skin but not here. The pear adds just enough sweetness but never grows cloying. Did I mention it lasts for ages? I am completely in love.

I'm head over heels for this beaver! It's like the most luscious lemony cheesecake on the planet, and I do love me some lemon cheesecake. The cheesecake note is rich, creamy and vanillaed with the lemon giving it the right amount of tang to balance the sweetness. I used to be terrified of pear because it can sometimes go saccharine on me, but not here. The pear note, if anything, adds more interest and complexity and gives it a more autumnal feel than just lemon alone. I don't amp thyme, so I can't say that it's really prominent on me, but it's probably a contributing factor in rounding it out. This making me wonder if a similar (edible) cheesecake recipe would taste as good as this smells!