Invidiana

I love pumpkin blends. Adore them. Wear them year-round. This one does not disappoint, with a pumpkin note that isn't overly spicy and actually reminds me of pumpkin beer (I guess it should, since it's supposed to be a fermented pumpkin) on a bed of surprisingly sexy leather, tobacco and woods. There is sweetness here, mainly from the pumpkin and tobacco, but just enough to balance it out. This isn't a "dusty" blend at all, at least on me. Another win from this series.

This starts with a generous bite of peppermint, but don't judge it so easily. After the initial clearing of the nostrils, the peppermint slowly but surely backs off and reveals a playful, candylike combo of tart fruity raspberry, sweet honey and gentle florals. The raspberry and honey especially amp over time, and something about it ends up reminding me of The Confectionary. It's going to be great for those hot summer days when I want something sweet and refershing at the same time.

This smells like the embodiment of exactly how sexy David Bowie is as Jareth, bulge and all. This is definitely in the Dorian family, kind of like a hybrid of Dorian and Mysterious Warning. It actually doesn't smell very lilac-dominant, at least on me; the notes I get the most are the vanillic tonka and ethereal white musk grounded by mysterious oude and second-skin black leather with light florals wafting around. Instant love.

This calls to mind a Smashing Pumpkins song of the same name that is very near and dear to me (well it's actually Behold! The Nightmare! but close enough), because they both have the same dreamlike quality. I must admit that at first I didn't know what to make of it; the lavender was trying to hold its own, the other notes all seemed to be sparring for dominance and there was a an underlying sharp edge, I believe from the mandrake root. However, this changes entirely after a couple of minutes. The lavender softens, supported by the depth of blackcurrant, and the most gorgeous, slightly (but pleasantly) powdery melange of champaca flower and orchid on a soft bed of oakmoss comes through. I think the type of myrrh used here is also contributing to that dreamy powdery feel. The champaca and orchid also have that heady sensuality that makes it impossible to associate this with a childlike dream involving glitter and rainbows. It is potent, mysterious and hypnotic, almost opiate. If you took an innocent, almost "baby" scent and tinted it with shadows, that's what this is--a perfect evocation of corrupted dreams.

With vetiver and rose in cahoots again I thought this would end up being an epic fail but I was all sorts of wrong. This is not a dominating, masculine vetiver that bulldozes everything in its path. This is more of a smooth, woody and slightly sweet variety like that in The Music of Erich Zahn, which lends a certain darkness and depth to this blend but doesn't overpower it. The honey here reminds me very much of the golden honey with floral undertones in Honey hair gloss, and I'm delighted to see two notes of love that don't show up that often--red patchouli, which gives it a warm sensuality, and black rose. This isn't a really dry or nostril-piercing rose as some can be on me but really velvety and voluptuous. It's a scent as complex and mysterious as Baudelaire himself. I've gone from giving this one a leery eye to putting it at the top of my bottle list.

I really mean it when I say this is the only, and I mean the only, BPAL with grandiflorum jasmine that did not go to piss of cat on my skin. The jasmine was a little strong wet and is still a prominent element on the drydown, but my chemistry actually allows this one to show off the sensual beauty of the flower that I've been missing with all the jasmines I turned to some variety or another of feline urine. It's actually closer to a cross of gardenia and tiare (which is a variant of jasmine), heady and sensual and pretty damn gorgeous. The honey and apricot are right behind it, sweet but not cloying. I get a little of the vanillic undertone of the tonka, a hint of sexy patchouli, the additional warmth of skin musk. I can detect a bit of downy orris in there, and while I don't distinguish quince per se (and I am well acquainted with what quince smells like, having eaten many of them) it is probably contributing a bit of a tart counterbalance to the sweet elements. I am stunned by the success of this one, to say the least.

I initially get an herbal burst of clary sage and violet leaf from this, but they take a backseat as it dries down and allow the beeswax, woods and resins to take center stage. I do get some lovely beeswax from this, much like that in The Lights of Men's Lives, and I do like the shadowy resinous backdrop. However, the Bony Moon-esque white sandalwood is the decisive factor in keeping this from being bottleworthy; I amp it considerably, and it's just much too dry for me.

I thought this would be much boozier than it actually came out on me--the drydown on my skin was actually pretty herbal. I like it much better wet because I got that nice boozy rum on top of rich deep woods, but for some reason as it dried the rum and woods faded considerably, overshadowed by bay and thyme with a little citrusy orange peel. It's alright, and for once the cedar doesn't go to cedar of death on my skin, but for booze and wood I think I'll stick to my Banned in Boston.

This is predominantly black tea and anise on me; I have to really strain to pick up the goji berry and oakmoss and anything floral. I imagine it would be great for someone who prefers black tea as a dominant note--it' a very true licorice-infused black tea with a bit of an earthy undertone from the oakmoss--but not really my thing.

This is not the black musk from Storyville or The Deserted Village or Enraged Groundhog Musk that hates me with the vengeance of an angry god. This isn't even the black musk from Black Temple Burlesque Troupe that I had to age the hell out of before the dry powderiness got toned down. There's a new black musk scent in town, and it's sexy as fuuuuuu

I honestly thought this wouldn't work. I mean, I amp cinnamon to hell and, as you can see, don't exactly have the best history with black musk. However, this scent has turned that notion on its head and made it do the Electric Slide. This black musk is slightly powdery, yes, but not the chalky powdery or plastic powdery types that have failed on me before. This is a soft and sensual type of powdery like--dare I say it?--Unseelie, though the cinnamon makes it decidedly more sensual than Unseelie. The cinnamon here is like no other I've smelled. It's not nostril-piercing spice or red hots or even the bakery sort of cinnamon that is the only one of the three I tolerate; this is a different animal in itself. It has a spicy edge, yes, but a tamed spicy edge that is closer to the heat of a warm musk (especially red) than a cinnamon stick. It must be the type of cinnamon. I am not just surprised, I am floored. Must have a bottle!

I thought this would just be another grapefruit-dominant blend, but was I ever wrong. It's prominent wet but actually becomes very faint in the drydown and allows an array of heady, sensual notes to shine through. I get a lot of gorgeous ylang ylang and muguet mingling with warm fig on an ethereal bed of white musk, with the softest hint of ginger. I think the ambergris contributes to the warmth and sensuality while the jonquil, not a terribly strong scent, melds with the other florals smoothly. Khus is actually an alternate name for vetiver but I can't sense much of it, maybe just a slight woody undertone. I would put this in the same scent family as Blue Morpho and Beanman & Beanwoman. Gorgeous and turning into a bottle.

I can detect some lovely citrus and tuberose here--that is, if I get under the yerba mate of doom. The first (and last) time I tried yerba mate tea I promptly spit it out, and while I had hope for the other elements to rise above it here, it pretty much stomps all over them much like lemon verbena with what dries down to a soapy undertone. Sigh.

This is mostly sweet-tart cranberry and red musk on me, with a bit of peach in the background. It starts off very much like SweetTarts before becoming a more realistic fruit scent on the drydown but still wiht a bit of an uplifting, almost effervescent quality from the cranberry. I can detect the slightest tinge of coconut if I concentrate hard enough. Pretty inoffensive, but I don't think this is going to be a bottle for me.

I expected this to be primarily incensey, but it has an unexpectedly delicious bite. The warm , even sensual, woods here recieve a moderately sweet (but cloying) coating of amber and get a comforting bready feel from the grains and hops. There is something of a slight lemony undertone, from what exactly I'm not sure, but I think it will mellow with aging. Overall this is like the smell of fresh-baked bread taken to new heights, like grown-up French toast. Bottle for me, definitely.

On my skin this actually reminds me of a cooler version of Street Festival. The passion flower in this smells very similar, maybe a tinge more floral, than the passionfruit in that, and amps miles over the other notes. I barely get any peach at all though I do sense something vaguely musky. It's not unpleasant, but I was really hoping for more cherry blossom and tuberose.

I am admittedly picky with rose, but the more this keeps drying down, the more I am loving it. The pink rose is gentle and not overy dry or dominant, balanced with the feminine pink peony I recognize from Lady in Speckled Pink Kimono and a springy touch of lilac, all pleasantly sweetened by the white honey and given a certain soft creaminess by the rice flower. Bottle for sure.

The linen note here reminds me of The Coldest Evening of the Year, which I love, so I initially had high hopes for this. However, I feel the white sandalwood ultimately ends up too dry on my skin, like that same bone-dry white sandalwood in Bony Moon, and amps much too much to allow the nicotiana and dragonsblood to shine through. I think I'll stick to Coldest Evening for now.

This wasn't one of the Shungas I was expecting to be bottleworthy, mainly because of the honeysuckle, but it's beautiful. I think it's the type of honeysuckle here, maybe because of its combination with some other element, or maybe because of its own nature, that seems to come off like white honey rather than that detestable flower that reminds me of hornets and wasps. The pear lends a mellow fruitiness, not at all candylike, and may also be responsible for the "honeyed" feel of this. The sandalwood musk doesn't make it warm as sandalwood and musk often tend to do but complements the cool elements and gives them something of an ethereal sensuality. There is also a hint of pleasant floral powderiness that I personally enjoy. Yes, this is definitely turning into a bottle.

This one is very fresh and uplifting, much like being at an outdoor festival in the springtime. It doesn't go off on me, but my skin ends up mostly amping the passionfruit with the grapefruit a close second, with a hint of blackcurrant and a very small tinge of violet. I really wanted more play from the other various elements, especially the plum honey, benzoin, vanilla and tobacco, rather than a mostly passionfruit/grapefruit scent, but I guess my chemistry isn't allowing for that.

I've never smelled an actual kudzu vine before, but after being told by Izile it smelled something like grape candy, that was what I came into this expecting. However, the moment I put this on I get a rush of vetiver (or something that smells much like it) instead. As it dries down the vetiver calms to my relief, but just when I think the coast was clear for honey and ginger cream the rest of the way through, the gingergrass asserts itself much like lemongrass does on my skin, except more gingery. The honey and ginger cream fight for dominance but ultimately can't slay the gingergrass dragon. I think without the gingergrass it could have been a win on me. Sad.

I very nearly got a bottle of this unsniffed, but ultimately backed off because of the cardamom and cumin. Despite all the elements here that appear like they'll equal a win on me, the damned cumin is not cooperating with my chemistry. I can definitely pick it out like the cumin in Mexican food (which is the one and only reason I avoid Mexican places when going out to dinner), and I also think it's corrupting the other elements by making them smell like--believe it--printer ink (!) on me rather than thick glorious resins and honey. I thought I'd squeak by the cumin here like I did with Pallas Athene, but it wasn't meant to be.

I amp cinnamon. To hell. Which is why it's not much of a surprise that despite all the wonderful warm, sensual elements I can detect in the wet stage of this--most notably the patchouli and red musk backed by thick resins--it ultimately dries down to cinnamon gum with a tinge of red musk. Damn my skin chemistry.

Eanach Dhuin. Dead ringer for Irish Spring, on my skin at least. Lincoln Tunnel Vortex wasn't too far off either.

We used to grow these huge fluffy peonies out back when I was a kid so this will always have some nostalgic connection for me. I remember sticking my nose in them and just inhaling, and the peony note here reminds me of just that: an airy yet sweet and unmistakably pink floral, a "pink" scent in the way that sweet pea and tea rose smell "pink" but a different type of pink fragrance than either. I hope I am making some semblance of sense so far. Now I cannot imagine this delicate scent being blended with a heavy buttery vanilla, but vanilla orchid is its perfect match. It adds that creamy sensual sweetness that I recognize from scents like Moonshine and Mist and Opuhi. The more it dries down, the more the vanilla orchid emerges to entwine with the peony into one harmonious creamy pink whole, thus the more I keep falling for it, right to my knees like that lady in the pink kimono.

I definitely see the similarity to The Arabian Dance here, especially with the leather and coffee which are the two dominant notes on me. Surprisingly this isn't very carnationy on my skin, and I often tend to amp the unholy carnation of doom but it manages to stay subdued. At first I thought it was that which was adding a bit of sweetness, but then realized it was the tobacco, most kinds of which manage to take on an almost caramelly quality on my skin, but there mustn't be that much of it because it's only a tinge of sweetness under the leather and coffee. This isn't unpleasant but I much prefer The Arabian Dance for its additional sweet elements which tone down the masculinity of the leather and coffee that really amps in this one.