Helas

The Wiley Grasser is probably my favourite of the Sidney Sime line. Pine on its own is sharp and sinus-clearing; cotton candy is pleasant in an uncomplicated sort of way, but sometimes comes across as artificial or cloying; they play off each other very well and tone down each other's more extravagant qualities. The result is a pine scent that is not Christmassy or furniture polish-like at all, and a cotton candy that doesn't feel fake or have the usual unfortunate middle school associations. The wildflowers come out mostly on drydown, and smell pale and golden. The result is a scent that evokes old-fashioned watercolour illustrations of fairytale forests, all pink trees and pastel flowers. Delicate, feminine, childlike, but not mawkish.

I waffled a lot over ordering this one, because I was afraid it would be too sweet and too similar to the recently-released Atlas. I enjoy it a lot more than I thought I would. The Gorobble is a surprisingly smoky and spicy scent - they weren't kidding about the burnt part! I get warm cinnamon and clove and woodsmoke surrounding the caramelized sweetness of the mallow. It reminds me of Smokestack in the Steamworks line, but a little more sugary and without the vetiver. I prefer Smokestack, I think, but I sometimes get a hankering for sweets and this is the kind of sweet I like - old-fashioned and a little quirky.

I'm glad to see I'm not the only one getting the cheesecake association with this scent. Haunted doesn't smell like cheesecake exactly, but like the crust I've seen on a lot of cheesecakes - sort of a graham cracker scent with lemon and sugar. I expected a moody, atmospheric scent with a touch of mesmeric sexuality, but this is pretty much a straightforward foody comfort scent. Not bad, but not a favourite.

Ah, the infamous Saturnalia. It's been on my wishlist since I started collecting BPAL, but the reviews scared me off. Fortunately, the Lab seems quite happy to pass their unwanted vetiver samples on to me. I have found many favourites in this way. Saturnalia is dark, velvety, and very, VERY intense. I can definitely see how most people would be scared off by this scent. The vetiver gives its usual impression of overgrown vegetation, but it lacks its usual lively exuberance; here, it looms darkly and malevolently, like a garden of poisonous vines. The violet is a goth violet, aggressive and a little skanky. At the same time, there is something a little old-fashioned about this scent. Perhaps the associations of violet with powder, delicate candy, and ladies' drawing-rooms are coming into play. There is a kind of faint, ghostly beauty peering out here amongst all the poisonous vegetation. Saturnalia makes me think of crushed velvet drapes and ruined statues lying among abandoned gardens. Ugly but haunting. I can't see myself wearing it often, but I enjoy its evocative power.

What a cute little scent! Yellow Snowballs is bright and fizzy, like a winter-themed cocktail. It is so effervescent that it feels almost electrically charged. I get lemon and something that makes me think of a green grapefruit (perhaps yuzu, which I'm not familiar with?) along with some sweet vanilla and crisp sparkling ozone. Visual impression is neon yellow and green. The bright citrus and ozone that waft from my wrists jolt me awake and energize me when I'm tired or trying to motivate myself to get some exercise. As effective as a caffeinated soft drink, but much healthier.

Gelt is flawless, almost single-note cocoa. It's sweet and powdery and a little bitter, without the stomach-churning buttery richness of the Lab's milk chocolate note. The amber remains firmly in the background, imbuing the cocoa with a warm glow. Sweet, comforting, uncomplicated.

I'm French Canadian, and we celebrate a yearly Carnaval d'hiver in February, during which we engage in winter sports, ice sculpting contests, outdoor concerts, dégustation de tire d'érable sur la neige (maple taffy on snow) and also massive public drunkenness. Anyway, Öndurdis smells like Carnaval d'hiver to me - cool, crisp wind, evergreens, winter sports, and sweets. It's cold but joyfully exuberant. I get mostly evergreen, ozone, and cranberry on first application, but the cold and woodsy notes eventually fade, and are replaced by sweet vanilla and cranberry cream. Öndurdis is probably my favourite of the Yules this year, but I'm waffling over a bottle, since I wish the cold notes would stick around longer. While I enjoy the vanilla and cranberry cream phase, it is less evocative than the initial blast of crisp winter air. If I could find a way to hold on to the pine and ozone, it would definitely become one of my staple scents. As it is, I may just stick with my decant.

Winter Heavens' notes seemed evocative and beautiful. I had an inkling that the champaca and papyrus might make it too warm and tropical-smelling, however, and I was right. This just smells like heady jungle blossoms drooping in the heat to me. The cool, crisp aquatic notes that I hoped for are completely smothered by the champaca. It's not a bad scent, but it's so completely unlike what I expected that I can't help but feel disappointed. This was the Yule scent I looked most forward to, and I will probably end up swapping it.

I mainly expected white flowers and cool vanilla from Snow White - not my sort of thing, but I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. It actually smells like a pina colada smoothie to me, sweeter than a regular pina colada and without the booze. There is also an odd, inorganic, almost mineral vanilla note that wafts in and out. It is similar to the vanilla note in Black Opal, which smelled like Barbie crotch to me, but somehow I enjoy it in Snow White. It imparts a cool, detached, slightly inhuman beauty to the scent. My visual impression is a white granite angel statue holding a tropical drink with a little umbrella in it. Odd, quirky, totally unlike what I expected.

This was an extremely generous free bottle from the Lab. I would never have chosen it for myself, but I love it. Sweet, sensuous honey that does not go powdery, with a shadowy herbal undertone. The mood it evokes is like wandering in some dark, gloomy vegetal bower, with the scent of growing plants and feral sexuality in the background. It is somewhat similar to Tombeur, but lacks the woods, sharp lavender note, and complexity of Tombeur. As a result, it feels rawer, less sophisticated, but more primal and closer to nature. I definitely have room for both scents in my collection.

Leather Phoenix is what happens when two different perfumes are forced to share lodgings. There's a light, urban, sophisticated citrus cologne on the one hand, and a skanky, eccentric, sexually charged patchouli and leather blend on the other, and they are not on speaking terms with each other. They are both lovely and would probably be quite charming if taken on their own, but they simply don't gel with each other - at least, not for me. I was hoping for a blend similar to Tombeur, in which the dark sexual base notes are made more sophisticated by the sharp top note. Unfortunately, Leather Phoenix is just a disjointed mess on me.

Sonnet d'automne smells like the autumnal version of Lyonesse to me. That's indeed high praise, since Lyonesse is my favourite scent. The leaf note smells raw and vegetal, almost like freshly cut grass but a little minty. The initial application is all leaves. The vanilla note emerges on dry-down, and has a slight alcoholic tinge to me, almost like fresh vanilla extract. The leaves recede eventually and Sonnet d'automne becomes a faintly aquatic vanilla. The scent evokes a pale, washed-out, poetic image of autumn - like falling leaves observed through a frosted windowpane. The similarity to Lyonesse is strong, but Sonnet d'automne feels paler and more cool-toned to me, while Lyonesse is bright and glowing. I still prefer Lyonesse, but Sonnet d'automne is also lovely and has earned a spot in my bottle collection.

Pine scents are usually cool and green, but The Night Hag Visiting the Lapland Witches is a warm, brown pine. The wood note here is smoky and gentle, like the last glowing embers of a campfire. The nutmeg adds extra, spicy warmth. Musk is not listed in the ingredients, but I get an impression of musky animal fur. This is a great winter comfort scent, the kind of scent you would wear for curling up indoors with hot chocolate while cold winds blow outside. I get that the titular Fuseli painting is supposed to be menacing, but there is a certain ambiguity in the painting to me - we can't tell whether the witch means to sacrifice the child, or is invoking some arcane healing ritual. The scent seems to take the second line of interpretation to me; it evokes comfort, warmth and hope in difficult times. Gorgeous and my favourite of the Halloween collection.

Sprinklecake is aggressively sweet. The butter, sugar, and caramel are drippy and gooey and tentacular. It's great for everyone who wants to smell as though they've just been attacked by an army of angry six-foot tall mutant cupcakes and barely escaped with their lives. (There seems to be a market for this. Who am I to judge?) Everyone else - run like hell. They haven't taken the reservoir yet.

The Zoom seems to be a playful and quirky little fellow, and his scent does him justice. There is a grassy, bitter note - the helichrysum? - that makes me think of dry grass and wildflowers. The cedar is noticeable and smells very green to me, not like dry wood or furniture. I don't get any lime or dragon's blood, but I could swear there is some white sandalwood, even though it's not listed in the ingredients. There is not much sweetness in this scent, but somehow it does not come across as harsh. It smells like nature often does, a little alien but not hostile. My overall impression is of a meadow in late summer. Parched yellow grass, a hot, dry wind, scattered wildflowers growing around the stumps of trees. Little wild creatures scurrying in their holes.

Vice has an appealing simplicity, but it suffers from being almost identical to another BPAL scent, Akuma. Like Akuma, it is primarily an orange blossom scent, but with a background of syrupy cherry and dark chocolate instead of tart raspberry candy. I prefer the tangy kick of Akuma, and I'm not big enough a fan of these candy-like scents to need more than one, so I will be rehoming my imp.

Endymion is a pretty, ethereal, ultra-feminine scent. It feels very pastel, all pink and mauve and baby blue. Unfortunately, the combination of Lily of the Valley and pear is reading as French soap to my nose. Even if I could avoid the soap associations, however, I don't think I would use this scent. I'm somewhat androgynous and I feel a bit like a hippo in a tutu wearing it. So it's off to some lovely girly girl who will get more mileage out of it than I could.

Paramatman is pretty much single-note sandalwood on me, but it's the prettiest sandalwood I have ever smelled. It's delicate and slightly smoky, and lacks the harshness and dryness that it sometimes has. There is just a tiny waft of tart orange blossom. This blend reminds me a lot of Love's Torments, one of my favourites - whereas Love's Torments is the Perfect Vetiver, this is the Perfect Sandalwood. I feel like I'm walking in some solemn, prehistoric forest somewhere in Tibet. Simple, elegant, almost dreamlike.

Lurid has, in my opinion, the most well-written description of the whole General Catalogue. I am terribly vulnerable to marketing and had to try it just on that basis. Unfortunately, on me, it is neither luminous, nor sensationalistic, nor hazy. I just get a subdued, lady-like lavender with a slight fruitiness rounding it out. I am beginning to wonder if my skin eats ozone, since I've tried a few blends lately in which the promised ozone did not show. (That would be unfortunate, since I seem to be one of the very few fans of that note around here.) I tried two different samples of Lurid, since I was heartbroken by the first and hoped that the failure might be simply be because the imp was aged. The first was all lavender and very faint. The second was a bit brighter and louder, but still much duller and less complex than I hoped for. I'm afraid Lurid is just not for me.

Like many North Americans of my generation, I have an interest in Japanese cinema and manga, and I would love to visit Tokyo one day. I looked forward to trying Neo-Tokyo because the description made it sound evocative of the experimentalism, the eccentricity, and the vibrant, energetic art culture of Japan. Unfortunately, Neo-Tokyo ends up smelling like a rather generic East-Asia-inspired perfume, like one of those cheap cherry blossom sprays they sell at the drugstore. I get cherry blossom as a dominant note, with a little bamboo and orchid. No ozone, which breaks my heart, since I was looking forward to all that metal and electricity. No fruits either. I'm wondering if the missing elements are due to the perfume being aged (most of the extant Neo-Tokyo bottles must be fairly aged by now, and ozone and citrus notes generally fade over time) or if it's my chemistry, or if the scent itself is just not for me. I'll keep my sample, since I would probably regret swapping it away, but I will not be looking for more.

Vinland is a cool and bracing Northern floral. The wild roses definitely dominate the blend; they are a little sharp and feel cold to me, as though their petals were laced with frost. The "crisp Northern air" is evoked through a faint ozone note. I've taken to wearing Vinland early in the morning to wake myself up, and it's as effective as a cup of coffee for that jolt of almost electric coolness. It feels like going for a walk on an early Canadian spring morning, when all the snow has melted and the wildflowers have begun to bloom, but they are covered with the last night's frost. I'm not usually a fan of florals, especially when they feature a sharp rose note, but I enjoy Vinland and will probably look for more once my imp runs out.

OMFG. I need to have a Bjork scent! And a Nick Cave scent, and an Eugene Hutz scent. at some of TastyMischief's recommendations. I'm not sure about Richelieu and Haendel, but maybe Lady Macbeth for Marilyn Monroe? It has a kind of robust, femme sensuality to it.

How about Gennivre, l'artiste du diable: Hyson tea leaf, pale mint, sugar cane, orange blossom, lemongrass, and honey. It's a minty, lemony, playful tea scent. Or maybe Theodosius the Legerdemain: Earl Grey tea leaves, a white fougere, jasmine leaf, pearlescent white musk, and vanilla bean. I haven't tried it, but reviews seem to say it's a more masculine and sophisticated take on Dorian. And Whoso List to Hunt: Sensual brown musk, rich amber, English rose, oak bark, and moss. Breaking away from the tea theme, but it smells like the quintessential English rose garden to me. I've tried White Rabbit and, to be honest, I wouldn't recommend it. It smelled like mildew and sour cream on me, and judging from the reviews I'm far from the only person to have this reaction.

I love the idea of smelling like wine. Unfortunately, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab seems to share the same operational definition of wine as an evangelical communion deacon - which is to say, that it can adequately be replaced by Welchs grape juice. Most of the Lab's wine scents have turned to sugary grape drink on me, and Midnight Kiss is no exception. The wine note in this one is particularly egregious, artificial and candy-like in its sweetness, with none of the slightly bitter, decadent booziness that I was hoping for. The chocolate amps the sweetness even more and gives the blend a dusty feel. I get no sandalwood or patchouli whatsoever. I was hoping for a woodsy, grown-up cocoa and wine blend, something like Velvet meets the Zadok Allen Vineyard. I got Cadbury mixed with Welchs, which may sound like a good idea until you actually try it. Lasts forever and throws like a mofo. I ended up washing this one off.

Mircalla, Countess Karnstein is from an extremely lesboerotic 19th vampire story by, I believe, Sheridan Le Fanu. But yeah.... One of the little disappointments I have had so far with BPAL is with the lack of lesbian scents. It would be totally awesome to have a series based on historical lesbians or Sarah Waters characters