Naamah_Darling

Sweet, sugared fruit and light musk are the dominant notes here. This is sweet and tangy. On, it's the smell of fruit ripe to splitting, dripping with syrup, and the sweet intoxicating scent of huge pink roses. This comes as a bit of a surprise, considering the rose isn't really detectable to me in the bottle. Apricot seems to be the dominant fruit note, rose and orchid the dominant flower notes, and everything else is cruising along in the background. This doesn't smell that much like it, but it reminds me of Fae in approach. The fruit/floral/musk construction is parallel in nature, but Yerevan goes about it differently. Apricot is naturally a dirtier scent than peach, which it resembles. Here, what must be the roots pair with the apricot to give it a little depth that, in Fae, is supplied by the oakmoss. At first the sweetness is almost overpowering. This is a scent that would do well diluted! As it settles back, it becomes less about the individual notes fighting to overpower one another and melts into one smooth aroma: imagine a hot wind coming out of an orchard laden with fresh and fallen fruits, an orchard circled by wildly blossoming flowers. It's heady, rich, and almost too much to bear. The drydown is more subtle, musk and white florals with a faint whiff of fruit, as though the overzealous sweetness and the wild rose smell have finally burned themselves out. It's not an overpowering floral, though; I can't typically wear either orchid or iris, but this is staying stable and not turning to powder. Fans of fruit scents, especially the thicker ones, would do well to look into Yerevan. It's very well balanced and very beautiful.

Hmm! In order: pomegranate, pear, sticky fruit, some sweet flower, and rose. Wet in the bottle, it's interesting, but maybe a bit perfume-y. Oh my, though, once it goes on, it's quite light. Pear dominates, and a sweet, round wood scent with a lick of green from the fir. The florals are quiet in the background, as though closed for the night. The edge of greenness gives this a cool depth that saves it from being overwhelming. This is a refreshing, feminine perfume with quite a bit of charm, and even though floral/fruit medleys don't do it for me, this is quite delightful.

This is just plain weird in the bottle – there's that Lab wine note, which is very grape-y, but here it's saturated with herbs and chased with honey. There's an afterscent, a halo, of warm incense. Intriguing, rather pretty. On my skin it becomes a disaster of epic proportions. Immediately the green herbal notes come out in a rush, the wine goes to vinegar, and the whole thing smells sour and bitter, like I threw up on myself. It is truly, truly foul, and it does not just rank on the "least favorite BPAL" list of scents, but also on the "most foul things I have smelled, ever." It actually triggered my almost-nonexistent gag reflex for a second, and after years of dealing with snake poop and gurged rodents, that's not easy. This doesn't improve after giving it twenty minutes, it only gets more unpleasant. Since it's making me feel sick, I'll be washing it off now and sending it to the swaps. I understand plenty of people like this blend, and from its smell in the bottle I can see how it could be very nice and very interesting on someone with a chemistry that likes it. Just . . . on me, it's truly vile.

This blend smells of citrus and sandalwood and amber in the bottle, a fresh and yet simultaneously old scent. The combination of citrus plus sandalwood is a bit cedary. It doesn't smell cedary on, though. It's all sandalwood and amber with a fine and fleeting overlay of citrus fruits and a touch of sweet powder. The musk fills the gaps in and brings this to body temperature. This is a beautiful, fragile scent that I'm all too afraid isn't going to work on me because of the strength of the sandalwood. It settles to a musky, amber, sandalwoody blend; my skin eats citrus, and though this supposedly has rose in it, it's a low, spiced rose, which means it blends almost invisibly into the sandalwood and amber. It's not assertive at all, and is barely there. This never goes to sandalwood skank on me, so it's either a light sandalwood or it's adequately offset by the amber and the other notes. The citrus is gone completely, and it's just sort of a warm, incensey, spicy smell. Lovely.

This smells a lot like the new generation of body scents devised by sexier companies like Victoria's Secret and Bath & Body Works. It's rich, deep, soft, and sensual, a combination of floral and perfume notes that is both original and traditional at the same time. In the bottle the jasmine is the topnote, On, it smells strongly of the florals mixed with the citruses. This is, and I hate to say it, a lot like my grandmother's perfume. She wore White Shoulders, so it must be the amber and jasmine. On, the amber really comes out, and the jasmine deepens. The musk adds a low, hollow warmth to it, gives it some room, even as the bergamot and tangerine close it up again by providing a tart topnote. This isn't what I would call citric so people like me who don't care for citrus scents needn't be afraid; bergamot is more fruity than orangey, and the tangerine is its usual polite self. The carnation comes in second here, right with the lily of the valley, and they both come forward in the blend as the bergamot and tangerine die back. The throw is jasmine, lily, and amber. I'm only barely getting the rose; it's piggybacking on the jasmine, warming everything up and giving it a touch of romance without overwhelming. The bergamot lingers giving it a little spice, but it's an influence more than an outright scent toward the end. Overall, this isn't too strong on any one thing. It's mostly jasmine and amber, which means it works well even on me.

They are not kidding. This is a very, very complicated scent. Lemon and rose front this, with a rich draft of lily, orris, and a little violet underneath. It smells at once soapy and perfumey, but there is still an overripeness to it. This is a kaleidoscope of scents, predominantly white, pink, and purple. It's bright, intense, and slightly standoffish; this isn't a soft or cuddly scent, nor is it earthy. It's strongly floral. It goes on even more floral; the lily really comes out, and, yes, wow, the wisteria, which smells like my father's backyard. It's all washed with a trace of lemon, like sunshine. It's a little softer here, and very feminine. Romantic. I can see a beautiful girl wearing this in her ringleted hair. It's really quite lovely, even if it's absolutely not for me. Venice has respectable throw, be careful of this one in company. This is one I'd recommend diluting to get the full effect, and also to lessen its potency. This is the scent of something at its height, the woman who will never be any more beautiful than she is today. I like it very much, and would love to smell it on someone else.

Citrus lemon/grapefruit. Hint of some rare perfume. This is really, really interesting. The grapefruit is a very true and juicy scent, but under it is the perfumey sweetness of amber and the delicate aroma of white tea. Both of those blend seamlessly into the woody bottom notes. The leather here doesn't stand alone; it's mixed up with the other scents and sits somewhere between the amber and the wood. I don't smell the mint at all. This is complicated, busy, intricate. It doesn't smell sexy to me, but it does smell confident and assertive. And it is, indeed, an admirable fusion of new and old-style perfumes. It smells very modern at first, but the drydown is more traditional.

This is a rich and rather soapy lavender tinged with some sweet, candylike floral and laced with red spice. The lotus really comes out on my skin, a bloom of sweet, sweet floral. The spice is fleeting and hard to pin down – I can't tell if that's cloves or cinnamon or allspice or nutmeg. It's quite faint. This is low-key, distinguished, and just a little mysterious. Feminine and deep, soft and low, it's like a caressing hand or a chance meeting. The scent of serendipity. The woman you see once and never forget. The smell of mutual attraction and no shared language. After a while, the lavender gets pretty skunky on me, but until then it's very nice even though it isn't my thing. I have to admire it, it's a very well-crafted scent. Paris is very pretty. It's unfortunately not for me.

In the bottle, sweet rose and lily combine with incense to make a smell like . . . sweet dill pickle chips. Yeah. Those are lilies, all right. Thankfully, that's gone once it hits my skin, and this becomes a tender floral with an underpinning of polished wood and a rarified air of frankincense that is ever-so-slightly musty. You know that fine, powdery ash that incense leaves behind? This smells a little bit like that. Dry and woody, and faintly floral. A sorrowful, funereal scent, yes, but also a thoughtful, peaceful one. It grows woodier as the scent progresses. The pickle smell flickers in and out – it's not very pronounced, but it is certainly very odd. There's a sweet smell here, like melting beeswax candles, or that faintly sweet air you get in a place where there's a lot of flower and incense traffic. But it's also an empty, roomy smell. Kind of . . . unearthly. I can't say I find it very comforting. It's actually rather barren, for all that the flowers try to cozy up to you. The pickle scent never really goes away, sadly, and it's only at the extreme tail end of its weardown that it becomes something I would willingly dose myself with. At that point, though, it's a heartbreakingly sad mix of faint lily and incense that is at once celestial and dark. I wish it smelled like that from the start! Damn my crazy chemistry!

It's really hard to describe this in the bottle . . . it's quite sandalwoody, with a distinct cedar veneer, yet the two do not blend. It smells a bit like Coke, or some kind of cola. There's something swirling in between the cedar and the sandalwood that's only waiting to come out on my skin. On, it becomes cedar and spice, the sandalwood underlying it in an almost root-beery bloom. I like this, it's woody and barky and rather manly, but not in a sweaty, animal way. It's dry, smoky, and not at all sweet. I can't smell the lotus in it at all. There might be peppermint in here, topping out that root-beer note. Fascinating. As it ages, it smooths to a tangle of smoky, root-beery, woody, spicy notes – it sounds like a hopeless melange, and it is quite varied and unorthodox, and yet, it's very pleasant. Not that refined, but quite cerebral and very serene. Not really for me, but quite likeable nevertheless.

Almond, almond, almond! For those of you who've never tried an almond scent, almond perfumes smell like cherries. Like cherry ice cream, actually. Tasty! Once it goes on, the patchouli and bergamot come out, right up there with the settled-down almond note. This is an amazing scent, deep and layered and very dark, yet sparkling with an effervescent brightness that must be the jasmine and the sunny lift of the bergamot. The throw is . . . oh, God. The throw is lilies and jasmine, with an underlying warm waft of incense. It's a smell that demands you take deep, greedy breaths. Up close, it's very different. Much darker. I think the lilies are too much, though. It smells sour for a while, tart. Some florals do that to me. It's not a perfect match with my chemistry, sadly, but even if it's not perfect on my skin, I'll save it as a room scent, because it smells just heavenly. A perfect evocation of Uruk's majesty, a sensual and sacred blend with more than a touch of regal splendor.

A reformulation and modernization of a true Classical Greek perfume, myrrhine: voluptuous myrrh, golden honey, red wine, and sweet flowers. The honey tops this, a sweet, throaty, thick smell tinged with myrrh. The honey smooths lower in the mix when it's applied, the flowers come up along with a hint of wine. This is so rich, and so full-bodied, that it's a scent to wear with caution. At once sweet and fleshy, definitely voluptuous, I'd call it more womanly than masculine, but there's no reason it wouldn't work well on a man, provided he was okay with smelling like a honeybee. The flowers come out more as it dries, but oddly, they aren't powdery or fake. It's a very true flower scent, like small wildflowers blooming in profusion. The wine never gets too strong; it stays civil throughout and remains in the background all twined up with the myrrh. On drydown, it's a very sweet honey scent, perhaps a little overpowering on my chemistry, or I'm just not in the mood for it. I don't know that I am screaming for a bottle, but I think people who have enjoyed the Lab's honey scents might want to investigate this one. It smells less sugary and modern and more natural and wild than most honey scents.

Ozone/aquatic notes blend with a dash of mint and a faint wisp of flowers in this cold and remote scent. On, this is intensely reminiscent of something I can't quite place; one of the Salon scents, I'm certain. There is an earthy note here, but it's cold, slaty. The incense is faint. Overall this is briny and cold, yet pleasant. A brooding, sort of depressing scent, sad, but very pretty.

Good heavens! This is brilliant and splendid! First, a bright and shining musk, combined with the fresh and almost citric elemi and the warm promise of amber, and perhaps that is a bit of the moss giving it an edge . . . oh, this is bright! This is only a tad like Sol Invictus, really, but it has that same sense of wide-awake brilliance. Yes, there's greenery there, too, most definitely. On . . . This is really perfume-y and traditional, but it's so pretty. The throw is a billowing, thick, radiant cloud of misty amber, sandalwood, and musk, with a tantalizing hint of vanilla swimming around the bottom. Closer, it's more traditional, and slightly more masculine. I'll go ahead and say that men and women both could wear this; whether you smell it as a man's scent or a woman's really depends on which way you tend to interpret incense notes, which are netural to me. This has a solid base of incense, but it's overlaid with crisp topnotes, the lily, the elemi, the moss, that keep it keen and in sharp focus. As it ages, the amber notes and the mossy note take precedence – a queer mixture of aquatic and ecclesiastical. This has the character of a horizon seen from the deck of a trading ship – a shore of autumn trees and towering mountains, with a city of golden towers rearing by a brightly sunlit sea. This isn't hazed with mist, it's perfectly clear but somehow distant, as though seen through a captain's glass. As evocative and rich as the tolling of faraway bells.

First, the plum: gummy, thick and sugary; then, the musk and patchouli: hand in hand, rich and dirty; last, the flowers: sweet and pale. This is the sort of scent that shouldn't work, just shouldn't work, but it does. I love this. On, it's a sweet medley of dark fruits and rich, earthy notes. This isn't a loudly ill-behaved scent. It's smart, quiet, dark, and it bides its time. There's an aura of smug satiety here, like the trouble's over and the deliriously depraved afterglow is just beginning. I'm very glad I sprung for a partial bottle of this; it's a lovely scent, and one that I hope I can find more of.

Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black leather, dusty rags, and wooden switches. Red musk and a flash of leather are in the bottle. On, it's leather with a chaser of naughty musk. There's dust, and raw wood, too, like freshly-peeled switches, indeed! The wood scent dies down a little, and the scent becomes less sweet and more spicy. Leather, dust, and sexed up musk. Oh, baby, you know it turns me on when you talk dirty to me. The name isn't sexy. The image of a fat red troll dressed in sooty rags and delusions of grandeur isn't sexy. But I will stand on the mountaintops and sing it on high: this is a sexy scent, warm like a spanked bottom and just as playful as it is mean. I like this a lot, and it's going on my "must have" bottles list. Very, very tasty! I suddenly feel like I've been a very bad girl! "Instrument of Santa's wrath," by the way, is a phrase just as awesome as Squeez Cheez.

This is fun! It's a musty sort of smell at first, until my nose wakes up and says "WOW!" What a lovely scent – this is earthy patchouli and oak wood with a tinge of soft sweetness from the pomegranate, berries and vanilla. The pepper picks things up a bit. Gives it a frisk. On, the tobacco comes out with the patchouli. I'm not sure at first whether I like this. This is a first; usually the tobacco doesn't smell like "smoker" to me, but this rather does. And there's a piney note there, with the pepper, making this razzy and very busy. This is dirty, dirtier than Trick #1. I like it almost as much. It's certainly different! I can't help but smell this as though it were a body scent, it's a very personal smell, less a perfume than an odor. It's undeniably sexy, but in terms of something I'd want to smell like, it smells too unwashed. Like, this is how a city werewolf would smell after a night of slumming, going from alley to alley switching shapes, gorging on trash and chasing cats in one shape, then slouching around in seedy bars and f**king his brains out in the other. If Trick #1 stands on the streetcorner advertising hot, filthy sex, Trick #2 sits in the corner and licks its balls. As it mellows, it's more spicy – the pepper and the fruit smell a bit cinnamony together, and less like B.O. I like it a lot in this phase. It's actually very manly, which I would not have expected at all looking at the ingredients.

Soft rather than sharp, this is beautiful in the bottle. It's musky with a smooth dash of vanilla and the sweetness of ginger and slow honey. On, it's unspeakably sexy. Leather doesn't dominate, it accentuates, the chief notes are still musk and spice. There's a trace of sweetness here that's definitely floral, but the notes are not at all dominant. They're just there to soften this up. This is "trick" in the sense of "turning tricks." "Vice-driven profitability" is just a pretty term for "prostitution," and this is a really slutty perfume. I adore it. Should come with a free eyepatch and a pair of fishnets. Even the husband approves: stops dead five feet away and says "You smell gorgeous." The fact that I was naked when he said this should tell you how good it must have smelled for a nose-deaf horndog to mention it before saying something about my boobs.

This is a yummy, warm, candylike scent in the bottle, rich and redolent of sugared fig, coconut, and butter, with just a whisk of orange and mint in the background. I like foody scents, but I don't know about this one . . . it's very powerful and candylike. First up is a figgy coconut scent overlaid with a smooth orange glaze. There are spices here, too, giving this a touch of sophistication that it wouldn't otherwise have. And somewhere in there is an elusive hint of mint. This is likeable, lickable, but very foody. An overstuffed, lush, greedy scent that isn't so much sexy as just plain tempting.

I have heard that Beth was sort of thinking about Lucius Malfoy when she formulated this, and what with my thing for Jason Isaacs and all, I knew I had to try it. So I put this on my want list long, long ago before I knew that lavender and I Do Not Mix, and now I'm apprehensive about trying it. If I hate it, it will spoil the smell of yummy evil sexiness for me forever. Nothing like pressure, is there? This is a strongly herbal lavender in the bottle, rounded out with a rich, juicy dose of lime and a gentle but firm musk that is truly arresting. This is quite sexy, very poised, and definitely trouble in black boots. It's also refined and old-fashioned. On, oh, my. I hope this doesn't go rancid, because it's very sexy indeed. The musk and lilac give it a real unexpected softness even as the lime and lavender keep it clean and sharp. It's manly and strong, but it's not loud or brash. He's a villain, yes, but he doesn't go dashing around the hallways with a bullwhip at three a.m. or anything. Evil, but he doesn't get his hands dirty. He spends the day orchestrating wicked plans, in the evening he writes letters and reads, and he canes the crap out of whoever the hell he likes in his spare time. Evil, yes, but a devoted family man. A villain with depth. Call me suckered, this one's a heartbreaker. Steady, strong, and a real ladykiller.

Musk, spice, and a sweet fruity note; I'm not familiar with either magnolia or oleander as a smell, but this goes on as a spicy, sweet floral. It is, indeed, wicked. The musk is skin-soft and yet dark, the florals are humid and sweet, and the spice is fast, peppery, frisky. I love it. As it dries, it becomes a spicier, richer musk, as the floral fades. This is deeply sexy, and deeply wild. A wicked scent to layer over body heat and slow sweat on a hot summer night, or the perfect scent to warm up a cold winter one.

Oh, dear. Dear, dear, dear. This is vending-machine bubblegum – you know, the kind where you plug in a quarter and get a zillion little skittles that you cram in your mouth all at once? And your mom yells at you for being gross because you totally start drooling all over the place? This is the combined flavor of all those kinds of gum. In a bottle. I'm a-scared to put it on, actually! It goes on in a bubblegum haze, with just a faint hint of perfume underneath it. I am utterly embarrassed by how sexy this is. I actually really like it even though (and be warned) that the smell is a com-pah-LETE-ly artificial one. When the sweetness starts dying and the perfume comes out, it's a little less charming and a little more sophisticated. And with the perfume the cherry and cinnamon get their freak on. Now the sweet gets nasty! This is so definitely a woman dressed up like a schoolgirl. Not a real schoolgirl, but a crazy-in-the-sack chick who's just pretending because it makes her feel naughty. If you can't do candy, or sweet scents, stay far from it, but if you want to smell like . . . well . . . jailbait, then this is definitely for you.

Three white cakes, vanilla, and red and black currants. Umm . . . yum! This is sugary sweet in the bottle, ripe with the smell of white cake batter and just a hint of fruit. The fruit comes up a bit when it hits the skin, but it stays a creamy-dreamy sweet lover's dream, a munchable, lickable, fingers-in-frosting scent that begs to be licked. I have come to the conclusion that I love foody scents, period, and this is no exception. This just stays beautiful; it's a yummy bakery smell. Not surprisingly, it smells more baked once it's on the skin, and less like creamy batter. A yummy cookielike smell. Not complicated, but eminently munchable, and worth a try for anyone who loves foody scents or vanilla scents.

Unnnhhh. Butter, rum, honey, and almond front this. It smells like yum with extra lick. On, it goes from "yum" to "do me" in about ten seconds. Hazelnut cream and almonds, buttery melted honey, just a little boozy but not drunk yet. Thankfully the throw is modest, because too much of this would be overwhelming. I'm not sure where that sharp topnote is coming from, but it does have a bite. It's not all smooth cream, there's a little kick here that gives it real personality. I love it, instantly. This is the smell of your best friend's little sister who gets into the Captain Morgan while you're house-sitting, then comes on to you wearing nothing but an angora sweater and a pair of white thong panties. And even though you know better, you also know better than to say no to a body that. This is the smell of sitting by the fire at a Christmas party, drinking something creamy and boozy, and trying to figure out who the hell it was you were kissing ten minutes ago in the pitch-dark backyard, because the person you thought it was has been passed out near the tree for half an hour. This is the smell of the one who doesn't call, doesn't write, just leaves you wrestling with the sticky memories at 3 a.m. Sayonara, sucker! You've been used. Very sweet and foody, yet I'm going to go out on a limb and say that it's gender-neutral enough for a guy to get away with it. I want to rub this on some attractive, clueless younger guy and then hump the hell out of him. (No, I am not taking applicants.)

In the bottle this is a rich patchouli razzed with cedar and a faint light grassy note. On, it becomes a subtle, deeply sophisticated, and casually ruthless scent that begs for closer investigation. Contrary to what I expected, the patchouli and the cedar do in each other's flaws rather than ramp them up. This is neither too woody nor too murky. The cedar keeps the patchouli clean, the patchouli gives the cedar some sweat on its balls, and the vetiver is just a little cruel. The cinnamon, which drifts around all the rest, is a pleasantly lingering kiss. Umbra is more than a little like all the things I love about Geek, but for the fact that it lacks the leather, and the cinnamon smell here is far more restrained. There is a pungent animal note that hints at dirty sweat – the black patchouli, no doubt – but it's more the kind of satyrish smell that some men have even right out of the shower; male and edgy and unmistakeably sexual. This scent barely has enough restraint to seduce and not simply ravish. It's the scent of a street-level thug wise in the ways of pain dressed up in a $2000 Armani suit and given a sword-cane for a walking stick – you've taken something bad and made it infinitely worse by refining it. This is a gentle, leather-gloved touch from a man who can crack walnuts with his fingers. Thinking wistfully of someone dangerous you knew long ago, and then seeing them coming around the corner and realizing simultaneously that you really do want to run from them again, and that you're hoping they chase you. The darkness after sex when the lights go off and the blankets come up, and the world retreats again. One of you is awake, thinking wicked thoughts about the other, unaware that the other is awake and thinking wicked thoughts, too. But which one of you is planning murder, and which is planning a rematch? This is undressing a handsome, clean-cut man and finding not only tattoos, but lots of old scars. When you press for details, he grabs you by the throat, throws you on the bed, and f**ks the living s**t out of you. It's the best date you've ever had, even if you have to replace all your clothes and bedding, and you never see your cat again. Good stuff.