klio

Old Ides I have an imp of The Old Stuff which I adore, in my Romanophilic way. It mellows on me into scattered herbs and a hint of flowers growing over old ruins. Close my eyes, and Rome rebuilds itself around me. Open my eyes, and it's wind through flowers again. I could sit here peacefully in the late afternoon sun with my hand attached to my nose, just daydreaming about Herculaneum. I would wear this even in my most girly moods, but I'm sure I would also love it on a guy. It stays flowery and little fruity as it fades away, and it fades quickly because I have so little of it that I barely dab even the tiniest bit on. New Ides I received a bottle today of The New Stuff, which in the bottle smells of alcohol and department store cologne, harsh and strong enough to make my throat sore (literally). I didn't feel encouraged to try wearing it, but I did, and I think I may be picking up bergamot and lemon after about 10 minutes. Or it might be interacting with the Rose Cross I already had farther down my arm. Further bottle-sniffing and I sort of detect soapiness (or imagine that I do). Also, my eyes and sinuses feel itchy and are even stinging a bit. ...two hours later: Still strong and extremely "perfumey" and generic. I was hoping something terrific might happen to the scent if I stuck it out, but I must go scrub it off my hand. Either The Old Stuff has delightfully aged, or there's something terribly wrong with this bottle of The New Stuff. I'll have to track down another bottle to compare. Or revisit this bottle in a year or two.

CHESHIRE CAT (2006) In the bottle: Stunningly sharp, clear, clean grapefruit, with perhaps a dash of lavender. The chamomile might be contributing to the bright fruity smell. On, wet: Bright, sparkling grapefruit. Beautiful and pure. On, dry: Gone. Not even the grin remains. On, later: I was hoping the flowers might return, but after only a few minutes, nothing is left. Maybe something to try in a scent locket, to see if that gives it some staying power.

In bottle: Very sweet rose, with an incense tang. On: All Saints = Parlement of Foules + Rose Cross + itch. The sweet floweriness of Parlement, the incense of Rose Cross. I adore Rose Cross and it's GC, so Rose Cross is really all I need. The itch wasn't too bad, and the scent was quite lovely, so I kept it on all evening to see if the scent would change into anything unique. It didn't. I'll probably use it up as a room scent. And then I'll have the pretty bottle for my collection.

I decanted an itty bitty bit of this onto my unsuspecting wrists. In the bottle: Butterscotch rum vanilla. Yum! On, wet: Sugar Cookie '0-Idunno plus sandalwood. Dry, 15 minutes: Sandalwood plus Sugar Cookie, plus Play-Doh. Dry, half hour: Sandalwood, a touch of Sugar Cookie, a hint of something spicy. Dry, one hour: The sandalwood has faded behind a sort of cinnamon (definitely not clove) spiciness, which is also very faint. Ghostly traces of sweet cookie and the smell of a Play-doh cannister. Overall: I don't know. I just don't know. This is very weak on me. On first try it gets an "eh." I'm wearing it again today to give it another chance, but it's doing nothing on me or for me.

I received a 5ml of this today. Gorgeous label. A bit tart-smelling in the bottle. I put it on and decided I love, love, love it. Then it dawned on me... it's exactly the same as Rose Cross: Musty, mature roses and the scent of incense settled into the pages of a sacred book. If there's anything different about it, I can't detect it on first try. Overall: profuse, soft roses, tempered with mild, soft incense Throw: extensive Lasts: forever (overnight, in any case) I gave it another try the next day: Me: Good morning, bpal box. Good morning, Parlement of Foules. Parlement of Foules: I am not Rose Cross. Rose Cross: But I am. (Parlement of Foules applied to left wrist, Rose Cross to right.) My left wrist: A little sweeter than Rose Cross, a little soapier. My right wrist: Much more incense-y. But everything is turning a bit soapy on me this morning for some reason. Wet: Not the same when compared wrist to wrist, but too similar for me to worry about hoarding the hard-to-find one when I can easily get the GC. Dry: Getting very similar. The main difference must be the strength of the resin notes. Rose Cross evokes strong memories of my grandmother's home, Parlement does not. For some reason I'm wondering if Parlement would complement something fruity like Jester--maybe it needs a bit of added sparkle. Now if I can just find Jester in my disorganised imp box....

In the imp: Leather . . . I guess. Wet: Heavily smoked cow meat, without the bbq sauce. Drying: Get it off. Dry: OMG, get it off. Hours later: For the merciful love of Heaven, get it OFF. Folks have suggested layering this, but on me, it is total stink and I don't want it near my skin. If I smelled this on a guy, I'd be checking to see if his clothes are on fire. To me it's not leather, it's burnt meat, like a herd caught in a brushfire. Perhaps it would smell better when applied to the right (male) wrist. My imp went to someone who might appreciate it more.

In the imp: Wine and honey. Wet, and Drying: There's something syrupy in it that's a bit cloying--perhaps the red wine--but I like it anyway. It's heavy and incense-y and musty. Are there flowers? I don't notice them. Dry: I am in LOVE with Athens. My body chemistry adores it. It is the most complex and the most living scent I've tried from bpal--or from anywhere. It doesn't simply change in a straight line from one note to another then stop. Honey, wine, myrrh, interlaced, alternately rising to the surface, mingling and separating. One moment the honey is strong and vibrant, the next moment it is all myrrh, the next it is a krater deep with garnet wine. It evokes Agora and Parthenon and midnight symposia presided over by illustrious hetairai. I'm wearing Athens as I rewrite this review from elsewhere and as I try to describe what it evokes more fully. Not a riot of notes, but overlays and blends, truly the entire atmosphere of the symposium: As you lift your winecup, is it the honey mixed sweetly in the dark wine that you smell, or the honey poured over the platters and bowls on the table? Turn your head to smile at the poet on the couch beside yours, and is it the myrrh from incense pot that drifts to you, or the myrrh annointing your own fingers? Athens is commingled but never chaotic; philosophical but sensual; intelligent and sexual. It is a strong presence, so not for days when you want to fade into the background. Perfect for the night your warrior returns from battles in Persia. Later: Oh joy! Must have a big bottle of this. Later still: Joy! And, yes, it lasts forever.

Another ancient Roman scent--how can I resist? In the bottle: (Pea)nutty and bitter, over a musty floral. On, both wet and dry: It's a little bit nutty, a little bit floral/sweet. After about an hour, the nuttiness wears away. The floral is soft and powdery, like alabaster pots of dried herbs on a sunny shelf, in a stone-walled shop somewhere along the ancient Tiber. It's the first bpal scent that strongly suggests a colour to me, in this case the greyish green of dried herbs. The label is an appropriately grey-green colour, as well. I'm quite taken with this scent, but it's hard to pinpoint why. It does feel raw, down, and dirty; I can almost hear the stamping of bare feet running the Lupercalia path, swinging bundles of branches and herbs (and strips of fur, let us not forget the strips of fur) at wives and husbands and eager lovers. "Raw, down, and dirty" in an almost sacred sense--it is ceremony and priesthood and festival, not sweaty sheets and tangled legs. I was torn between wanting to try this scent, because of its associations, and wanting to stay far away from it, because of the patchouli. The balsam and juniper are evident, but the patchouli (thank goodness) is not. It is long lasting--I put it on at night and still caught faint hints of it in the morning, but found it easy to wash off--but the throw is limited. This is a perfectly gender-neutral scent, understated for different reasons: on a woman, for its neutrality, its lack of floweriness or fruitiness; on a man, for its subtlety and lack of that "Hey! I'm a men's cologne! Bring on the old spice!" overpowering insistence that always seems to be the main characteristic of men's cologne sample cards in department stores. I am a honey fanatic, but I completely forgot there was honey in this, or beeswax for that matter. The underlying sweetness could come from the honey. Overall: It's a keeper, and possibly a going-on-an-interview scent because of its neutrality. My nose tells me it would layer extremely well with a more purely honey scent, as long as there's not too much else in the honey so that it doesn't go super-floral (or, heaven forbid, super-patchouli).

In the bottle: The zest of a citrus rind, newly squeezed into fresh tea. On: A subtle citrusy floral. For the first half hour or so the citrus is at the forefront, but in a sweet, kind, gentle way. Then more of the florals surface, embracing the citrus, all quite light and faint, an echo of living, memories from some other time. Or, to be less maudlin, it smells like a lemony teahouse, with a cabana boy outside cleaning the pool in the sunlight. I don't actually smell the coffin wood. This scent makes me feel alive, though sheltered. Indoors, while the bright, beautiful world drifts beyond the windowglass. Last night, it was strong and lasted at least until I fell asleep. This morning, it faded almost immediately on application, only to reappear after about a half hour and stay strong for another two hours or so. Time to reapply! Aahhh... nice. I will be looking for a second 5ml so I can feel comfortable wearing this a lot.

Last night I decided I'd be wearing Grand Guignol today. When I woke to face a dreary drippy Monday and the prospect of another lousy week at a lousy job, I decided I needed something simpler, easier, cheerier, and less demanding. Two, Five & Seven fits the bill. In the imp: Tart roses, strong and tangy. I always think of it as boozy when I smell the imp, but it's not really an alcohol smell--the strength of the roses is in itself intoxicating, like a delicate pastry drizzled with rose water and bursting with sweetness. These roses are sharp and bright, nothing mellow, subdued, or mature about them. Someone has raked the garden into a deep pile of petals, and you're about to fall backwards into the mix. Spring, summer, and sun, all together. On: Bright, sharp roses, exactly the same wet and dry. Strong but not overpowering throw, and on me lasts for about 3 hours before it fades into a memory. Two, Five & Seven reminds me of when I went to an otherwise underwhelming and overpriced spa, and had the "rosy toesies" foot wrap. Feet soaked in a bubbly hot rose-oil bath, then massaged with rose-and-aloe oils, then huge rose petals placed between each toe and laid carefully on top of my feet, and both feet wrapped in steamy hot towels. I felt like a newly bloomed rose all day and evening and into the next morning. Overall: Mad, fun, and pure--for when I'm in the mood for madness. I wear Two, Five & Seven when I feel less sophisticated than Rose Cross (with or without Bon Vivant layering), less subtle than Rome, less mature than Whip, and less down-to-basics than Rose Red 04.

In the bottle: All orange, nothing but orange--the muted mustiness of the blood orange. On, wet: orange and vanilla. Drying: The citrus fades and mellows, leaving behind vanilla and roses. On, dry: Yesterday's roses, pressed between the age-softened pages of a heavy book. A perfect subtlety. I'd like to smell like this from head to toe. I'm glad I took the trouble to find a 5ml, and will look for a second bottle so I won't have to worry about using it liberally.

Quick sniffy impressions: Green vines on a green tree, stem snapped and chlorophyll released into the air. All green, no earth. This scent is barely there. It's a pretty, pale, ecru colour that makes me want to like it. So far I find no actual fruit in it. I'm going to give it another try in a week or so.

Quick sniffy impressions: Uh oh--plastic baby-doll heads. Not as bad as the melted plastic baby-doll heads I smelled in Delirium, but I absolutely do not have the stomach to put this on, not even to write a review.

Quick sniffy impressions: Earthy, grounded. Pomegranates, uncut in their hard covering, rolled across the dry earth, ploughing a furrow of rich, sweet earth.

Quick sniffy impressions: Booze, deep and thick, like a West-Indian Groom's cake that's been soaking in dark rum in preparation for Easter. Fruits heavy with boozy absorption. A scent you could chew. This scent makes me think of breasts. Go figure.

Quick sniffy impressions: A bite into a fresh, crisp apricot. Reminiscent of Thaleia, but tougher; less crunchy, a little bit riper. Strong and willful, as described.

Quick sniffy impressions: Lushly moist apricot scones pricked with cloves. A hint of cake, held together with lushness that will melt on your tongue. This is pretty but it makes me too hungry.

Quick sniffy impressions: Sharply folded sheets of white stationery with the faintest flowery perfume. If there is writing, it is from a silver-nibbed fountain pen. The Scarlet Pimpernel's Percy Blakeney would use these.

Quick sniffy impressions: Fresh lemony tea, boyish; lightly brewed and sweet, over vanilla. Clean, smooth skin, looking for something. A beautiful, irresistible boy, sitting too close. Lean against him and you are lost.

Quick sniffy impressions: Citrus, if citrus were a shiny silver blade that sneaks up behind you in a classy bar and snips your bra straps. Energetic. Delicious.

Quick sniffy impressions: A darkly tinted oil filled to brimming in the imp. Opening it is a cautious process. Open: far above the label, but unspilled. A rush of smoky musk, musty, the crook of an arm. Manly—it reminds me of something my uncle wore. Dark in air as well as colour, evoking late night, layers of sheets, drawn silken curtains.

Quick sniffy impressions: Citrus rinds, from the soccerball-size orangey-yellowy-green not-orange not-grapefruit not-limes that grow in old backyards in Florida. Clear in the imp, super clean to the nose. A hint of girlish flowers, a dainty bouquet tied up with strips of lace.

Quick sniffy impressions: The colour of golden sands. Old-fashioned, expensive perfume. Incense, ambers, musks, rare spices? This says, "I am perfume, I am of important lineage, in this house we dress for dinner." If this wears well, I will need a LOT of it.

Quick sniffy impressions: Rum cake! Pumpkin pie! Fruit cake (the good kind, not the store-bought everlasting undead version)! I need to eat! Every scent is making my mouth water! I want to nibble on the label.

Quick sniffy impressions: Another pretty rose. A bit light and distant--flowers from the cold-case at a florist, wrapped in paper to carry to some pleasant event. A little artificial, as if I can smell the twist-ties and countertop of the florist's. But somehow, kind. If I found this as guests soaps when staying at a friend's I would feel loved and welcome.