gwyllgi

This is definitely an earthy scent, overlaid with juniper. I don't get the smell of dirt per se out of this, but rather of the forest floor under fallen leaves, autumn bleeding in to winter. It's a pleasant earthy scent, not overwhelming - sharpened by juniper, anchored by patchouli. I tend to not like earthy scents, so this is a welcome change. It's not something for every day; the complexity needs to be saved for special occasions, I think, rather than worn into habit. As such, it's not something that I think I'll be getting a large bottle of, but I'll certainly be keeping my imp.

This is a scent I would probably never have ordered on my own; I received it as a frimp. It once again proves how great frimps are, as this is perhaps the first pine scent I've ever liked. This is just absolutely perfect in its embodiment of its namesake; it's woodsy and sharp, mysterious in its under-notes. It also, for some reason, smells like a Christmas tree to me, laden with popcorn and cranberries and with a pickle tucked somewhere in its branches. It's a heavy scent, not quite masculine, but probably better suited to winter, when it would also make a marvelous room scent.

The first time I smelled this, it made me think of the gingerbread house of Hansel and Gretel, if the gingerbread had been a sugar cookie and the witch had been everyone's stereotypical baking grandmother. It was warm and sweet and beautifully laden with vanilla, and I absolutely loved it. I tried it again tonight, and I get the smell of baby powder and, as Chrysantza did, deodorant. I suspect that this is one of those scents that will vary widely throughout the course of the month, which is rather depressing as it smells the worst when I could use it the most. I'll be keeping the imp around to try in a while again. If I can capture my initial sense of home again, this will definitely be worth a big bottle.

Holy peaches, Batman! Wet, it smells like ripe fruit, dewy and firm. It's a perfect peach, not the processed, diluted (or, conversely, over-amplified) peach that you find in a lot of commercially-available products. I can appreciate its natural appeal. Unfortunately, I can't stand the smell of peach. I'd promised myself that I'd try every BPAL I received, even if the notes sounded like something I'd hate. This is the first one that met my expectation - not because the blend is poor, but simply because peach is not something that I like to smell. (I suspect this is mostly due to an Incident when I was a tot. I can't even look at fruit cocktail.) Fortunately, my mother adores the smell of peach, so this one will be marvelously easy to find a good home for.

I can't quite put my finger on this scent. It smells like its description: gossamer, a bit dusty. It's certainly a unique scent, fleeting and teasing, never quite letting itself be caught. It's like trying to pin down a dream. As such, I can't really identify why I don't like this. The scent's pleasant enough, floral and slightly herbal, not too powdery or too sharp. It smells delicate, as though even the act of smelling it might shatter it. It's a bit soapy, but that's hardly a detriment. It really is a nice scent, but it for some reason just doesn't jive with me. It's nice enough that it deserves someone who can truly appreciate it.

My first scent of this isn't floral at all - it's ash. Light, pale ash, the kind that was burned so cleanly that it still retains the shape of its original form, but that crumbles away to nothing if you touch it. The florals come out gradually for me: thin and white, no flower I can place (especially not as it still retains that ashy undertone). It makes me feel as though I'm standing in an endless field of soft, grey flowers, flowers that crumble to nothing as I move through them but which are replaced instantly as I pass. I didn't expect to like this at all; I was expecting something more like Djinn or Brimstone. Even initially, I thought this would be more of a curiosity than anything, but I find myself going back to it over and over again. I suspect there's a large bottle of this in my future.

This starts out all lemon all the time, almost overpowering. Even then, it's not a cleanser-lemon or even a fruit-lemon scent, but like lemon curd, heavier and more sweet than tart. It fades fairly quickly, and while the lemon scent remains, it becomes spiked with neroli and drawn a bit farther from sweet by the frankincense. The rosemary makes me terribly happy, as it adds a hint of earthy sharpness without actually making the scent foody. I can't quite seem to settle on a way to describe this. It's lemon, but it's not. It's sweet, but it's not. It's tart, but it's not. It's sharp, but it's not. It's foody, but it's not. It's dry, but it's not. It's a swirling mass of contradictions and complements, and I absolutely love that I never know what I'm going to get out of it.

I smell like my great-grandmother's attic. As a memory, it's pleasant - I spent way too many hours crawling through her attic, unearthing old clothes and hatboxes full of random delights and jars stuffed with seashells - but I still smell like my great-grandmother's attic. Much as I wanted to like Aureus, it's providing further proof that anything even remotely smelling of cedar loathes me. (Is there actual cedar in it? I don't know, but my nose insists there is.) It's a sun-warmed, vaguely sweet cedar, but it's still cedar and doesn't waste much time in going sour on me and edging me closer to a migraine. To Aureus's credit, it's the first (possibly-)cedar scent that actually makes me terribly sad that I can't wear cedar scents. I may keep the imp around for a room scent simply for the memories it evokes, but that will be it.

Olive leaf? Good. Raspberry leaf? Spiffy. Vetiver? Absolutely fantastic. Cedarwood? Er... For the first two seconds, this smells marvelous, all mellow raspberry. Then the cedarwood billyclubs me and drags me into an alley somewhere to riffle my pockets. I like the smell of cedar well enough, but the smell of cedar doesn't like me - or my chemistry. Sadly, it starts smelling vaguely like apple cider vinegar on me after the first lovely waft and devours the other notes until all I'm left with is something vaguely sour that kicks into my sinuses and starts waving knives around. If I let it sit for a while, it eventually mellows back into a hint of berry, but the cedar is still prodding at my migraine triggers and I'm not brave enough to keep pushing my luck and see if it mellows any further. If I can find a way to wear this without hitting that vinegar/sour/ugh point, it'll be a wonderful, natural scent. Perhaps in a locket - I like that initial waft well enough to give it a shot before writing it off entirely.

This is, indeed, quite a happy scent. It smells like red licorice to me and recalls a more innocent time, when my bedtime was eight o'clock and my biggest concern was whether to play with My Little Ponies or Cabbage Patch Dolls. The licorice fades after a while and becomes a bit more mature, somehow reminiscent of cherry but not quite. It's my favorite of the Voodoo Blends I've tried so far, and perhaps the only one I'd use for the scent alone.

It starts out fruity and so sweet that it's almost too much, like sugared berries. As it dries, though, the particular combination of fruits becomes absolutely perfect, entirely too evocative of the oil's name. Blood orange dominates this scent on me, with a hint of neroli for sweetness. The raspberry's barely there, flitting around the edges with an impression of berriness without actually smelling like berries. The blood orange under the sweetness of the other notes somehow gives it a hint of smokiness, which only makes this that much better. I'd initially avoided this one as it sounded too fruity when just reading the notes. I received it as a frimp and have once again had it proven to me that I score better with frimps than I do with imps I've actually selected. This one's definitely going on the list for a bottle.

It's a fruity scent that isn't at all fruity, but warm and natural. I'd been eyeing it to try out when I got it as a frimp, so it worked out quite well. I can definitely pick up the blackberry in it, but they're not packaged or processed or juiced blackberries, but rather blackberries still on the bush. It reminds me of ambling through the woods with one of the miniature horses my father's friend used to raise, picking blackberries from the bushes as we passed and devouring them until I all but made myself sick. I never grew up much with heather, so the blackberry instead changes the association to the scent of the blackberry bushes themselves, a bit sharp and woody but mellowed by the fruit. I adore fruit scents, and this is a lovely, delightfully mellow version. It's familiar, rather than exotic, and perfect because of that.

This is lovely and so complex that I don't even really know where to begin to describe it. I received it as a frimp and am terribly glad that I did, as I never would have ordered it on my own. The scent doesn't change much from imp to wet on skin to dry for me, which is a welcome change; usually my chemistry plays havoc with initial scents, especially when they're woodsy. The variance comes instead in the scent as it dissipates into the air. The waft is florals and tea, soft and feminine, and makes me crave cucumber sandwiches. Against my skin, though, it's wood, cedar, with the florals playing through it like a sachet tucked into an old chest. I adore the contradiction, especially as it seems to capture so perfectly the differences between private and public personas. Sadly, much as I love this scent, the cedar eventually gives me a headache. It's still lovely, but that side-effect is a bit too much for me.

This smells like something from my childhood, and it's driving me absolutely crazy as I try to figure out what. The dominant note that I pick up is the orange blossom, which is particularly lovely but not overly sweet. I don't get much rose in this at all, although the rosemary comes through more and more as it dries. I hadn't expected to like this - anything with rose in it usually turns out cloying on me. Instead, I can't seem to stop sniffing my wrist. The overall scent isn't anything particularly distinctive (even if I can't recall what it reminds me of - argh), but something in it makes it unique, sweetness over a core of mystery. I think this would be particularly lovely as a room scent, too. My perpetual burning of Lightning may need to take a break for this, especially once I upgrade my imp.

I adore lilacs, but I'm not a big fan of lilac scents. Most times, they come out too sweet, cloying, rather than with the gentle powdery undertones of the flower. I'd all but given up on lilac scents, but decided to give this one a shot. If I hadn't fallen in love with BPAL scents already, this one alone would have managed it. For me, this is almost pure lilac. It's lilac with a hint of greenery and a hint of sharp, like a cut twig. It smells like hiding in the lilac bushes when I was a kid, when my cousin and I regarded the lilac bushes lining his back yard as the best place in the world to play. It mellows fairly quickly and more of the sharp scent comes out - the dragon's blood resin? - to wind around the lilac, but it never quite loses its gentility. It's a perfectly fragile scent, traditional and timeless, and the only lilac scent you'll ever need.

This is certainly a powerful scent, woodsy yet earthy yet spicy yet sweet. (I'm hopeless at picking out notes, tending to associate impressions instead.) I'd hesitate to call it masculine, simply because it seems to bypass gender lines; this is a confident scent, yet distant. It's certainly not an everyday scent; it's so strong that it could easily become overwhelming. I tend to wear it on days when I'm feeling adrift, when I need something to anchor me and stabilize me long enough to get my feet under me again. On my skin, it's almost too strong, to the point of being headache-inducing. In a locket, however, I've found it to be just right - not to mention removable, when it starts to feel overwhelming.

Based on the site description, I never would have tried this. Based on the reviews, I never would have tried this. As a frimp... I tried it. I get absolutely nothing scorched out of this; like so many, I get the scent of fresh-cut hay. (Growing up, I lived in an area without any good horseback riding trails, so we'd ride circuits around hay fields. It smells just like those rides.) On me, it stayed very green, very fresh. It actually got more green as the day progressed, until it started edging into a grassy scent - at which point I had to wash it off, as grass scents have the unfortunate side effect of making me nauseated. I do like the green of the early scent enough to keep this around for a room scent, or as a scent for wearing to events that aren't going to last long, but it sadly is not going to be an everyday scent for me.

When I first opened the imp, the cloying scent of grape soda billyclubbed me and left me reeling. Perhaps the only thing that had me actually applying it was my policy of trying everything, whether I liked it in the imp or not. Words cannot express how happy I am that I tried it. Within two minutes of applying it to my wrist, I'd added it to my oil burner and put it at the top of my list for bottles. After the initial blast of grape!!!, it mellows very quickly into a smoky, woodsy scent, like the crackle of a spark under dry autumn leaves. The smoky/woodsy scent begins a flirtation with a hint of sweetness, not quite grape or wine, not quite honey, but which reminds me of seafoam candy. As the hours pass, it deepens into a lovely light, sweet smoke over a rounder note that I wouldn't identify as honey wine if not for the description, but which is nevertheless beautiful and fey. My skin usually devours scents, but Delphi lingers forever; today, I applied it lightly roughly 13 hours ago, and I still get the full, round scent - admittedly it's a full, round scent about an inch away from my skin, but it's still a full, round scent and not whiffs so faint they may only be the tease of memory.

When I first tried The Raven, I wasn't terribly impressed with how it turned out on me. It smelled interesting and tragic while wet, but was devoured by my skin within about 5 minutes - weep. Even shoving my nose into my wrist only netted me the barest hint of a scent, which made me sad as I liked the wet scent. (It made me feel like a seafarer's widow, reading a book of poems while sitting in a rocking chair before a window overlooking the sea, waiting for someone who would never return.) I tried it again today and learned that it will, indeed, linger if I dump half the imp on my wrists and other pertinent bits. I still have a very, very faint whiff on my left wrist, but it's completely gone on every other application point. Wet, it's violets and musk, like a withered bouquet forgotten in a musty old house. Dried, it's almost pure (but very weak) violet on me, which I like a lot less, unfortunately. Despite my lack of success wearing The Raven, I will definitely keep it in mind as a room scent, if only for the strong mood it sets.

Every day, I tote a can of Snapple Wild Cherry juice to work with me, a hold-over from an unsuccessful quest to wean myself off of caffeine. Kabuki smells exactly like that. It's pure cherries on me - dark cherries, huge and ripe on the stems. It never went medicinal on me, never gave me an impression of cough syrup or cough drops, although I'd half-expected that before I opened the imp. Despite its close association to the aforementioned juice, it doesn't smell particularly foody on me, either; there's a trace of the musk under the cherries, giving it a hint of powdery fragility. The anise never came out as a distinctive note on me, although I'm certain that it helped to veer the cherry scent away from maraschino. Within ten seconds of application, this went on my list of bottles to buy. This is something I had no hesitance in slathering on. It's light enough not to be overpowering, and not too sweet for multiple applications. It'll be particularly good as a summer scent.

The pepper is what sold me on this scent; most of the notes listed are things that I hadn't liked in the past, which led to a kneejerk reaction of "Ewh..." I'm so, so glad that I let the pepper suck me in. My love affair with The Tell-Tale Heart began when I opened the bottle; it enveloped me in a spicy, warm scent, but one that wasn't so strong as to make my nose burn with the initial sniff. On me, it warmed up even more and became, for lack of a better word, round. The pepper was there, much to my delight, but was kept from being powdery by the other notes, which wove themselves through it with an easy decadence. I generally avoid cocoa like the plague, but I could barely detect it; it was just a hint of bittersweet that added to the impression of the scent being full-bodied. An added bonus is that the musk in this worked on me. Lately, I've been finding that most scents with musk in them are migraine triggers (much to my dismay), but The Tell-Tale Heart was one where I could go all day with it without any adverse side-effects.

While I certainly get a boozy scent both in the vial and on my skin, there's nothing of wine in it to me - instead, it smells like a B52. It's a B52 drunk in a posh bar with flower arrangements providing a subtle scent to the air and velvet draperies lending the room mystery, but it's still a B52. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. It is, however, a bit distracting, as it makes me crave the drink itself. As such, I suspect it's something better for me to wear in the evenings, rather than at work. The scent fades fairly quickly on me; after about 15 minutes, I have to bury my nose in my wrist to smell it, but it lingers there for hours.

I adore ozone and rain scents, so I was eager to try this one despite my leeriness of the vetiver. I'm terribly glad I did. The scent goes to the smell of old, wet wood very quickly on me, but with a bit of tanginess that keeps it from smelling like rot. I grew up along the shores of Lake Michigan and it reminds me of climbing the rocks along the shore and just watching the lake on a grey day, when the air is heavy with mist but not quite raining. Most of the BPAL scents that evoke nostalgia are not scents I'd want to wear every day, but this is a decided exception; it makes me feel a bit reckless, as though any chance I take can only succeed marvelously. I'd tried burning it also, but had less success there; it made my nose burn. In the end, I threw away the paraffin I'd scented with it and went back to Lightning for a rain scent to burn.