Splendid Molerat

Machu Picchu starts out with a distinct chill, a sensation that reminds me of mint or grapefruit peel, although I can't pick out either one in the fragrance.

There's a very juicy green element, sort of like aloe vera or succulent cactus, and the fruit and floral blend together in a way that's milky and not too sweet.

Overall I find this oil very soothing and dreamy -- it would go well with a long bath and a sleep in a hammock.

I'll have to agree this may be better used to fragrance a room than a person.

After going through the butter-rum-amaretto wave, what comes out on me is the gingerbread house from Hansel and Gretel. There's a wood-fired oven going full blast, heating up the gingerbread walls and just softening the marzipan shingles with the candied orange curls and whipped meringue snow on top.

I'm finding the effect claustrophobic -- I guess there's a world of difference between thinking I'd like to be overwhelmed, versus actually being overwhelmed.

This is another new favourite for me. Faustus has both coldness and warmth, like a charming sociopath. For me the cinnamon adds a dizzying, carbonated quality, and the whole blend is sublimely sniff-able.

I'll have to save this for days when I need to convince myself that I'm the most important person in the room.

TZADIKIM NISTARIM --

I sampled this last night before looking up the description, thinking something was really familiar about the fragrance.

Here's the weird dream that followed:

I was in an old city, everything looked dusty, monochromatic, and the sky was overcast. Architecture was massive stone blocks, almost Central American but for the lack of foliage. In the city was a palace or temple, where an oppressor lived and was claiming to be a god over the people.

Also in the city was a regiment of small, talking cats, and the object of this dream seemed to be getting the cat commandoes into the palace, via a series of hidden little doorways. There were also prayers to the Holy Spirit along the way to secure windows and doors.

At the end the oppressor flaked apart and was blown away in the wind, and all the clouds left with him.

Weird dream. And why the little cats, I thought? A few hours awake and I remembered the brain's love of puns: the cat's were in homage to that old martial hymn, "Onward Kitten Soldiers".

In broad daylight, I can say the scent is solemn and beautiful, and the olive note grounds the blend in a way that's more golden than dark. However, I've made a note just go to sleep with lavender sachets from now on.

Instant Pavlovian response -- I must have more of anything that can induce salivation at first scent.

The pomegranate is very rich, and backed with the citrus note others have commented on. It isn't a sweet citrus on me; the closest would be a mandarin peel, just a spiral twist in the coctail.

The fruit scents are very tart, with just a bit of sugar-sweetness to balance them -- every now and then I get a hint of candy-apple red.

For the sake of the scientific method I just licked my wrist, but the oil doesn't taste the way my nose expected. Dang.

Wow, that's interesting -- this starts out as a kind of peppermint-grapefruit on me, my nose is very confused by it. In a good way.

After about fifteen minutes, it's somewhere between light floral and blond wood. Something in there reminds me of the scent of a horse chestnut, one that you've just picked up and peeled from the prickly casing, in the moments before it dries out.

I'm picturing a progression from a cold citron through to a warm red-brown, if that makes any sense.

I love this one. On my skin it's reminiscent of a raspberry thicket on a humid day, and all kinds of leaves and darkness in the background. Together with the name, it makes me think of the days when I had a cat and wondered where she travelled, just wishing I could follow.

The total scent might be the cat's journey, into the raspberry bushes, over the dry leaves and moss, becoming nothing but a rustle and glowing eyes to the passer-by.

The novel was an annual read of mine for a number of years, and I always noticed some new complexity with every trip through it.

The scent is very true to the character of Lolita, with a brash and aggressive surface presentation, followed by a shy inner life that's difficult to interpret. While I'm wearing it, the oil veers between "Look at me!" attention-getting, and the almost-sadness of an empty garden.

I'm nominating this fragrance for the Booker Prize.

This one is lovely on my husband, just a light, warm blanket of fragrance -- and oddly familiar.

I've finally placed the fragrance (after a couple of weeks!): it's like playing around a woodlot on a sunny day, reaching high up a tree trunk, and picking some spruce gum to chew on.

Funny, I grew up and got all fastidious about dust and tree bark and the footprints of ants.

I received this as a freebie back with my first order, and picked up the 10mL since.

Haven't reviewed it until now, as I find the total fragrance very difficult to describe -- the individual notes don't really define the Apothecary for me.

My continuing impression is that this fragrance is what medicine is supposed to smell like in an ideal universe; and now that I'm recovering from a vacation-induced knee injury, this oil does have the beneficial effect of shifting my awareness away from the discomfort.

And I'd almost forgotten the days when I was little and feverish, and my mother would bring orange slices dipped in sugar and baking soda.

This was another fun shape-shifter for me, starting out with the cool, but not biting mint note, and then changing into a warm hollow with sweetpeas and green, watery plants.

It reminded me of the way an early June day transforms, from a cool morning with dew on the grass, into a sunny day that creates little pockets of heat you walk into by surprise.

Kabuki did a fast transformation on my skin, starting out with the shocking juicy cherry note, and then bringing forward the distinct scent of wet calligraphy ink (the kind you prepare with an inkstone for sumi-e painting).

Sort of like lying on a bed, a sun-warmed breeze blowing through the ripe cherry tree, and your lover painting letters down your back in cold black ink.

The scent-image from Vice:

It's like walking into the candy shop in Little Italy, with your allowance in your sweaty hand, and resting your arms on the wood and glass counter over the sweets. You're inhaling the combined chocolates, marzipans and cherry tarts. The selection is paralyzing, the treats are all so beautiful under glass, and you can feel the impatience of the shopkeeper, who wants to return to his cardgame in the back room (a little haze of cigar smoke up the stairs...)

It's like the rainy afternoon you spent in the hayloft with your cousin, and the stolen bottle of Amaretto he shared with you between sticky kisses.

Received my order of imps today, and tried Loviatar out first.

It reminds me of a really great library, with a stone fireplace, and a sleek wolfhound pacing the room.