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My body chemistry changed this into something completely different from everyone else. No obvious fig, no obvious florals; nothing from the description, actually. I started out with a gently fruity lily in the vial, but as soon as I put it on, I had gorgeous, soft clean soap. If you know Creative Scentualizations' Perfect Veil, then you'll know Lilium ... except Lilium's much, much better. This radiated off of me in lightly sweetened waves of cleanliness and sunshine - like laundry just off the line. I'm not a fan of soapy or "clean" scents - they don't do much for me, and if I wanted them, I'd grab a bar of Dove and lather up. Even though Lilium Inter Spinas wasn't at all what I'd expected it to be, I adore it. I'll be wearing this often!

It's funny that I should pick up the imp of Lemon for a review just as soon as I finished the review for the single note of Lime; there are some distinct similarities in how the scent behaves, so if you've seen this before, well ... you'll have seen this before. The scent itself is pale yellow sitting in a patch of sunlight; it's like you're in the kitchen, hand-squeezing a lemon, and you look over from rinsing the juicer to see the light hitting your clear glass bowl full of lemon juice. Not only does it smell like lemon juice looks, it smells like lemon juice smells! This isn't a slap-in-the-face bold lemon, it's an opaque, lightly zestful lemon, and so true it's amazing. A little more than itself, sort of like Beth's single note in Honeysuckle, because of the concentration of the scent. Don't worry about smelling like a cleaning product or a roadside bathroom; this single note of Lemon won't ever come across like that. Someone would be more likely to ask if you'd been cooking and scrubbed your hands with a lemon, because you smell so good and true that way. Better lasting power than the single note in Lime - by quite a bit, actually. Not as much throw, though. In all fairness, this single note does exactly what citrus oils do - and you can see why it would cause exasperation for a perfumer. Great scent, fast morph, and fast dissipation ... a true citrus scent that lasts is impossible to find. Just because I wouldn't purchase this single note doesn't mean I don't love it.

In no particular order, mind you. If I had to put the list in order of best first, my head would explode. I tried to pick a range of "classics" so almost any scent preference (foody, green, etc.) would be included. Snow White. Perfection! Lughnasadh. So hard to find, but I like it even better than Samhain; it doesn't have the sharpness of Samhain and other similar scents. The Lion. Gorgeous, soft warmth. Beth's amazing Egyptian Amber is so beautifully showcased in this one. Tamora. Foody and velvet-textured all at the same time; it makes the wearer feel decadent and soft. Xiuhuleculti . Partly because it's un-spellable, and partly because it combines smoky and fruity in the most amazing way. Florence. Earthy grandeur that smells like you paid a fortune. L'Artisan should make something so good. Black Phoenix. For the "perfumey" perfume lover. This is all the good things about classic Chanel scents with none of the aldehydes and other less-than-stellar qualities. Black Opal. Feminine, soft, and clean; much better than those $60 soap-smelling retail attempts at clean. Kumari Kundam. A new classic. This is gorgeous, and just sweet enough to grab people who wear retail scents like Angel. Strangler Fig. Green, but also very figgy. Not foody at all, but good for those who aren't sure about green-ish scents and for whom something like Envy might be to strong. ETA: Oh, it's an even dozen! I get two more!! Unseelie. Soft dried grasses stirring in the breeze, with a sophisticated feel. Smells like a good Ralph Lauren ad might look. Sed Non Satiata. Woods, without being dry, and sexy as hell.

I bought two bottles of TKO for my husband. He has ADHD and is a terrible insomniac - he just can't shut his brain off at night; in fact, it seems to go into high gear about 11 p.m. Not only does he have a terrible time getting to sleep, now that he's finally weaned off Ambien (his stupid GP prscribed it for over four years, and he was absolutely addicted; couldn't sleep without it, and had nasty withdrawal symptoms when he quit taking it), he doesn't sleep deeply - if I roll over in my sleep, if the rats stir around in their cage, if the cat comes in and jumps on the bed, he's wide awake. Somnus helped some, but not much. If he was absolutely exhausted but couldn't get to sleep, Somnus would push him over the edge, but it didn't do anything for the four or five days leading up to total exhaustion. Needless to say, there was absolutely no thinking about whether to buy a bottle of TKO; I clicked on the "buy" button instantly. Since I know Beth has problems sleeping, too, anything that she came up with had to be better than how things were. I love the scent of TKO on me - warm, round lavender and vanilla that's yummy and soothing all at once. It smells very different on my husband - an almost charred combination of lavender and vanilla comes off of him. He doesn't smell that at all, and says he smells sleepy warm marshmallows ... and I honestly think (this sounds strange, but I don't know a better way to explain) that it's because the TKO has to work so much harder for him. Yes, it puts him to sleep, and for that I am incredibly grateful. He has to slather it on, but after 15 or 20 minutes, he's able to fall into a restful and moderately deep sleep. Enough that he sleeps most of the night through, anyhow. I usually fall asleep thirty seconds after my head hits the pillow, and sleep like a rock for 7 or 8 hours. There have been a few nights after late gym sessions that I am completely awake and can't get to sleep, and when I use TKO, I'm out like a light in five minutes. For me, though, TKO makes it hard to get up in the morning. I hit the snooze button four or five times, rather than my usual leap from bed. TKO gets rave reviews from our household - it smells delightful, works like a charm, and the rest it provides puts my husband in a much better mood, day in and day out.

Frangipani is definitely a deep, rich floral. I don't remember this scent well enough from life to tell you if Beth's version is exactly the same, but I'd say it's very close. I feel very much at peace when I sniff this. It's soothing and gentle, which isn't typically what I get out of heavy, heady floral scents. Very nice.

I've had Determination for quite a while, and it always smelled like lime and heavy vetiver to me. Not a scent I'm fond of, but these are all about making things happen, so I've sucked it up and used Determination when I really needed it. I learned very quickly that you've got to be VERY specific when using Determination. The first time I used it, I was trying to make myself sit down and do a particularly unpleasant homework assignment that I'd been putting off until it was nearly overdue. I didn't really sit down and focus on what I wanted to be determined about, and when I went down to our office to get started on the homework, I found myself unable to resist cleaning and organizing my desk. It needed it desperately, but I needed to be doing something else! I couldn't seem to pull away from the desk project; in the end, the office looked fabulous and I could find things ... and the homework was late after all. Several months later, I find myself in a homework slump again. I'm on the edge of - not burnout, exactly, but melting a little, maybe? - after 9 months of balancing school 12 hours a week after work, all the accompanying homework, three kids, my husband's new firm, and life in general. I want to be a sloth and spend quality time with my family on the two evenings a week I don't have class, which doesn't lead to getting homework and papers finished. This time I sat down in the closet floor, got out the bottle of Determination, and started thinking about the homework I had to get finished and why it was important to do it. I thought about how tired I was and how I knew I was nine months into an eighteen-month program and couldn't throw it all away over exhaustion and disillusionment. Oddly enough, Determination smelled completely different as I put it on. Yes, there was a brief flash of vetiver, but this time I smelled like a really nice, if earthy, man's cologne. I marched downstairs, grabbed an oil burner, added some Determination to it, and settled myself into the office. In spite of my husband doing very loud remodeling work in the living room, my steno machine's electric mode going out, and my software being unable to read what I was putting into my machine, I got the homework finished. I got the homework that was past due finished, too. Four hours of really good, really solid practice time, and all the homework finished. I even enjoyed it, for a wonderful change. The office smelled of manly cologne and a beautiful powdery wood note, and I slathered on some more Determination as I set out in a thunderstorm and terrible downpour for a two-hour drive to pick up my daughter from a weekend with her father. Determination worked beautifully for me. I was serious about it, made sure the oil knew what I needed, and made sure *I* knew what I needed. When I put it on Monday morning in an attempt to power through all the crap that I knew would be waiting at work, I smelled like I'd been dipped in vetiver. Blech. My best explanation is that Determination knew what I could handle on my own and what I really needed help with, and when I don't really need it, I can expect the joys of plain, old vetiver.

I've tried both the Black Amber and the Egyptian Amber, and I have to admit that I prefer the Egyptian Amber's smooth, smoky, and liquid character. The Black Amber's still a very true and vibrant amber scent, but it's a dry, grainy, and much less sweet amber. In a couple of the scent blends, this mellows into something I've mistaken for balsam, so you might have an idea of the lighter, woodier character of this one.

Another Salon scent with notes I adore - iris, black amber, mandarin, violet - and one that sounds pretty good (vanilla musk) since I love Beth's vanilla and white musks. In the vial, I get ... wine? Not quite the wine of Lady MacBeth, but a definite wine note. Where that comes from, I don't know, because it's obviously not in the list of components. So I put on Lucretia, and I get ... wine. Where the hell did that come from? I can't find any of those notes I adore, with the exception of the mandarin; this is becoming mandarin wine. I keep sniffing. And sniffing. Waiting and sniffing. This wine thing is making me crazy, but I'm not giving up on Lucretia. There's no way so many of these particular notes can end up a wine scent. And finally ... the mandarin fades out, and I get violets and wine. A little more time, and the wine fades out. Where it came from, I don't know, but I'm glad it's gone just so I can get to the scents I love. It was actually a lovely variation on a wine scent, but because I was looking for all those other notes, it made me a little insane. Violets, iris, and an anchoring wooden note finally emerge. I can only guess that's Kashmir woods; it's warm and woody, regardless of where they came from. Mostly iris and woods; just enough violet to peppery-powdery the scent a bit and give it a little more "refined" and a little less "earthy". No sign of Beth's vanilla, but vanilla musk is obviously not the same thing as vanilla plus musk; I was taking a guess on that one. This ends up as rich woods that seem to be dry and faded - like an old wooden box made of precious wood that's dried and cracked as it's handed down over the years, but still smells faintly when you open it - and a slightly peppery powder note that contradicts itself by being a little warm. I suppose you could think of it as a very expensive, beautiful potpourri in that wooden box that's faded and lightened up over time, but still makes you think of how rich and elegant it once was. I'm actually glad I didn't purchase this one, all those favorite notes of mine combined in a totally unexpected way. While that's not a bad thing - in fact, this is a beautiful blend - Lucretia wasn't any of the things I love about those notes when they stand alone.

I live for Beth's frankincense single note, and there were several other notes in The Resurrection of the Flesh that I enjoy, so I almost purchased a bottle straight off. The "complete general catalog swap" allowed me to test this, and I'm completely enamoured; I just wish I hadn't waited but had gone ahead and purchased the bottle last month! Out of the vial, I get glorious frankincense and hyssop ... this is absolutely beautiful. Warm, clean, faintly herbal, and no sign of the ylang-ylang. If my flesh ever gets resurrected, this is what I want it to smell like. I wait for the usual morph that comes a few minutes into most of scents (thank you, funky skin chemistry), and though it comes, it takes much longer than usual. For a while, I thought I was going to get to keep the pure frankincense and hyssop that I adore. There's a very pure, soft, and almost fuzzy-textured floral that emerges - such a soft and graceful note that it doesn't seem like a floral - and adds a touch of warm sunshine to the coolness of the frankincense and hyssop. They blend together so beautifully that once the morphing takes place, you can't imagine that the scent was ever anything else. Luckily, I never find the ylang-ylang in Resurrection of the Flesh; it would have done terrible things on my skin and ruined this for me. I like rose geranium, but didn't find it wafting off my wrist, either, so I can only guess that the floral note I found was angelica. I don't love all frankincense, but I love Beth's. This is a sure-fire purchase bottle for me, and so far my favorite of the Salon scents. Not a ton of throw, but my nose is glued to my wrist and I feel like I'm wrapped in a blanket of luxury as well as an aura of being comforted. All is right in the world while I'm breathing in Resurrection of the Flesh.

Gorgeous greenery in the vial; seems a little sharp, so I'll hope this doesn't get brittle and bitter on me. No worries about sharpness once I put this on; it's really a perfect green scent. My very first "favorite" perfume was Estee Lauder's Private Collection, which is about as green as you can get. Orpheus takes all the nasty aldehydes out, softens them up with the white musk, and is pure green stems for the first few minutes - I'm in love with this stage. After about five minutes, the stephanotis and narcissus start to come through. Orpheus goes from being my green dream to a gentle and very dreamy soft, sweet floral over fading green stems. The stephanotis starts to take over, and this makes a lovely combination. In the end, I've decided against a bottle of Orpheus. If the green had stuck around for me, I would have to have multiple bottles and would slather like a fiend. As lovely as this is in the end, I think I'd always be disappointed by the morphing from my "fantasy green" to light floral.

Heavy on the ginger when I first put this on my skin, Satan and Death With Sin Intervening does a quick morph into a minty tea scent. Light, fresh, and lovely, it doesn't seem to match the scent description to me, but it's good in an unexpected way. There doesn't seem to be a lot of shift on my skin, which is a rarity with my skin chemistry. I never smell the vetiver, which usually takes off on me, so I'm guessing it's the tiniest bit. Final result is rich mahogany, white tea, and a hint of orange blossom. Warm wood, cool citrus tea, and just a bit of whiteness from the orange blossom to pull it all together (which is pretty amazing, considering these are such different scents - I expected them to be more contradictory). Nice - very rich and warm without being heavy - but probably not something I'll purchase.

In the bottle, this smells like something I'd like to inhale when snuggling up to my husband. Definitely leather and oakmoss (which always smells like new money to me). Once I put it on, though, ambergris comes to the front. A little sweet, with that unique scent that's so hard to describe. The leather fades a little, but it's a beautiful combination - the scent has a texture like softest, buttery suede feels to your fingertips. After a couple of minutes, I get the final morph of Two Monsters on my skin. I can only guess that this is the tobacco flower combining with the "mock orange" a previous reviewer mentioned. It's a hint of fruity juice, rich tobacco flower, ambergris, and a touch of smokiness that is out of this world, and I love this final combination even more than the initial stages. This could definitely be worn by either sex. On a man, it would seem clean but have depth and melt into a second-skin scent. On a woman, this would be sexy without being pure sex; I think of this as something a young and glorious Sophia Loren would wrap around herself like an aura. Not at all what I expected from the description, and not at all what I expected when sniffing from the bottle. Definitely a purchase! Thanks to the General Catalog circle for allowing me to try the Salon scents before committing to a full bottle!

Remember making Kool-Aid as a kid? One of my dad's favorites for us to make was black cherry, mixed with lime, for our own version of a cherry limeade. This is it; Beth's hit the nail on the head - sweet, tart, and powdery! This isn't the Kool-Aid after you've added sugar, this is the powder pouring into the pitcher of water, waiting for the sticky-sweetness still to come. Yummy!

Let me just say that as good as the car currently smells, Roadhouse was probably not the best idea. My husband gets a speeding ticket every time he drives it - seriously; he's driven it three times and gotten two tickets and a warning - and he'll probably have to do the roadside sobriety test if he gets pulled over in the MINI. Smells reeeeeallly good, though! Thanks for all the suggestions, by the way. It ended up being more of a "take off lids and sniff until something ensnares you", and it was Roadhouse.

Ooh, ooh! Found one of the mystery notes that's been driving me to distraction! I don't see hyssop listed in any scents other than Absinthe, but my nose tells me it's the softer, less-sweet violet-like herbal note in some scents. For me, it's a cross between Florentine Iris and Violet, for lack of a better description. The internet tells me ... "The name hyssop comes from the Greek. The Hyssop of Dioscorides was named after AZOB (a holy herb). Hyssopus officianalis has an ancient medical reputation. It was used for purifying sacred places. Hyssop plants were cut and scattered upon the floors of rooms, allowing the aromatic compounds produced by the plant to diffuse into the air, thus "purifying" the room or building. Also, in the scriptures (Psalms 51 v 7) we are told 'purge me with Hyssop and I shall be clean'."

That's the direction I'm leaning, too, pink.owl. I think you nailed it - "least likely to go horribly wrong ... " New MINI = BPAL = heat-soured bpal permanently imbedded in new mini = and (and on the "dear god, I've ruined some bpal" level, not just the "ewww, my poor car" level; i'm not sure which of these two concepts pains me most!)

Ooh, good point. Lilac and intensification by heat could get ugly. And it's a new car, with cloth interior. If this experiment fails miserably, I don't want to smell if for the next four years (thus the absence of serious musk on the list! <grin>). Thanks for the input!

I'm still trying to decide. Imagine that! The list is down to (the asterisks are helping me keep track of what you guys think, nothing more): - TAL: King Solomon - Tarot: The Sun - Black Opal - Phantasm* - Embalming Fluid* - Undertow - Roadhouse - Nefertiti - Snake Oil - Tamora - Prague - Dragon's Eye - Strangler Fig - Gaueko - Panacea: Succor - TAL: Protection I'm obviously not getting far with this - and indecision is rarely an issue for me - so I'm grateful for thoughts on what might work out well in spite of the blistering heat.

:nods wildly at this: Oh. Em. Gee. it's hot out here. Not so much a scent suggestion, but have you thought about tying the cord long enough you can take the amphora inside with you during the day? Good idea, Wrenlet, but I don't want to end up with a non-perfumed workplace by causing sneezes. My car is always parked underneath a tree and with the sunroof and windows cracked; it's even cooler in the car that way than I had thought, because I accidentally left my makeup case in the boot on Friday afternoon and it wasn't melted. I don't think I can get away with taking more scent than I'm already wearing into the office. With only five of us, they'll figure out who the "smelly" one is pretty fast. I'm not sure I'm going to have any leeway when it comes to the heat. I'm hoping whatever we decide on doesn't change to something truly terrible in the heat. Probably ought to avoid civet and heavy musks, now that I think about it.

I realize I'm making this more difficult than I should, but as much BPAL as I have to choose from, I just can't seem to make up my mind. Let's see if I can make the long story short. Bullet-pointing might do the trick. - Little clay amphorae on black sinew, courtesy of my mother, just waiting to be hung in my new black MINI - obscene amount of BPAL to choose from - personal weirdness that makes me consider the clay receptacle acceptable for one scent and one scent only; a new scent would require a new diffuser - atrocious Texas heat and how that will change the character of the scent has to be taken into consideration - not sure how I feel about using a Twilight Alchemy blend that I'm working with right now, although I could use all the time and thought with this blend that I can get; since King Solomon makes everyone in my office go into a violent sneezing fit if I have it on my skin, maybe my drive time isn't a bad option - can hardly wait to pair bpal with one of the other fun things in my life Okay ... suggestions? Please, please, pretty please!! Thanks!

I don't know about the sleepy thing, Rinadoll. Maybe you're just so relaxed by your BPAL that it makes you drowsy? Or maybe you wore it over the holidays and it was the effect of holiday food, rather than the perfume - I know the massive carb and turkey intake of my family from November through January 1 makes me sleepy. I hope it's not actually an allergy! On a different note .... I didn't wear perfume until I was in college and lived away from home - my mother's very strong allergic reaction to the chemicals in retail perfumes led directly to migraines for her, so we all avoided perfume, aftershave, scented lotion, etc. One of the reasons I love BPAL so much is that not only do I enjoy it, my mother, discovering she could be around me when I wear Beth's scents, can also wear it. She's never had a reaction or headache from any BPAL she's tried or I've worn when around her (and that's a lot! ). Which leads me to something a little odd (to me, anyhow): the Voodoo and TAL blends don't bother my mother, who still doesn't take elevators unless she's the only one in them (to avoid the scent cloud/migraine thing), so it never occurred to me that they might really set someone off. However, I'd been working with TAL: King Solomon last week, and had a little on the palm of my hands when I went to work one day. Not only did two of my co-workers mention how odd and moldy the office smelled when they walked in (moldy - King Solomon?!?!! Or an office in Dallas after two weeks of 100* weather and no rain, for that matter?), they both started sneezing like crazy. HUGE sneezing fits, from nine a.m. to about 4 p.m., after repeated scrubbing attempts with Dawn dish soap on my part; sneezing fits to the point that the called the property management office and demanded that the air filters be changed out. Any ideas what it is in King Solomon that set them off so badly? The last time I used it and was around Mom, she mentioned two or three times how fresh and what a lovely "greenish" scent it was. If I can figure out what caused such a reaction in the ladies at work, I can be sure to avoid wearing that note in the future - the last thing I want is them to complain and make our office a "fragrance-free" zone!

This is another one of Beth's base notes that's dead on. Exactly like the tropical flower. Don't know what else to tell you, other than these are part of what make vacationing in Hawaii the tourist destination it is; plumeria are almost irresistable.

We just got a new digital camera for Christmas, so now that I have a working camera (!!!) I am able to oblige with photos of Come and See, all the Muses, and the three Phoenix labels. Aren't they beautiful?!?!!

It's light, it's fresh ... it's ... pickled?!?!! How odd! This is pale, pale green, like iceberg lettuce. Its fresh, even wet. Very cool and crisp. It's also funky. Perfumey and - I can't believe it - oddly sour, to the point it has a vinegary tone. Not necessarily unpleasant, just odd, after all the fantastically true single notes I've been testing. My bizarre chemistry may also be the cause, as I had my best friend try it, and she swears she's out in her garden, picking leaf lettuce, when she smells it.

Scent - Oh, this is nice. Lavender; juicy fruit tones - sweetly tart grapes, perhaps, but not wine; a hint of cinnamon; and what I think may be olive leaf. Intent - The lovely Chopchica purchased a bottle of this for me - I wanted an offering and bond to Pallas Athene, with whom I've felt a deep connection in the last few months. Annointing a candle and putting a couple of drops on charcoal last night as I offered thanks for all the recent and wonderful changes in my life left me with a huge smile and a sense of satisfaction that wasn't entirely my own. I very much felt like She was pleased. I have a lovely tart warmer decorated with olive leaves and branches that I'll be using to fill my home with what is both a lovely scent and a fitting offering of gratitude for the wisdom and protection Pallas Athene has brought into my life.