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A complex, voluptuous scent that captures the robust beauty of the Italian Renaissance: lemon, red currant, wisteria, red rose petals, heady jasmine, Florentine orris root, waterlily, red sandalwood, violet plum, and violet leaf. When we discussed this one on MUA, there were all sorts of interesting comments. One of the best was "Can a scent be red? An incredibly red jasmine that captures what I imagine Renaissance Venice would have been - bold, bright, voluptuous, and lush." I'm not a jasmine fan, but this isn't the headache-inducing type; it's very clear and rich. Others smelled violet plum, then waterlily, sandalwood, orris root, and other florals coming through. As a huge lemon fan, I'd be thrilled with just a bit more lemon and red currant to tarten things up, but the scent is a keeper as-is. Ultra-feminine, but don't confuse that with "girlie." This is wealthy, soft-skinned, full-bosomed Renaissance woman with rings on her fingers and a cup of wine in her hand.

From the Bewitching Brews collection: The skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crisped and sere - The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year: It was hard by the dim lake of Auber, In the misty mid region of Weir - It was down by the dank tarn of Auber, In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. Starry white lilies lend an eerie brightness to the deep black wooded scents of cypress and oak, layered with a touch of crushed dried leaves and the faintest aquatic note. Out of the vial, I thought this was going to be an earthen, brown scent. On, it's nothing of the sort. The lilies are absolute gems, sparkling and delicate, and they have that crisp, almost powdery fruity sweetness that lilies seem to give off before they're overblown. They're delicate, but distinct over the cypress (I couldn't tell you what oak smells like, so I can't tell you if it's in here) that's so beautifully woody. This wavers back and forth between the lilies and a bark note that's reminiscent of cinnamon - not red hots cinnamon, but the soft, faded, gorgeous red that's in Mercury and the Lion. Now that I think about it, this could indeed be the scent of from the middle of an autumnal leaf pile, raked into a mound and waiting to be bagged up. Overall, Ulalume has solid staying power, and the unique sweetness of the lilies holds sway over the gentle wooden notes with delightful, ethereal beauty. [/size][/color][/font]

A shot of pure, self-indulgent euphoria! A scent that is very, very wicked in its own way: the serotonin-slathered scent of pure milk chocolate. This is practically a single note, because it is indeed milk chocolate. I say that it's practically a single note, because my nose thinks there's just the tiniest bit of caramel in this, too. It's hard to keep from licking myself while I wear this.

A celebration of the Bone Church of Prague. Frankincense, rosewood, lily, and geranium rose. Immediately frankincense and lily, Kostnice settles into a surprisingly cool wood and green bouquet smell. The lilies are the more dry, almost powdery classic lily scent, and the rosewood is complemented by the green, slightly herbal note of the geranium rose. To me, this is much more the scent of a church than Cathedral is.

A piercing, radiant perfume: dragon's blood resin, lily of the valley, lilac and galbanum. Lilac, with just a hint of the lily of the valley, is the predominant scent here. The dragon's blood and galbanum make this more robust, without ever really taking over the scent - they're like the wooden pedestal the bowl of flowers is displayed on. Absolutely spring, like an armload of sweet, fresh flowers brought in out of the yard, with just a hint of resin from the church next door wafting through the open window.

Refined, austere and graceful. A recipe gleaned from Classical Rome: cypress, juniper, chamomile and rose. Goes on sharp and green, with the kind of intensity you'd expect from eucalyptus. After fifteen minutes or so, I sniff my wrists and find a very light, herbal rose; in fact, it's all about the chamomile with a moderate rose undercurrent, and is supported quite nicely by a late summer leaf, plucked from the tree and crushed between your fingers. Surprisingly, this had very little staying power on me. Maybe an hour, at the most. Usually green scents last longer than anything else on me, and this one would have to be touched up regularly. Would be well worth it, though - I think making some lotion out of this and layering might help, as well.

Sweet pea with stargazer lily, calla lily, heliotrope, honeysuckle, white musk and a touch of fresh pear. Sweet pea and honeysuckle leap out of the bottle, and are quickly joined by the splash of pear. The white musk and heliotrope really anchor this scent, which is so light and feminine with all the white flowers, and keep it from having that soapy note that sometimes sneaks into fragrances with all those florals. The stargazer lily is least identifiable to my nose, but the calla is definitely there as the drydown continues. Sweet, but not without backbone. Classically romantic and feminine.

Sweetly perfumed, like the branches that drooped over the entryway to my piano teacher's front door. This wisteria note starts out with a decided tang, almost to the point of resembling a cleaning fluid of some sort. Within a couple of minutes, though, it's settled into a fading lavender scent covered by the vibrant, almost stifling sweetness of wisteria in bloom.

I ordered a ton of rose-scented imps for my mom's Mother's Day present, and was delighted to open the package and find this fabulous lagniappe! If I have my history right, the French Quarter of New Orleans was originally called the Vieux Carre, or Old Square. This is a very pretty rose; soft and sweet. Makes me think of Old Venice, but with less brazenness, if that makes sense. It's very feminine, and with a gentle, warm tone. There might be a drop of jasmine and plum here, but I'd guess there's no lemon or red currant that you find in Venice because there's absolutely no sharpness to this scent. By no means does this have the throw of Old Venice. This is the kind of scent you find by nuzzling up against someone; it's reserved for intimate moments like a goodbye kiss or something much more personal. Actually, the more I wear this, the more I find my nose buried against my wrist. There's something fleeting and sexual, in a seemingly innocent and catch-me-if-you-can sort of way, buried in the notes of Vieux Carre. I'm going to revise the "drop of jasmine" to "a couple of drops of jasmine" and guess at a tiny bit of white musk. This has such a beautiful second-skin warmth to it, which seems odd considering it's definitely a floral, that I have to wonder about what Beth uses to heat it up so gently and caressingly. Staying power seems good; I've had it on about half an hour and it's still hovering close to my skin with the same intensity it started with. Quiet and graceful, Vieux Carre ensnares you so subtly that you don't notice you're head-over-heels until after the fact. Whatever the notes turn out to be, this is lovely. If you're on the fence about rose scents, put this on, let it dry down for a few minutes, and see if you can resist the southern charm.

Infuses you with immense amounts of courage and drive. Useful to help you recover from intense depression and ennui. Brings on a positive outlook, renews hope, and replenishes positive energy. Fills your spirit with the courage and nobility of a lion, warmed by the life-giving joy of its solar aspects. I didn't use this blend with specific intent, but more of a "I'm going to put this on, knowing I have a lousy and crazy day ahead of me, and see what happens" approach. From a purely scent aspect, this goes on with a trace of astringency that's not identifiably lavender, but has the feel of it. This blends so well with the slight green-stem scent that neither are really distinct, so I'm not able to offer any specific notes. Dry down is warm, fuzzy heliotrope with a hint of the green-purple surrounding it. Not leonine in the sense of The Mad Tea Party's Lion, but very definitely noble and "leader of the pack." As for the oil's description, even with my no-effort approach, I: plowed through obscene amounts of paperwork I'd had no desire to tackle, smiled effortlessly at clients I typically want to smack up the side of the head, didn't even cringe at the thought of tomorrow being more hectic, and came home to dance in the middle of the living room with my three-and-a-half year old daughter. Imagine what this blend can do with a little focus!

Calla lily surprised me, because I didn't realize it would be so very different from stargazer lily - which is what I think of when I see "lily" in a description. Instead of that classic lily scent, Calla Lily is sweeter and almost fruitily floral; much more like the delicate and unusual tone of orchid than what I was expecting. It's fantastic as a single note, and so luscious and clean that I'm going to buy a bottle for everyday wear.

Here's exactly what I think of when I look for a lily note - sweetly crisp, with just a hint of white floral lushness; perfect, and without teetering on the edge of being overblown and sickly (bouquets of lilies seem to go from perfect to wilting so very fast). Very, very nice, and the elegant, pearl-wearing, grown-up sister of Calla Lily.

Beth had two single notes in lavender, although one was never on the site; I was lucky enough to get an imp of both the French and Bulgarian lavenders long ago. The French Lavender is what I think of as "standard" lavender; it's crisp and the more astringent of the two. It's the note in Arcana and most of the other blends containing lavender. For those who think lavender is a sharp, rather medicinal smell, French Lavender is probably the one they're referring to. Although that pungent, camphor-like feel fades away in five or ten minutes, I've had friends who weren't lavender lovers tell me that was the part that really put them off. Beth's single note in French Lavender is the best I've tried. Yes, it has that pungency that comes with French Lavender, but it's much less sharp than many other lavender essential oils. Her single note also has wonderful staying power after that part fades away, so the herby floral goodness that's the best part of lavender lasts, unlike other versions. Lavender's a widely available scent, but this single note stands out. Rich and full, it's the best of what lavender should be.

Sweet, clean and vaguely guest-soapy. Faint cherry tones, but mostly a light, white floral.

Crown of Success: An aggressive blend, used for overcoming obstacles. Particularly effective in shoving aside those who hinder your climb to success. Used also in silencing slander and stopping gossip. This success blend has a strong protective aspect that helps shield you from the negativity generated by the jealousy and covetousness of others. I've got a job interview in the morning, and it was a tough call choosing between Crown of Success and Come to Me. I decided I'd try this one tonight, and see what I thought of the scent for wearing tomorrow. There's a definite non-perfume scent to Crown of Success. It's got that smooth-but-chalky characteristic in Tarot: the World, and it's got an herbal resonance similar to Horn of Plenty from the Voodoo Blends. This is very definitely made to get results, not to have the wearer tell you how good you smell. That said, it's very empowering - and simultaneously soothing. I can see how it would encourage you to conquer any situation, and it does feel like there's a protective circle around me. I'm even more comfortable in my skin and could let a hateful comment just slide off me (as proof, my mother called tonight after I put this on; we talked for an hour and four minutes, and her usual mostly-unintentional zings didn't rile me at all - we had a very good, very productive conversation because of it). If you're wearing this, go easy. It's like Water of Notre Dame - a little goes a very long way. I dabbed Crown of Success on my wrists, in my cleavage, under my ears, and on the back of my neck, and I have no doubt I'll have to suds up a second time in tomorrow morning's shower to remove all traces. Reading back over the review, I said," ... made to get results, not to have the wearer tell you how good you smell." Don't let that discourage you - this may be an acquired taste, like Horn of Plenty or Water of Notre Dame, but it's beautiful in its own right. If you're open to the "different" scent of the Voodoo and Tarot series, you'll probably enjoy this one.

My heritage is Czech, so I know a good kolache when I see one ... and poppy seed is one of my favorites. Black poppy has just the faintest hint of the dried seeds - it's a dry, not sweet, scent unto itself. This is definitely a floral, but it's a soft, wistful, and dry floral, not a sweet or ... go ahead and laugh at me ... flowery one. Dry spice - I think this could well be one of the notes in Xiuhtecuhtli.

Brings immense success in love and money. While there's no "official" description for Mantle of Venus, I understand it's intended to bring immense success in money and love. Since I don't like clove in any quantity, it was hard to put Mantle of Venus on myself and on a candle at first. Once I managed to get past the intensity of the clove, though, I'm pretty sure I smelled cinnamon, orange peel, and maybe even a little nutmeg. As this dried down a little, I was pleasantly reminded of the oranges we covered with cloves and other spices pushed into the peel at Christmas when I was a kid, then hung up as pomanders. The effectiveness of this blend has overcome my aversion to cloves, at least enough to use this. The first time I used it, I annointed a pink candle and my pulse points, then concentrated on my goals in love and money. I didn't ask for anything specific; in fact, I focused on being open to opportunities, whether new or in progress, and to have the strength to make the most of those opportunities, especially the difficult ones that might not seem rewarding up front. And ... later that night, my recently-rediscovered and never forgotten college sweetheart and I decided we couldn't make our long-distance relationship work. Not exactly what I had in mind, but I was oddly relieved - and a little voice popped into my head with, "Okay, be open. Apparently this situation had to change for love and money to come to you, so use some of that strength you asked for to sit back and see what happens." I decided to clean out my closet to occupy myself, rather than fret, and found the piggy bank I put change into for six months, then lost during my move - it had over $100 in it. Today is two weeks later. My current job was winding down to less than 20 hours a week, not including the two hours of drive time each day and mileage costs. My boss, a beloved family friend, decided to close her office down completely and suddenly rather than gradually retire - about ten minutes before I called to tell her I'd accepted a new job and would need to start with less than a week's notice. The new job pays $75 more than the maximum of the actual pay range, and the family friend/current boss I was so worried about putting in a bind is delighted at the prospect of closing the office immediately. To make a long story short on the love front, the boyfriend's not only decided to make the relationship work, he's proposed. As a single parent, I probably appreciate most what Mantle of Venus has done for my relationship with my daughter. It's very obvious in my household that we love each other, but as she gets closer to school age, we're losing some of that unabashed intimacy and affection that small children share with their parents. Every time I use this blend, we make some fabulous new memory together, and can't get enough of hugging each other and doing things together as equals. Those moments change my life. Obviously, Mantle of Venus has been incredibly effective for me. I can't thank Beth enough for her gift of this blend. [added description ~qs]

Sweetly herbal, this lacks the dustiness of the dried chamomile I have stashed away in my shelf of teas, which means it's totally true to the scent of chamomile. This version is much sweeter, and much more pleasant, than other chamomile oils I've smelled; I'm assuming it has something to do with the roman variety of the plant. I really do like this - it dries down so soft and sweet that I'm strongly considering a bottle for everyday wear. It's light and yet substantial - never overpowering - and really glows sweetly gold-green.

Beth had two single notes in lavender, although one was never on the site; I was lucky enough to get an imp of both the French and Bulgarian lavenders long ago. The French Lavender is what I think of as "standard" lavender; it's crisp and the more astringent of the two. The Bulgarian Lavender, though, is an entirely different story. Beth's single notes are always amazing; they're so much better and more true than anything else on the market. The Bulgarian Lavender is no exception to that rule, and it's so sweet and lush that there's almost none of the "pungency factor" to it that turns so many people off when it comes to lavender. My mother loves lavender almost as much as I do, and I slathered some of each lavender on her wrists. She sniffed the French Lavender, commenting on how nice and true it was. She got to the Bulgarian Lavender, though, and her mouth fell open. "It's so sweet - this is perfect! There's hardly any of that sharp, bitter smell to it! What did she do to this lavender to make it so good?!?!!" I wish I'd stocked up on this when the Single Notes were still available. I'd use it bath goodies, lotions, linen spray, room spray, candles, and everything I could think of. I go through quite a bit of lavender essential oil each spring, because the pungency and herbal end-result seem perfect for spring cleaning and the beginning of a new time of year, but none of the essential oils I've come across over the years compare to Beth's Bulgarian Lavender.

From the Tarot collection; no scent description provided at BPAL website. Sharp and sweet at the same time, when first out of the bottle - pine and a sharp, astringent note quickly move forward. The bright, astringent note, which I can't identify, is pleasing and yet causes unease at the same time. Almost metallic as it dries down. This stays crisp and, for lack of a better term - bright. In fact, this scent resonates and really shines out from its spot on my arm, and if I close my eyes, get close, and just breathe in and out for a minute, I'm practically floating here in my chair. Disconnected and otherworldly in itself, but a connector by its nature.

Limited edition; winter 2003. The juice of ripe, bursting, blood red holly berries. The juice of ripe, bursting blood red holly berries - with plenty of the tangy green leaves thrown in. Absolutely holiday, I smell like a fresh garland of greens draped across the fireplace, with some cinnamon-y apple cider simmering in the other room and just barely discernable. Sharp, but good. I'm more likely to use this as a room scent than a personal one.

Dynamic Energy - Lust - Enthusiasm - Resolution - Courage - Physical Strength - Mental Acuity - Comraderie - Engineering - Any Work With Metals - Victory - Conquest - War - Power - Domination - Military Matters - Daring Deeds <span style='color:black'><span style='font-size:10pt;line-height:100%'><span style='font-family:Georgia'>There's a little cinnamon in this one - it's a used-bookstore red, if that makes sense. Cinnamon, dust, paper, light spice, and serious cloves - with a hint of sandalwood. All business, to the point of forceful, and no question about the conquest aspect of this scent. Not an overpowering scent, though; this receded past the initial blast quite nicely, and clove typically expands on me. Clove lovers will be entranced; non-enthusiasts will have an instant headache.</span></span></span>

From the Tarot collection; no description of scent provided by BPAL. This is an incredibly complex scent that manages to balance notes I didn't realize could be balanced. Sandalwood, cinnamon, running water, lemon, eucalyptus - these are just the start of the components in the World. This is earthy, airy, warm, and crisp all at the same time. This strikes me as the ultimate no-category scent, because it's all categories at once. I'll wear this on a regular basis because it's compelling and ethereal while still being grounded, but also because it's a scent that fits any mood on any day, in any season and for any occasion. Wearing this elicits a feeling of wholeness.

The sweet, perfect violet note in Veil, Wings of Azrael, Marie, and other wonderful creations by Beth. Soooo good!

Lightly powdery and green, this is clean and fresh. I think this note is in Tears and Zombi.