Reedsong

This scent makes me snicker. In the '80s, I was in junior high and had two alarmingly sweet scents that I loved to wear, both teeny-bopper kind of perfumes: one was called Tribe, and the other Malibu Musk. Ever since getting into BPAL, I've been tempted to find both of them, just for a trip down memory lane. I can save myself part of that search - Toxin is Malibu Musk in BPAL form! I smell just like I'm walking down the beach...or at least the halls of my junior high school. It's got this freakishly-sweet-aquatic thing going. I am amused. Anytime I feel like being ten years old again, I'm going to wear Toxin. Though the name puzzles me - if toxins really smelled this sweet, I'd run out and pollute everything in sight.

What a surprise this one has turned out to be! I expected to like it pretty well, but it's so unique and interesting that my little imp will be getting more use than I thought. All of the notes mentioned in the description - I can smell them distinctly, and then they all blend together to create an aura of something magical and remote. This is definitely the most evocative yet of the Shakespearean scents.

I just got an imp of this today. I've really been looking forward to this one because of my good luck with the 'Baudelaire scents' in general and because it sounded wonderful. At first test, the apple and honey are the strongest notes, but after only a few minutes, the apple fades away almost completely, and what's left is a languid, musky honey. This reminds me quite a bit of Honey Moon, but lighter and much sexier. Dammit, Lab! I was trying to save money! And then you had to come out with this, and it's probably going to be a 5 mL purchase for me, and it'll sit right next to my treasured Living Flame bottle in the "scents for Gallic-style seduction" section of my box.

Two things I've noticed, one related to this thread and one not: 1. Othello smells a lot like The Living Flame, at least on me. Sweeeeet. 2. Pumpkin Patch #1 smells a great deal like Beth's experimental/Snake Oil blend. It even gives me the same rash. Definitely worth trying, since the PP#1 is a lot easier to get...

Two bottles to review, ahoy! CI: This was my original bottle and smelled like a very pretty rose in the bottle, with faint hints of mint and fruit. When I put it on, it immediately became a kind of thin, almost aquatic tea rose with a decent amount of throw and a mild, but not cloying sweetness; the mint, fortunately, went away almost immediately. It was an interesting scent, but I have enough BPAL rose scents that I knew I wouldn't use this one very much. So I swapped it with emzebel for: CCCXC: This just arrived today, and I almost fainted when I opened the bottle. A mild, green/herby, almost soapy floral - and the sweet green notes smell the same as in Val Sans Retour! Ohhhh, yeah! On my skin, sadly, this fades quickly and has no throw whatsoever. It clings to my skin for dear life, and someone else would have to be in direct contact with me in order to smell it. (Similar problem with Val, actually.) Having said that, though, this is still a really lovely scent. The florals warm and deepen (I have no idea what flowers), and it smells fresh and clean, like a flower garden after a spring rain. I really like this and will definitely be keeping it, though will probably trade away an imp or two if anyone's curious. I'm seriously loving the Chaos Theories so far and may have to spring for another bottle before they go away. *praying for civet* Edit: Heyyyyy! There's a creamy note in here somewhere!! *sniffs wrists* Where did this come from!? Good lord, this smells even better now. Previously reviewed by emzebel.

I just snagged decants of these from the lovely LiberAmoris, so here I am to add to her review (post #18 in this thread): XXI: This is a freshly cracked peppercorn with a little herbiness in the background. I actually went to my spice cabinet to see what matched the herb(s), and I got thyme and possibly oregano. This is a fun scent and will be neat to wear when I'm cooking! CCCXII: Plummy in the imp with the slightest hint of floral, this is nice to smell but dries to something like a slightly plastic-y Oya on my skin. I'm glad I got to sample it, but it's not quite for me. CCXCVI: Oh. Dear. Gods. Above. Through you doth manifest all things good, and I sing a paean of thanks to you for Chaos Theory II: CCXCVI; yea, thy mercy and bounty are great. I had really high hopes from Formula 54, but it went to a cherry cough syrup on me, and I swapped it away. This Chaos Theory is how I wanted F54 to be! It's the perfect sweet fragrance, elegant, like a glass of fine wine, with a bowl of cherries and a dish of small cakes set beside it. It reminds me of F54 crossed with a little bit of Beaver Moon. I've just slathered myself in this stuff with the zeal of a chicken pox patient holding a bottle of calamine lotion...and then I realised, wait, I can't, because it's a one-of-a-kind Chaos Theory! LiberAmoris, I hope you still have some decants left! *runs to check* CCXCVI:

So. I leave La Belle Au Bois Dormant and Nihil unsupervised in my imp cabinet, and this is what happens - they reproduce, and it's called Languor! That's the only explanation I have as to i) how this imp appeared, and ii) why it smells so perfect. I envision Beth standing over a cauldron with a grin and a cackle, blending several addictive drugs and then squeezing huge handfuls of tuberose flowers into the mix. That's exactly the blend: flowery crack. I love it.

This is a beautiful cluster of flowers. I'm so bad at identifying notes that I'd probably be stumped by Blue Cheese SN, but it reminds me of jasmine, gardenia, and others with rich, deep, warm and tropical fragrances. It's sultry yet bright, sexy, the perfect summer scent - or a perfect scent for the dead of winter when you want to be reminded that, yes, there are flowers somewhere under all that snow. Nihil is my favourite BPAL floral to date, and if this ever becomes available on the site - forget 5 and 10 mLs, I want my Nihil to be measured in litres! Meanwhile, I've made it known that I'll sell kidneys to acquire more - and I'm secretly hoping that Beth gets tired towards the end of Chaos Theory 3, thinks, "Aww, forget it," and dumps a whole bunch of Nihil in my bottle. I even made a LiveJournal icon for it, and I haven't done that since City in the Sea. A LiveJournal icon, people! This is serious, hardcore, unreleased devotion here. Nihil = Utterly intoxicating flowers. I think I'm actually strung out on it as I finish this entry.

I was so excited when I received this imp because, in the bottle, it smelled a lot like The Great Sword of War - a perennial favourite and fantastic fragrance. I applied it, though, and on my wrist it quickly lost all of the Sword-y notes and dried down to a really weird talcum powder. The throw of "freshly powdered baby" was so strong that I had to wash it off after about ten minutes, and the imp promptly migrated to the swap pile... ...where it remained, pulsing discordantly near my other imps, maddening me with its presence before I finally found a swapper who wanted it. Imagine that. I'd loved all of the DiMV scents I'd tried before getting to this one. It broke my perfect record. And I was sad.

This is beautiful! I'll try to soften my usual biting sarcasm to do this scent justice. I definitely smell the maple and wildflowers right away. It's sweet in the bottle and sweet on my skin, very richly sweet without being syrupy or cloying. As I wear it longer, the cypress and pine start to emerge, and the scent fades away very gracefully. And when I say "longer," I mean hours on end - ten hours later, I could still get a lingering scent as my wrist migrated to my nose for the eight zillionth time. Aside from that whole Cthulhu mess, I want to go live in Arkham if this is how it smells in spring. It would sure beat the scent of teenage desperation exuding thickly from the Campustown bar scene. Arkham Revisited: Continuing my undefeated Springtime in Arkham streak!

After striking out with Ultraviolet, Cathode, and several other 'cold' scents, I was thrilled to smell Tulzscha. There's a definite cool mint to it - in the bottle, it's kind of like the Doublemint Twins on acid - but the scent has a nice, sickly edge that does not smell like toothpaste. This actually had a refreshing, tingly feeling on my skin and was perfect for a summer day. A really evil summer day. If you don't normally like mint, try Tulzscha. I was certainly surprised by it! Tulzscha: Continuing my undefeated Springtime in Arkham streak!

On first application of Kingsport, I was immediately reminded of Sweet Tarts candy, for some reason, and while distinctly not pleased - if something smells like candy on me, I usually wash it off with a shudder - I decided to let this one lie for a while. About ten minutes in, the aquatic/breeze notes started to emerge, and then, like the little imp creatures in Galaxy Quest, they went dark. This is the water that the evil sociopath pushes his girlfriend into in the Lifetime movie-of-the-week. This is the water into which a young child in a horror movie stares and solemnly intones, "Something bad happened in there." This is the water you wade in before diving deeply down to "Death's aquatic throne" in City in the Sea; in fact, I'd almost call this more deadly than City in the Sea, since it has a certain beguiling, tempting sweetness to it. I get seaweed and deep water from this, as well as breezy sweetness, which is strange, given the description. I think my skin makes everything turn darker and more evil than it really is, though. There's probably a lesson in that. Kingsport: Continuing my undefeated Springtime in Arkham streak! Woohoo!

I work pretty hard for my money, so it's always a shock to realise I've spent it unwisely. Right now, I'm reflecting that I paid shipping costs so that I could smell like a wet rat. Wow. Did you catch that? A rat. And not just a rat, a wet one. 5 minutes: I like consistency in people. I was hoping to avoid it in fragrance. For all of your soaked rodentry needs, baby, I'm your girl. 10 minutes: I can only imagine answering questions from people. "Does anyone smell...something?" "That's my perfume." "Oh, I thought a small furry creature had just come in from the rain." 15 minutes: At least this stays close to my skin. For the first time, I'm thrilled to be single. 20 minutes: I asked my cat to help evaluate. I put my wrist down by his nose, and he started circling my arm, the same way he does when he's about to pounce on the kitten. Soap? Aye! Swap pile? Yes sirree! Edit: What the heck?! I'm headed for the soap, and suddenly the rat-ness fades a bit and this woody-muskiness emerges? There was forest under that there rat! And it actually smells pretty interesting! *grumbles grudgingly* Okay. Further testing obviously required. I may still swap this one, but it likely doesn't deserve the total wank I gave it above. I'm keeping it there anyway because it's vaguely amusing.

City in the Sea! My review is here: http://www.bpal.org/index.php?showtopic=18070&st=50 It's an LE but not too-too hard to find, and even if it were, I wouldn't care. (My devotion to this fragrance is kind of scary, actually. )

Does anyone else remember the episode of Seinfeld that aired shortly after the Today sponge was pulled from the market? If not: the character Elaine was horrified that her favourite contraceptive was being discontinued, so she hoarded all the sponges she could find. (The Today became an LE, basically. ) Her dates for the rest of the episode became hilarious as she was forced to judge each potential partner "spongeworthy" or "non-spongeworthy." Well, I have one full imp of Shub-Niggurath, so the rest of my life events will now be judged as either Shubworthy, or Non-Shubworthy. This was another, "Hey, let's hook Lindsay on the LEs! The first hit's free!" sniffy gift that sent me on a mad quest to find more. The oil itself is warm, alluring in a way I always imagined the kyphi of Egypt and the fabulous spices of the Far East to be; this is a remote, mysterious scent, not quite primordial but not entirely recorded, either. On my skin, it glows; this fragrance is very feminine in the sense of the ancient goddess of great power. I actually feel more female wearing this than almost any other BPAL scent (including the florals, aquatics, and other 'lighter' notes more stereotypically associated with womanliness). Shub was also an opportunity for much mockery. Everyone I knew who read the "corrupted Astarte" description wasn't surprised in the least that this scent worked for me. I guess I really do come across as just that evil.

I received a sniffy in the mail a few days ago as a very generous frimp; I'd been dying to try this one. Within five minutes, my excitement had faded from, "Yay, Misk U!" to, "Oh, dear lord, where's my soap??" The imp exudes a "venerable tomes of rather evil learning" fragrance that fascinates, intrigues, tantalises. Then I applied the oil to my skin, and it instantly transformed into "rich buttery gumbo." It's this strong, pervasive, savoury-roux-butter aroma that's really disturbing, radiates from my wrists and envelopes the entire room; I think it seeped into the walls and will torment the next tenant of this apartment. I smell like I've just come from Cthulhu's Dark Kitchen of Evilly Fattening Southern Cuisine. I had to pass on this one, unfortunately. And it destroyed my undefeated Springtime in Arkham streak. And I was sad.

When I bought this, I had never read the descriptions or reviews and had no idea how it would smell. I just wondered if I would have luck in purchasing BPAL based on the name alone. I mean - the Cracked Bell. What more do you need for a perfect mix of despair and art? It should be part of a series: the Shattered Glass Tower, the Strip-Mined Forest, the McDonaldized Skyline. But I digress. The point is - I should use this kind of luck in picking lotto numbers. Cracked Bell is gorgeous. At first scent, it's incense and metal with tangs of smoke and blood; for some reason, it reminds me of the incense burners in the Catholic Mass, which may be why several people have described this scent as comforting and evocative of memories. It's the very exhalation of the soul once it touches my skin, retaining the incense sweetness without being cloying or overpowering. Cracked Bell is soothing, reflective, and slightly smoky. It's a fire with scented logs on a cold night, or a ritual at home in a warm, incense-filled room. Despite the chilly mood the poem evokes, I find the aroma to be very warming and enjoy the Cracked Bell best as a sleep fragrance after long, stressful days. Verdict: This blew me away, and I'm too sarcastic to be easily impressed. Find a bottle of this if you can - especially now that you've actually read how it smells.

The scent of Death’s seaside throne: luminous aquatic notes threaded through by creeping ivies, white woods, waving kelp and bruised violets. When presented with many tempting choices, I often have trouble deciding between them. I'm the girl who takes forever to order a pizza (angering the waitstaff with special requests, too) and looks at five hundred websites before making the simplest purchase. Once I do find something I enjoy, though, I obsess over it to a degree that's amusingly bizarre. So when I say that my favourite BPAL scent is The City in the Sea, anyone who possesses any quantity of this perfume will become my new bestest friend in the whole wide world. Its aroma, even in the bottle, evokes all of the unfathomable mysteries of the ocean. I handled my imp with the ginger nervousness usually reserved for holding babies and loaded guns; I could tell it would smell fantastic on me. And oh, it did - on my skin, it multiplied and released complex, powerful notes. I smelled seaweed, salt tang, aquatic sweetness, and a darker languor that suggested the hypnotic, ancient rhythm of the sea. I had to stop working for a while; I need my wrists to type, but they were riveted to my nose. I tried it once and then, wrenchingly, offered it on my altar to Agwé, spirit of the sea, because it was so completely of his realm. I then found and paid a large sum for a full bottle, and will probably hoard this stuff in the future with the zeal of an angry cult leader stockpiling ammunition. Verdict: Exquisite beyond words. Anyone who tries to get my bottle will inspire the follow-up fragrance: "City of the People Sleeping With the Fishies." "Keep raising the prices, we'll break into your houses and take the f-ing cigarettes. They're a drug, we're addicted, okay?" --Denis Leary

Let the tongue-in-cheek begin! In the bottle, it smells like the first exhalation of a jar of maraschino cherries, and when it touches my skin, instantly I'm overpowered with fond memories of staying home from school sick and drinking cherry Robitussin by the gallonful. (Granted, "reminding others of their childhood illnesses" is probably not the signature scent I want to choose for cocktail parties.) Anyway, the overpowering cherry-tacularness subsides to reveal a quieter, more subtle aroma of...evergreen? Good lord. It's a toxic waste-ridden Kyoto, where all of the sushi has three eyes and the ancient pines have started sprouting cherries! In fact, I fear that if I leave this on for too much longer, my wrists will grow cherries, and I'll have to find a way to explain my sudden resignation to my boss. Yeah, I'm not too thrilled with this. I could wear it if it were the last perfume left in a post-apocalyptic world, and I had the choice of smelling like a cherry blossom car air freshener or breathing deeply of nuclear decay - but seeing as we're not quite there yet, I'll probably pass this one along. Verdict: Yummy in the bottle, but my skin mutates it. Horrifically. Oh god.