Dark Alice

Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy. Blood musk and ashes. This is unusual. It is a very subtle blood musk. But not a lot of ash. More like warmth, burning paper before it completely snuffs out. Ash smells smoky, this doesn't. It's so subtle and beautiful. Letting it settle helped a bit. So now I am going to keep this bottle. I have a feeling that this will just get better with time!

Fucking hipsters. Sweet tobacco and raw patchouli with Italian bergamot, pine needle, vintage dime store musk, and red sandalwood. Welp. Sadly this is my first fail. The sweet tobacco and dime store musk...are a nauseating combination on my skin. I amp metal, so I should have known that when Beth said dime, she meant it. I am releasing this out into the world in hopes that someone else will like it. Thank God it's only an imp.

“…Our kind of people, we are…” He waved the cigarillo about, as if using it to hunt for a word, then stabbing forward with it. “…exclusive. We’re not social. Not even me. Not even Bacchus. Not for long. We walk by ourselves or we stay in our own little groups. We do not play well with others. We like to be adored and respected and worshiped—me, I like them to be tellin’ tales about me, tales showing my cleverness. It’s a fault, I know, but it’s the way I am. We like to be big. Now, in these shabby days, we are small. The new gods rise and fall and rise again. But this is not a country that tolerates gods for long. Brahma creates, Vishnu preserves, Shiva destroys, and the ground is clear for Brahma to create once more.” Memories of myrrh and gold, and the dying smoke of a snuffed cigarillo. This myrrh is smooth. Absolutely smooth and light. The smoke is mild and it smells a little bit like a melon Cigarillo. I love it. I can't wait to wear it!

Absolute power in the temporal world: red musk and leather streaked with tomato leaf and tobacco. This is just beautiful. The red musk and tomato leaf blend effortlessly on my skin and the tobacco just hangs back in the cut gently to give this scent some balance. I am glad I ordered a bottle. It is truly wonderful.

I wanted to love this. But there is too much spicy amber and peach and not enough Ambergis and vanilla cream to balance it out. *sigh*

Energy, will, and the manifested Word of the Magus. It is the generative process, the act of creation: ash, rowan, oak, and elder wood, polished with sweet resins but handworn, glowing with inner fire. From wet to dry, this a lighter version of Antkythera Mechanism, with a lighter wood. I imagine the mop with Mickey smells like this!

He is seated upon the throne whose capitals are the heads of the Himalayan wild ram, since Aries means a Ram. At his feet, couchant, is the Lamb and the Flag, to confirm this attribution on the lower plane; for the ram, by nature, is a wild and courageous animal, lonely in lonely places, whereas when tamed and made to lie down in green pastures, nothing is left but the docile, cowardly, gregarious and succulent beast. – Aleister Crowley, Book of Thoth Tobacco leaf, stone-grey ambergris, cistus, benzoin, and Himalayan cedar. A cedar that actually works on me! HOT DAMN! The cedar with the grey ambergis and benzoin make this beautiful. I am tempted to get this for myself, however I wonder if my BIL would like it too. This is a very unisex scent. I love it!

The augurs brought forward the victims for him to make his final sacrifice before his entry into the Senate Room. It was manifest that the omens were unfavourable. The augurs substituted one animal after another in the attempt to secure a more auspicious forecast. Finally they said that the indications from the gods where unfavourable and that there was plainly some sort of curse hiding in the victims. In disgust, Caesar turned away toward the setting sun, and the augurs interpreted this action still more unfavourably. The assassins were on hand and were pleased at all this. Nicolaus of Damascus Darkness falling, shadows cast by prophesies unheeded: black oudh and amber. Wet: The amber and oude are separate entities. Strong, and very much there. Dry: Unlike our current political climate and poor Caesar, they come to an agreement and blend beautifully. Dry it's ambery oude, dark and slightly seductive. This bottle is worth keeping.

FIGHTER Leather, musk, blood, and steel. Wet: All ye leather fiends...rejoice! This is beautiful brown leather...fresh...on me its kind of like the leather from Brom Bones without the cologne note. There is the barest hint of metal in this...but it really is a clean leather with metal. Drydown: Leather with the clean metal and now the musk kicks in. Thankfully it doesn't really overtake the leather...it kind of compliments it..and there is the faintest tang of blood. This is gorgeous. And an immediate bottle purchase.

The Hustler, the Scoundrel, the Grifter, using the magic of misdirection, charm, and subtlety to swindle his way through this world, and through all worlds, seen and unseen. Eloquent and glib, he is the quintessential knave. He is the Guardian of Gamblers and the Protector of Con-Men. A confidence trick: leather, sweet balsam, white sandalwood, thieves’ rosin, and dusty lavender. This is a lovely lavender, with sweet balsam, and thieves' rosin. I love it. Need a bottle. Stat!

Pumpkin spice them carnies! This is warm, pumpkin spice, with a hint of cardamom, nutmeg and cinnamon with SNAKE OIL!!! This is a double bottle for sure and I believe it will age beautifully!

HALF-ELF White sandalwood, beeswax, white tea leaf, oud, and a hint of sophisticated urban musk. Wet: Bitter...woodsy...and leaves. Drydown: Soft leather, woods...and a hint of leaves. I think it's the musk and beeswax that is giving this a leafy feel. I am going half elf with good and see what happens. With good this was a no go. The beeswax just stomped all of the Half-elf goodness out. BUT...with evil. Seductive naughty sex in the woods on a bed of leaves with a half-elf dressed in soft gorgeous leather.

NOTHING BUT DEATH There are cemeteries that are lonely, graves full of bones that do not make a sound, the heart moving through a tunnel, in it darkness, darkness, darkness, like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves, as though we were drowning inside our hearts, as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul. And there are corpses, feet made of cold and sticky clay, death is inside the bones, like a barking where there are no dogs, coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere, growing in the damp air like tears of rain. Sometimes I see alone coffins under sail, embarking with the pale dead, with women that have dead hair, with bakers who are as white as angels, and pensive young girls married to notary publics, caskets sailing up the vertical river of the dead, the river of dark purple, moving upstream with sails filled out by the sound of death, filled by the sound of death which is silence. Death arrives among all that sound like a shoe with no foot in it, like a suit with no man in it, comes and knocks, using a ring with no stone in it, with no finger in it, comes and shouts with no mouth, with no tongue, with no throat. Nevertheless its steps can be heard and its clothing makes a hushed sound, like a tree. I'm not sure, I understand only a little, I can hardly see, but it seems to me that its singing has the color of damp violets, of violets that are at home in the earth, because the face of death is green, and the look death gives is green, with the penetrating dampness of a violet leaf and the somber color of embittered winter. But death also goes through the world dressed as a broom, lapping the floor, looking for dead bodies, death is inside the broom, the broom is the tongue of death looking for corpses, it is the needle of death looking for thread. Death is inside the folding cots: it spends its life sleeping on the slow mattresses, in the black blankets, and suddenly breathes out: it blows out a mournful sound that swells the sheets, and the beds go sailing toward a port where death is waiting, dressed like an admiral. - Pablo Neruda A dark purple river swelling with tears of rain, damp violets, and specks of bone thick with green scents that speak of mortality: black dried fruits, opopponax, moss, violet leaf and petal, tobacco absolute, saltwater accord, niaouli, and brushed sage. Wet: Wet dirt with hints of violet and water.. Drydown: Gorgeous, violet, water, and green. As it continues to dry there is the barest hint of fruit in this. And now the tobacco is starting to peek it's head out. This is a clean, violet slightly aquatic scent with some fruit and tobacco. Oddly...this is wonderful...I hope that it will age beautifully.

Lemonlife hit the nail on the head with this review. It smells like fancy, dark german chocolate. Smooth, bitter but lightly sweet. I want to eat this. It's delicious.

Wet: Lavender, a little honey, and plumeria. Dry: Plumeria has bitched slapped the lavender and knocked out the honey. Plumeria is now the winner. SN plumeria. No thanks.

This smells like Lemonheads mixed with limeheads and blended with lemon and lime lifesavers. Not my jam, but I am glad I got a chance to try it.

Eight legs of wild plum and scrabbling black musk fluttering over a sac of lemon sugar eggs. Light, lemon mixed with plum a dash of sugar with a smooth hint of black musk in the background. The musk is clean and keeps the lemon in check. Finally, a lemon scent I can enjoy!

DWARF Iron filings and chips of stone, Styrian Golding hops, and soot-covered leather. On its own...Iron Fillings and stone....true from wet to drydown. Mixed with EVIL... IT IS AMAZING!!! I am definitely an Evil Dwarf.

The Magician’s right hand bears the wand of Will aloft, while his left hand points earthward. This is the descent of grace, the act of drawing Divine light and inspiration to the material, mortal realm. Sweet myrrh, calamus, ambrette seed, and Ceylon cinnamon. On wet: Sweet myrrh and juniper mainly. The Ceylon cinnamon keeps the juniper from getting to strong. I am not the biggest fan of this one. I am glad I got the decant, I won't need a bottle. The final dry down is sweet myrrh with hints of cinnamon and juniper. Pass.

Educational toys for tots! Learn non-Euclidean calculus, catoptric theory, quantum physics, and the mysteries of Elder magic the fun way! An ancient baetylus floating within an array of bizarre trapezoidal figures, glimmering tubes, rusting spheres, and whirling gogs formed from peculiar metals, glowing tektites, strangely suspended lead mirrors, and eerie driftings of meteoric dust. Wet-Bright shiny golden metallic toys. That is exactly what this smells like. There is a hint of citrus in this....swirling around in the oil...but dead on this is a light golden metal. As it dries....it turns a little cologney...but not manly cologne and it becomes quite clean..... It's quite nice. I think a little aging will help tone it down a little. Also as it dries...it gets lighter but it does have a good throw.

This is the lightest woody scent I have ever tried. Smells like smooth lightly polished birch. It's a shame my skin eats this, b/c it is wonderful in the imp.

This is a gorgeous pom, violet and purple scent. I don't know what dates smell or taste like. But if they are like this, I need them! Bottle worthy for sure!

Sexy rich dirt, opium and laudunum. Sexiest dirt I have ever tried. So glad I got a partial!

EVIL Smouldering opium tar, tobacco absolute, green tea, black plum, kush, ambergris accord, ambrette seed, and costus root. Seriously...I need to be EVIL! Malificent from Sleeping Beauty Evil...cause this is what this smells like. The green tea and tobacco really keeps this plum grounded and the ambrette and ambergis from becoming a floral ambery nightmare. On its own...this is a winner...but I can't help but wonder what will happen when I layer it with something else.

Perhaps some day, who knows? But not today; it froze, and blows and snows, And you’re too curious: fie! You want to hear it? well: Only, my secret’s mine, and I won’t tell. Or, after all, perhaps there’s none: Suppose there is no secret after all, But only just my fun. Today’s a nipping day, a biting day; In which one wants a shawl, A veil, a cloak, and other wraps: I cannot ope to everyone who taps, And let the draughts come whistling thro’ my hall; Come bounding and surrounding me, Come buffeting, astounding me, Nipping and clipping thro’ my wraps and all. I wear my mask for warmth: who ever shows His nose to Russian snows To be pecked at by every wind that blows? You would not peck? I thank you for good will, Believe, but leave the truth untested still. Spring’s an expansive time: yet I don’t trust March with its peck of dust, Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers, Nor even May, whose flowers One frost may wither thro’ the sunless hours. Perhaps some languid summer day, When drowsy birds sing less and less, And golden fruit is ripening to excess, If there’s not too much sun nor too much cloud, And the warm wind is neither still nor loud, Perhaps my secret I may say, Or you may guess. – Christina Rossetti Sweet labdanum, white myrrh, and bourbon vanilla. Clean, light, with a slightly green note. This needs to age for the vanilla to come out. I can't wait to see how it ages.