LiberAmoris

Oleander Honey smells like white oleander blossoms and honey. Like the other Rappaccini's Garden honey blends I've tried, it's sweet, but with an edge. For those who love honey and white florals, this is a dream pairing.

Chokecherry Honey really does smell like a mix of cherry and honey. My boyfriend says he likes it because it reminds him of the smell of cherry chapstick, which is a nostalgic scent for him. It's more nuanced than that, obviously, but it does share some elements. There's a slight bitter or astringent note here that's very faint and gives it a little bit of edge.

I bought Mastermind for my boyfriend, but I love it and kind of want to keep the bottle for myself. After opening and sniffing, I was pretty much transported back to 1989 because there's something about Mastermind that reminds me of Benetton Colors, the perfume I wore for many years as a teen. But I like this better. On, the woods and resins and floral notes swim together in the most delightful way. I catch sandalwood, then a bit of leather, then orange blossom, then the black amber. Woven through, there's that subverted, darkened jasmine that's so sexy. It's sophisticated, but it doesn't mess around. So good.

Anyone who loves Benetton Colors (it was my signature perfume when I was in my early to mid-teens) should try Mastermind.

Re: Porridge soap. For anyone that has smelt it before, do you know if any BPAL smell similar? It is supposedly scented with molasses and oats. It is this glorious creamy, oaty smell that is just awesome!

Maybe Dana O'Shee?: "Offerings of milk, honey and sweet grains were made to placate these creatures, and it is that the basis of the scent created in their name." It's definitely creamy and oaty.

Paduan Killer Swarm is kind of rocking my world. On my skin, I feel like I can smell each one of the notes, but the overall effect is a kind of blurred, nested, ambery-dark coziness, much like a beehive. With the gourmandy notes of licorice, ginger cream, clove, cinnamon, and coconut shell, it's the kind of BPAL where I find myself wanting to call it delicious, because there's something so mouth-watering about it. And yet it's definitely not defined by those 'yummy' notes because it offers a different texture than one expects from anything foody---there's something vaguely fuzzy and warm about the amber that seems just like the fuzz on a bee, and the nettle smells restless, like the green, unceasing growth of something dangerous and without conscience.

 

When I was a kid, I used to pet the backs of bumblebees while they gathered pollen, because they were so soft. But you only have to get stung once to learn that things in the world are more complicated than they seem. This blend definitely captures the warmth, sweetness, restiveness and threat of a killer bee. I'll definitely enjoy using every drop in my bottle.

Like the other Ladies of the Grindhouse, I'm really excited to be, in some small way, a part of Beth's Carnaval and her art. Thank you, Beth. I absolutely love that in an alternate universe I'm whoring it up with some of the finest women around. And Jenn's portrait is stunning---I only wish I looked that exotic and regal in real life (read: wow, look at that décolletage)!

I was so excited when I saw the notes for Inez, because I am a complete amber fiend. I love the earthy sweetness and depth of it, and the way that it seems to ebb towards a skin scent over the day, until there's just a golden tracery of it around me and no way for me to tell where the smell of my own skin ends and the amber begins. BPAL blends that are amber-centric always fade like sunsets on me in the most lovely way. So I was hoping that Inez would be mostly amber with the other notes rounding it out and making it a little complicated and a little warm. And that's exactly what I get when I wear it.

In the bottle, Inez is undeniably amber. To me, amber always smells a little like caramel and honey with something almost fruity on top and something rooty or earthy at the bottom. It's sweet without being foody, although it can be almost buttery. It smells golden and warm and rich. It's a dense note, and one that seems to envelop and encompass other notes when it's paired with them, rather than allowing them to sit above or below it in layers. I can smell the vanilla musk as well, which makes a lovely complement. And then there's the carnation, which always strikes me as a bit spicy for a floral. It gives Inez a subtle kick.

On my skin, the bottom notes are more prominent. The myrrh, which I was most concerned about, is quite lovely here, beveling the edges of the blend with something pleasantly sharper. The cedar and red sandalwood anchor the blend from inside but do so almost invisibly---at times I catch wafts of the sandalwood, but it's not overpowering.

Because Inez is at heart such a resiny blend, there is something incensey about her, something calm and meditative and slow and sexy. Sexy in a come-closer kind of way. Sexy in a slightly disheveled, not-trying-too-hard kind of way. Sexy like when women pull their hair up without using a mirror. Or like waking up after a long night out---to sunlight pouring in through the window and the smell of the perfume worn the night before suffused in the sheets, like goodness spent and scattered. She's just lovely, and I'll be wearing her often.

I have happily been wearing Judith and Holofernes for months after picking up a bottle at ECWC, and it's become one of my go-to comfort blends. I think it might be the carnation and sandalwood here that lulls me into a state of relaxation---it's like a very mellow incense, although I wouldn't call it incensey. But the sandalwood definitely gives it a meditative, calming vibe.

The skin musk, honey, and patchouli add to the smoothness and bring a sweetness to the blend that is far from cloying---it smells like the sweetness found in nature, like honey and flower nectar. The magnolia note lifts up the blend and gives it some height and a bit of sharpness, and the carnation is fulgent and a little spicy.

But I wouldn't consider this to be a floral, at least not on my skin. It's all about the bottom notes, the musk and sandalwood and patchouli. It's one of those blends that smells like idealized skin on me, like Morocco, Hod, and Sed Non Satiata.

I have no idea why this wasn't the huge star attraction out of the 08 Lupercalias.

My thoughts exactly. I got one sniff of this, dotted myself all over, and was happy all day long just luxuriating in the creamy glow. It has the same feel to me as an old favorite, Chaste Moon. Like CM, it feels like a 'white' blend, clean without smelling like soap or flowers.

 

I can pick up on the moonflower if I concentrate, but I can't detect any rose to speak of. I get a smidge of ozone, and lots of white amber and beeswax, and then of course the 'opaline notes', which are indeed similar to the notes in Black Opal---lush mineral tones that manage to convey both a glassy surface and fiery depth.

 

However, the opal here is definitely white opal, and that is the persistent impression I get while wearing this---it smells like a glorious white opal, full of fire and the water that the faint smell of the ozone seems to suggest.

 

It's ridiculously gorgeous both on its own and as a blender. It makes everything it touches rich and dreamy.

Mmm, rose-swirled amber. The bright tumult of pink grapefruit is the uppermost impression I get from The Presence of Love, but as it dries down, it's mostly rose and amber on me, with an impression of jasmine, like if someone crumpled a bloom in their hand and then went about their day. The white musk is light and warm with that ethereal glow that Beth's white musk always seems to give off. The grapefruit lifts the rose and makes it cheery and bright, even after the bright and bold citrus-y facet evaporates.

 

This is just lovely. It's such a happy, cheerful blend, like the glow of new love.

I think I was predisposed to like Anactoria because I have an unholy love for Beth's daemonorops note. It's in Wilhelmina Murray, which was one of those bottles that I got, wore a couple of times, put away, then tried again and wore every day for like two weeks straight because I just couldn't get enough. It's hard to describe how it smells to me, but it's very distinct, and I can smell it in Anactoria and I it.

 

This is one of those blends whose project is overtly and unabashedly sexy, and for some reason I was anticipating something more like Smut I think, because I was really surprised by how light it was when I first opened the bottle to test it. The anchors in the blend feel almost translucent---the amber and the honey feel clear and thin, as opposed to opaque and thick. The kush and currants and Arabian musk feel as though they've been steeped in this clear mixture and then removed, giving some warmth to the blend, like bare skin and the lingering remnants of a tryst on the air---a wood bed frame, candle wax, a bowl full of berries, and maybe some honey wine?

 

Overall, it feels to me like O's sophisticated sister, carnal but more subtle somehow, like O if it drew the curtains around the bed first.

I couldn't pass up Sapphics because I love grey amber. Love. And sure enough, right out of the gates, there it is, that sweet and earthy note that's just so good. And happily, it stays. Even hours after applying, Sapphics on my skin is mostly that wonderful amber with the tonka, oakmoss, tolu balsam, myrrh, and muguet chiming in.

 

The tonka and oakmoss combined with the amber give this the feel of an earth-bound Lyonesse on my skin. Whereas Lyonesse is aqueous and has a sea breeze running through it, this is definitely a blend with both feet on terra firma.

 

I think this blend is wonderfully gender-neutral, and because of that, it's tremendously comforting to me somehow. This is the kind of blend I'd wear on a rainy day if I wanted to curl up with a book.

Yay, Ovid! I probably would have ordered The Emathides just for that reference alone, but the notes sounded too good to pass up anyway.

 

On me, this is like Lavender Plus. Like lavender plus a million other little things filling in its cracks and fissures and rough places to make it smooth and dark and burnished. It's gorgeous and complex. It's like looking at the wing of a blackbird in sunlight and seeing all those other colors dashing about in what looks like solid black from far away.

 

If I look at the note listing, I feel like I can detect the rose attar and the blue musk and the black currant. But the whole is so much more than the sum of its parts. So glad I have a bottle of this one.

It's rather like Queen of Clubs had a love child with City in the Sea.

I thought the same thing! Singing Moon really is the earth meets the sea. It's grassy and mossy and yet there's the salty tang of seawater carried on the air. There's also something smoky in this that gives it even more complexity. All in all, it strikes me as very elemental---as in water, fire, air, earth. They all meet and commingle in Singing Moon. I enjoy this on my skin but will likely also try it in the oil burner because it's such a nice atmospheric experience.

Gibbous Moon sounded right up my alley because I'm a Cancer and I love anything moon-y. That, and I have a thing for Beth's moonflower note. It didn't disappoint me---it's mostly moonflower on my skin with cucumber and moss. The orris is just a whisper and the lily and hyacinth round things out.

 

I keep this next to my bed with my other 'nighttime' blends, because it's perfect for sleep. Very soft, comforting, and clean.

Spider is smooth. It's like a guy who always knows the right thing to say. Sometimes he means it and sometimes he doesn't, but he always says the right thing. Trying to summarize how it smells on me is difficult. It does have a cologney feel, but the kind of cologne that you'd have to go to Europe to get. I can smell the bergamot and lime, and it does smell citrussy, but not like it's been just squeezed. The ginger adds a little spark and spice, as does the nutmeg. But it's very refined. I'm not a fan of vetiver, but here it adds a greenish spike to the blend that is sexy but again, soft-pedaled.

 

This isn't something that I wear too often, so I'll pass it on to a worthy guy and then make it a priority to give him a good sniff when he wears it.

The almond note is so strong in Bilquis, that for the first ten minutes or so, it's a little much. But as soon as that dies down, it's all sumptuous honey and myrrh with the red apple and fig leaf. I can't smell the rose otto at all, and the lily is just barely there on my skin. The musk is similarly subtle. It's very pretty, and there's also something very sexy about it.

There's something about this that smells like a vintage perfume---something classic and classy.

Mr. Ibis smells pale green to me, pale green and cream. It's incredibly gentle, even genteel. There's a natural elegance to it. As others have noted, it's very light, with not a ton of throw, but at least on my skin, it manages to stick around for a good long time. The musks with the vanilla flower and aloe are almost sheer and glimmering, and there is something 'clean' about it, but it doesn't strike me as aquatic at all. To me, it smells more like a whispery green floral with those musks working very delicately underneath.

 

This fits the character from American Gods to a T, but it also smells to me like someone who's beautiful but does not know it. It's just a lovely, unconsciously radiant blend.

I'm already halfway through my bottle of Mr. Jacquel, that's how much I like this blend. It's hard to describe just how velvety soft it is, but there's that gorgeous warm-as-sunlight amber, the plush patchouli, and those spices---hard to tell exactly what they might be, but they add a little spice and dimension here in the nicest way. On my skin it's kind of like The Lion meets Sin (sans cinnamon). I'm also picking up on that slightly dusty, water-damage-on-books note that I love in other BPAL blends---I think it might be an element of the patchouli.

 

I think I may need another bottle soon, at the rate I'm going. It's just that good.

More rose! I feel like I am on rose overload lately, and I'm loving every minute of it. Lady Luck Blues is elegant and slightly debauched, like a lady leaning against a wall and smoking a cigarette, with one stocking falling down. I can smell each listed note here, and they're all ones I enjoy, although iris can go a bit strange on me. But in LLB it's lovely and adds just the right spike to what might otherwise be a pleasant, but somewhat placid, combination.

 

Eminently wearable and a definite keeper.

Poisson d'Avril is one of those springy bouquet blends that makes me feel as though I have cut flowers all over my apartment, when in fact it is just my perfume. There are so many flowers in this that it's difficult to sense them independently, but the overall feeling I get is of a complex floral that smells like it has blue flowers in it. Sometimes I catch a hint of something that smells like lilac, but it must be the bluebell or crocus.

 

Definitely in the vein of Flower Moon or Beltane, and other blends crammed full of pretty posies.

I'm sure there are people that can say no to a blend with wide-throated yellow monkey-flower accord in it, but I am not one of them. And I am glad I didn't. I feel very lucky to be one of those people with fairly amenable skin chemistry, and Beth's roses always bloom true and lush on me. Even so, between Rose Moon and Schlafende Baigneuse, I feel like I have a couple new rosy favorites. The rose here does truly feel yellow, rather than red or pink or white, and it's creamier and lighter to match. Combined with the skin musk, white cream, honeycomb, amber, and yellow monkey-flower---the feel is very yellow and gold and white and luminously dreamy---just like the tones in the painting.

 

For those concerned with musk and cream in blends, these notes certainly inform the blend but they don't overwhelm. The overall feel is of a golden floral, almost regal. It's sensuous and beautiful and almost private. Totally lovely.

Y'ha-Nthlei is like what soap smells like in heaven. There is something so undoubtedly fresh about this blend that the comparisons to soap spring to mind, as so many soaps have an ozone or marine scent to them. But Y'ha-Nthlei is so much better than that. I smell the marine notes (and a touch of ozone, but just a touch), the unmistakable fresh tang of bergamot, cool eucalyptus and the yummy ambergris/grey amber. It's like the moment when you go under water and the wave seals over the top of your head.

 

I don't reach for aquatics that often, but I really enjoyed testing this one out.

Wow, there are just so many notes in Blue Moon. It's very impressive on that scale alone! The notes that are the most prominent on me are the moonflower (yay!), orchid, iris, cucumber, clary sage, wood aloes, and buttercup. But when I pull my wrist away from my nose and smell the air, it smells like what I imagine one beam of blue light falling on a street corner would smell like. It's concentrated. It's bright and uplifting, yet mysterious and portentous.

 

The moonflower is the note that sticks around the longest on me---hours later it's like moonflowers tussucked in creamy, blued moonlight. But there are all these delicate little crosshatchings in the way it smells, like motes drifting about in light. It's complex and dimensional without smelling like a tumult of notes. There's nothing chaotic about Blue Moon, just serenity and a sense of peace.

 

So glad I got a bottle. This is the kind of blend I'll save to wear when I go out on a summer night because it will just feel right.

Tamamo-no-Mae is awfully pretty. It definitely is creamy, like white tea with a touch of milk or soy milk and a spray of florals. There’s something almost peachy about the way this plays out on my skin, although it must just be the combination of notes striking my nose in such a way to create phantom notes. The ginger is barely audible on me---there’s just the barest brush of it.

 

I’m trying to pick out the other notes, but this is so finely milled that it’s difficult to do so. I think I can smell the rice flower, moments of the white sandalwood, and the Amacha (hydrangea leaf?). I believe the black locust flower is in the pea family, and I do smell something that’s like a mellower, greener, less intense sweet pea kicking around in there. The light resiny bottom to the blend is probably the benzoin gum, I’m guessing, and it lends a very, very subtle incensey hint.

 

I’m really enjoying this. It’s just perfect for this time of year.