Juushika

In the vial: Pumpkin and coffee. The pumpkin is warm and spiced, more savory than sweet and not at all buttery. The coffee is mellow but quite distinct. Comparisons to a pumpkin spice latte are apt. On me: A pumpkin spice mocha. The Patch pumpkin note is divine, savory and dry, warm and golden. The hazelnut and vanilla cut down on some of the dry gourdiness, making it a bit lighter and sweeter. And the rest of the blend reminds me a lot of El Dia de Reyes: a powdery combination of coffee, milk, and cocoa. This is a foody scent, a wonderful warm pumpkin spice mocha, but it has a distinctly powdery texture (which I think is lovely) and the pumpkin and coffee keep it savory and grounded. Scent-color is flaxen (a creamy, pale, orange-yellow); throw and wear-length are moderate. Verdict: Pumpkin Patch V is El Dia de Reyes (2008) meeting his new best friend, pumpkin. I wouldn't have expected the blend to be so powdery, but it has a lot of El Dia de Reyes's powdered milk/cocoa mix dryness. That's not a bad thing, though—it meshes well with the dry spiciness of the pumpkin, and the vanilla and hazelnut keep the powderiness under control. And Pumpkin Patch V is simply beautiful. Comforting, warm, foody but tempered, this is my favorite of this year's Halloweenies and I'm thrilled that I have a bottle.

A frimp from the lab. In the vial: ...lemon? A very pale, delicate lemon—pleasant except that I usually hate the scent of lemon. On me: During drydown this is lemon, a light sweet floral, and the smoothness of pale resins. It reminds me of a lemon square but white and fluffy and not quite so foody: a opaque white but still ethereal scent. Within half an hour, much of the lemon dies off and the blooms become more prominent, pale but distinctly floral; the sweetness combines with the florals to be a bit cloying, and the scent becomes slightly muddied and faint. It's still pleasant though, sweet and airy, lemony, fresh, floral, more-or-less ethereal. Scent-color is white; throw is moderate-high, dying down to moderate-low. Verdict: Pale scents and florals rarely work for me; I generally hate lemon. So it's something of a surprise that I find Ether quite pleasant. I like its earlier stages more, when the lemon scent keeps it fresh and the florals are gentle; the later, more floral stage is decent too, but not quite as light or distinct. Regardless, this isn't the scent for me. I imagine it's lovely in the summer, but airy lemony sweet floral scents will never suit me regardless of the time of year. I'd love to smell it on someone else, though. I'll trade away my imp.

This was a frimp from the Lab, but I've been curious to try it. In the vial: Spices and smoke. The combination leans towards foody but doesn't quite reach it. On me: This isn't vetiver as I'm used to it—dragon's blood is so juicy that it washes out most of vetiver's harshness; what remains reminds me of liquid smoke: a thickened, darkened, somewhat woody scent that's so smooth it's almost wet. Surprisingly the dragon's blood isn't distinct outside of this effect—it may add a bit of roundness and redness to the scent, but it's very subtle. The spices (which remind meof traditional western baking spices, but are not foody) add warmth and dimension. This is an odd scent: warm, reddish, smoothly smoky—yet while all of those aspects sound cuddly and warm, this blend leaves me feeling cool. Scent-color is dull, dark burgundy; throw is moderate to low. Verdict: Serpent's Kiss is at once exactly what it says on the tin and nothing like I was expecting. All the notes have the potential to be very bold, but instead they're toned down: a wet, reddish resin; a smooth smoke; a hint of warmth and depth. The combination is warm, dark, and spicy, though not quite "seething with passion"—but it is certainly cold-blooded. The scent has a sense of distance, coldness; I feel like it's pushing me away even though I'm the one wearing it. So while it's pleasant enough, nuanced and skillfully blended, I don't imagine I'd wear this much. I like a scent I can cuddle up in, and this isn't that. I expect I'll trade away my imp.

In the vial: Sweet warm pumpkin, spiced with brown musk. On me: I've had bad luck with the creamy pumpkin in Jack, but the Patch pumpkin note is so different—it's drier, less creamy, never waxy, more like a true-to-life raw pumpkin than a pumpkin candle. On the skin the pumpkin in this blend is glowing umber, slightly spiced, dry and gourd-like but quite warm. It's not an outright foody note, so the almond and honey don't turn this into a bakery—they make the pumpkin richer, slightly sweeter, a little heady, and more golden. The brown musk is beautifully distinct, more spicy than animalic, with a slight powdery texture. All told this is pumpkin spiced by brown musk, rich and warm and comforting, yet somewhat unusual. I adore it. Scent-color is dark bronze; throw is moderate, and wearlength is moderate to high. Verdict: This isn't my favorite of this year's pumpkins, but I am perfectly pleased with it. It's a difficult scent to describe, unfortunately—the pumpkin/brown musk combination needs to be sniffed to be understood. But the pumpkin is glorious, and the notes which accompany it make for a unique scent, warm and glowing, textured and slightly spicy in the nose, altogether remarkable and lovely. I feel lucky to have a bottle.

In the vial: A spicy, incense-laden red musk—so I'd guess red musk, patchouli, and myrrh. No hint of ylang ylang, yet. On me: The patchouli is a little harsh upon application but it smooths out during drydown. The initial phase of Lust is an incredible rich, spicy, warm red scent, glowing with the sweetish resin of myrrh but staring the breathtaking blend of red musk and patchouli, which together are spicy and dark, many-layered and sensuous and oh so beautiful. Nearing an hour into weartime, however, the ylang ylang finally makes an appearance: it's a sweet, thick, heady tropical floral. Red musk still adds depth and patchouli a bit of darkness, but the ylang ylang grows a bit too strong, sometimes overshadowing all other notes. It's still quite beautiful, but not as much to my taste. Scent-color is dark red morphing into a rosy gold. Throw is moderate to low, wear length moderate to high. Verdict: I'm not a fan of many florals, but ylang ylang is one of my sometimes-exceptions—and so it's not unpleasant for it to pop its head up in this blend. Still, I already have some lovely ylang ylang scents; moreover I absolutely adore the spicy red musk of this scent in its first hour and I'm heartbroken to see it pushed aside. I'm not quite sure what to do with Lust—it's beautiful to be sure, but not quite what I wanted. I imagine I'll trade away my imp eventually, but I'll hang onto it for a bit before I decide.

This was a frimp from the Lab, and one which I'd not have ordered on my own—I don't have high expectations from honeysuckle. In the vial: Black but bright: smoky vetiver, dark opium, and sweet, almost sharp honeysuckle cutting through. What it says on the tin, I guess, but it's a very striking combination. It's also a remarkably thick oil for being lab-fresh. On me: I take that back, the vetiver wasn't smoky in the imp—but it sure is when it hits the skin. The intensity of the vetiver dies down during drydown as the opium rises to provide a bit of balance through its smoother, thicker scent. The honeysuckle is much less potent than it was in the vial, where it was edging towards a lotus-like sharp, sickly-sweetness; for a while it's almost too subtle, but it eventually becomes a sweet, barely-floral backing to the vetiver, and it's what makes the blend work. This scent is dark, smoky, shadowed, smooth, but threading through it all is a whiff of unexpected, and unexpectedly lovely, sweetness. Scent-color is a dark gray alternating with pink; throw and wear length are moderate. Verdict: I'm honestly not sure what to think. I've been developing a love of vetiver for a while now, and so this blend scratches that itch—vetiver is the star, and the accompanying notes do a lot to keep it smooth and palatable. But the honeysuckle is so unusual, so distinctive, that the scent keeps catching me unawares. It's a bit disquieting—which fits the inspiration well, but may not make for a very wearable perfume. That said, I'm keeping my imp. This is too unique (and too unexpectedly successful) a blend for me to let pass by, even if I don't think I'll wear it much.

I picked up an imp of this in search for a scent similar to Heaven and Earth Essential's Black Cat. In the vial: A thick, mellow orange blossom darkened by patchouli. But it's a bit strange in a way I find hard to describe—it's almost a little boozy. On me: As it hits the skin the components seem to separate: the orange blossom grows sharper and sweeter, the patchouli is a dark, more distinct shadow, and I can even pick out some warmth from the ginger. That distinctiveness fades a bit during drydown, but I can still pick out all of the notes—and they combine together into something truly lovely: sweet, warm, golden, but rich and dark with patchouli. It tends towards cloying but doesn't quite reach it, settling instead for unabashed. It's breathtaking, sensual scent, and difficult to stop sniffing. Scent-color is orange-gold; throw is moderate to high (and the blend is potent, too—it only takes a swipe) but it dies down significantly after about two hours. Verdict: Vixen is lovely. It's remarkably similar to HAEE's Black Cat (Vixen is a bit smoother, less sweet, and less cloying, but the orange blossom/patchouli combination is the distinctive heart of both blends) and so in that respect it's exactly what I was looking for. But it's also beautiful in its own right. Sweet but dark, rich and beautiful, this unique blend with great throw and I can't stop sniffing myself. It's a real winner for me—I'm smitten. I only wish it remained gloriously strong for longer, but this is one that I will be happy to reapply.

This was a frimp from the Lab, but one I've been interested in trying—I'm fond of dirty fruit scents. In the vial: Bright golden apricot on first sniff, a darker earthier scent—;a surprisingly warm, comforting patchouli—on the second. I already like it. On me: I'm reminded a little too much of the patchouli in Greed, which went a bit playdoh on my skin—some patchouli is too harsh, but this patchouli is almost too thick, with a resinous, malleable, almost musty quality. A lot of the apricot's sharpness dies off during drydown, but it might have been if it stayed because the juicy, golden, round scent that remains serves to bring out the patchouli's sense of thickness/mustiness. Scent-color is pale brown; throw is low. Verdict: This may be a good blend for a room scent or a scent locket, because in the vial the combination of sharp, bright apricot and smooth, warm dirt is unique and quite lovely—I'm not crazy about it, but I like it well enough. On my skin, though, too much sharpness is lost and the end result is just a little too musty, a little too much like playdoh, dirty in an unpleasant way. My boyfriend wrinkled his nose at it and I'm about to wash it off, so I don't imagine I'll ever wear this. Since I prefer scents I can wear on my skin, I'll probably trade it away. Still, it was nice to have the chance to try it.

In the vial: Red musk and a general perfumey undercurrent. On me: Red musk remains the predominant note, but the spices give it a lot of depth and personality. Musk tends to be slightly sweet on my skin, so the effect here is a barely-sweet, rich, deep, sensual red warmth. I wish I could say more about it, but I find it hard to describe—it's almost as if the scent is missing a defining characteristic. It's still lovely, though—I catch whiffs of the warm sweetness in the throw and it pulls me in to the thicker, redder, spicier scent at skin level. Scent-color is a gentle golden red; throw and wearlength are both low. Verdict: I like Sherezade, but I feel like it's missing something. It's a lovely scent rich with red musk and warm spices, but it's oddly indistinct, hard to pin down and difficult to describe. The red musk is so predominant that it's easy to loop in with other red musk blends—the spices, while enjoyable, aren't enough to make it distinctive. Similarly while I enjoy it, I'm not bowled head over heels. I think I'll keep my imp, and I imagine pulling it out for an hour or two of intimate, warm snuggling. But as pleasant as it is, this blend isn't in any way remarkable.

In the vial: I don't like it, but I can't pin down notes. It's resinous (so benzoin, probably) but it has an odd, off-color, musty funk. Unpleasant. On me: On skin level it's red musk, flushed and warm, but thickened by the resin/caramel combination which gives the scent an almost malliable texture and makes it cling to skin-level, thick and sensual. The throw has more of the honey's sweetness and is actually quite lovely. This one improves through the first hour of wear time, growing warmer, redder, and increasingly sexy. I want to like it (and often do!) but there's still something a bit funky about the resins that doesn't quite work for me. Scent-color is russet; throw is low, but wear length seems pretty healthy. Verdict: This isn't quite what I expected. Bien Loin d'Ici is pretty bad in the vial, and though it much approves on the skin it retains some of the vial's funk. This is a deep, red, sensual blend, warm red musk thickened (but not too heavily sweetened) by caramel and resins. It's promising, but it's not quite me, and the resins seem a bit off to my nose. I suspect this blend may age well, so I'll hang onto my imp—but I don't see myself wearing it any time soon.

Reviews of this blend have so intrigued me for so long (and I'm quite fond of the art as well) that I thought I'd splurge on a bottle, though I'm wary of tobacco. In the vial: Plentiful citrus, a bit sharp—citrus peel, really, with the aromatic, airy quality of evaporating citrus-skin oils. On me: Immediately on the skin this is citrus and Egyptian amber, the former golden and bold, the latter taming it and providing a warm, smooth base. A lot of the citrus burns off pretty quickly, shedding the sharpness to leave behind a subtle warm golden glow. The darker notes kick in during drydown—I mostly get a spicy, dark, beautiful black pepper, but there's also a broader sense of grounding shadows from the vetiver. The tobacco may contribute to this sense of shadows, but thankfully I can't pinpoint it specifically. Scent-color is, well—just look at the Klimt image. Throw is low, and wear-length is short, dying down to just a whisper after an hour, disappearing completely after three. Verdict: This is nearly exactly what I imagined from the notes and the image the scent is based on. It's subtle golden citrus on warm amber, shadowed over by pepper and a touch of vetiver. The citrus fades a bit more than I'd like, but other than that this is what I hoped for and expected—except that the scent has such a low throw and short wearlength that's it's a bit of a letdown. Glorious as it is, it blossoms and fades so fast that it's more of an experience in scent than a wearable perfume. I may have to try applying more next time, but as it is my only regret about this scent is that it's gone so quickly.

The 2009 version. In the vial: Sweet but gently, so—the scent has a golden-orange color and a lovely warm, thick softness that keeps the sweetness under control. It's hard to describe, but I like it. On me: For the first hour, this is a conceptual interpretation of candy corn: warm and golden, thick but with a soft, squishy sort of texture, gentle and really lovely. After the first hour passes, it becomes the precise, glorious scent of candy corn. I wasn't even sure what candy corn smelled like until I smelled this, and similarly I find it hard to describe. Soft, sweet, warm, plush, pure candy corn. I want to gnaw off my own hand, it is that accurate. Wear length is fairly long (5, 6 hours maybe?), but throw is sadly low. Verdict: The golden warm scent on the drydown is wonderful, but the pure candy corn that it becomes is just breathtaking. It shouldn't, after all of these years loving BPAL, but it still surprises me when the Lab can pin such an elusive scent so precisely—but they do here. This is incredible and incredibly addicting. I was worried that even if it smelled nice, I'd have no reason to smell like candy corn on a regular basis. I shouldn't have worried. I want to smell like this all the time—and I am thrilled to have a whole bottle.

I am exceptionally wary of tobacco, but reviews of this scent convinced me to try it despite my doubts. In the vial: Dirty, smoky vanilla layered over cheaply lacquered wood, but there's another note here that I can't pin down. The scent is tolerable but a bit unpleasant—but it has the potential to develop into something lovely. On me: Hello there tobacco. Immediately after application this is everything I feared about the scent: stale old cigarettes against cheap, dirty wood. Luckily the harshness of the tobacco fades within a few minutes, but something of it remains, dark and dirty. The heart of the scent is vanilla which reminds me distinctly of Snake Oil: thick, very dark, and not too sweet. As Snake Oil does on my skin, it also pulls a bit of a disappearing act, a savory-sweet elusive scent that haunts the throw. But even if it's faint, this reminds me very much of vanilla extract left so long in the cupboard that it's thickened and gone grungy at the cap and is accompanied by a hint of cheap, peeling wood. Verdict: This is a dark, savory vanilla with a lot of potential, but I can't move beyond the mental image of too-old vanilla extract in a peeling cupboard. Perhaps without the tobacco or with richer, deeper woods, this would work for me. As it is, it's not quite offputting but I'm not won over. I suspect that aging will help this scent deepen and develop, so I'll hang onto my imp for a bit—but I won't be wearing it as it is now. (And for what it's worth, it smells absolutely nothing like Glowing Vulva to me.) ETA: Five months later, and aging has done The Antikythera Mechanism some good. It's worse wet than it was before, dark and dirty and sharp, really just gross. But the drydown has grown better rounded and more robust: a smooth, time-worn, dark wood with aromatic vanilla pod, and the tobacco adding a dark haze. I'm still not in love with the tobacco—I like its darkness but it smells dirty to my nose (and not in a good way), so this isn't a blend that I'll wear often. But the rest of it is lovely, a dark and intimate scent, so this is worth keeping around.

In the vial: Mostly milk (goat's, I don't know, but certainly milk), but slightly sweetened. It's a very accurate, foody scentI could imagine drinking this were it not, you know, a perfume oil. On me: The milk actually reminds me a bit of breakfast milk left in the bowl after the cereal is gone: slightly sweetened by the sugar, slightly thickened by the starch, smooth and creamy and foody. The fig comes out after about ten minutesit's a ripe purple fig and contributes a subtle fruity tartness, just what the scent needs to balance out the sweetness. Ironically it's less foody at this stageperhaps the myrrh steps up, I'm not sure, but the scent becomes more sensual than edible. Scent-color is opaque cream; scent-texture is a thick smooth liquid. Throw is a bit too low. Verdict: An unequivocal successeven if I wish there were a few more inches to the throw, because I'd love to be swathed in this scent instead of sniffing it from my wrist. I get nothing animalic or goaty from Nonae Caprotinainstead it's a sensual, smooth scent. The sweetness and figgy tartness are in lovely balance, and the milk is so fluid that I can almost feel it against my skin. It's wonderfully done, and I'm thrilled to have a decant.

I'm in search of BPAL perfumes which evoke animals. Not just because they contain musk or are named after an animal, but because they somehow invoke the feeling or fur or image or personality of an animal. Any animal—I prefer cats, and also tend towards large furry mammals, but I'm curious about everything. So ... suggestions, anyone? Mine are listed below. The Lion: Fur, musk, and dry grasses; a strong, calm lion in his natural habitat. Ivanushka (LE): Blond musk and velvet fur, brushed by forest leaves. A pale deer on the edge of the woods. Fenris Wolf: A feral wolf, pretending domesticity; hot-blooded and warm-skinned beneath thick fur. Satyr: Thick brown fur with a dense velvety undercoat; like cuddling against a protective beast. Coyote: Dry grass and musk, a coyote on long plains. Bastet: A cat lounging and stretching in golden sunlight. Black Cat: The personality of a cat: aloof, independent, playful, sharply quirked, and difficult for others to understand.

I was lucky enough to snag a beautiful tarted imp. In the vial: Resin and wood, or else a polished wood. It's surprisingly pale and faint. On me: Initially it's very much wood, and not ancient at all—it has a cedar-like sharpness and a pine-like astringency. Much of that sharpness swiftly fades, but it doesn't leave a whole lot behind: resins which, however beautiful, are faint and pale. Really what this is is Heavenly Love and Earthly Love lite: lots and lots of resins with a touch of incense, but lighter and fainter and paler. Slightly malleable (like ambergris), golden, smooth, polished, warm. The only odd thing is a slightly saltiness. Scent-color is pale gold. Throws is very low. Verdict: It's so similar to Heavenly Love, and yet such a pale comparison, that I think I'll pretty much stick with Heavenly Love. Cathedral lacks the depth and shadows in Heavenly Love (which surprises me, as my imp is so old), which makes it more difficult to discern and somehow less breathtaking. And when I catch it, that odd salty note is a touch disquieting—on top of all the resins, it smells a little too much like dirty skin. Nonetheless I'll hang on to this, for a bit. It may be a good warm-weather alternative to Heavenly Love, and it is on the whole a lovely, if pale, golden resin.

In the vial: Smoky pepper, slightly sweet, with a touch of very dry chocolate (think El Dia De Reyes's cocoa powder, but as dark as Boomslang's deep dark chocolate). On me: This is a smoke and pepper scent, like the rich swathes of flavored smoke that you'd use to preserve meat. It's not harsh, or sharp, or really all that dry—this is smoke that's almost solid enough to cup in your hands, but smelled from a distance where purer air has filtered out the ash. The caramel is more of a texture than a scent, filtering out the smoke's harshness and giving it that rich, malleable texture. But I get nothing of the chocolate, and this saddens me—I adore chocolate and it's what drew me to this scent. Scent-color is dark gray. Throw is low. Verdict: As Dark Chocolate and Pepper-Smoked Caramel, this is disappointment—where oh where has my beloved dark chocolate gone? I only have a decant, but if those floating black specks are the same chocolate absolute in Boomslang then I'm not surprised that the chocolate disappears on my skin (as it does in Boomslang). But I am, still, saddened. However, as Pepper-Smoked Caramel this is surprisingly lovely. Thick, smoky, but never harsh, it's an uncommon and sensual skin scent. I'll have to adjust my expectations to fit, but that done this is a scent worth keeping around. (And I may have to try it on fabric, to see if the chocolate sticks around.)

In the vial: Sweet creamy vanilla with a powerdy floral. It reminds me of something, but I'm not sure what—oh wait, I know! The bathroom my aged babysitter's house from my childhood. She was like a great-aunt to me, and her bathroom had a pink furry toilet seat cover and lots of doilies: pretty, sweet, feminine, but a little dowdy and stuffy. On me: The floral blooms, becoming less powdery, a bit more fleshy and airy, and a touch cloying. It has orchid's depth and shadow, but it is much sweeter than I usually expect from orchid. The vanilla too is sweet, but now it feels powdery and pale, not unlike baby powder. The combination of the two unfortunately has a lingering feel of old lady's bathroom: sweet, floral, a touch dowdy; it has the sort of texture of colored soap which has sat in the soap dish so long that it's dry and a dusty: powder over something firm and slightly waxy. Scent-color is opaque creamy red-violet. Throw is moderate. Verdict: I may have to retest this later with a drop rather than a swipe, because I suspect Regan would be better as a subtle hint of scent. When it's obvious, it feels too old lady to me. I had expected that orchid and vanilla would be lovely together, a rare floral I can wear, lightened and sweetened. But the orchid is too dark and the vanilla too sweet, and it's all more cloying-floral than I expect from orchid. All in all I am unimpressed and unless a second test is dramatically different, I'll trade away my imp.

In the vial: Golden, creamy citrus. Yeah, I don't understand that either—but it's my first impression. On me: The scent is still golden, but the tangy citrus edge is balanced out a bit by something a bit more dry and earthy—probably a balance between chrysanthemum and marigold, but I'm not familiar enough with mums to know for sure. As the citrus tones down, there floral competent grows stronger. The scent is smooth but slightly powdery, a touch of sandalwood; there's a bit of sweetness from the vanilla, but never cloying; it's a very golden, warm scent. I don't get anything of the cinammon or amber incense, however, and the marigold's earthiness remains subdued. Scent color is golden. Throw is moderate to low. Verdict: I keep retesting this scent, ever confused about the citrus I get from it. I had such high hopes, and I wish that there were more marigold, more cinnamon, more amber incense to make the scent earthier, spicier, and less like orange and cream. As it is, Flowering Chrysanthemums is nice but doesn't capture me. It's creamy, golden, floral, just a touch powdery—a pleasant scent, and I may like it more if I divorce it from my expectations of what it could have been. Regardless it's not my new favorite, and I'll be content with just my decant.

In the vial: Very perfumey, but my lack of familiarity with notes like that makes it difficult to say how. It's a slightly sweet, herbal floral—cherry blossom with a touch of moss and vanilla. Not quite commercial, but it wouldn't surprise me to smell this in a department store. On me: Interesting, very interesting. As it dries down, the scent loses the element which I read as evaporating alcohol and associate with traditional perfume. The notes are still feminine and perfumey, but much more pleasantly so. Cherry blossom is the heart of the scent, floral, slightly fruity, pink hinting at red, a feminine note but not coy. The vanilla is more sweetness than musk, but it may provide the redish body that I sense in the cherry blossom. The moss has died down significantly, and only hints a touch of dry, light earthiness from the background; this may be the reason for the ended impression of commercial/alcohol-based perfume. This a sweet, light cherry blossom scent with just a touch of body and depth. Scent color is translucent, pale dark pink; scent-texture is airy on top and thicker and slightly fuzzy below. Throw is low. Verdict: As with many of the Lupercalia releases: I'm not quite sure what I think. It's more pleasant than I expected from the vial scent—the drydown does wonders for making it less department store and more, well, BPAL. The airy cherry blossom is lovely with the sweetness and slight body of the vanilla musk. Yet the scent doesn't capture me. Perhaps spring florals aren't to my taste, no matter how well done; perhaps the scent lacks a little character. In the end I have no strong opinions either way, and may trade away my decant just because I don't think I'll wear it much.

In the vial: Earthy and ... fruity? Honestly I have no idea. On me: Copal and patchouli, a thick and physical, almost fleshy, scent covered with brown dirt. But there's something more to it which I can't quite pin down—I presume heliotrope, since it's the only note I've never tried before. Rather than glittering, it dulls out the scent. Like playdoh or baby powder, it's flat and slightly gritty and just plain odd. In fact, I get no golden notes at all. This is playdoh and resin and dirt, a distinct and somewhat odd combination which is fleshy and dirty and brown. Throw is moderate to low. Verdict: Resin and dirt are fine together, and may be lovely gilded as well, but Greed's off note, the heliotrope or whatever it is that reminds me of playdoh, isn't to my liking. While quite distinctive and not entirely unpleasant, this is just plain odd—and so, not something I want to wear or plan to keep.

In the vial: Crisp green apple, but darker than I expected; just a touch of ozone or snow, something cool and unwelcoming. On me: This is green apple, certainly, but it's not crisp or cool. Instead, the apple is swathed in something dark which might be musk, grounding the scent—grounding it very deep, until it's shadowed and dark and rich. There's just a touch of snow, enough to make the scent distant but not enough to make it cold. These are green apples, heady, nearing overripe, shadowed by dense darkness which makes them rich and deep. The scent never quite reaches sexy or evil, though it approaches both. Scent color is yellow-green muddied by dark brown. Throw is high drying down to medium-low. Verdict: This is not at all what I was expecting (which was something more along the lines of a tart, crisp green apple), but it's a pleasant surprise. I have Verdandi for crisp green apple; Snow, Glass, Apples is a deeper, darker, almost threatening take on green apple, and I quite like it. I'm not sure how often I wear it, but I suppose I'll find out—I'm certainly keeping my decant. ETA: Later on in wear time, the scent became heady, nearing cloying, and made me feel a bit nauseous. Perhaps the throw increased, or maybe the ozone/snow returned with a vengeance. I'll have to wear it more to see if it happens again, but the late cloying stage may make this unwearable.

In the vial: Amber, sweetened by vanilla, glowing golden-warm. This is like sunlight on skin, a golden fleshy scent. On me: The underlying scent doesn't change, although it blossoms and warms. At its heart this is amber—not powdery, but rich and smooth and fleshy, almost malleable (think: Jacob's Ladder). The vanilla is part and parcel with the amber, a barest touch of smooth sweetness but not discernible on its own. The orange blossom is less orange and more a gentle glow, like warm sunrays, that brings life and warmth to the scent. The scent is incredibly smooth; the fleshy amber combined with the way that the scent radiates from the skin makes it more skin-but-better than a perfume. Scent-color is glowing amber. Throw is moderate to low. Verdict: I was expecting the orange blossom to be more distinct, and yet I completely adore Khryseê for everything that she is. If you like amber, you must try this—because amber is the heart and soul of this blend, and the other components provide nuance and warmth. The result is like sun-warmed skin, sensuous and glowing and smooth and simply so beautiful. I get none of the comparisons to Snake Oil; rather, this is like Jacob's Ladder with a soft citrus glow. I am glad to have a bottle, though it shall be interesting to see how this ages (since amber ages so well, but citrus often breaks down). All in all, thank goodness I bought this.

The Lurid Library, The incense-tinged scent of forbidden tomes and the musk-laden remnants of infernal servants. It's a Halloween release from two years back, but shouldn't be that hard to track down. It is the rich, smooth, thick first unprinted page of an old-book, creamy and slightly dusty and all paper, all the time. I recommend it all the time, but this really is my choice for best old paper/books.

In the vial: Warm, dark, faint, with something slightly plant-like—orris, I think. On me: A momentary spike of vetiver calms down to—oh goodness, I think I love it. Between the musk and vetiver there's definitely a charred harshness which waxes (sometimes too much) and wanes (more and more over time) but never fades entirely. Beneath it is vanillic amber barely touched by carnation—not unlike by beloved Inez, it's creamy and rich and slightly heady. The vetiver is more distinct on the skin, the amber and tonka in the throw. Musk adds a touch of warmth, powder, and spice; on the skin I get nothing of the orris. Scent-color is smoke-dimmed saffron. Throw is moderate to low. Verdict: Despite my intital swoon for the amber and tonka, Prurience isn't perfect. The carnation doesn't quite rise to meet the strength of the vetiver, and so the scent is a imbalanced towards dry smoke instead of universal heat and fire. That's too bad, too, because with more carnation this could be lovely. However, I like it enough to hold on to my imp—we'll see how much I wear it, and how it ages over time. ETA: Five months after ordering it, and that bit of aging has already done wonders for this scent. The vetiver has calmed and tamed significantly, losing its harshness and becoming smoother smoke. There's still not a lot of spice, but a touch more overall warmth. The carnation isn't as overt as I prefer, but it's more distinct now that the vetiver has calmed. All over the scent is warmer, redder, less harsh. This has become much closer to what it's intended to be: warm, smoldering, but not yet scorched. And it is oh so beautiful. Aging can only improve this blend.