Juushika

In the vial: Mexican hot chocolate—cocoa powder, milk, and cinnamon. It's pungent and spicy but foody-sweet, dark tan in color. On me: The pungency fades and this resolves to powdered cocoa, powdered milk, and a touch of spice and coffee. It smells like the puff of dry ingredients from a just-opened bag of brownie mix, refined but cinnamon and barest hint of coffee which make it more mature, flavorful, and slightly less foody. (The boyfriend, however, smells chocolate chip cookies.) Wear length and throw are both moderate to low; color is the same powdery pale cocoa of brownie mix. Verdict: A bag of brownie mix may not seem like the ideal perfume, but El Dia de Reyes is unexpectedly wearable and wonderful. The powderiness creates the sense of a delicious, silky second skin; the dry cinnamon makes for a more mature, less straight up foody scent. This isn't a personal favorite, and I wish it stuck around longer, but it's a delightful, sensual, delicious scent and I enjoy my decant.

There's a whole thread dedicated to GC equivalents of LEs. Here's the results for Snow, Glass, Applesit looks like The Hesperides or perhaps Poisoned Apple, even better if layered with a snow or ozone blend, may be a close fit. On the same note, either one may be a good crisp green apple.

There's some green apple recs here in the apple recommendations thread. These two threads will probably be merged, but that'll save you time in going straight to the greener apple blends. I highly recommend Verdandi, Deep herbs and apple with black amber. On me, it's a bright green applenot quite tart, but definitely green, sharper than most of the red apple blends. It may be perfect for you, and it's a GC blend so it's easy to check out. Of course Snow, Glass, Apples may also be a good betif you can get your hands on it. I've not sniffed it, but reviews indicate that it's a crisp, tart green apple with snow notes, which seems like exactly what you're looking for.

I usually wear what I feel when I feel like it, and that rotation doesn't change too much depending on the time of year. Unexpectedly, however, this autumn has brought on some changes: the Halloweenies seem to be even more wonderful now that Halloween has come and gone. Fearful Pleasure (dried orange peels floating in simmering cider, roasted apples, smoldering firewood, chimney smoke, sassafras beer, warm hawthorn wood, and oakmoss) has become my go-to scent, and it is now much better than I first thought—it's rich, warm apple cider is perfect for the weather. Samhain (damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein) likewise: its sweet woodiness was too strong for me earlier in the season, but now that it's cooler it's become wonderful sap-sticky warmth. I was almost disappointed with both when they first arrived and I tested them in warmer weather, but now I can't keep myself away—especially from Fearful Pleasure. I'll probably wear both a bit during warmer weather, but probably not with the same enthusiasm of daily slatherings as I have now. On the other end of the apple spectrum: Verdandi (deep herbs and apple with black amber) is a bright green apple on me, potent and sweet/sour and heady, and I find that I can only wear it in spring and early summer—even if that's not when green apples actually grow. It's just too vivid and fresh a green for any other time of year.

I get a touch of anticipation from The Tell Tale Heart (blood musk, cocoa, black pepper, allspice, dragon's blood resin and vetiver)—it's a very close match to Poe's inspiration, and so it has a sense of dreaded, fearful anticipation: the threat of a beating heart and imminent discovery. That's all I've got. I often tend towards the opposite extremes of anticipation—scents for enjoyment, relaxation, decadence, satiety, calm. Tell-Tale Heart has some of that, but it also has the anticipation of things to come.

Using Scent Scribbles, I found two possibles: Troll, A lurching, hateful, bitter scent. This is a gruesome blend of ghastly greens and blacks: vetiver, pine pitch, troll musk, black basil, clove smoke, and scorched cumin. Thanatopsis, A deep, solemn earthen scent containing pine, juniper and musk. Neither description specifies red musk, but reviews (one for the former, a few for the latter) think it may be. Pine is in both, of course. That's all I have for suggestions, and I've never personally smelled a red musk/pine blend which is or isn't listed in the notes, but I hope that helps.

Paperrose's suggestions are wonderful. I definitely second Grog for butterscotch—I hate booze and was expecting to hate this, but it's pure butterscotch on me: yellow-golden, sweet, cheerful, and rather wonderful. Agrat-Bat-Mahlaht would be my choice for caramel: rich, dark, sticky, not overly sweet. (The apple blossom may make it feel caramel-apple; on me, though, it's mostly a perfumey/floral component. You may also want to consider Enraged Groundhog Musk: Cranky groundhog musk sweetened up by chocolate-covered black cherries, cardamom, French vanilla, and caramel. It's an LE, but cheap and easy to get. If the cardamom works on you, it may be a good dried cherry, chocolate, and caramel blend, rich, foody, and highly textured.

From the description, Zarita, The Doll Girl sounds perfect. Likewise Diary of a Lovestruck Teenage Cannibal, should you happen to have either on hand. If you don't, I think that the same basis—soft, gentle, feminine florals with something sharper or darker beneath—sounds perfect. Perhaps Alice or sometime else soft and sweet, probably floral—Antique Lace? Pink Moon? from the looks of your favorite scents, you may have a few of those on hand. Layered with a touch of something heavy on vetivert, lemon/lime/other sharp citrus, ginger, pepper—Three Witches may go very well with Antique Lace (the sharpness of Casanova is a perfect twist for it too), but will lack a predominant floral component. Perhaps the spices of Three Witches to bring out the spicy carnation in Alice or Pink Moon? Mostly, I can't suggest specific layering combos because I don't know what you have on hand. It may not necessarily need to be a "creepy" scent; just something sharp and/or dark to layer in and twist the pure sweet creamy florals to something unexpected. But if you provide some hints about the darker/sharper blends in your collection, you may get more responses and better help.

Velvet is comfortable, beautiful sexya very flattering, likable, sandalwood-and-dry cocoa scent. Intrigue is powerful, mysterious, femme fatale sexysweet ripe fig shadowed by wood and cocoa. Boomslang is melted chocolate and Snake Oil, rich, indulgent, slightly exotic sexuality.

In the vial: Sweet yet tart, and not particularly pleasant. On me: O is almost beyond description. It is all of its parts: warm, slightly powdery, golden amber; a sweet, smooth but slightly sticky mixture of vanilla and honey. Yet it is so much more than those parts alone. The sweetness is indulgent and the honey has a distinct sexual aspect, but the base of golden resin makes the scent glow with inviting warmth and provides a dusting of gentle, soothing powder. A rich, golden, comfortable scent, O is decadent and sensual but surprisingly gentle. The color is light gold; the throw is low to medium. Verdict: Without doubt, O is a true delight of a perfume. It's a personal favorite, easy to love, and adored by the boyfriend. It's sensual without being overtly sexual, so it's easy to wear and great for snuggling up with. There is beauty in this simplicity, and O is certainly greater than the mere sum of its parts.

A lethal poison bundled up in a dainty, innocent little package that was oft times found in ancient witches’ flying ointments and astral projection balms. A warm, soft, ruddy scent, earthy and mild. In the vial: The softest hint of warm dirt. On me: Sweet dirt. It's ingenious, but difficult to describe. The dirt is fine, light, and slightly warm—almost fluffy, really. The sweetness is light vanilla, almost marshmallow; it's very mild, and its creaminess is balanced by the dryness of the dirt. The soil grows slightly more ruddy during wear, but it remains quite light. The combination is gentle, sweet, warm, comforting, mellow, natural, unusual—an unexpected sweet soil scent which manages to be both remarkable and subtle in one go, wearable yet intriguing. Its color is languid lavender, a soft, pale, grayed purple; the throw is miserably low, but the scent is worth slathering. Verdict: I adore Death Cap, and only wish that it were stronger. It's an unusual dirt blend that (like Penny Dreadful) branches out from dirt's usual companions into something delightfully unexpected: vanilla. I'm very glad that I tried it, and treasure my imp; because (unlike most BPAL) I slather this one, I see a potential bottle in my future.

Perhaps Thirteen April 2007/Purple Label: A base of cocoa absolute and white chocolate with thirteen baneful and beneficial bits: cardamom, fig meat, grains of paradise, rice flower, chamomile, sandalwood, catnip, clove, and a bundle of five blessed blossoms and herbs. On me, it's herbal (catnip) dark chocolate, very rich and almost musty—a deep organic scent. I think the herbs would be great on a man, and while it's not the same melted dark chocolate of Boomslang's spectacular cocoa absolute, it's still a strong, quite dark chocolate. I love cocoa/chocolate of all stripes, but that Thirteen is a personal favorite. Heh. Jinx! I've had good luck using Boomslang to scent my laundry, where it keeps its rich cocoa for much, much longer (the chocolate disappears immediately on my skin, too)—he may want to try using it on clothing or in a scent-locket equivalent. The oil does stain (one might even say: enthusiastically), but perhaps a dot of it on a piece of scrap fabric or a clothes tag or anything resembling a scent locket may work. ETA: Intrigue may be hit or miss. It is a darker cocoa, but I also find it distinctly feminine in a dark, mysterious, almost femme fatale sort of way; also, the cocoa is a supporting figure to the predominant fig. But your/his mileage may vary, and it is an incredible blend.

In the vial: Mild cocoa and a touch of fig, very faint and light. On me: Once it dries down, Intrigue is ripe purple fig with unusual sharp sweetness, backed by dark depths. The fig is just on the safe side of cloying, but it is sharp and potent—unusual, unforgiving, and bold. The depths behind them could easily be a mix of palm, cocoa, and wood, but it's too well blended to pick out particular notes; instead, there's a impression of dark woody, possibly cocoa, depths, shadowing the fig and grounding its sharp sweetness. The scent entire is bold and yet mysterious, unignorable potency drawing back into hidden depth; predominant purple fig grounded by cocoa-darkened wood. Colors are purple and black; throw is medium to strong with fig predominant; staying power is pretty impressive—at least six hours without any fading or morphing. Verdict: I find Intrigue unusual, bold, and marvelous. It's sharper and bolder than the scents I usually wear, and I have to be in just the right mood—and clothes—to wear it. But when I am, and when I do, it is breathtaking. The fig's sharpness is slightly unsettling, yet I'm compelled to sniff it again and again. Sweet, sharp, and ultimately dark and mysterious, Intrigue is a perfect fit to the name. Its potency, darkness, and sensuality make it a wonderful evening perfume.

(I have the Dark Delicacies reissue.) In the vial: Dragon's blood and darkness. On me: A red heart of vivid dragon's blood resin with deeper, darker blood musk—the color and feeling of fresh blood just beginning to congeal. Surrounding that is cocoa, darkness, and spices with black pepper as the predominant note—a shadow cast over blood. It's a dark and powerful scent, but not overwhelming: the combination of blood and cocoa is somehow sensual, and the scent sticks close to the skin (with dragon's blood and black pepper in the throw), inviting others to lean in to experience it fully. The colors are dark red and black (I wore it when I saw Burton's Sweeney Todd, and it's a perfect match to that aesthetic). Verdict: The Tell-Tale heart is a pleasing scent on the surface—warm dragon's blood spiked by black pepper. Then the intimate throw draws you in, revealing richer blood and darker overtones. Finally it conjures the perfect image of the final, unnatural pulses of a congealing heart, beating its threat from concealing darkness. An exact fit to the inspiration, a wonder of a perfume, and a personal favorite. This was the first scent that I was compelled to stock up on, I wear it often, and it's my favorite LE. Truly—perfect.

In the vial: Dragon's blood resin, backed by a hint of amber. My imp has aged almost two years, and has quite a stunning appearance—both the oil and the imp cap are bright orange-red. On me: The dragon's blood remains predominant. It's bright red, slightly sweet, almost juicy, although it tempers a bit during wear. The amber is far secondary, but it amps a little bit over time—rather than crystalline, it is soft, warm, and slightly powdery. The total effect is a slightly sweet, fruity red DBR grounded by a background of subdued golden amber—more powdery and dragon's blood-heavy than the description implies. Verdict: This isn't my favorite scent. On me, it's not more than the sum of its parts—so while I love both DBR and amber, I wish the combined scent were more complex. Nonetheless, it's quite pleasant and the boyfriend loves it. Lively and yet comforting, warm and smooth, a good scent for dragon's blood lovers. I don't need more than my imp, but that imp gets a fair bit of use.

In the vial: Almost indistinct, but cream with a touch of coffee and dusty wood. On me: Heavily creamed coffee, lightly sweetened. The cream is generous, the coffee is secondary but amps a bit more with wear. I can't pick out alcohol, thank goodness; nor can I pick out books or wood, though they may be what provides the barest grounding, non-foody aspect to the blend. On the whole, this is milky/creamy, sweet, delicious coffee—in fact, it smells just like coffee ice cream, but pleasantly warm instead of cold. It's a comforting foody scent, creamed-coffee light brown in color, thin cream in texture. Verdict: I've always wished that Misk U. were more complex than pure creamed coffee—I would love an atmospheric scent, something more evocative, more of the books and wood. Nonetheless, it is lovely. It's true to life, foody without being overly sweet, comforting and delicious. This is a wonderful scent for cuddling up and reading. I don't wear it too often, but I am glad to have my imp around.

In the bottle: Difficult to pin down, but approximately a creamy parchment-colored incense. On me: After some brief morphing when it first goes on, it dries down to—well, to a very close match to the description. Lurid Library is the first page of an old book: ivory parchment, thick and creamy to the touch, unmarked by bitter ink. Over the years the parchment has picked up the scents in the library: incense and a touch of musk, both dark, faint but present, seeped into the smooth fibers of the page, staining them to old ivory. The rest of the library isn't discernible—there are no woods, no leather bindings, just the bare, finger-worn parchment of the book's first page. The color is aged ivory; the scent is distinct despite a mild throw and the wear length is moderate. Verdict: I picked up a bottle of this unsniffed when it was first released, confident that I would love it; I have not been disappointed, and continue to love and wear it a year later. It is one of my all-time favorite oils. This is a must-have if you love the smell of book paper and an ideal scent for curling up with some well-loved books. I adore it, and treasure my bottle.

In the vial: Not much of anything, perhaps the lightest touch of golden musk. On me: Perfection. Velvety fur and warm musk in a pale golden shade. A bit sweet, quite warm, very comforting. It's animalistic yet clean and dry, more like short fur than pungent musk glands. It has a similar feel and texture to Velvet—powdery in the best sense. Sometimes when wearing it I can make out a touch of the forest setting, the memory of dry leaves—but it's delicate velvety dun musk for the most part, and that's enough for me. Verdict: Ivanushka is one of my favorite scents, and I've had it in heavy rotation since it was released. (Ironically, that's why I've never reviewed it—I find my favorites the hardest to review, because it's difficult to describe just how much I love them.) Beautiful, velvety, animalistic yet clean, warm and comforting—this is a stunning pure blond/golden musk, and, simply stated, I could not love it more.

I agree with recommendations of: Saytr, which is an incredibly deep brown musk/civet smoothed out with a touch of vanilla. It's sweet on my skin, but musk is always sweet on my skin; it would certainly work as a "macho" vanilla. Golden Priapus, Insatiable lust, unending vigor! A truly carnal, energetic men’s blend: vanilla and amber with juniper, rosewood and white pine. Sometimes called a more masculine Snake Oil: it has a strong vanilla component and yeah, it's a bit sweet—but the astringent pine and juniper temper that, and it's all over a rather masculine, if not "macho," blend.

That was my review, and I got my imp free from someone else who traded it from someone else, and I don't even know where it came from before thatso, yeah, there's a distinct likelihood that my imp is pretty old and not representative of any potential recent color changes.

The (original) price point of the BPAL single notes was lower the cost of a 5ml bottle of that essential oil, some BPAL components come from private distributors, and presumably Beth does combine different aromatic oils to create the base "notes" that are listed in her perfumes. So, yes, the SNs sold, once upon a time, by BPAL were probably unique, as boutique/accord or otherwise, not just a purchased EO bottled up, labeled, and sold. And even if not, it's sometimes a crapshoot to try and find a good EO source; the BPAL ones were created, approved, and/or presumably used by Beth, ergo they were a reliable, trusted source. I've never smelled a BPAL SN either, myself, so I can't make individual comparisons. But that's what I'd figure.

In the vial: Deep buttery almond indeed, and quite potent. On me: The almond is a touch perfumey, which would normally drive me away from a scent. But Hecate is lovely. The almond is neither cherry-like or bitter; it's smooth, rich as butter, golden warm—simply divine despite its generic perfumey edge. There is just a touch of shadows: The dark musk adds depth but, coupled with the myrrh, remains on the sweeter and lighter side. Over time, the musk amps up, casting a darker shadow over the golden almond. The scent becomes much darker, verging on the edge of bitterness, and the almond's perfumey aspect disappears. This is a powerful, unusual feminine blend, a lovely match to Hecate Herself. The color is golden brown, darkening significantly during wear. Verdict: I adore it—more than I remember from when I first tried it (my imp is now aged ten months). I wish that the earlier stage, where the almond is more prominent and the scent is buttery gold, stayed around longer; the darker, muskier stage isn't bad, but it's not as lovely or evocative. Still, I'm quite in love and will definitely keep and wear my imp.

I can't wear (and don't much care for) rose, and I'm no fan of mostly florals in general, ergo I haven't tried much of Ars Moriendi and probably won't. I do, however, dearly love Haunted (soft golden amber darkened with a touch of murky black musk). I love amber, I love musk, and it has such a glowing, lightly shadowed sense to itabsolutely divine. I really need a 5ml.

This is the 2008 version. In the vial: Wet soil and organic decay, and it's actually rather vile. On me: It goes on with that same disgusting strong rotting smell, and then dries down to ... nothing. Perhaps there's a ghost of dry soil, but I think I'm merely willing that scent. The boy confirms: the scent disappears immediately, as soon as it dries down. Verdict: I'll retest later and hope this is a fluke of chemistry, but so far it's looking like I don't need to keep this if I can't smell it.

In the vial: Ozone and cologne, with just a touch of sharp greenery. The scent feels almost empty—an absence, clear, white, airy. On me: Goes on as cologne, very masculine, preserved in sharp alcohol. And on me, that's what it stays—even after an hour's wait. It's a bit sickening, really, and not quite what I had hoped for from this blend. I'm disappointed, but to be fair my skin chemistry doesn't often fail me so completely. Verdict: Washing it off and swapping my imp, immediately. This one just doesn't work on me.