Juushika

I intially purchased this, before it was dc'd, as a possible tears/salt water scent. In the vial: Salt water and bitter incense. On me: Salt water predominantly, pure and liquid. Behind that, thin bitter incense and just a breath of rose. Within an hour, the intensity of the salt water dies down and the scent becomes lighter and less bitter: gentle white rose and soft incense, dipped in salty water. Somber and wistful, this is most certainly a funerary scent, but it's more pretty than dark or threatening. The colors are white and a very dark warm gray, almost black. It's a gentle scent with a decent-to-low throw and low staying power. Verdict: I'm not sure. Something I get nothing but a huge headache out of Penthus (no doubt the aquatic); the rest of the time it's lovely salt, which is wonderfully true and exactly what I'm after, but I'm not crazy about the incense and rose that accompany it—even though they are quite pretty. This certainly hasn't become my go-to tears scent. I'm not sure, yet, whether I'll keep or trade my imp; I definitely don't need to seek out more.

In the imp: Very faint, almost indiscernible. On me: Milk, linen, and white pepper with just a touch of sweetness which comes out a bit more during wear. This is an odd scent. One of the notes is a vaguely unpleasant on me (not sure which), but ignoring that: The pepper gives warmth but not spice, and everything in the scent is very smooth—crisp clean linen, indeed, and not much more than that. It's opaque white in color, as well. Verdict: I keep trying to wear and love White Rabbit, but it's just not happening. This is an unusual perfume, which I like, but there's something off about it which I don't enjoy and the rest is so clean and white that it's almost without character. This just isn't for me, but I'm not too broken-hearted. Oh well!

I got a sniffie of this just before it was discontinued, so I almost hope I don't love it... In the vial: Bitter dark chocolate which almost smells like coffee. On me: The chocolate disappears upon application, but returns within a few more minutes—but returns only as a ghost of itself. The chocolate is dark but only moderately strong, not nearly as heavy or melted as I expected; it's lightly sweetened, but not sugary. In fact, it reminds me of the cocoa in Velvet, but mixed with cream rather than dried on sandalwood. The cream doesn't go rancid (yay!); it's thicker and silkier than milk, but not by much—this is half-and-half. Strangely, despite being chocolate and cream, this scent doesn't strike me as foody. It has an unusual edge, non-chocolate and non-foody edge which I can't quite pin down. It's the scent of a box of medium darkness, moderate quality bar chocolate, a person eating a chocolate bar, a room full of chocolate bars—not the chocolate bars themselves. Verdict: If this were a general catalog scent or still available, I'd be tempted to hunt down more. It is a lovely scent, smooth and delicious, and much better behaved than I expected from heavy cream. But it's not my favorite chocolate (that would be Velvet for wearing, and Boomslang for a room scent), and I haven't fallen in love. It's a little too tame for me, a little too creamy with not enough emphasis on the chocolate, too foody for perfumey chocolate, too light for chocolate decadence. If this scent remains difficult to aquire, I can live without it.

"Nutmeat" made me curious enough to grab a decant. In the vial: Crisp, dewy apple and ... something else! But I don't know what. On me: This is difficult scent to pin down. It's completely different from the imp scent, but what it is is difficult to say. It's organic and mulchy—wood, moss, and leaves. There's a touch of spice, and a faint warm-earth feeling. It's not a cool or misty scent, which is disappointing. I don't get any of the foodiness that others report, not apple nor nutmeat. It is autumnal, but not particularly evocative. The scent of autumn lawn mulch, decomposing in between rains. Color is dampened red-brown. ETA: On second try, it's autumn bark and leaves, dry and surprisingly spicy. Mist is still missing in action, likewise fruit and nut. It's not as bad or as disappointing as it was, but it remains unevocative, rather flat, and not particularly pleasant. Verdict: I didn't know how much I was looking forward to this scent until I began to suspect it wasn't working on me. I was wishing for evocative, misty autumn outdoors; parts of that are present, but the entire image isn't realized. What's left isn't horrible but isn't particularly likable either. I'll retest my decant and hope that today is just a fluke of chemistry, but I'm pretty disappointed.

I grabbed a half decant of this long ago, when I was first discovering incense. In the vial: Dark, strong, smoky, and bitter incense. On me: Some of the smoke and much of the bitterness has died down. This is dark, slightly powdery incense with a faint heart of solid, sweeter resin. It doesn't have a whole of a depth, though. Color is black. Verdict: I tend to prefer incense as an accompanying note, not as the star of a blend, so this scent isn't for me. I also wish that it were more complex—a sniff of it and I'm done; this isn't a scent that I keep coming back to experience again and better understand. All in all, I won't keep my decant.

Wet on skin: A little perfumy, some citrus, a little powdery, and all over a yellow-green scent. I don't care for this in the vial and don't really like it on me. Drydown: The perfumy aspects fade and the scent becomes brighter and even more yellow-green. There's a bit of bite and sweetness to the citrus note, and it also smells a little herby. This reminds me distinctly of lemongrass. The throw also increases as the scent warms, but never becomes overpowering. Last about four hours. Verdict: I wouldn't mind this on others, but it doesn't suit me—it smells fine, but it's not how I want to smell. It's a little too perfumy, and far too bright. Not keeping the imp.

Cross-posting this ancient review over from my LiveJournal... Wet on skin: Rich, spicy, and decidedly amber. It's a little too heavy, but lightens up quickly. Drydown: The spices step back, the scent becomes warmer and rounder, and the apple blossom start to weave in and out—sometimes I can smell it, sometimes not. This scent starts to smell wonderful on me after about ten minutes, and is at it's best from one hour onward. From then on, it remains largely unchanged. It's a warm, rich, luxurious amber—no question about it, that's the dominant note and the soul of the scent. More beautiful than sexy, it even makes me just a little lethargic. The carnation adds spice and the apple adds sweetness, so all the additional notes balance each other out to make an even-handed, slightly complex blend. Decent throw, and lasts about five hours before dying down to skin level for a few more hours. Verdict: I like it, the boy likes it, this definitely fulfills my amber desire. I love it both for going out and for snuggling up to read and nap. Definitely a keeper, and a wonderful first BPAL experience. (So said two years ago! This was the first BPAL I ever tried, and I loved it then and still wear it now.)

In the vial: Resin, incense, wood. It's polished smooth, golden brown with deep, dark reflections. On me: Much the same as in the vial, though it's warmed and blossomed. These are smooth, deep resins, gently sweet and glowing with hidden luster, paired with warmth from the teak—the scent has the feel and color of wood polished to a shine. It's not too dark, and it's lit by am inner glow. The precise qualities seem to change a bit over time—always resin and incense, but sometimes warmer, sometimes sweeter, as if the different aspects are taking a turn to glow. Verdict: Wonderful. This is a beautiful scent, a triumph of resin and light incense (with remarkably little smoke). It's a bit outside of my usual taste, so I won't wear it often—but I'll certainly keep what I have.

In the vial: Warm spicy florals, but I can't make a guess on the notes. On me: This is a warm red scent, like sunlight pouring through stained glass to color the room within. Golden-red floral (I can't can't pick it out, which saddens me; I can pick out a touch of rose, which for once doesn't go screaming bright on my skin—based on that, don't necessarily let this rose scare you away if it's normally disobedient), thickened with resin, touched by incense and spice. But within an hour it all but disappears, leaving only a warm but indistinct ghost of itself behind. Verdict: It contains so many notes that I love, and yet ... The Masque doesn't do much for me. It reminds me distinctly of Masquerade (without the citrus, which disappears on my skin), only I prefer Masquerade and it lasts longer. There's something about The Masque that I can't pin down, but whatever it is I don't like it. Not a bad scent, but it's not for me. I'll pass this along.

The Masque (LE; honey and carnation, rich incense and rose accord, myrtle, red sandalwood, amber, jonquil and clove propel you through the revel, finally seating itself in the final, patchouli, tobacco and labdanum drenched darkness of the blood-tinged western chamber) is closely reminiscent of Masquerade (GC; patchouli, ambergris, carnation and orange blossom) minus the citrus—which disappears upon my skin anyhow. They share the same golden-red florals and incense, and have much the same feeling of a celebration shadowed by darkness. (And, perhaps not too oddly, similar names and inspirations.)

In the vial: Organic murky green with chemical cologne. A strange combination. Also worth noting: the oil is olive green! Never seen one like it, and it's almost intimidating. On me: It's difficult to describe. The scent is smooth and green, rather like a pond of glass-smooth murky water, but there's nothing aquatic about it. It has surprisingly warmth—not sharp or spicy, but as smooth as polished wood—the scent of heat itself. I don't get any musk. The scent is lighter and softer than I expected, but still is deep and somber. Perhaps its just because of the book I'm reading (Kiernan's Threshold), but this reminds me of the cavern of an unusually peaceable Elder God: deep and dark, ancient resins and time-smoothed wood, murky green but dry, unnaturally warm, and powerful—but not threatening. Verdict: Oblivion is a smoothly blended work of art, but it's not my style. I don't think I can pull it off, and while I love the warmth, the murky olive green tone of the scent is oddly unsettling. Glad I got to try it, but not interested in wearing it, so I'll pass along my imp.

This was a frimp from the Lab—but I love musk, so I have high hopes. In the imp: Dark green herbal. On me: Sweetens when it hits skin, and then there's my beloved musk: dark and almost earthen, but not overpowering. Musk is sweet on my skin, transforming very masculine blends (looking at you, Satyr) into something wonderful and wearable; this musk does the same, but for once it retains a masculine edge. The musk rises from mixed herbs, wood, and moss (smoothly blended, I can't pick out notes), so while the musk is still deliciously sweet, it's grounded by a slightly herbal organic setting. This is Robin Goodfellow crouching in his forest, gently masculine and warm with musk, a spirit who—in his heart of hearts—only means well. It's surprisingly gentle, with minimal throw. Verdict: I'm won over. I have other musks which I love more, so this probably won't become a favorite. But it is lovely, well-suited to the inspiration, beautiful on my skin, sweet and herbal with warm and comforting musk. The masculine edge is just enough that I'll wear this when curled up with a book, not as a perfume for others to smell. But I'll definitely wear it, and I'm keeping the imp.

In the vial: Warm, yellow, and ... bitter? Don't mind me, I never like the bottle scent. On me: The bitterness has long fled and there's a very slight floral edge. I can't pick out notes, and the scent is faint; this is more of an atmosphere, an evocation, than it is a scent—but it's glorious. Golden warm, glowing like sunbeams, this is the scent of reflected sunlight. It's what I wished Sportive Sun would be: a pure, langarous solar oil. The color is the glowing pale yellow gold of sunbeams. Verdict: I adore it. I won't wear this for the sake of perfume, but instead for the sake of an experience akin to stretching catlike in the sunrays on a hardwood floor. Therefore, the lone imp I have will be enough—but I am very glad to have it.

I love apple and autumn, so I took a chance and bought a bottle unsniffed when the update went up. In the bottle: Warm apple cider, but there's something in the background which I can't pin down, and it makes the scent seem slightly artificial and "off." On me: When it goes on, whatever it is that I don't like amps up for a moment and then disappears. The smoke and wood amp, eclipsing all other notes, and then die down to a more manageable level. After that, Fearful Pleasure is pretty much what I expected: warm apple cider with wood and smoke. The apple ripe, red, and cooked; not fully mulled, it's only lightly spiced—truly the scent of warm apple cider. I don't smell the orange peel, which is too bad—it would be a lovely touch. The wood and smoke is warm and golden brown, light in tone (if not in strength) and not bitter. They're also stronger than I expected, standing equal with the apple. As a result, this isn't quite a foody blend—it's not just cider, but the act of drinking that warm apple cider indoors in a wood house, sitting before a fireplace. It has a golden red-blond-brown color, and the scent seems to float around the wearer rather than rising from the skin. Verdict: I wish that the cider were predominant and that I could smell the orange peel; the lack of both is what keeps me from being head over heels in love with the scent. Nonetheless, I do really enjoy it—this is a warm, comforting autumnal scent, and a spot-on, authentic match to the inspiration and the image it conjures. (It does make me want cider, though. >.>) I'll definitely keep my bottle, and I expect I'll wear this often.

In the bottle: Warm, smooth, and golden brown. The only note that I can pick out is the caramel. On me: Agrat-Bat-Mahlaht is an perfect olfactory capture of its illustration—something that I didn't expect from the notes. It's creamy smooth, rich brown gilded with gold, sexual and sweetened, and distinctly feminine. (The only aspect of the illustration that I don't perceive in the scent are the ruby jewels.) Caramel, deep and sweet, is the heart of the scent, but the amber, cream, and teak make it richer, firmer, and somewhat less foody. The apple blossom a strong floral (and not foody)—don't necessarily let that scare you away if you avoid florals, because it's not predominant; however, it does make the scent distinctly feminine. The skin musk isn't discernible, but it may be what gives the blend its a sensual, bodily aspects. This is rich and deep, seductive, a little dark, a bit sweet and a bit floral, and it forms an aura of scent around the wearer which is dense but not cloying. Verdict: I expected something lighter and creamier from the notes, but Agrat has all the richness and darkness of the illustration and a strong floral aspect that I didn't expect. It took a while to see beyond those expectations, but Agrat is beautiful, evocative, and sensual, the scent of feminine power, dark beauty, and comfort in ones own glorious skin. It's also aging beautifully—when I first got it the blend felt raw and a bit floral-heavy; five months later it's smoother and the apple blossom is playing better with the notes. This isn't my favorite scent and the caramel is too much rich brown for my daily use, but it is a keeper and I look forward to seeing how it continues to age.

In the vial: Chocolate and bright yellow fruit. On me: This Thirteen morphs almost constantly during wear, so it's rather difficult to write about. Yellow and orange fruits which are always present at varying strengths—they are the star of the scent, bright and golden, more dry than juicy, and distinct but not overpowering. Sometimes the fruit is sharpened by a bite of fresh, fibrous ginger; sometimes the fruit is smoothed out by sweet and creamy white chocolate and vanilla. There's also musty herbal chocolate, reminiscent of Thirteen April 2007 but softer, a strange organic scent which is oddly like algae and chocolate if algae and chocolate smelled amazingly good—it's prominent when first applied, provides a soft herbal grounding throughout wear, and sometimes pops up and makes itself more distinctly known. All of those aspects weave over and under one other in varying strengths and combinations to provide a constantly-shifting blend of peach and starfruit marked by cream and ginger and backed by herbs and chocolate. (Meanwhile, the boyfriend sniffs me and picks up most on the sweetness of the white chocolate, which reminds him of candy, and the slight floral edge of the orchid, which I can't pick out at all.) Verdict: Thirteen July 2007 is constantly morphing, a bit unusual, yet quite palatable. I love the pure musty chocolate of Thirteen April 2007, but it's not a scent to delight the masses; this, however, is a Thirteen that passing strangers will like on first sniff. It's also a delight to wear, and it's fun to track how all of the components fade in and out. However, the golden fruits don't quite suit my personality, even if they don't offend my nose. I don't think this is a blend which I'll wear often—but I loved the opportunity to experience it, and I'll probably keep the imp around for those infrequent times when I long for golden fruit.

In the vial: I have no idea. It's soft, gently warm, and smooth, but has a vaguely unappealing "after-smell." On me: When it first goes on, this reminds me almost perfectly of White Rabbit, crisp and homey, a touch strange—after all, they both share tea, milk/cream, pepper, and linen/wool. Ichabod Crane, however, is sweeter, softer, and warmer than White Rabbit; the longer it wears, the more the beeswax and muguet come out, and eventually they become predominant. Together, they are warm and golden with a distinct floral edge, reminding me (unexpectedly) of solar oils like Sportive Sun and Leo 2007. Altogether, the scent is smooth, golden, sharped a bit with the pepper, and just a touch refined; the texture of beeswax with the scent of a gentle unisex-or-men's parfum. Verdict: Ichabod Crane is White Rabbit transforming into Sportive Sun/Leo 2007—and I already have those others, and don't wear them frequently. The floral note of the final stage is also a little too strong for my tastes. All told, this is a pleasant scent, unassuming but unusual (not entirely unlike Ichabod himself!), but it fit my personality or have much personality of its own. I'll retest this one more time, but I think I'll pass this decant along to someone else.

I'm usually not a fan of rose (nor it of me), but I've had good luck with white rose before so I thought I'd try a decant. In the vial: Very mild sweetness with a touch of sharpness—probably the honey and rose. It's a clean white color. On me: Pale but sharp white rose, just a touch creamy and sweet. The rose is white, feminine, but not strongly floral-perfumey—it's a pure, natural scent. It does have a bit of a sharpness, which is characteristic of rose on my skin, but the sharpness is tempered by white honey and cream. I can't smell either distinctly, and the blend isn't sweet or milky-sour; instead, the honey and cream blend with the rose to create an allover smoother, gentler scent. That said, the scent is actually fairly one-dimensional, and it doesn't morph at all during wear. The color is pale, clean, slightly translucent white; the throw is pleasantly stronger than I expected. Verdict: My white rose of choice is usually Magdalene, which more dark and dreamy; this is the same white rose, but Katrina is lighter, younger, and sweeter. It's a pleasant scent, but the honeyed cream is just too soft, making for a rose so pure that it almost lacks personality. I like it, but I don't think I love it (and I only wear florals infrequently)—so I'll hold onto my decant and retest, but I don't need any more than that.

The 2008 version, picked up in a decant circle. In the vial: I couldn't say, except that I don't like it. It's dark, smoky, dirty, and bitter. The only note I can pick out distinctly is pine. On me: Predominantly dark and smoky when it goes on. This is nightime forest, after the rain and late in the year, when the vegetation has aged and some of it is rotting; there's a fire fed by damp logs, unfurling smoke into the night; underfoot, the dark soil of the forest floor. Within half an hour, red apples, a general "fruit" which may be the addition of pumpkin, and mixed spices become discernible and gain strength. They rise until they stand equal with the dark smoky forest, and they're a bit sweet—but not unpleasantly so. The strength and throw increase during wear. Verdict: In the vial, I dislike it; on wet, I'm doubtful; after half an hour, I'm won over. Samhain a bit sweeter than I expected (which may just be my skin chemistry) which seems a touch out of place against the woods; otherwise, it's wonderfully balanced and just lovely. The dark smoky forest is evocative, and the apples and spice make the blend more palatable and easy to wear. The boy says it smells like Christmas; to me, it's the long holiday season stretching from Halloween to Twelfth Night. It's lovely, and I'll definitely keep my imp.

Brings a rush of good luck, lifts the spirit, and helps alleviate depression. This was a frimp in a decant circle. In the vial: I can't even say. Something warm and golden with a distinct floral note. On me: When it first touches the skin, this reminds me distinctly of Chuparosa—not a good thing, in my opinion. The drydown loses some of that bright-pink screaming floral brightness. A golden heart develops: a bit sharp, which could be ginger; maybe some golden fruits; certainly a strong, cheerful floral aspect. The overall scent is a warm, golden tone with a wake-me-up feeling, and it's not unpleasant. It's not my style, however, and I accidentally over-applied (stupid imp leak) and the scent is already quite strong, so I'm more concerned with washing it off than having my depression alleviated. (And then I went and washed it off, so I can't comment on how the scent changes during wear.) Verdict: To be honest, I stuck this in my box for trades as soon as I recapped the imp. The scent is not at all unpleasant, and I wouldn't mind smelling it on someone else; it can definitely double as voodoo and perfume blend. But predominant florals aren't my style, nor is the bright golden color of the perfume. I'll pass this one on to someone else.

I never would have thought to try Haloes without this recommendation—thank you! I'll put it on my list. I also wanted to link to stick in a link for recommendations of scents which smell like fur, which I found in my wandering. Some of the recommendations are similar, but there are others as well, including: Crow Moon Brown Jenkins Lycaon The Rat King and potentially Oborot Just in case it's useful to other people like me who are looking for animal smells.

I just tested this today, and struck me as so unusual that I had to put in another word for it here: Gunpowder: Molasses and oats with a touch of wood and apple, and it's incredibly distinctive and unusual for perfume. It smells like a cider house, or a maple syrup house, or a warm barn: the scent of food preparation, but not actually foody. I love it, even if I'm never sure when I'll actually wear it... And to make a more complete post, other BPAL which I'd call quirky, or bizarre, or unusual: Destroying Angel: Thin dry acrid dirt, and white fungus. If you had asked me before I discovered BPAL, I would say there was no way a perfume could ever smell like that. Death Cap: Sweet pale-purple vanilla ... dirt. It's incredible, and unusual, and I adore it. Enraged Groundhog Musk: Strong sweet cherries coated in brown cocoa-and-cardamom fuzz. It's bright and sweet and fuzzy and soft. A very distinctive combination, and definitely not an average perfume. White Rabbit: A drop of tea, a shake of pepper, and a linen napkin. It's pale, white, and more than a little odd.

I grabbed an empty bottle (barely enough to test) from my decant circle because I wanted to smell one of the pumpkin patch and this was the most promising, but red rose scared me away from grabbing enough to wear. In the bottle: Pumpkin immediately, then a touch of resin (I guess that'd be the frankincense), then just "red"—an overall impression of the color, but no notes. On me: Goes on pumpkin, then it develops into a balance of red fruit made creamy by pumpkin and just touched by spice. I can't identify which red fruit, but it's distinctly red in color and full-bodied, rich, and a little sweet. The pumpkin is buttery and smooth; it's clearly discernible when I sniff for it, but for the most part it subtly balances out the red fruit and prevents the scent from growing cloying. The spice is subtle and almost featureless, just enough to provide an edge; if it's carnation, it's very flat. I don't get any other florals, including rose (which usually amps on my skin). Verdict: This is more enjoyable than I expected, but I don't feel the need to track down a wearable amount. (The boy agrees.) The combination of red fruit and buttery pumpkin is full-bodied and pleasant, and it makes for a likable, inoffensive scent that's not without character. I wouldn't mind smelling this on someone else, and don't mind how it smells on me. But I'm not making rapturous moaning noises or grabby hands. This was good to try, and I'm definitely interested in trying more pumpkin blends, but I don't mind not having this one.

In the vial: Molasses, then oats, then apples—but I'm unfamiliar with many of these notes, especially in the context of a perfume, so that's just a guess. The scent is sweet, thick, and very pungent. It has food qualities, but it's not quite foody—this is horsefeed, or a cider house: being around feed or producing food, but not consuming it. On me: The molasses creates sweetness on top, and it makes this scent very potent. The core is chaff and oats, a fibrous, cooked scent which is feed-but-not-food. At the base is a barely-discernible grounding of wood and a drop of musk. I also get a hint of overripe red apple—a touch of it in the throw, but not discernible up close. All in all, very similar to the scent in the vial but more nuanced. When it goes on, the throw is minimal and the molasses is a little bit overwhelming and cloying up close. Luckily, the throw rises within half an hour, and it doesn't contain so much of the molasses. This is an incredibly potent blend, and one little swipe is plenty. Verdict: I can't imagine any other perfume like this. Gunpowder is evocative, unusual, and truly one of a kind. I'm reminded of visiting maple syrup and apple cider farms in Vermont, or of baking dozens of oatmeal cookies in autumn—this is the scent of food preparation or animal feed, not of eating, and it doesn't make me hungry. I'm not sure how often I'll wear this, because it's more of an experience than a perfume. But I'll hold on to my imp, and I'm thrilled that I had the chance to experience it.

In the vial: Sharp greenery. On me: Goes on a distinctive powdery spice, gradually grows floral (that'd be carnation), and then takes on a milky undertone. It's a strong blend with a wide throw. It's powdery, which may be an amber base, but with a little grit—more like ground spice than baby powder. Above all, it's strong and pure carnation—the carnation of Alice or Maiden, spicy with a distinct milky background, not the dried blossom of Morocco. It's also the entire carnation, sharp green stem and spicy fresh red blossom. As the scent wears, much of the milkiness and greenery dies down and so does the throw, resolving to a subtle, spicy carnation, red and powdery, like dried carnation blossoms; it's a skin scent and disappears within two hours or so, but it's a lovely skin scent. Verdict: On my skin, Hod is an experience of red carnation, bold fresh-cut flowers transforming to subtle dried petals—and the experience is incredibly authentic. The scent goes on with a huge throw, dies down to a subtle skin scent, and doesn't last long at all. This isn't a scent for wearing out, because it morphs so much and lingers so little (and it's so rare!). It's a scent to wear, experience, and enjoy. I'm thankful that I was able to get my hand on it, and shall treasure my imps.