Juushika

Scent Scribbles results for amber + red musk + BPAL may also be useful to you. Those are only the blends with listed notes, but it contains the blends that others have listed plus a few more. Fenris Wolf is a personal favorite, which has a very warm red color throughout, furry musks, and a rich, rounded heart of wood and amber.

In the vial: An unusual combination of salt and flowers with a distinct bitter edge. On me: The dragon's blood blossoms, quite literally—DBR is usually fruity on my skin, but here it's distinctly floral. They're mixed unidentifiable flowers, and they're predominant. Behind that, discernible but definitely second chair, is a salty aquatic. The aquatic isn't as bitter as the vial scent, and it's weak compared to the florals. The scent remains the same, but the throw morphs: it starts gentle, grows a healthy distance within twenty minutes, and dies to skin level within an hour. At an hour and a half, the scent is all but gone. Verdict: I usually adore dragon's blood resin, but it's usually fruity and resinous on my skin. The pure florals here aren't my style. While I've been looking for a salty aquaticand this is the truest I've found so farin combination with florals it evokes a humid tropical atmosphere, and that's most definitely not my style. Plus, the wear length is just over an hour. I think I'll have to pass this one on.

In the vial: Sweet white cake batter. On me: First hour or two: No longer the wet scent of the oil in the vial, this has become the dry sweetness of a baked sugar cake. It's distinctly sweet, but not sticky or cloying—more like crystalline white sugar than honey. The scent is weak, and I only get whiffs of it; sniffing up close, there's a light bitter/sour note. I think that's the milk, which sometimes goes sour on my skin. Third hour until it fades away: The sour note fades to nothing, thank goodness. Surprisingly, the scent amps over time. It's wonderful, actually: sugar cakes, pale and pure, discernible at a distance but never cloying or too strong. Color is a pale, opaque white—like a white sweet bread. Verdict: I'm very happy with Dana O'Shee. I wish it got to the final stage faster, but I'm grateful that the sourness stays faint and close to the skin and then fades away. The throw is lovely, and this is a wonderful scent, sweet and pure and comforting, never cloying. It's a bit too simple for frequent wear, but I'm glad that I have the imp.

I've only ever smelled ambergris in Masquerade, which isn't animal-anything at all for me, but now I'm even more interested in sniffing it out in other blends. Ivanushka is my favorite too, CaudaPavonis. It's a very evocative musk. The wine in Hunter Moon intimidates me, but I've always wanted to try both of these—the "outdoor animal musk" thing seems very much up my alley. Dove's Heart sounds really interesting. Thank you for the recs so far!

In the vial: Sweet, light, creamy. Pumpkins and a hint of spices. It's the same color as the oil, a light yellow-towards-orange. On me: The scent amps more than I expected for its lightness, but perhaps I just put more on than usual. Like the vial, it's pumpkin and spice, but the spices die down and the scent grows lighter and sweeter. The pumpkin is diluted and lightened by the peach, and the sweetness gives the scent an almost waxy-candle like quality. It doesn't morph and it's fairly strong. The color is shiny, creamy, light tangerine-yellow, far from a rich pumpkin. Verdict: On me, this is a commercial candle scent, not rich pumpkins and spices as I envision them. It's very sweet and rather waxy, and the autumn notes feel diluted by the lightness of spring peach. I would much rather have my pumpkin darker, spicier, muskier; Jack just isn't for me. It might be worth layering with it a spicy or musky scent, though, to see if that cuts down the sweetness. ETA: Layering Jack with herbal, spicy, and musky blends is an improvement, but still not quite good enough. I've layered it with Casanova before, and recently tried laying it with Satyr; these darker, deeper scents help ground Jack and cut down on the overpowering sweetness, but they don't do away with the waxy, candle-like feel of the scent. As such, this is definitely an imp for the swap pile.

In the vial: Sweet (in a thick, fluid way, not dry or crystalline) backed by a breath of light, unidentifiable mixed floral. The color of the scent is opaque off-white. On me: There's a spike of sweetness when the oil hits my skin, swiftly followed by a spike in the mixed florals. The sweetness is vanilla or perhaps mallow, rich and creamy, pale and opaque. The florals are again unidentifiable, pale, but surprisingly bitter and dry. That bitterness fades over time, but it prevents the sweetness from being pure and comforting. It seem a little cloying, a little dusty-dry-herbaceous, a bit "off." Verdict: When I catch whiffs of this, I like it. It's sweet, pale, creamy, and comforting. But when I smell it intentionally and try to pick out notes, I'm put off by the dry florals. They seem bitter and out of place in the otherwise sweet blend, and they prevent it from being truly wonderful to my chemistry/tastes/nose. I'll probably wear this intermittently, but it's not a personal favorite. It makes me wish for a pure, creamy, sweet vanilla scent without the bitter dry florals.

In the bottle: Pure, rich, melted chocolate—but it's backed by a trace of something which is slight off and smells vaguely like chemicals or alcohol (perhaps the Snake Oil base?). On me: Five minutes of rich, pure, melted, very dark chocolate and then poof! nothing. The scent disappears entirely, and I don't even get a whiff of Snake Oil left behind. On the bedding: (A few drops on a piece of fabric [which the oil will stain, but the stain doesn't transfer], stuck in the dryer with the clean dry bedding for about five minutes) When it first comes out, it's rich melted dark chocolate with a high, wide, exuberant throw, surrounded by a heady, slightly bitter alcohol note which is closer to rubbing alcohol than booze. By the next day, the alcohol wears off, leaving rich chocolate with a slightly non-foody, Snake Oil edge. It's deep dark chocolate, as rich as the oil itself; it's melted (perhaps the rice milk?) and thick; it has bit of non-foody spice and a Snake Oil medicinal edge. The Snake Oil aspects fade and the throw decreases with time, but the scent lingers for a week, easy. It transfers to my hair and skin during the night. Verdict: The first time that Boomslang disappeared on my skin, I was heartbroken—a rich, pure, dark chocolate would be my perfect scent if it lasted. Using it to scent my laundry changed everything: what disappears so swiftly on my skin stays around forever on my bedding, and sleeping cocooned in rich chocolate is indulgent and divine. It only takes a few drops to scent an entire load of laundry, but I'm still glad to have a bottle—I'll want chocolate-scented sheets for years to come.

Tell-Tale Heart (Dark Delicacies, but I've never had the chance to try Maelstrom): I get blood (musky/dry/congealed, not wet) and cocoa, backed up by pepper. It has me addicted to blood scents, and I absolutely love it. Midnight Kiss (Shojo Beat): I get sickly sweet blood wine, backed by cocoa and a bit of powdery amber. Blood Amber (GC): I get blood-via-Dragon's Blood, fruity and almost friendly, with powdery amber. I sometimes get blood from Dragon's Blood Resin, but DBR tends towards rich red fruits and sometimes florals. An incense/spice/otherwise-darker grounding helps bring out the blood, and it works well when paired when blood/blood musk/blood wine to bring the blood to pulsing life.

I love musks, and the description sounded similar to The Lion (which I adore), so I had to try this one out. In vial: It does remind me of The Lion, but darker. Dry grasses, deep musk. On me: When it goes on, the scent loses some of the sharpness from the vial and it fills out. To my nose, the musk is similar to Satyr. It's distinct, rich brown, and a bit powdery. The dry grasses, however, round out the scent and prevent the sweet edge that musk often has on my skin. The grasses lighten and sun-warm the scent into a golden brown. Verdict: It's ironic, considering my deep love of Satyr and the similarities that these two have to my nose, but I don't have much of an opinion about Coyote. The dry grass and musk is a pleasant combination and it's certainly evocative, conjuring the image that it represents. But, all told, the scent doesn't stand out or really appeal to me. I've been hanging onto this imp for a while, retesting and indecisive, but I think it's finally time to admit that Coyote doesn't grab me.

The reviews of this (as luminous and sparkling) intrigued me enough to pick up an imp. In vial: Faint, pale, and sweet. On me: As soon as goes on, the scent opens up. It's slightly herbal and slightly astringent (the astringency fades a bit in time), but the bulk of the scent is a pale, white/yellow floral sweetness. It's almost colorless. It fades quickly. Verdict: The Unicorn reminds me of Antique Lace, only it's softer and yellower, and it lacks AL's cloying vanilla. It's sweet, light, and pale, but unfortunately I don't get the sparkling or luminosity that I was hoping for—so the scent is pleasant, but it doesn't quite grab me. I'll admit I'm a bit disappointed. I'll probably pass this one along.

This was a frimp from the Lab. On me: A difficult scent to describe. The bulk of it is a pleasant and almost creamy scent—perhaps the combination of amber and peach—but it's surprisingly nondescript. At it's edges, the scent is somewhat unusual, a bit masculine, perhaps a little darker and sharper, but again it's hard to pin down. Verdict: The scent isn't unpleasant, but it's a bit nondescript, a little too much of a bland men's cologne. This isn't one that I would have picked for myself, so I'm not particularly disappointed, but I'll probably pass it along.

After falling in love with Death Cap, I went on the hunt for another mushroom and dirt scent. In vial: Sharp and bitter. A pale dusty soil. On me: The scent loses some of its sharpness, but it retains a bitter edge. The dust dies down, but the soil remains dry and thin. After the drydown, it develops something more organic, rounding it out—the fungus growing from the soil. It's a pale scent, white in color. Verdict: Destroying Angel is pale and dry, a bit bitter, rounded out by an organic note at the center. The Lab's description fits it perfectly. Unfortunately, the scent doesn't have much of a personality—soil and fungus, definitely, but nothing more than that. It's not bad or unpleasant by any means (though I'm not fond of the bitterness), it just simply doesn't stand out or appeal to me. I'll probably pass this one along.

This was a frimp from the Lab. In vial: A pale, mildly astringent, yellow scent. On me: As soon as it goes on, the scent develops a blossoming floral note which I can't quite pin down—it just feels generally perfumey. Although the scent is remarkably smooth, the astringency takes a little while longer to fade. When it does, it takes with it my ability to locate the scent—it's still there, but it's faint and elusive. Then the scent sweetens up (no doubt the vanilla), and becomes a sweet, light, pale generic perfume, skewed towards light florals and a pale fruit which I can't name. Verdict: From the notes, this scent isn't my style; wearing it doesn't surprise me any. It's pale, light, and elusive, a bit generic perfumey to my nose (which, admittably, is untutored in the way of pale and citrus and floral scents), unremarkable and just not my style. I'll pass this one along.

The notes were so promising when I first picked this up, but after a few tests it just seemed a little sickly—hazelnut sometimes tastes that way too me, a thick creaminess that almost upsets my stomach, like drinking way too much milk. However, I came back and retested it on a whim, and it amazes me how much these scents can change and how complex they are. I don't know what was different when I wore it this time: maybe my nose, maybe my chemistry, maybe my moods the last few days—since I've wanted something a little foody and quite smooth. This time, the richness which made me feel ill before is joyously decadent. With the hazelnut, vanilla, and honey it's a perfect match to the creamy foodiness I was after; the sandalwood and amber take it out of the realm of "what are you baking?" which I appreciate as I'm not at heart a foody. As a plus (when it works well, at least!), it has an incredible staying power: after six hours, it was still strong, after sixteen hours the whiffs of the resins are still there. I may have to add this back into my scent library. It's not an oil I'll wear often, because normally I'm not in love with it, but it's good to have because it perfectly suits this niche mood of mine. I'm pleased to have rediscovered it.

This was a frimp from a seller (it was on my wishlist before that, because, as a Leo, solar oils interest me), and I've worn it before—but I've yet to write a review. In vial: Cedar, strong, sharp, and almost medicinal, with a bright and sunny floral. On me: The first thing I get is a whiff of blossoming florals, which isn't much to my taste. The floral quiets on the drydown—it's still pretty strong on the skin, but is tempered in the throw, giving the oil a vague "perfumey" note. I actually don't get much of the amber except as a grounding note to balance the fresh florals and the sharp dry cedar—in fact, I wish the amber were more predominant, because it's one of my favorite notes, and more of it would better balance the rest in this case. The scent is hard to describe: it's sunny, not quite warm, and not firey, more like the bright golden light of a direct sunray than a sun-warmed surface or the sun itself. The color is certainly a pale yellow gold, creeping up on white. But for all of those positive qualities, there's something a bit sharp and medicinal about the blend, something too pointed, too sweet, a bit citrus-sharp. Reading up on it, I think it might be a calamus, which I've never encountered before. Verdict: I like the golden feel of this scent—it is mostly definitely a solar oil. However, I'm not a big fan of the florals, which are too drug-store perfumey for my taste. The sicky sharpness of the blend also turns me away from it—I think the combination of the cedar and the citrus aspects of the calamus are just too much for me. I've come back to this a few times because I want to like it, is has a few promising notes, and I like the feeling of the blend, but there are a few too many unpleasant smells in there for me to really love or wear it. I think that it's about time to finally let this one go.

Of the whole Lupercalia update, this was the blend that most interested me. I waited for reviews to go up before purchasing, and the descriptions of the blend sounded perfect—even though lotus blossom is new to me, and I'm generally wary of florals. In bottle: I get primarily teakwood, rich, polished, a bit spicy. But I can pick out all of the notes, which is rare for me—I usually have a hard time picking out anything in the bottle. It's a very unique scent, warm and smooth at the heart and accented by spice and sweetness. I've never smelled lotus blossom, but it's distinct here: not precisely floral or foody, but a little sharp and fairly sweet. I'm actually quite fond of the in-bottle smell, which is also unusual for me, but I wish the teak and lotus were a bit softer. On me: The unique and particular character of this blend doesn't change much from vial to skin, but it does rebalance itself a bit. As I was hoping for, the spicy and sweet tone down, and the amber (which my skin often loves) comes into itself. What I notice most now is the rich, smooth, polished heart of the scent, and the spice of the teak and sweetness of the lotus blossom are accents, although the lotus is still a little bit sweeter than I'd like. I wear a lot of amber, but this smell completely different from anything else I own—there's something indescribable about it. The core of the scent is like exotic, polished, skin-warmed wood: it's rich, smooth, reminds me a bit of a skin scent, and has an unusual edge to it. I agree with others that it's very sensual, like the scent of satiated warm skin. The amber is light enough, and the sweetness brightens it, so I expect this will work well for warmer weather. The lotus doesn't make this blend "floral" to me, which I'm glad for. This blend stands out—it's unlike any other BPAL I've smelled. Verdict: I'm really glad that this scent doesn't morph too much from bottle to skin—in fact, the changes are minor and all for the best. The unique quality of the blend is just too lovely to lose, so I'm glad that it sticks around unchanged. It is so pleasurably, so subtly unusual: it stands out while still being sexy and very wearable. The cream (alongside the teak) gives it a wonderful rich smoothness, the amber is warm, and the teak and lotus play on top of them to give this scent lovely character. In a way, this is a cousin to the warm/smooth/spicy amber-based blends that I love: it has the same basic construct, but an entirely different character. That difference will make it a great addition to my collection, and I'm quite happy with it. Plus, the boy loves it on me, and it's a great match to the painting. What a lovely scent!

I'm in search of a tears scent, and unlike many of the salty aquatics on my wish list, this one is a readily available GC—so I bought an imp to check it out. In vial: Something spicy, and along side that—yes, I do believe this is my first brush with an aquatic. I wasn't sure what that would smell like in a perfume. On me: It's salty. That's a hard scent to identify or describe—but it's there. It makes the aquatic a little bit sharp. Easier to identify is a vague floral base that is generically "perfumey" in a very mainstream way. I want to find carnation in it, but mostly it's just a mixed classic floral. The perfumey note is too heavy against the aquatics, which are fairly light and pale. The throw is pretty strong. However, after the first half an hour the perfuminess and the throw both tone down. It's a nice change. At this point the scent is salty, a bit sweet, with just a breath of florals beneath it all. It's also fairly faint, and the salt still has a bitter edge—but all told, it's quite nice. I like it, and so does the boy. Verdict: Because I'm looking for the scent of pure tears, the accessory notes in Pool of Tears aren't quite what I want. This isn't the scent of pure tears—clear, liquid, crystalline—but it is a wonderful match to the original inspiration: the scene of Alice drowning in her own salt tears. The slightly exaggerated notes, the florals and the sweetness, could easily equate to Tenniel's original drawing, which is slightly stylized and of course includes Alice as well as her salt pool. I'm no big fan of the dry down period, but it's not a huge issue to wait half an hour before going into public. All told, this isn't quite what I wanted, and I'll still be in search of a perfect pure tear scent, but I like it well enough to keep it. It's an unusual scent, but hardly unwearable, and I think it would well suit a slightly contrary, slightly odd sort of day.

Patron of the Aztec pantheon, he is the personification of light within darkness, warmth in the cold, and life in, and after, death. He is a creative and destructive God of Fire and Light, and is appeased only by sacrifice, trial, and the slaughter of his people's enemies. Copal, plumeria and sweet orange and the smoke of South American incense and crushed jungle blooms. I purchased an imp of this on the basis that it's similar to the commercial fragrance "Angel"—I figured I'd try it, and if it didn't work, pass it on to my sister, who likes Angel. In vial: It smells like the orange in a chocolate orange—a citrus, rounded rather than sharp, well sweetened. On me: Jungle flowers blossom over the orange, almost concealing it. The smell is distinctly tropical and unlike anything that I've tried to describe. It's the shadows beneath a jungle canopy, where the vines and leaves overhead form a bower that traps scent below, heavy with florals which seem to thicken the air, spiked by the barest breath of citrus, heavy with tropical humidity. It's just on the safe side of cloying, but is still very rich and sweet. There is something of cocoa in here, rich brown sweetened by the tropical air, which rounds out the scent. Along with the copal, the scent is well rounded at the base notes but creeps outwards in the top notes in whiffs of heavy-blossomed florals that can't be constrained by the resin. Verdict: I'm not a fan of strong florals (and on me, this is one) or tropical scents, but Xiuhtecuhtli took me by surprise. The blossoms are heavy, the scent in humid, but it is undeniably lovely. The florals are so well mixed that they don't compete but rather flow together in a cloud of scent, and that specific, indescribable tropical characteristic makes me breathe deep, trying to understand and describe it. This scent makes me feel like I am somewhere else—a world away, a place I'll never see in person. I like it. However—it's so out of character for me that I can't imagine ever wearing it. I'm an amber and cocoa girl, a musk and parchment girl, not one for tropical canopies. I'd love to smell this on someone else, but I don't think I can keep it for myself. It makes me feel like a different person in a different place.

The red feralness of this scent intrigued me, and I've had good luck with musks in the past—so I ordered an imp of it with my last order. In vial: Red, spicy, sharp, and something unpleasant, almost medicinal. I'm not entirely loving it. On me: It goes on red musk, warm, full, and slightly animalisitic. Then the musk quickly does what musk does on me: it becomes slightly sweet in the most delicate and flattering way. As it dries down, sweetness aside, this is a warm fuzzy scent that is just a touch spicy and has a rich base, smooth and slightly powdery. The sweetness of the musk balances out its possible feral aspects, and the scent never becomes strictly masculine. The scent is definitely leaning towards red in color, but that provides a comfortable sense of warmth rather than candy-bright coloring or too much spice or heat. On me, the scent lasts for about three hours before it dies down to skin-level, and there it lingers. Verdict: At a certain level this is just a repeat of the other musk-heavy smells that I own, since they are all similarly sweet and animalistic on my skin. Each has its own character, however, as does Fenris Wolf: the red base gives the blend a living comfort and warmth. It suits me and flatters my skin chemistry, and the boy loves it on me. I'm not "ohmygod new favorite!" blown away, but this is a lovely scent and I imagine I'll get a fair bit of use from it. I'm definitely keeping the imp.

After falling in love with the fig in Intrigue, I was interested in trying more of the BPAL fig note—and what could be better than a predominant and almost pure fig? In vial: Strange—I can barely smell anything at all! On me: The scent doesn't morph in the least. From start to finish, this is green and sweet. The green is a bright chartreuse, the self-same color of the skin of a fresh fig still on the tree—not deep green at all. The sweetness is sugary and almost crystallized—and is so strong and pure that it is almost nauseating, like oversweetened food that makes your teeth ache. The combination of the two, compounded by the scent's impressive strength and throw, is cloying and overwhelming. With wear, the strength dies down a bit and the scent becomes more palatable, but it never loses its bright greenness and sugar sweetness. I get nothing of the roots or wood, but I wish I did—they might provide a solid foundation and help tone down the heady sweetness. Verdict: I really wanted to like this. I didn't expect it to be like the fig in Intrigue, which is a rich deep purple, and I actually like the bright green color of the scent. But the sugary sweetness is so strong that I find this blend a bit nauseating and certainly overwhelming. Perhaps it would work better if I layered it with something that had the woody/rooty/herbal notes that this lacks (with my skin chemistry, anyhow), and I may have to experiment—but as is, I'm disappointed and not sure if I'll be keeping this around. ETA: Six months later, and the oil has aged a bit. The hyper-sweet sugar note has died down, though the scent still goes on a bit sweet and bright; the darker woody notes have come out, and make the scent a rich deep green after the first hour or two of wear. This is a drastic improvement, much more nuanced and a whole lot more wearable. I'm glad I kept the imp around, and will wear it more often now.

Having discovered a love of pepper, I've been in search of a good spicy blend—one I can wear on its own, or layer under other scents. In vial: It's hard for me to pin down, and not entirely pleasant. Ginger, I think, with a nondescript cloying perfumey smell in the background. Why do I always dislike the smell in the vial? On me: At first, the only note that I can pick out is the pepper, which is very similar to the pepper in White Rabbit. But it's not particularly spicy—the background notes make it warm and sweet, almost soft and skin-close. To my nose, it doesn't change much during drydown and wear. The boyfriend says he can smell ginger, pepper, and honey; I only get pepper with that background skin-level warmth and sweetness—and maybe just the slightest touch of golden ginger. Within an hour or two, the perfume has faded almost to nothing, but it retains, just barely, at the skin level and in brief whiffs of an aura of scent: it's skin musk sweetened by the lightest honey, and warmed by spices but never sharp or hot: honey-golden and carmine red. It's pleasant, but almost secretive: the boy reported that he couldn't smell it anymore, and ten minutes rolled towards me and said that I smelled wonderful. It's only there right on the skin, but you catch whiffs when you wouldn't suspect it. Verdict: This is far from the dominant spices that I was hoping for. I never get the cinnamon or clove, the pepper is warm and almost sweet, the ginger is smooth and golden. The base is the heart of this blend, a skin musk that ties the scent to skin level and the smoothest skin-warmed honey, not sticky or cloying in the least. The perfume is faint, low throw and low wear length. But for all of that, the blend is still nice—it's not exceptional, and it's not what I wanted or expected, but I like it and so does the boy. It may make a good scent for cuddling in before bed, when wear length doesn't matter and the skin-level scent would be most appreciated. I'm still on the hunt for a good spicy blend, but I'll probably keep this one around.

I love carnation, I recently discovered I like orange blossom, and on whole the notes and the reviews seem very promising. I'm looking for a good orange blossom BPAL, so I picked this one up. In vial: The orange blossom is the only note I can pick out, a gentle, sweet, but distinct citrus. Everything else is just background "perfumey." On me: The oil goes on smoky—probably the patchouli. It almost tickles the back of my throat. The carnation kicks up quickly, a spicy floral. These two notes tangle together, and there is no orange blossom. It's disappeared, and so there is no top note. The patchouli and carnation are low, smoky, spicy, and close to the skin. The ambergris is just barely there, a gray resin as a base note with little character of its own. Over time the scent dies down even more, leaving just a hint of incense and spice over the subtlety of ambergris. It's fine—the scent is a shadowed gray, the carnation is not a floral, just a hint of warm spice—but it hovers at skin level and is very faint. Verdict: The notes were so promising, but the scent is a bit disappointing. I wish that the orange blossom stuck around—I imagine it could give this scent the throw and character that it needs, because as it is I only get a skin scent, like a combination of base notes that should be background to something, not trying to be a perfume on their own. It's pleasant, but faint and almost indistinct. I'll have to try this again and see if I amp it differently under other conditions or like it enough as just a skin scent, but despite how promising the notes are, I may have to pass this along. That's too bad—I had high hopes! ETA: Over six months later, and my opinion has changed somewhat. The orange blossom still disappears on my skin, but with a touch of aging the ambergris and patchouli have come into themselves. They are slightly salty, earthy, a touch smoky; their scent together is subtle, like a thicker, darker, more alluring second skin, but the throw has increased. I still wish that the florals were stronger, and this scent is not quite what I expected from the notes. However, I have grown to love the combination of ambergris and patchouli enough that I don't mind—I wear it anyway, content with that soft cloud of very bodily, unexpectedly enticing scent.

This was a frimp from the Lab. I wouldn't have ordered it for myself: I've had unanimously bad luck with roses in the past, and predominant florals aren't to my taste. However, I did the tiniest test on the back of my hand and the roses didn't amp horribly, so I'm willing to give it a fair try. In vial: Mixed florals, slightly sweet and slightly bitter—I expect the latter is a rose. It's not that pleasant in the vial, but I'll try it on my skin anyhow. On me: Although the oil goes on almost indistinct, it quickly warms up, first growing sweet with a warm resinous base. The sweetness soon becomes floral, and the scent finally develops into fullness. The floral is mixed, and almost hard for me to pick out. In part, I think this is because the rose is not the bitter, screaming pink and red rose that I'm used to—instead it is pale and sweet, absolutely lovely. But it's not just rose: the orchid, I assume, complicates the floral with a darker, duskier note that gives the white roses a bit more depth. The labdanum is the basenote, not too rich, not too sweet, but providing a solid, somewhat warm base for the florals. Over time, however, the florals fade and the labdanum becomes the heart of the perfume. It's more of a "me" scent this way, richer, warmer, almost a little dusty. Verdict: I'm surprised to find that I rather like this. White roses are a huge departure from the red roses that I'm used to, and unlike red they don't go sharp and bitter with my skin chemistry: instead, they are gentle and a bit sweet, much like real rose blossoms. The orchid is duskier, but it doesn't turn this into a heady mixed floral, but rather shadows in the scent. The resin is a lovely grounding note, and even though the blend suits me better after the floral topnotes have died down, it's pleasant and wearable from start to finish. The scent is mature, a bit subdued, a bit darkened, but overall almost desaturated, ghostly. I don't feel tempted to bathe in it to make it stronger—it's just naturally gentle. This isn't as distinct or as unusual as some BPAL perfume, and doesn't stand out of the crowd for me, but it is a floral I like and can wear, and it's turned me towards white roses. I'll be keeping it around.

This was a frimp from the lab, and a blend that I've considered putting on my wishlist before. I have little experience with jasmine, but the overall concept and color of this scent seemed lovely. However, I have a bad history with rose, which tends to amp and go very bitter on me. In vial: An airy floral that to me seems mixed, but that might just be because I'm not very familiar with jasmine and can't pick it out. Oh, and there it is, that promise of rose that scares me, the note peeking up from the background. On me: There is no "promise of rose" here—the rose is strong and wavering between companion note and front-and-center. I really do amp this note. It's the same rose as in Chuparosa, which turns bitter and sharp on me, a combination of bright pink blossom and vivid greenery. Against it, the jasmine is indistinct and rendered into a generic, floating floral which makes up the background. The myrrh is jostling with the rose for first place, and is sweet and smoky. Over time, the rose tones down a bit, but it never dips into the background, never lets the other notes come to the forefront and blossom. I washed the oil off after an hour, so if the rose dies down further, I wouldn't know. Verdict: I amp rose so much that I can barely give a review of this blend—my experience is clouded by my own body chemistry. If the rose were softer, the jasmine might be able to come forward and meld with the myrrh, and this blend might be pleasant. Instead, the rose is predominant, very bitter against the background sweetness of myrrh and florals, and far too sharp. The result is a chunky, overbalanced blend with an unpleasant primary note, so I'll be swapping this out to someone who, hopefully, has better chemistry for and better luck with this blend.

This was a frimp from the lab, and nothing that I would have picked out for myself. However, after looking up the notes I was intrigued. I like musk, and I like unhinged, unusual blends. But I'm fairly feminine, so masculine blends are both intriguing and a bit worrying. The citrus note above all scares me, but I'm also not a fan of mint. Needless to say, I went in to testing this with mixed expectations. In vial: Citron, so strong and so sharp that I'm afraid to try the oil on my skin—but I never let a BPAL pass me untried. Behind all that lemon is just a touch of lavender, dry, herbal, a bit astringent (as of the blend needs any more astringency.) I'm getting no pennyroyal/mint in the least. On me: Initially, this is unpleasant to the extreme—men's cologne, lavender certainly but mostly heavy on the citron, huge, intrusive, and eye-wateringly unpleasant. I only just dabbed it on, but now I want to get my hand as far away from me as possible to somehow hide the smell. However, over time (fifteen minutes) the citron recedes. First, the overpowering strength and throw back off to something more reasonable, but I still smell like Boy. Then, the citron nearly dies away, and the other notes have a chance to come out, in particular the musk and lavender. The musk is grounding, warm, and really quite lovely; the lavender is both softly herbal and floral, slightly sweet but not the least bit cloying or foody. If the pennyroyal is supposed to be minty in this blend, then I get none of it. In many ways, the evolution of this blend is like Casanova taken to an extreme: it goes on overwhelming and blinding, biting and far too strong, but finally dries down to something that I'd consider wearable. Verdict: After the horror of the initial application, I was actually surprised by how lovely this blend turned out to be. When the citron dies away, it transforms: masculine in the darkness of the musk, but not overtly so; complex, herbal, a touch sweet, mature, a little bit unusual. This isn't so strictly a men's blend that I would feel uncomfortable (as a feminine woman) wearing it myself, at least in the final drydown stage. I'm also surprised at how different my impression is from the other reviews I've read: I get no mint, except perhaps in the hint of sweetness, and the citron is instead predominant. No matter—even with the lovely drydown, there's no way that I'm ever going through the biting, overwhelming, cologne-heavy cloud of smell that comes with the initial application, not again. Without the citron, I'd consider this blend for myself. As it is, I'll be passing it on.