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BPAL Madness!

passingthrough

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Everything posted by passingthrough

  1. passingthrough

    The Waltz

    In the bottle: I’m picking up the rose and champagne very clearly, and then the “everything else” but am unable to pick apart what the “everything else” is Wet: If roses were white, fluffy kittens, that’s what this scent is to me. Playful, white, fluffy, a bit musky but it comes and goes so quickly. SOMETHING about it makes it smell playful, but not in that “rowr” or teasing kind of way. Maybe that’s the bounce of the waltz, then. Only, on my skin, it’s more of a chaotic than a graceful thing. Literally a fluff of white kittens rampaging around. At this stage, it's not something I could see myself wearing anywhere. Definitely lovely, but requires a ballgown and Tom Hiddleston or I have no use for it. Dry: I find it to be absolutely glorious. The sticky champagne scent fades into the background over time and everything's blended out to a delicate, mellow white musk and something that smells a touch like warm candle wax creeping around the edges. It smells romantic, which isn't typically my thing, but I just want to roll around in this.
  2. passingthrough

    A Shadow In The Elevator

    Well shucks and gosh darn. I seem to be evoking the exact opposite from this scent than the other reviewers. In the bottle: I can smell the plum – it’s not strong, just a dark, sweet note swimming around and a touch of what smells a bit like ammonia to me… that otherwise keeps it from smelling exactly like my dad. Wet: It smells musty, a little dank and moldy or like rotting wood. Or both? The plum has been scared away entirely by a note that’s just a little bit sinister. Dry: It’s weirdly lovely – comforting but wrong, a struggle between warmth and bitterness. I wish I could still smell the plum at all on me because it could do with that touch of sweetness to balance out the warm bitterness left behind. But, as Thomas Sharpe tells his new bride her first night at Crimson Peak, you need a measure of bitterness… not to be eaten. The final fragrance itself doesn’t seem to throw that far, but, from a distance, I do keep getting whiffs disembodied from the scent that’s actually on my skin, of damp dirt and that musty otherness, to remind me it’s still there. Aaaaand, hours later and the ominous scent is still very much present and floating around while the warmer scent on my arm has faded a good deal.
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