Casablanca

Dalliances opens on me as beeswax dominant, and the beeswax is beautiful. I'd been picturing it having a White Bees Swarming sort of honey, but instead I get a saucy, caramel-toned honey that isn't at all gourmand or candy-like. This opening is gorgeous. Within a couple minutes, the white patchouli ghosts in, dry and a little dusty. I like this stage, too. Before long, though, the beeswax and caramelish tones burn off my skin, leaving a white patchouli dominance with a backing of sweet honey. The blend is much less striking then, but still pretty. I'm glad I bottled this! But because my favorite phases are so far short-lived, I think I'll stop at one.

Darkness; a sensation of falling-as if he were tumbling down a great hole, like Alice. He fell for a hundred years into darkness. Faces passed him, swimming out of the black, then each face was ripped up and away before he could touch it . . . Abruptly, and without transition, he was not falling. Now he was in a cave, and he was no longer alone. Shadow stared into familiar eyes: huge, liquid black eyes. They blinked. Under the earth: yes. He remembered this place. The stink of wet cow. Firelight flickered on the wet cave walls, illuminating the buffalo head, the man's body, skin the color of brick clay. "Can't you people leave me be?" asked Shadow. "I just want to sleep." The buffalo man nodded, slowly. His lips did not move, but a voice in Shadow's head said, "Where are you going, Shadow?" "Cairo." "Why?" "Where else have I got to go? It's where Wednesday wants me to go. I drank his mead." In Shadow's dream, with the power of dream logic behind it, the obligation seemed unarguable: he drank Wednesday's mead three times, and sealed the pact-what other choice of action did he have? The buffalo-headed man reached a hand into the fire, stirring the embers and the broken branches into a blaze. "The storm is coming," he said. Now there was ash on his hands, and he wiped it onto his hairless chest, leaving soot-black streaks. "So you people keep telling me. Can I ask you a question?" There was a pause. A fly settled on the furry forehead. The buffalo man flicked it away. "Ask." "Is this true? Are these people really gods? It's all so . . ." He paused. Then he said, "impossible," which was not exactly the word he had been going for but seemed to be the best he could do. "What are gods?" asked the buffalo man. "I don't know," said Shadow. Warm dark brown musk, woodsmoke, and deep pools of labdanum. In the bottle, there’s a heavy, dark brown labdanum, imbued with a Faunalia sort of musk and a little smoke. It smells moody, weighty, and thick. On my skin, this is so heavy brown animal. The liquid itself is dark brown. It smells musky, woody, smoky, resinous, and brown. This is the herd animal stamping on the plain, or the rugged man wanting sexy times by the campfire. The woodsmoke smells to me like that from Baby’s First Krampuslauf, which is what I hoped for. I liked that note. Those who enjoyed that, or blends like Faunalia and Coyote, might want to try the buffalo, too.

White sandalwood and tonka with sweet tobacco incense, vanilla-infused mahogany, rum absolute, and golden oudh. In the bottle, and as the first impression on my skin, St. Clare leads with tobacco. To this point I've mostly found that I can't do tobacco-heavy blends, and that the leaves are just good for me as a support note, like how it blends into an earthy base in Gaueko. But this is a lush tobacco, not dry or jarring, and I think it's changing my mind. Not just it, I guess, but the way it plays in this blend: there's a warm, deep, and almost sugary vanillic tone to the rest, a little bit woody, and very full, from the vanilla mahogany and... I guess tonka, but when I smell this I want to say benzoin, too. The whole is colored with a golden vapor of rum, warm and a little caramelly. The golden warmth might be coming from the oudh. I was afraid of the tobacco and rum but, on me, the former is lovely, and the latter is a lovely support. This'll be a precious for late summer and fall, that time of year for temperature warmth shifting to color warmth. Love.

Eucalyptus and cerulean aodh, iris padilla, dried blueberry, and blue musk. In the bottle, blueberry dominates, though eucalyptus is the first scent to hit my nose. The blueberry is more pervasive, though. There's something solid and inviting, like an oudh, but the whole is swathed in blue. Under the other notes, I get a little light blue musk that reminds me just a bit of that in Bestiaire du Moyen Age. On my hair, my first thought is blue linen. The part I'm perceiving as lineny reminds me of Boo. Then the note mostly resolves into iris, except that I like it better than I usually like iris. I can imagine getting a laundry impression from this blend, though, even though that's not quite it. Anyway, it's blue. No fear on that account. Blueberry, blue musk. On my hair, there's only a trace of eucalyptus. I'm wearing this with Aquae bath oil and kinda like how they go together. Blue Roman bathhouse, or something.

Champaca, jasmine, and lavender are three of my favorite notes, so I had to bottle this. I shared it with a friend last night. On her wrist: Strongly lavender. A serene, balanced herbal-floral lavender, with an almost vanillic champaca warmth along the edge, on a dim other-floral backdrop. On my wrist: More evenly champaca and lavender, with champaca just slightly stronger. The jasmine is also very subtle on me, and is like some vague floral scenery. An hour later, it's mostly a soft champaca on me. This Fortuna is tranquil. I'll probably want a backup.

I like to pair Moon Reflected HG with last year's Luper Maiko with Hair Unbound perfume: Goats milk, coconut, rice milk, honey carnation, and sugar. I miss my TKO MO, too.

If you can find it, possibly the LE Heavenly Spark: The echoes of the incense smoke of hundreds upon hundreds of years curling around roses and oak branches. The rose doesn't dominate on me, but its mood is definitely smoky and pensive and a little mystical, and I can see it reminding of rosary beads.

Théodore Rousseau A wintry tangle of oak and forest mosses against a deepening amber backdrop. The amber in Forest in Winter is actually no mere backdrop; even in the bottle, it's the most potent note to me, and it's beautiful. Green, living moss is the next strongest note. I sniff this and my mind goes a-swirl with gold and green. This doesn't change on my skin from the bottle. It just opens out into a warm, deep amber-bathed mossy forest. This amber gives the woods an impression of glowing. (ETA: Actually, on re-applying this, I think I'm picking up champaca, too.) The blend is a little sweet, and quite smooth. As it dries, the oak comes out, smelling like a wise, old tree still in verdant health. There's a touch of cool frost so faint it's barely there, mostly adding a lighter tint to the greenery. The rest of the blend smells like mature and lazy summer. Perfect for me.

She held his hand, with a hand that was icy cold. "You were given protection once. You were given the sun itself. But you lost it already. You gave it away. All I can give you is much weaker protection. The daughter, not the father. But all helps. Yes?" Her white hair blew about her face in the chilly wind. "Do I have to fight you? Or play checkers?" he asked. "You do not even have to kiss me," she told him. "Just take the moon from me." "How?" "Take the moon." "I don't understand." "Watch," said Zorya Polunochnaya. She raised her left hand and held it in front of the moon, so that her forefinger and thumb seemed to be grasping it. Then, in one smooth movement, she plucked at it. For a moment, it looked like she had taken the moon from the sky, but then Shadow saw that the moon shone still, and Zorya Polunochnaya opened her hand to display a silver Liberty-head dollar resting between finger and thumb. "That was beautifully done," said Shadow. "I didn't see you palm it. And I don't know how you did that last bit." "I did not palm it," she said. "I took it. And now I give it you, to keep safe. Here. Don't give this one away." Silvered musk and lemon peel, white fir needle, frosted apple blossom, and mugwort. In the bottle, I get a cool, medicinal lemon fir. On my skin, the medicinal quality lingers for a few seconds, and then mostly settles into a forest of silver-frosted lemon fir trees. After another moment, I pick up the apple flower, adding a little sweetness. It reminds me of the pretty apple blossom in Bestiaire du Moyen Âge. I dont smell mugwort at any point. This is an intensely silvery blend, with glints of pale yellow lemon, and ghostly fir white-green. Its mix of spring and winter elements makes me think sometimes of sweet late-winter snowmelts, and sometimes of Vicks VapoRub.

If you might get into the addition of a light, airy exotic musk to a soft vanilla tea, try Ashlultum: Babylonian musk, vanilla tea, tonka, tobacco, coconut, hyssop, and lilac. I liked it when I first wore it, but it grew on me into a love and repeat wear. Last time, I got a stranger's compliment on it.

The palest of green mosses, mist rose, white pear, white incense, white sandalwood, and a hint of vanilla. Pale, misty mosses indeed. I spilled a little Virgin and the Unicorn on my arm so it's stronger than it would normally be -- but wow. I'm sitting in a Virgin cloud. I feel a bit lost in its initial dense mist of tranquil, pale green moss and a muted pinkish-purple floral that seems to be the roses mingled with a more delicate flower I can't place. I also catch a fresh, glistening pear, not dominant, and more like a sheer overlay. As this dries, the faint pear recedes, and incense comes out strongly on my skin, emerging from the mist. I don't know what kind of incense it is, but it smells white, as listed, and powdery. The powdery quality doesn't bother me in this case, though. After a while, the white sandalwood comes out, its paleness closely pairing it to the incense. I never pick out vanilla. I find Virgin perfumey. Not alcohol-smelling, but perfumey. It's also summery, a blend filled with the muted colors of lazy dreams, the colors you might dream in if you fell asleep in a sunlit hammock, your eyelids awash in light.

Coconut TKO, as others have said. Except something else, too. There's a hard candy smell mingling with the lavender that reminds me of something I tried last year. Maybe Pere Noel? Yes, just checked: Pere N. also had a "lavender candy" note. Otherwise, it was quite different. But the hard lavender candy smell in Daybreak makes me think a little bit of winter because of it!

She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted. A rallying call: golden oudh, frankincense, iris, and steel. Proceeds from this scent benefit EMILYs List, an organization that supports electing pro-choice Democratic women to office. This hasn't been long out of the mailbox, but it's late in the day and around 60 F outside, mild and temperate. In the bottle, I smell soft resins and a hint of metal. Fresh on my skin, this smells to me like the oudh from Bestla, but lightened and softened considerably. The slight fecal note in the oudh is quieter and burns off almost entirely from me in a couple minutes (Bestla's ripe phase lasts longer on me). Frankincense is there, golden-toned, and the rest is so far just a faint softness, barely showing up. Once this dries it fills out nicely. The oudh abides, like the Dude. It's only a little stronger on my skin than the frank, and there's a vanillic golden impression that reminds me of benzoin. Iris I find at first only from hunting around: it starts out more or less on the outskirts of the blend, adding a little powdery femininity, but after some dry-time it comes out more. There's also a grey metallic background that brings Ganymede to mind. Nevertheless' wet phase underwhelms for now, but I think its full life on my skin will likely improve with age. I like it already, though.

LunasMuse: For Illustrated Woman, try the current Lilith, Do All the Good You Can: Madagascar vanilla and sweet patchouli with Yule pine, white fig, and almond blossom.

This smells so pretty in the bottle. It smells to me there like an aquatic tulip sort of Luper, with a light edge of hibiscus. My first impression from the bottle was "aquatic honeysuckle," but I don't get the same depth. It reminds me more of Qui Aime Bien Châtie Bien (daffodil petals and lavender tulips, blonde woods, freesia, and a touch of pale honey) from last spring. There's just a little honey to it, and it's very spring flowers. Also a bit like Amsterdam. On my skin, it begins the same, but the aquatic tone and tulip thing soon fade. It becomes more its own flower: soft and golden-coral, somewhere between tulip, honeysuckle, and hibiscus, not quite like any of them. It's very soft once dried, a skin scent. I'm suckered.

Beautiful. I've never smelled bluebonnet so I can't compare, but this smells like a watery blue wildflower to me. It almost smells aquatic, but is primarily floral. In this one way it reminds me of blue musk: mostly floral to me, but leaning aquatic. It has the wild part of the wildflower, too, where it smells like something a bee would crave. Very glad I have this.

Mm, wow. In the bottle I get bourbon vanilla and cinnamon buns. Things are held in check, though. Pretty tame. The ride hasn't taken off yet. Then on my skin, ho-whoa, leather-cinnamon stickysticky buns. The bourbon vanilla and a woody oudh are a solid structure holding this leather-cinnamon contraption in place. As it settles, the leather-cinnamon also calms down and the blend gets very woody on me. It makes me think of structures and platforms. ETA: On my friend's skin, this shows no pastry at all. It's all cinnamon leather, with a hint of oudh after drydown. I wore it again to show her the difference on me. She took one whiff, and: "Hellooo Cinnabon!" I'm amping the sticky buns.

I passed over this initially because of the cacao, and then purchased when reviews suggested the chocolate is light. Happy to report that it's light on me, too -- just a warming edge to the blend. In order of strength: I get honey, but the cardamom and myrrh are right up there, very close. After them, I get amber and vanilla, and lastly the cacao. There's a dry, textured desert edge that reminds me of saffron, though it's not listed. Very nice, though it goes too faint on me, too quickly. It's probably a good companion on the arm to either Small Brown Cat or Sun's Treasure.

2016 (edit: I mean 2017. What year is it again?) version I don't always get along with patchouli, but I love this. On my skin, it's a sultry vanilla-patchouli pine, at once grounding, soothing, and sexy. Overall I think pine is strongest in the opening, but a soft, smoky vanilla-patch deeply colors it. The blend is woody and resinous, just a little sweetened with the vanilla and a light breath of honeyed tobacco. The patchouli is dark but smooth, and never reads as dirty or even textured to me. I'll need a backup at some point to age.

Non-foody creamy is probably my favorite type overall! I would just second several mentioned here already, and add Audumla, if you can find it (four streams of milk, white honey, frankincense, motherwort, and angelica root).

Chestnut and mahogany with black coconut, vanilla, and a drop of tobacco absolute. Oo, woody black coconut and vanilla! The image accompanying this blend for me is a wooden beach house I stayed in with some friends in Costa Rica, but with a stray wisp of moist tobacco smoke added in. The black coconut and vanilla blend well together, as do the nutty woods, with a pinch of lush tobacco alongside. Quite like this one.

Strawberries that in gardens grow Are plump and juicy fine, But sweeter far as wise men know Spring from the woodland vine. No need for bowl or silver spoon, Sugar or spice or cream, Has the wild berry plucked in June Beside the trickling stream. One such to melt at the tongue's root, Confounding taste with scent, Beats a full peck of garden fruit: Which points my argument. May sudden justice overtake And snap the froward pen, That old and palsied poets shake Against the minds of men. Blasphemers trusting to hold caught In far-flung webs of ink, The utmost ends of human thought Till nothing's left to think. But may the gift of heavenly peace And glory for all time Keep the boy Tom who tending geese First made the nursery rhyme. - Robert Graves Wild strawberries, strawberry flower, vanilla-infused sugar, early summer grasses, purple coneflower, white sage, and milky dandelion sap. Im mostly comparing this to a well-loved bottle of Strawberry Moon v5. SM v5 smells like deeply red strawberries and sunny dandelion meadow to me, while SM 2017 smells to me like pinkish-red, sugared strawberries and milky dandelions. The strawberry mood of 2017 almost reminds me more of Diligent Instruction for the Bridal Night than of SM v5, with that youthful sugared quality, but with an outdoorsy meadow vibe replacing Diligents fluffy mallow pillows. Mostly, this is sugared pinkish strawberries and meadow on me. The meadow here is like a soft wildflower background, with dandelions and a little texture that reminds me of chamomile. Grasses color things a bit but dont stand out on their own. The sage mostly hides, but now and then I get a little pale coolness. I love both versions of SM; this one feels more youthful than SM v5.

Snow-dusted cherry blossoms and white honey. This is mostly the lab's minty snow note. Enough that I decided to wear Winter Landscape with it, which is also mostly the lab's minty snow note. It's lightly sweetened with a pale honey -- definitely a white honey, rather than something like O's main note. I get a little sweet floral, but it's barely there for me, and I wouldn't have guessed which type of flower it is.

Mimosa, blue musk, cucumber, blackcurrant bud, and sweet almond blossom. I had thought: This one is weird, and I don't know how these notes will work together, but there aren't many non-chocolate bath oils for the Lupers, so let's try it. Maybe it will make sense when I smell it. In the bottle, it just smells bad. Disjointed, nothing going together. It took a while for me to try it on. On my skin, it's a wet-green cucumber with lightly warm-toned flowers and some black currant. Yup, it's weird. The notes feel pretty random to me. Once it dries it settles down into... I guess sort of a watery-green spa skin scent. There's a little floral left but the currants don't hang, which is for the best because it reduces the noise. It's OK at this phase. I'll keep this since I like the bath oils, but it's not what I'd hoped for.

I was going to skip this one, changed my mind based on reviews, and am glad. Fresh on my skin, Shadow is a sleek blend of clove-spiced, ambery, woody bay rum over a dark cologne musk. More often than not, I don’t like cologne musk smells — but I like it here. That part starts on the strong side, but mellows quickly into a contributing dark smoothness. The spiced bay rum is exotic and, in this blend, somehow comforting; the oudh is a nice woody oudh without the fecal tones I got from Bestla and Nevertheless, She Persisted. As a bonus, this isn’t like anything else I have. I like it.