Casablanca

From the bottle, I get a light bergamot-sweet orange floral impression, but once Media meets my skin, she’s mostly flowers. She becomes a floral and white musk perfume, commercial in vibe, and her citrus flits away. Like Sprout, I seem to mostly get honeysuckles and lilies for the floral. A little soapiness develops on me, such as what I tend to get from wearing lily of the valley, but it never takes over. Likewise, a little white-musk powdery quality comes in, but without going crazy. The blend is on the faint side and fades quickly on me. I hope it comes more into its own with additional settling, so it can shine in its proper vapid glory.

A citrus and white musk perfumey perfume. The fruit comes across on me like a clean, clear, watery, lemony grapefruit. As the blend progresses toward its heart, I think I smell a little of the orange lollipops thing neroli does on me. It smells commercial, but I get the desired shimmery metal from it when I slather it.

In the bottle, Buck Moon smells – conceptually, if not literally – like an early summer evening in woods with soft, sappy pine and a mix of herbal greenery. Initially on my skin, it’s similar, except that everything comes out more. I get a very soft, sappy pine, green herbs, and a cool lunar note. Moonflower? It seems like that pale coolness, but not quite floral. Sometimes I think I pick up a little mugwort in the herbs. Everything is soft and well-blended, hard to pin down individually. As the blend dries, I start to catch whiffs of musk – it smells to me like a neutral skin musk with just a tint of brown musk. Lovely now, and I look forward to seeing how it settles in a few months.

Sniffing the bottle: oo, snuggly musky spicy woody kitty! First on, this reminds me of Coyote and Faunalia, and a little of Buffalo Man. It’s the brown musk, not as heavy as in Buffalo Man, and super-fuzzied, more comforting. The cardamom-spiced vanilla cedar is right there, too, rounding out the blend with a cozy, hearth-like mood. It’s like a fuzzy pet basking by the fire in a wood cabin. I’m probably maxed on brown musk animal scents at this point, but wouldn’t want to let go of the ones I have. They’re all different and have their own uses.

First up on my skin, I get a sweet honeyed mead with a little carbonation. Alongside that, unexpectedly, is a lotta yellow-orange fruitiness: something like nectarine (or maybe peach) and mango. The mango-ish part reminds me of the yellow-orange fruity note from The Glimmer of Northern Lights – that recent Yule with the yellow arctic poppies. The sparkling honeyed mead fades quickly, leaving mainly the fruit for most of the blend’s life on my skin. I never quite pick out any wood. I wish I did: it would help balance the sweetness. I like this scent, but it’s fruitier than what I was looking for.

A lovely dry, golden saffron dominates this scent throughout its life on my skin. Secondarily, there's a blend of ambery honeyed wood, with a little orange blossom showing up now and then. I'd been concerned that the neroli would take over and smell like orange lollipops, as it often likes to do on me, but I don't always smell it, and when I do, it's mild. Overall, the blend smells dry and golden, like August. This is the mood of scent I'd hoped for from the aged Sportive Sun I got from the Lab's Etsy, but that had been kind of flat. A friend said hers had also aged past its prime. The Sun's Treasure strikes gold.

On the wand, I smell apples, but with a fresh, brisk chilliness, flowers, and a little wood. A quite sweet, almost candy-like alpine or subarctic spring. On my skin, this is similar, but even sweeter, and less chilly. It’s like a yellow apple sugar syrup. I can see the similarity between this apple note and that in Golden Apple of the Sun. I really love the white wood note in this – I wish there were more of it to tone down the sweetness, which is considerable. Nice throw, though. I want a different balance, and Sjofn comes closer to that once dried: the birch comes out a little more. But for me it doesn’t come out enough to balance the sweetness of the rest. I would probably bottle this if it were more wood and less sweetness. As it is, it’s too apple syrupy-sweet for me.

On the wand, I smell airy, clean aquatic flowers. On my skin, though, this is initially a musky, aquatic gardenia with a nip of ginger. At the first application, this borders on cloying, but it settles within a minute into an airy, aquatic floral with a little ginger warmth to keep it interesting. It smells subtropical – lighter than a steamy-green jungle blend, and more like a hidden, flowered pool on a Hawaiian vacation. The Lady drops to nearly zero throw on my skin even before she dries, and she fades to a more generic aquatic floral before winking out completely. She was lovely at first, though.

I use this as a moisturizer. I think it smells pretty dreamy -- like coconut-creamsicle clouds. Lovely warm-weather scent.

Moonflower and iris root with French lavender, tuberose, white sandalwood, night-blooming gardenia, vanilla orchid, and moss. In the bottle, there’s a lovely lunar lavender, and some tuberose. On my skin, I get moon-dappled lavender, just a little tuberose, other background flowers, and a light sandalwood. This lavender is dreamy, with light green and herbal tones, but not sharp. There’s also a ghostly vanilla hint, which is combining with this particular lavender to remind me more of Solstice Scents’ Lavender Vanilla than of any other BPAL I’ve tried. But LV has more vanilla, and Lullaby simply has more going on for me during the wet phase. My friend really amped the tuberose in this, but it stays mild on me. After this dries, I get a little moss coming out. It’s mild and pretty, but faint. The flowers subside, also, into faintness. Soon after it dries, Lullaby mostly disappears on me. The song has ended.

Nostalgia encapsulated. A soft, wistful blend of dry flowers, aged linens, and the faint breath of long-faded perfumes. The lovely dominant vanilla in this blend is what I usually want a vanilla to smell like in a perfume — this is how vanilla smells in my hopes and imaginings. Secondarily, I get musk, and also linen, browned with age and faintly musty. I don’t pick out flowers. This is well-blended, and will be one of my favorites.

Sugar, honey, and rose, and a sort of autumnal apple tone. This reminds me of the honeyed apple-rose musk of Bilquis, but less bright and youthful on my skin than she was. I smell caramelization in the sugar, which is lending some maturity. I feel like there might be more than one sort of sugar in play here, or maybe sugar and a sugar-crunchy honey. I love Bilquis as she is, but I think this is more of what I was looking for when I picked up Bilquis. Lovely stuff.

Damp wisteria petals, lotus blossoms, tuberose, and Queen of the Night. I'm a lousy judge of dedicated florals. It's been my least-connecting and most neglected category, but for this spring I've been craving more flowers, and I've been liking the Butterfly Garden atmo. I smell mainly wisteria here, with a playful but short-lived touch of lotus. The rest of my impression is just of other flowers in the background, with a note in the mix that reminds me of creamy gardenia, but not quite. Not sure if that's the tuberose, Queen of the Night, or something else. I'm happy with this: wisteria is one of the good flowers for me. It always smells light blue-purple to me, with a dreamy airiness that keeps it away from cloying, and that's happening here. I wish I got a little more lotus, because it's another one I love, but this is a good spring blend.

I'm also wearing Cave of Treasures today and freshly reminded of how much I like it.

On the wand, I smell lemon and apple, with rose trailing some distance behind. On my skin, lemon dominates this bright, citrusy apple-rose. Starts out on me as fresh-out-of-the-shower playful. Then the apple disappears and my skin turns it to citrus rose soap. Bummer.

No idea how old this imp of discontinued scent is. On the wand, I get vetiver musk and general darkness. I think I catch a side of tamarind. On my skin, the oil is a ghoulish olive green and makes me think of Weenies. Mostly, I get a dark and green-smelling vetiver. I think of something like Troll, but more medicinal, and just a little fruity-sweet from the tamarind.

On the wand, this is lily and wisteria, with a light-handed graininess from sandalwood and frankincense. On my skin, calla lily! And a little wisteria. This goes kind of high-pitched and thin-smelling on me. I expected the calla lily to go to soap on me, and it doesn’t. But it’s not a full-bodied, exciting blend on my skin, either.

I love the different notes I see in the list. Mountain avens? Wonderful. On the wand, I get tart, dry berries in a powdery and fresh floral. Almost laundry-like. On my skin, the berries dominate. They seem less tart, but just as dry as on the wand. This blend definitely gives a cool, powdery meadow impression on me. I don’t pick out any specific flower, other than a breath of roses when I look for it. Unfortunately, this is too powdery on my skin.

On the wand, oh, gosh. Lemon, flowers, and pee? Is that an indolic jasmine doing that? I have never smelled pee in jasmine before. I always just read about that reaction. So this is my first time! I try another sniff – yes, there’s something toilet about this. On my skin, though, it's mostly lemon jasmine. Only slightly indolic now – I barely notice it. I get purpled whiffs of violet and wisteria, and a blended undercurrent of other notes, but lemon jasmine is strongest. As it begins to settle, the whole blend goes quite soft on me.

On the wand, sweet and heavy violet and rose. A little powdery, a little candy-like. It’s like an overwhelming powder room floral. On my skin, it’s much, much lighter. Still sweet. Leans toward soap, but isn’t exactly that on me. On me it goes thin, and closer to violet dishwater? Marie also just happens to be the sort of floral that makes me think I don’t like florals as a whole, which isn’t true. This one isn’t for me.

On the wand, this smells just like its description. Hot wind rustling sun-scorched hay and brittle, dead grasses. The blend sits on the edge of smelling burnt. The magnifying glass has directed the sun at dried hay: it’s browning, starting to smoke, and is about to catch flame. On my skin… Well, it’s not a pretty scent. No happy spring floral here. It smells like a Rubbermaid box of car exhaust.

Bottled gloom; the essence of oblivion. Blackest opium and narcissus deepened by myrrh. On the wand, I get the freshly blown-out candle impression other reviewers mention. On my skin, initially, this is a cloyingly sweet bloom (seemingly darkened with a faint lemony black musk?) and an incense opium. It’s mostly too sweet on my skin for the candle impression now, but every now and then, that smoky image turns up again. Once this dries, most of its notes disappear on me. What remains smells like a basement that might have a leak somewhere, but it’s faint and I can’t find it.

On the wand, um, dried-up turkey, apple, and a slop of toffee custard. Eck! On my skin, it turns more bready. Specifically, dried and crumbly baked bread (lightly spiced), turkey, and sweet toffee. Well, that’s over with.

On the wand, oof, red-fruity red musk and citrus. On my skin, this is an initial burst of musk-soaked strawberries. (I love strawberry notes, but the lab’s version of red musk turns to nasty BO on my skin before long, so I’m not looking forward to what’s to come. Trying it anyway for science.) There’s a side dish of grapefruit, the bright freshness of which quickly starts to clash with a growing body-odor stink of heavy red musk. Then the grapefruit abruptly winks out. The strawberry leaves remain, but subdued under the tyrannical red musk’s fist. The red musk amps up like 80s glam metal on my skin; the white musk never has a chance, and soon all the fruits are drowned out. Yup. Still can’t do lab red musk.

On the wand, I get mostly a bright citrus. I think of white grapefruit. There’s an aquatic aspect, but not as strong as I anticipated. And on the back end… I’m getting a little something heavier, sort of woody, so very light, barely there. What is that? On my skin, ambergris? Once the blend is on me, I don’t get the citrus at all — it jumps right to a lightly salty, oceanic ambergris, or something like it, and it’s very faint. An odd one, and not for me.