Casablanca

I had to sample this because it sounds so quirky.

On the wand, it smells like the notes listed. The coffee is black, the vanilla is beany and smoky, the opium is blue-toned. The indigo opium smells like it could be opium mixed with whatever gives the lab’s blue musk its blueness. I like the vanilla especially, as it does smell like a toned-down and smokier version of a long, sticky black vanilla bean.

On my skin, it’s a quite light scent, but it smells about the same. By the time it dries, the coffee and most of the opium are gone, leaving a slightly incensed vanilla impression on me. And quite faint already.

On the wand, this is a weighty myrrh, a dark and swampy cypress, and a chill minty fir. I like the balance of it.

On my skin, though, it turns unfortunate. The haunting-woods parts of the notes recede and a medicinal quality that leans toward ammonia comes forward. Something in this also turns just a little sour – the sort of reaction I read about but don’t usually have myself. It’s slight, but ends up smelling off somehow.

Dried, the unpleasant reaction settles down. The myrrh abides. And this develops a slight gingery note? Maybe it has some galangal? I’m not sure what that is; maybe it’s just my skin.

This one isn’t for me.

On the wand, I get mainly bay and honey. On the second sniff, I smell brassy wood.

On my skin, I get less bay, a little subtle spice, and more metal: I picture both brass and copper when sniffing. The wood is also more prominent. I can’t tell what type of wood — it has the polish of some teakwood notes but doesn’t seem quite as dark-toned or sophisticated. I also smell some gardenia or a similar flower, and the musk. For a white musk, it’s not coming off powdery at all.

Dried, Bard’s notes settle into mellow bay honey with a background of wood. Pleasant.

On the wand, Jezebel smells mostly like honeysuckle to me, but I guess it’s honey and flowers.

On my skin, honey still dominates, but now it mingles with roses and orange blossoms. The neroli turns partly into orange lollipops on my skin, but not as much as it has at other times. This is a nice balance of the three notes, but their natures make it quite sweet.

Dried, the orange blossom stamps out the other notes and goes full-bore orange lollipop. This is its usual behavior on my skin.

This doesn’t work on me.

On the wand, the strongest impression I get is a slightly woodsy and tart orange — presumably the petitgrain — with sides of musk, coriander, and creamy vanilla. It’s like a chilled summer white beer.

On my skin, it’s similar, just more tart and now with a spray of thyme. It’s still got me thinking of Hoegaardens and Blue Moons. I don’t smell frank or sandalwood in this while it’s wet, and the vanilla is faint. This is mostly petitgrain-orange, coriander musk, with a sense of paleness behind it. Medium throw.

On the wand, this is softer than expected. Gentle myrrh and woody resin.

On my skin, this is barely present while wet, an absence of top notes. Once it dries, a rounded myrrh-labdanum-vanilla develops. To me, it’s Reapers Gonna Reap without the sandalwood – like, there had been something behind the nice vanilla-sandalwood in Reapers that I couldn’t name, something that had reminded me of dissections in my high school Anatomy and Physiology course, and this is it.

Too bad I didn’t like it, because it has the same effect on me here.

On the wand, this is mostly a cool, dry coconut with grainy, almost powdery, hints.

On my skin, this is a dry waft of frankincense and sandalwood, both pale and grainy, and dry coconut. An intriguing, calm scent. It rests fairly close to the skin, talcum-like in mood and also a bit powdery in the nose.

In drydown the white patch emerges. I can’t do dark patchouli, but quite like the white and red stuff. As with Desert Places, this overall blend reminds me of a desert, though the coconut suggests an oasis here and there. It’s like standing in white sands, watching them blow and tuft off dunes. Over time, the blend’s coconut develops on me into a slight cream tone over the whole.

On the wand, this is a beautiful antique vanilla. The cognac doesn’t stand out as boozy at all, instead combining with a pale ceramic or clay-like note to give an antique impression. The vanilla is perfectly delicate. I feel like I just walked into an antique shop of such fragile valuables that all customers have their hands tied at the door.

Stays about the same through drydown and an hour later. I never get more than a hint of mild tobacco, scarcely there.

I love new and interesting vanilla blends.

On the wand, this is mainly a subdued blackened vetiver. For vetiver, it’s super low-key. A mumbling beatnik vetiver.

On my skin, this begins as a large vetiver coffee with a teaspoon of vanilla-flavored syrup. That’s about the proportion of things. I’m reminded of the Pacific Northwest coffee houses of my school days. The coffee also reminds me of last year’s coffee SN.

The vanilla, sadly, fades in minutes. The vetiver coffee is nearly gone at a half hour.

Wet on my skin, this is a nearly even balance of fir and white chocolate mingling under a thin shell of glinty, aquatic, slightly chemical white snow. The effect of these together on my skin reminds me of a pleasantly lit synthetic white Christmas tree. There’s one of those still up in my living room. We really need to put that thing away.

The snow and fir fade by the time this has dried, leaving a comfy, vanilla-toned white chocolate.

I opted to blind bottle this one for the lavender emphasis described above, and because I love leathers.

On me, this was waves of lavender for the first 10 or so minutes of wear, with just a sense of darkness beneath. Then the lavender drifted away and underneath was a dark blend that hinted of vetiver, but smelled like it was still in development. Then the black leather came out. It was an airy black leather, as my hair tends to do to notes, but edged with vetiver. I didn't notice myrrh.

It remained primarily black leather for the rest of its wear.

On the wand, this is unexpectedly candy-like for the listed notes, like some other reviews have mentioned. Black currant candy or pie filling, sweet and a little tart, further darkened and purpled by violet leaf, and grounded and given texture by sandalwood.

On my skin, it goes less sweet and more tart, but is otherwise the same. As it dries it starts to feel kind of thin, but still sandalwood-textured. An hour later it’s sort of fruit-tart sandalwood, barely there on the skin.

2016

On the wand, this is… well, it’s the overstuffed crimson velvet pillow version of a rose. Inhale, and sink down into it, and down, and down…

On my skin, it’s the same -- just a little more tannic, reminding me of a velvety red wine in the depth of summer. Then it dries and settles and is less forward. An hour later it’s barely there.

On the wand, it’s tartly sweet jammy raspberry, white powdered sugar, and a little fried dough, in that order.

On my skin, it’s a tartly sweet jammy raspberry nose punch that sends white powdered sugar flying when it lands. Sock. And then a little fried dough happens.

Medium-high throw. Not my regular thing but a kick to try.

On the wand, this is primarily frankincense and myrrh, with evergreens and a sweet reddish-pink glimpse of rose, as though through the trees. Something here makes me think of violin wood, like rosin or labdanum.

Freshly applied, myrrh smells strongest, with frank a close second. The woods are present but subdued and the rose scarcely there. After drydown, this is mostly frank-myrrh on me.

Low throw throughout its life.

2016

On the wand, I smell ylang ylang and lotus made creamy in vanilla fig milk. And just a little grey-green coolness from the fir.

On my skin, the creamy milk comes forward, swirled with sweet vanilla, alongside lotus and fig. I don’t catch fir at all on my skin, and the ylang ylang ebbs into subtlety. I can find myrrh and a pale incense now, though.

Low-medium throw becomes low throw as this dries. It settles down to perhaps the most innocently comforting skin scent I know of. It reminds me of clean babies, but better. Baby++.

I had been concerned that the raspberry would stand out too brightly against the dark backdrop of the other notes, but it’s definitely a black raspberry and fits in. On the wand, this is tangy black raspberry tea. It hints of smoke from the birch tar, but the tar is a light touch. (I have a bottle of a birch tar component, and the stuff gives a strong sort of leathery-smoky campfire punch, but it shows up delicately here.) My immediate impression of the blend is like.

On my skin, this is about the same, except I think I might be picking up on a little dark grey iron. It’s like the note from Ganymede. Negligible or imagined, I’m not sure. Black raspberry is still the most potent note, followed by black tea, and a hint of smoke. Tangy, dark, slightly smoky and bitter.

I started out liking this, but not immediately addicted, and it’s grown on me. Probable bottle for the cause.

2016

I got to sample this with my friend as one of her decants. My friend’s skin works wonders with red musk and leather, and on her, Krampus was an awesome thing defying description.

On me…

Krampus is a warhorn blast of BO-stinky red musk, dust, and sodden-wet rags. Then a sort of cinnamon cedar-broom wood wafts out like the doorway gust of a craft shop. And then black leather. I’m so happy to smell the leather amongst the rest of this that I want to hug it and bring it home.

Because this is awful on me, it lasts forever. I’m sure this is a scientifically proven causation!

I don’t need this one, but my friend plans on two bottles.

2016

I got to sample this with my friend as one of her decants.

My tastes don’t usually run gourmand, and I don’t need more chocolate blends, but this one is kind of special on me. When my friend and I compared, this one was intoxicating (almost spiced dark rum-like, along with the listed notes) on my skin, but a little bit flat on hers. Strong throw.

I get all the notes. They’re just really good together, and I wish a hot mug of it were in front of me. After work…

2016

I got to sample this with my friend as one of her decants.

On the wand, this is Boom! Brown-sugary/molasses yellow cake! Some herbs (tarragon?) and a wildly aquatic cologne sit behind it. The cologne part does not smell like Dorian. I also smell no lavender. This might be different from the earlier year…

On my skin, it’s the same as on the wand. The cake dominates and smells both brown and yellow to me, like a yellow cake covered with molasses or brown sugar. This is herbal; the herbs are blended but seem like “hot” herbs, like maybe tarragon. At the base is, of all things, an aquatic cologne. I don’t smell ashes.

Once the Cake dries, though, the notes blend together with something comforting I don’t recognize at first. I think now it might be the ash. It reminds me of the smell of a living room after a fireplace was going for a while. It smells like a couch from that room.

Strange brew.

2016

I got to sample this with my friend as one of her decants.

On the wand, this smells to me like sweet coconut flowers, with a faint vinyl scent that seems to come from some snow/coldness notes for me.

The first impression on my skin is of sweet, creamy white coconut, flowers, and a little cold vinyl that reminds me of when I sampled a 2007 Rose Red. Each time I try to enjoy the floral coconut, vinyl wafts all over all the things. A pervasive artificiality, sometimes bordering on suntan lotion. It has a good longevity on me, though.

Neither my friend nor I felt this one worked for us.

I got to sample this with my friend as one of her decants.

On the wand, this smells to me like a soft, white orris-sandalwood blend.

The first impression on my skin is of dry, cold, astringent white tea leaf and sweet orris. The tea really comes forward. The orris is only slightly powdery on me. I think there might be another flower in here besides iris... There’s a coldness note here, too. This is an essence of a cold desert, the scent of Mongolian steppes. I find the vanilla only when I hunt for it; it’s flat and subtle. I can barely pick out the sandalwood.

As Desert Places dries, the white tea marshals all its leafy forces and takes over. It smells like the white tea in the White Tea and Sage HG and the two would pair well. The orris is still present, but secondary. Once dried, this is a blended floral white tea on me, just a hint of vanilla.

I like this, but it might be too much orris for me. It would be an easy bottle buy with less orris and more vanilla.

I got to sample this with my friend as one of her decants.

The first impression on my skin is a rich but soft ambergris hay, with a faint woodiness behind it. The hay and wood, and somehow even the light saltiness of the ambergris, remind me of the interior of a barn (but without the muck) from my riding days. This blend reminds me of Himalia, without that one’s vanilla honey sweetness and potent vetiver.

As Gloomy Day starts to dry, I get more of its balsamic tone coming out, but it fades back again. This is mostly ambergris hay on me. After a half hour, it’s mainly ambergris.

The blend fits its description. It’s a soft scent rather than a forward one, but it smells nicely rounded and filled out. I’m not a fan of salty smells, but the ambergris salt here is pretty mellow and I like this. When I sniff Gloomy Day side-by-side with Faunalia, the two smell pretty good together.

2016

I got to sample this with my friend as one of her decants.

First impression on my skin: what a rich brown forest musk! It’s like walking in some woods where a snuggly brown mammal has made itself happy against every tree. Musky fur covers every bark surface, and there’s something cozy about the place.

As Faunalia starts to dry, more of its wood comes out on my skin. I don’t smell any specific wood, not even the hemlock. It’s just musky, fur-covered forest. After a half hour, I smell even amounts of skin-soft wood and musk.

This is like a richer, more forested version of Coyote’s musky grass plains. When I sniff Faunalia side-by-side with Gloomy Day, the two smell pretty good together.

2016

I got to sample this with my friend as one of her decants.

On the wand, Gacela reminds me a lot of Przeczucie. A lot lot. It’s like a heavier version of it without the smoke, except for the smoky tone in the pitch. Same Terebinth note, perhaps.

On my skin, it’s similar but with a touch of clove. I was half-expecting a hammer of clove, so this is OK. As normal for my skin, the clove strengthens as it dries, but it never overrides the pine.

A weighty, foreboding forest scent in the vein of Przeczucie and Black Forest.