Lucchesa

Disastrous Twilight is really beautiful all the way through. It's a mysterious floral at first, the ylang ylang the most prominent note when wet but seamlessly blending with all the other notes. And I'm not experienced enough to know what makes it blue amber or Somalian myrrh or gurjum balsam but it is hugely evocative and pretty. The scent is light on me and has no throw; five hours later it is just a soft myrrh. I wore this to see The Shape of Water and it fit the mood of the film really well. This didn't appeal to me when the eclipses were live, but I like it a lot.

Hmm, weird. I'm not getting any ginger at all. My skin must just obliterate it. (Wouldn't be the first time.) Wet, it's all patch - and this is a darker oil so be careful of potential staining. On drydown, it's Hunger grounded with some nice woody but not gnarly patchouli. I love Hunger, and Vixen, like Hunger, lasts a long time on me. Yay! If you like Hunger and are on friendly terms with patchouli, this ought to be a slam dunk.

White sandalwood may be the primary listed note, but it is utterly defeated by the florals. Lavender and gardenia are strongest on me wet, then the lilac and violet come out to play, reminding me that violet rarely works with my chemistry. After 30 minutes it starts to calm down, but these are some pretty potent white and purple flowers. Lovely if that's your thing. Not for the florally faint of heart.

I thought for sure that if this wasn't going to work on me, it was going to be because of the red musk, but despite being the first listed ingredient, nothing like blood red musk shows up on my skin. I get a lot of mandarin and tangerine and a lot of what I'm guessing is Chinese geranium, and the latter is going soapy on me, so what I end up with is a high-end citrus soap. It would be a fantastic soap for waking up in the morning, but it's not working so well as a perfume.

A pure floral is something I rarely find myself reaching for, but I like gardenia so I thought I'd give it a whirl. The gardenia is lovely here -- really, the whole thing is lovely, an old-fashioned floral our great-grandmothers might have worn to church. If white florals are your jam, you can hardly go wrong here.

This is mostly a spice scent on me. Wet, it's sweet coffee and spices and a little rum, but it is never over-the-top boozy; instead as it dries the rum becomes a grounding note and even the coffee takes a backseat to the spice blend. I get a lot of cardamom, which I love. My skin did not react to this at all. This is a very enjoyable spicy warm scent for the colder months, but I love it less than Irish Coffee Buttercream, which I'm running low on, so while I'm glad I got to try this, I will be buying more ICB.

This perfume embodies her gentler, benign aspect as the capricious Goddess of Dance: muguet and Hawaiian white ginger enveloped by warm, damp tropical blooms. Is Hawaiian white ginger a flower? Because all I get here are florals. Lovely, carefree, tropical flowers, nothing that resembles ginger root to my nose. And just as I never lie on a beach with a tropical drink in one hand and the latest James Patterson novel in the other, I will never wear this scent. I appreciate its beauty, but it is so not me.

I didn't review Eostre of the Dawn before swapping away my decant recently, but I did retest it and update my notes. Eostre is pretty -- really, really pretty -- and when I first received my decant from a circle late last summer, I toyed with the idea of buying a bottle. I get creamy sweet skin musk and pale florals, and while honeysuckle is almost always good on me, jasmine is the three faces of Eve. Here she's a kind and compliant Eve, and this scent is a radiant springtime day. If jasmine is iffy on you but the rest of the notes sound like heaven, it really is worthwhile taking a chance on this blend. On me, the jasmine linked arms with the honeysuckle and did not misbehave at all. As beautiful as Eostre is, I don't really wear these lovely spring florals. Maybe because I live in Seattle, and our seasons were described in yesterday's newspaper as "Summer, Autumn, Winter and Disappointment." But if you're dreaming of spring, Eostre will transport you right there.

I just acquired a bottle of Longing from a lovely forumite. I hadn't read the reviews; the notes just sounded so lovely. Bear in mind that this is now a decade-old bottle, and my nose is not at 100% due to a cold, but I'm getting very little cinnamon in the bottle and none on my skin. Also no skin sensitivity, which I have gotten from bay rum (that would be you, Baron Samedi) in the past. Wet, the primary note is bay rum, making this a more masculine blend than I had expected. Rose geranium can be screechy on me, but the rum and the golden musk are keeping everything in a lower register, a kind of warm baritone. If I try, I can pick out the frankincense and rosewood, but everything is beautifully melded and mellowed into a warmth and depth and comfort. On the unisex continuum, it is definitely veering toward the masculine, but still something a confident woman can pull off with aplomb. I'm delighted to have it.

Yellow cat pee honey.

The Bride is absolutely stunning, and I'm so fortunate to have been frimped this by an incredibly generous seller. These sugary pale florals (I have Reflected Vulva on the other wrist) aren't really "me," but they're so gorgeous. And how Beth makes them both ethereal and lasting is beyond me. Honey musk is a glorious thing, as is vanilla chiffon, and they back up the magnolia so lushly. Off to just smell my wrists and swoon.

My first vulva! (There's a phrase you don't get to type every day.) This was a tester from a generous swapper, and thank you so much for sharing, because this one is really hoard-worthy. A sweet, creamy pale pink floral, perfect for a walk through a Japanese garden in full bloom. Sweet pea is always a good note on me; cherry blossom can go plastic, but I needn't have worried because it's quite realistic here. Ethereal in tone and yet with good presence and a little throw. No wonder this is impossible to come by.

Re-testing because I realized I'd never reviewed this and because of the above review that likens it to Red Lantern. And I see where LizziesLuck is coming from -- there's something in the opening here, which my notes describe as acrid, that is similar to the opening of Red Lantern, caramel but initially sharp tobacco. They don't share any notes, and I wouldn't have made the connection on my own. The similarity doesn't last; Lysander develops into quite a nice summertime blend, not masculine but androgynous. The lilac and lime are prominent on me, the violet non-existent. If you like Whitechapel, this is likely to be lovely on you, too.

Oh my goodness, this aged decant is beautiful! It is sweet, I concur on that, but other than the coconut I have trouble picking out any of the individual notes. The pear is subtle, as if it has been caramelized with all the other notes. It reminds me of Startled Toad -- haven't tested that for a while, though (hoarding my quarter decant). Rich, warm, sexy but still daytime appropriate.

This is a lovely warm resiny blend, with the bourbon vanilla very much in the background. But I have so many resiny blends that unless this absolutely knocked my socks off, I wouldn't need to go in search of more. I do love Christina Rossetti, though! ETA Oh my, this lasts a long time and mellows into such a beautiful grounding scent. So much loveliness, even in scents that don't wow me right off the bat.

Pumpkin, straight off the bat, that lovely, buttery BPAL pumpkin. Pumpkin and honey. Pumpkin, honey and vanilla. There might be a hint of pumpkin pie spice in here that makes it read as "pumpkin-y," but it's subtle. Not a big morpher, and it lasts a good while. I recently reread an early review of Baron Samedi where I mentioned that I had no intention of ever smelling like pumpkin. Ha! OK, I admit it, I was clueless and wrong. Golden, autumnal, I would smell like The Witches any October or November day!

This is an unusual combination. It's all almond extract at first, but once the almond fades, which on me is always pretty quickly, it's not the least bit foody. I agree with velvet that the something about the woodiness resembles cedar early on, and almond-cedar is novel to me. It ends up faint leather with really well-behaved oudh and woody patchouli. I don't find it too masculine, but I dig a lot of unisex scents.

Oh my, this is gorgeous. Orris doesn't usually do anything for me, but I want all the honey musk and all the rice milk, and gardenia is a floral that tends to be creamy and just lovely on me. Yes, this is quiet but not muted, if that makes any sense. It has a fully formed personality. Honey musk is inobtrusive but also damned sexy, so this would transition beautifully from an office situation to an intimate tete-a-tete with the object of one's desire.

I'm not sure if I smelled lavender on first application because I knew this scent was supposed to describe a full-grown Lilith and I associate Lilith with lavender or if it's actually in there. For me there was a kind of lavender-tinged cloud floating above the deeper notes. I'm going to need to retry this when I'm not freshly showered because even though I did apply a base of unscented lotion, this disappeared on me right away. Still, it is deeply beautiful, and I could sense the love and care that went into this creation.

Whoa, this one is floral! What was I thinking? But the honey begins to enter the scene on drydown, nice light clean honey, not sexpot honey, and it is a honey floral in a gorgeous late spring meadow. Honeysuckle may be one of the wildflowers. I'm not familiar with dandelion as a BPAL note, but I don't get the smell I associate with pulling the damned things. Very nice spring daytime scent, appropriate for public consumption.

How did I never review Bast? It is rarely out of my ever-shifting top ten. Amber, honey, cardamom, myrrh: Bast is golden, like the last rays of the setting sun. The cacao is dry, adding depth and richness, and the bourbon vanilla is snuggly, but this is not a chocolate or a foodie blend. It's an aureole of sensual warmth and radiant light. Bast is the rare blend I can wear all year round for any occasion. I can wear it in Sacramento in the summer when it's 103 degrees; I can wear it to heat up a dreary Seattle February. I wear it when I want to feel ridiculously sexy; I wear it to feel effective and confident at work. Bastet is grown-up, powerful, secure in her own skin. She's, well, a lion goddess. Wear it and channel her.

Ill-Mannered Dragon is strong! I am a big fan of Dragon's Milk, and Dragon's Milk with coconut and neroli sounded fantastic. But dragon's blood can go hugely cloying on me, and it does here; I was hoping the bitter neroli would temper that saccharine quality. For the first 45 minutes or so, the neroli barely shows up, and the vanilla and coconut get subsumed in the overwhelming dragon's blood. I get little hints of coconut and vanilla until finally the bracing neroli puts in an appearance, but it's too little, too late. I'm going to try this one again in a few days, when it's not fresh from the mailbox (a generous wishlist frimp from a lovely swap partner), because I really want this one to work, but the dragon's blood resin may simply be too overpowering here.

I think I've finally found the pipe tobacco blend I've been searching for! Frank Burns goes on surprisingly sweet and does not read as masculine at all on my skin. Rich, sweet, fruity pipe smoke is the dominant note -- cherry tobacco? Not quite what my grandfather smoked, but lovely nonetheless. The booze and woods are in the background, and there is no revolting cigar smoke; the pipe tobacco is really the star here. It rides close to the skin, but given how my skin tends to obliterate pipe smoke blends in about ten minutes, I am thrilled that this one is sticking around. Good thing the groundhog saw his shadow because this is a terrific winter fragrance. Win!!!

I had this in my cart. And then for some reason I hesitated, and it was gone. What was I thinking?? There is not a single note here that’s even a question mark. They are all win. Cardamom, almond, coffee, coconut. I was thrilled to be offered a decant in a swap, and yep, it is just about perfect. All the chocolate, the coconut, the almond —seconding VetchVesper on the Almond Joy thing. The cardamom and coffee are kind of comforting background noise. Good throw, and I rarely get throw. Just, agh, going to find a corner to weep in now.

I did not have the same experience the other reviewers had with Montes Harbinger. In the imp, I can individuate almost all the notes -- the various citrus, the delicate green cognac and rosewater from A Spirit, Katie, the musk, the mugwort. Wet on my skin the grapefruit was prominent, but as it dried down the two components I was least excited about came to the fore: white musk and mugwort. I never got the almond blossom; the mugwort simply overpowered it -- and the neroli, the tangerine peel, and everything else. Evidently I amp mugwort. This is the first mugwort blend I've tried, and I'm going to have to be careful about it in the future.