jainabee

My grandmother was orphaned during the Great Depression. At 16, she ran away to Los Angeles. Half Bette Davis, half Bettie Page, she raged against every obstacle. She conquered poverty, divorce, the death of her first child. She is now a glamorous diva, residing in a quiet haven in Westwood. This smells exactly like her.

Mmmmm… when I wore this, everyone I encountered said, "You smell so GOOOOD!" I got lots of hugs & kisses that day. Very friendly.

While I rather have an aversion to the sweetness of amber, I was willing to give this a try. Oh! That sickly sweetness. But, knowing how the BPAL scents tend to mutate and fade, I was curious to smell what would happen next. The next time I remembered to sniff at my wrist, The Lion had settled down like glowing ambers of warmth. The sweetness had receded to a dreamy shadow. My sweetie liked it, too.

At last! The combination of scents in the description enticed me more than anything I've seen so far. But how would it fare on the flesh? Sweet and dark and nutty and delicious, like an almond latte. I kept inhaling deeply at my wrists until I thought I'd hyperventilate. It's everything I'd hoped for, and more. A new top fave for me.

Seven imps in, and I'm starting to recognize what works for me and what doesn't. Fruity doesn't work for me. Not that I dislike fruit —au contraire!— but in the blends they tend to go rather sweet and sickly on me. My loss. I do, however, love the prominent honey dazzle at the beginning. My sweetie liked it, too. I'd love to smell this on someone it works for. Maybe it's time for me to jump into the swapping pool?

This one took me and a friend on a strange, mysterious journey. "We're outside," I said. "Definitely," he said. "Oh, we're inside now." "I hear the floorboards creaking." "We're locked in a closet!" "Are we under the floorboards?" "The knives are being sharpened."

Playful, but bafflingly inconsistent. Keeps wandering away from me! This one's just for fun, and perfect for a sunny day. Doubt I'd buy a bottle, but I'll use up the imp, to be sure. UPDATE: I do believe I had some sort of allergic reation to Croquet. Alas! Guess it's off to the swaps with this one.

I really felt like I was drowning in flowers. This one reacted unpleasantly with my body chemistry— but who would expect Ophelia to be a *pleasant* experience? Ironically, this one lasted much longer than the other scents I've tried. Clingy? Tragic.

"Masculine," was my first impression. But I like to play with identity. What would life be like as a swashbuckler? At first, I felt like I was borrowing a jacket from a beau. After awhile, my chemistry integrated the oil & I just felt ravishing. Dangerous. Later, I felt utterly ravished. Just the lingering traces of the salty dog on my pulse points. This is one of my favorite scents so far.

(My very first review for my very first all-time-favorite!) Swoony from the start, the scent led me along from the bordello to the church to the graveyard and then let loose with a party that shook the heavens. I've never smelled anything that mutated so frequently, and with such variation. While this seems to be the way of the BPAL, Jazz Funeral has been the most pleasing to me so far. Another tendency seems to be the flitting nature of the scents. This fades too fast. Ah! But how poignant is that? Can I dole out my imp to last until the bottle arrives?