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Showing results for tags 'Halloween 2010'.
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A HOWL IN THE DARKNESS At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than he had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to tremble worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I could not see any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether. But just then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import. All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared, and looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to see. But the living ring of terror encompassed them on every side, and they had perforce to remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break out through the ring and to aid his approach, I shouted and beat the side of the caleche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from the side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that we were again in darkness. When I could see again the driver was climbing into the caleche, and the wolves disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon. —Dracula, Bram Stoker A scent evocative of a forest at midnight, with animalic brown musk, wild sage, Terebinth pine, black oak, and a chilly shock of terror personified by kunzea, cistus labdanum, verbena, juniper, metallic ozone, and white mint. Cursory review: a cool, crisp scent, evocative of chilly night air, over some of the sexiest primal musks I've ever smelled from BPAL. I didn't get any pine/wood notes once it hit my skin, and little to no ozone, which I usually amp into headache-inducing volumes. If only Wolf Moon or Lycaon had smelled like this! I need to sneak it onto my husband to see how he wears it.
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THE HAG The Hag is astride, This night for to ride; The Devill and shee together: Through thick, and through thin, Now out, and then in, Though ne'r so foule be the weather. A Thorn or a Burr She takes for a Spurre: With a lash of a Bramble she rides now, Through Brakes and through Bryars, O're Ditches, and Mires, She followes the Spirit that guides now. No Beast, for his food, Dares now range the wood; But husht in his laire he lies lurking: While mischiefs, by these, On Land and on Seas, At noone of Night are working, The storme will arise, And trouble the skies; This night, and more for the wonder, The ghost from the Tomb Affrighted shall come, Cal'd out by the clap of the Thunder. Black musk, bay leaves, galangal, bourbon vetiver, blackcurrant, and rum. Oh, I love this! It's heavy on the black musk and rum. The vetiver is light and when it dries, it gives the overall scent the most awesome dark smokiness. The black currant does not turn to cat pee on me (!!!) and is barely discernible. Overall, this scent is darkly musky, darkly sweet, darkly earthy and herbal, and darkly sexy. I would definitely call it unisex. It has really good staying power and a light, but really, really sexy, amount of sillage. Bottle worthy? Oh yes.
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THE UNSTEADY GOVERNESS It made me, the sound of the words, in which it seemed to me that I caught for the very first time a small faint quaver of consenting consciousness—it made me drop on my knees beside the bed and seize once more the chance of possessing him. "Dear little Miles, dear little Miles, if you KNEW how I want to help you! It's only that, it's nothing but that, and I'd rather die than give you a pain or do you a wrong—I'd rather die than hurt a hair of you. Dear little Miles"—oh, I brought it out now even if I SHOULD go too far—"I just want you to help me to save you!" But I knew in a moment after this that I had gone too far. The answer to my appeal was instantaneous, but it came in the form of an extraordinary blast and chill, a gust of frozen air, and a shake of the room as great as if, in the wild wind, the casement had crashed in. The boy gave a loud, high shriek, which, lost in the rest of the shock of sound, might have seemed, indistinctly, though I was so close to him, a note either of jubilation or of terror. I jumped to my feet again and was conscious of darkness. So for a moment we remained, while I stared about me and saw that the drawn curtains were unstirred and the window tight. "Why, the candle's out!" I then cried. "It was I who blew it, dear!" said Miles. —The Turn of the Screw, Henry James White tea and violet leaf. I have always said that some of Beth's best creations come with the simplest notes. I was right then...and I am right now! This is just gorgeous! White tea with hints of fresh almost juicy violet. The smells like fresh wet white tea with violet. I just love it. I want to drink this blend and wear it all at the same time. It's just amazing. Beth has outdone herself once again!
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POMEGRANATE I Pomegranate, poet's jasmine, and benzoin. Pomegranate I - This is gorgeous. It's a beautiful, sweet pomegranate. The benzoin is far beneath the pomegranate, but gives the scent warmth, depth, and texture. And then there's the jasmine... jasmine can sometimes be scary on me, and it's pretty strong in the bottle, but it turns out to be balanced beautifully with the other notes and once it's on my skin, it harmonizes perfectly with my skin chemistry. This is a gorgeous fruity-floral scent that I just can't get enough of. It really packs a punch (a pretty punch!) when I first put it on, but once it dries, it has a pretty low level of throw and the staying power seems to be slightly below average. I it.
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I grew up in Los Angeles, and spent most of my Halloweens here. Of all the Halloween nights, one stands out the strongest in my memory. When I was in third grade, the hills behind my parent’s house were on fire. The fire was growing, and it was close; we were on evacuation watch all that night. The fire was massive: the skyline was vibrant, electric orange, and I couldn’t stop staring at it. It felt like noon at midnight to me. The smoke penetrated everything, drowning out the scent of my grandmother’s caramel apples. Halloween in Los Angeles has a peculiar scent, and there always seems to be something ablaze here. To me, Halloween in Los Angeles will forever smell like fire and fascination. The sky on fire: a strange incense of burning brush, junegrass, tumbleweeds, chaparral, and wild sage. I am so incredibly excited about this one. I believe that the first thing I ever posted in the "Fantasy Island" part of the board was the hope for a Santa Ana Wind or California wildfire scent. I effectively got Santa Anas with Windy Moon last year (that's how it smells on me, anyway!), and now here's the fire! The fact that Halloween: Los Angeles is thus tagged with time and place makes it even more appealing to me, since Southern California + October = Fire in my mind. The Esperanza Fire in 2006 was huge and occurred in the last week of October and was my first exposure to this phenomenon; the series of fires in 2007 were even bigger, and led to blood red moons right around Halloween. The 2008 season got worse in November, and 2009 did its worst in September, but the connection between fire and Halloween in the greater L.A. area was already set for me. So I'm excited for that, but also for the notes - all of the desert-y scents I've tried so far have been good on me, and I also generally do well with smoke scents, so this bodes well. In the bottle: First sniff is actually kind of syrupy sweet, but it becomes more smoky before I even finish breathing in. There is definitely oh-so-familiar dried grasses and brush behind that smoke. Wet on skin: The initial impression of sweetness is gone. This is all about smoke and dry brush right now. There's maybe something a little spicy about the brush, but really, it's dry dry dry and incendiary. I can't pick out the individual plants, but this definitely smells like a southern California hillside. Drydown: Freshly dry, the initial sweet note is sort of back, though nowhere near as strong as in the bottle. It still goes away quickly within one sniff, and leaves smoke and dry brush. I still can't pick out one plant from another, but that's the chaparral ecosystem for you! At one hour in, the sweet note has disappeared again. The smoke has also become more intense, which totally makes sense, since that's generally what happens the longer a fire burns! It's a very dry smoke, and underneath it is still all that dry chaparral. Five hours later: There's no appreciable difference between now and the one hour mark, actually. It's the same blend of smoke and heated dry grasses and brush. Not much of a change in intensity, either. End of the day: A bit of smoke and a bit of ozone. Still very present. Overall: Funny thing here: if I were to go outside and the air smelled like this, I would go, "OH CRAP" and start thinking about evacuation routes while loading irreplaceable things into my car. But the air does not smell like this right now; it's the oil on my wrist, and in this context, it's an awesome smell. That is to say, this really well and truly does smell like a late summer California brushfire. It's exactly the right combination of plants under the right ridiculous heat, and from there, it only makes sense that there's a lot of smoke. When the smell is not coming from an actual fire, I can appreciate how it's a sort of strange semi-arid incense; I don't have to feel bad about thinking it's a good smell like I would if there were actually a wall of flame advancing down the mountain toward campus or something. In terms of related scents, I'd say the nearest relative is Windy Moon, which makes sense, since that was meant to be a hot dry wind with a hint of smoke (and since it smells like Santa Ana weather on me). This is a more specific scent, though - it really does get a location and a time of year into that bottle. Even if it weren't good on me, I'd keep it, for that association with what fall in southern California means. Luckily, it's actually good on me, too!
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THE SHADOWY AND THE SUBLIME Meanwhile, the deep impression made by this unknown tormentor, the monk, and especially by his prediction of the death of Bianchi, remained upon his mind, and he once more determined to ascertain, if possible, the true nature of the portentous visitant, and what were the motives which induced him thus to haunt his footsteps and interrupt his peace. He was awed by the circumstances which had attended the visitations of the monk, if monk it was; by the suddenness of his appearance, and departure; by the truth of his prophecies; and, above all, by the solemn event which had verified his last warning; and his imagination, thus elevated by wonder and painful curiosity, was prepared for something above the reach of common conjecture, and beyond the accomplishment of human agency. His understanding was sufficiently clear and strong to teach him to detect many errors of opinion, that prevailed around him, as well as to despise the common superstitions of his country, and in the usual state of his mind, he probably would not have paused for a moment on the subject before him; but his passions were not interested, and his fancy awakened, and, though he was unconscious of this propensity, he would, perhaps, have been somewhat disappointed, to have suddenly from the region of fearful sublimity to which he had soared —the world of terrible shadows— to the earth, on which he daily walked, and to an explanation simply natural. —The Italian, Ann Radcliffe A sudden and shocking insight into the vast, ineffable, overwhelming power of Nature, stirred by a vision or experience of perfected beauty and perfected terror, that changes the soul irretrievably. An epiphany: Moroccan amber, wisteria, ambergris accord, white rose, magnolia, white mint, angelica, bergamot, and myrrh. The Shadowy And The Sublime - Every time there's a big update, there's always one scent that I think I'll actually dislike, but which ends up being the biggest hit of the bunch. For the 2010 Weenies, this was the surprise winner. It has magnolia, bergamot, and wisteria, all of which are "iffy" notes that generally lean to the "no" side of the spectrum. But, it also has some of my favorites - amber, white rose, myrrh. When I sniffed it in the bottle the first time, it didn't do much for me, but the moment I applied it, those resins just blossomed with my skin chemistry, and I was surrounded by a swirl of myrrh and amber and ambergris, which are bolstered by the other notes -- the earthy angelica, the sweet mint, and the florals. The florals are not fully present in their own right, but they seem to boost the resin notes and make them bigger, better, deeper, stronger, and amplify their scent. The overall result on my particular skin is something that is strongly reminiscent of an opium-based perfume oil. (Or maybe there's just opium smoke/tar in this that's not on the ingredient list?) All of these notes blending together definitely leave an overall impression of a scent that I would categorize with my other favorite opium scents. I love this so much. It has amazing throw (a little goes a long way!) and above average staying power. (It's hard to get around to testing the other Weenies because I love this one so much I don't want to give up any skin time to things I don't think I'd like as much!)
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THE CREEPING MIST I stopped my horse, and looked round me again. Yes: I saw it. With my own eyes I saw it. A pillar of white mist—between five and six feet high, as well as I could judge—was moving beside me at the edge of the road, on my left hand. When I stopped, the white mist stopped. When I went on, the white mist went on. I pushed my horse to a trot—the pillar of mist was with me. I urged him to a gallop—the pillar of mist was with me. I stopped him again—the pillar of mist stood still. The white colour of it was the white colour of the fog which I had seen over the river—on the night when I had gone to bid her farewell. And the chill which had then crept through me to the bones was the chill that was creeping through me now. I went on again slowly. The white mist went on again slowly—with the clear bright night all round it. I was awed rather than frightened. There was one moment, and one only, when the fear came to me that my reason might be shaken. I caught myself keeping time to the slow tramp of the horse's feet with the slow utterance of these words, repeated over and over again: 'Jéromette is dead. Jéromette is dead.' But my will was still my own: I was able to control myself, to impose silence on my own muttering lips. And I rode on quietly. And the pillar of mist went quietly with me. My groom was waiting for my return at the rectory gate. I pointed to the mist, passing through the gate with me. 'Do you see anything there?' I said. The man looked at me in astonishment. I entered the rectory. The housekeeper met me in the hall. I pointed to the mist, entering with me. 'Do you see anything at my side?' I asked. The housekeeper looked at me as the groom had looked at me. 'I am afraid you are not well, sir,' she said. 'Your colour is all gone—you are shivering. Let me get you a glass of wine.' —Miss Jéromette and the Clergyman, Wilkie Collins A muculent, brumous, ill-omened scent: orris, yuzu, white ginger, linden flower, petitgrain, and lotus. The first to make a comment on a scent? This is definitely a "first" for me! In the bottle and wet on my skin, this is all lotus. After a bit, green (the petitgrain?) and the soft, white floral of the linden push their way in to take the edge off the lotus. Not getting much of a citrus note, however. Overall, this is quite a lovely, soft scent. Not a huge throw, but it seems to have some staying power.
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ENCROACHING MADNESS It is the strangest yellow, that wall-paper! It makes me think of all the yellow things I ever saw—not beautiful ones like buttercups, but old foul, bad yellow things. But there is something else about that paper—the smell! I noticed it the moment we came into the room, but with so much air and sun it was not bad. Now we have had a week of fog and rain, and whether the windows are open or not, the smell is here. It creeps all over the house. I find it hovering in the dining-room, skulking in the parlor, hiding in the hall, lying in wait for me on the stairs. It gets into my hair. Even when I go to ride, if I turn my head suddenly and surprise it—there is that smell! Such a peculiar odor, too! I have spent hours in trying to analyze it, to find what it smelled like. It is not bad—at first, and very gentle, but quite the subtlest, most enduring odor I ever met. In this damp weather it is awful, I wake up in the night and find it hanging over me. It used to disturb me at first. I thought seriously of burning the house—to reach the smell. But now I am used to it. The only thing I can think of that it is like is the COLOR of the paper! A yellow smell. There is a very funny mark on this wall, low down, near the mopboard. A streak that runs round the room. It goes behind every piece of furniture, except the bed, a long, straight, even SMOOCH, as if it had been rubbed over and over. I wonder how it was done and who did it, and what they did it for. Round and round and round—round and round and round—it makes me dizzy! I really have discovered something at last. Through watching so much at night, when it changes so, I have finally found out. The front pattern DOES move—and no wonder! The woman behind shakes it! Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, and sometimes only one, and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes it all over. Then in the very bright spots she keeps still, and in the very shady spots she just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard. And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through that pattern—it strangles so; I think that is why it has so many heads. They get through, and then the pattern strangles them off and turns them upside down, and makes their eyes white! If those heads were covered or taken off it would not be half so bad. I think that woman gets out in the daytime! And I'll tell you why—privately—I've seen her! I can see her out of every one of my windows! It is the same woman, I know, for she is always creeping, and most women do not creep by daylight. I see her on that long road under the trees, creeping along, and when a carriage comes she hides under the blackberry vines. I don't blame her a bit. It must be very humiliating to be caught creeping by daylight! —The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman A yellow smell. Old foul, bad yellow things. Honeysuckle, chrysanthemum, balsam, hydrangea, and helichrysum. Encroaching Madness - "Old foul, bad yellow things." You know what else is foul and yellow? Urine. That's exactly what this smells like when sniffing it in the bottle. It's so gross it's retch-inducing. I wasn't going to skin-test this one, but then someone in the Seattle Will Call thread mentioned how funny it would be if Beth made a scent that smelled horrible in the bottle but lovely on the skin, and I thought... hmmm... yeah, what if? So I hitched up my britches and jumped right in. And wouldn't you know... it actually smells gorgeous on my skin. I mean, so gorgeous that I couldn't stop huffing away at my skin, partly because I couldn't get over how something so god-awful could become so pretty, and partly because it was just so damn pretty. On my skin it's fairly light. I don't smell the honeysuckle at all (thankfully, since it's not a good note for me). I'm not sure what hydrangea or helichrysum smell like, so I don't know what was doing what on my skin, but it is a gentle floral that is very sweet and incredibly feminine, pretty, and soothing. It's such a gorgeous floral that I'm tempted to find a bottle, or at least a partial bottle of my own. And if I wouldn't have built up the courage to try it out, I'd have never known how pretty it would actually turn out to be. It may smell like urine in the bottle, but on my skin, it's really, really lovely.
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THE MADWOMAN In the deep shade, at the farther end of the room, a figure ran backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face. —Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte Dusty white sandalwood, ragged cloth, and a dry, long-dead bridal bouquet. This is a very appealing sandalwood scent. It reminds me of the sandalwood fans I sometimes see in import stores. Along with that there's a floral that feels clean and bright to me, or maybe it's how the floral interacts with the cloth note which seems maybe like linen. I'm not sure what's in the bridal bouquet but it doesn't seem to be roses or lilies - I get the feeling of a sort of pleasant sweet kind of flower, but I can't put my finger on exactly what. This scent is unusual enough to hold my interest but I think it's also innocuous enough to fit a variety of moods and occasions. ~edit for spelling
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POMEGRANATE V Pomegranate, carnation, amber, cardamom, neroli, vetiver, black pepper, and opium tar. Back in the far corner of the Pomegranate Grove is a single tree. The corner is a little dark and a little spooky, which tends to make the fruits of this tree a little dark and a little spooky. This oil comes from the fruits of this tree. I was a little dubious about this Pom. I like the ocassional spot of vetiver, but anything with the terms "pitch" or "tar" tend to be DAAAAAAAAARK on me, and opium almost never works. So, imagine my surprise when I tried this first of the Grove, decided I liked it, and then read the notes. The vetiver is just enough to give it a little hint of musk. The opium tar gives it a hint of smoke. And the rest of the notes give this secluded corner of the Pomegranate some dead sexiness that is still somehow homey. More than anything, this blend evokes the scents of an early autumn night - when there's a hint of smoke and leaves in the air and a touch of a bite of frost that's not quite ready yet and the grass and other greenery are still fresh. It's safe and comforting, with the tiny sliver of danger. Because it's still a dark and slightly spooky place.
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HALLOWEEN: BROOKLYN When I was very little, my father took me to the Green-Wood Cemetery so that I could pay my respects to those who had passed before us. I remember the afternoon as cold and clear, I remember picking up pine cones and putting them in my mother’s handbag, and I remember the blanket of purple flowers that dotted the grass. Flowering dogwood, weeping cherry, Korean pine, camellia, moonflower, Alberta spruce, arborvitae, and crab apples. The spruce stood out the most in the bottle, almost so much that it scared me. On the dry down, the other scents I so wanted started to emerge, the dogwood started to take the forefront thank goodness! It becomes far more floral, I can detect the moonflower which I love and over all I get a greeny-floral scent, but it seems to fade rather quickly on me. I was pleasantly surprised over all, but sad that it doesn't seem to stand out more. I'm definitely keeping this one though.
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THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE The trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky; Upon the brimming water among the stones Are nine-and-fifty swans. The nineteenth autumn has come upon me Since I first made my count; I saw, before I had well finished, All suddenly mount And scatter wheeling in great broken rings Upon their clamorous wings. I have looked upon those brilliant creatures, And now my heart is sore. All's changed since I, hearing at twilight, The first time on this shore, The bell-beat of their wings above my head, Trod with a lighter tread. Unwearied still, lover by lover, They paddle in the cold Companionable streams or climb the air; Their hearts have not grown old; Passion or conquest, wander where they will, Attend upon them still. But now they drift on the still water, Mysterious, beautiful; Among what rushes will they build, By what lake's edge or pool Delight men's eyes when I awake some day To find they have flown away? October twilight. Falling leaves breaking the stillness of cool water, with sweet autumn clematis, feather-soft orris root, luminous white chypre, and muguet. Sweet cool water. Then melon? And then the florals come! Argh! I know what this smells like. Bath and Body Works cool cucumber without the nasty chemical cucumber note. I don't know if this will be staying....I am going to give it a couple of days to settle and test it again!
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THE HERAEON OF ARGOS Argive Hera. The temple in the Argolid that was dedicated to Hera, the Queen of Heaven, in her aspect as the Great Triple Goddess. Pomegranate, apple blossom, fig, willow bark, and almond. Wet: sweet almonds On skin: acidic pom juice, great for a cocktail! Half-hour later: the pom juice has disappeared, leaving me with dusty sweet figs In conclusion: I had to scroll through previous reviews to find what this reminded me of: Miller v. California! I think it's the figs and the willow bark turning "brown paper bag" dusty.
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Pomegranate, white musk, lemon verbena, grapefruit, pink lime. This is lovely!!! It's a very sweet fruity citrus. It starts out very blended but as the time passes, the pomegranate becomes more pronounced. I would say it had about a 3 hour lifetime on my skin, which is very reasonable for citrus scents. I highly recommend this....it's pretty.......
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THE BYRONIC ANTIHERO He stood --- some dread was on his face, Soon Hatred settled in its place: It rose not with the reddening flush Of transient Anger's hasty blush, But pale as marble o'er the tomb, Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom. His brow was bent, his eye was glazed; He raised his arm, and fiercely raised, And sternly shook his hand on high, As doubting to return or fly; Impatient of his flight delay'd, Here loud his raven charger neigh'd --- Down glanced that hand, and grasp'd his blade; That sound had burst his waking dream, As Slumber starts at owlet's scream, The spur hath lanced his courser's sides; Away, away, for life he rides: Swift as the hurl'd on high jerreed Springs to the touch his startled steed: The rock is doubled, and the shore Shakes with the clattering tramp no more: The crag is won, no more is seen His Christian crest and haughty mien. 'T was but an instant he restrain'd That fiery barb so sternly rein'd; 'T was but a moment that he stood, Then sped as if by death pursued; But in that instant o'er his soul Winters of Memory seem'd to roll, And gather in that drop of time A life of pain, an age of crime. O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears, Such moment pours the grief of years: What felt he then, at once opprest By all that most distracts the breast? That pause, which ponder'd o'er his fate, Oh, who its dreary length shall date ! Though in Time's record nearly nought, It was Eternity to Thought ! For infinite as boundless space The thought that Conscience must embrace, Which in itself can comprehend Woe without name, or hope, or end. —The Giaour, Lord Byron An aristocratic cologne of titanic passions, moody and brooding. This scent is dark with disillusionment and cynicism: a Victorian fougère and a dashing carnation boutonnière tainted by a cloud of khus, yew, and patchouli. I had to have this for the name alone, even if it didn't sound like a dark and brooding Dorian! In bottle: Sharp vetiver and yew, a whiff of earthy patchouli, and the faint sweetness of flowers deep underneath. Wet, on skin: Lavender pops right out here, with the vetiver and yew underneath. Drydown: The carnation joins the lavender, with vetiver and yew hovering around, and patchouli forming a solid, grounding base for the scent. I was worried this was going to be too masculine for me to pull off, but it's turning into a fantastically unisex scent. It sort of reminds me of Samhainophobia meets Dorian. I love this one in a big way. Dry: This is one of the only scents that smells exactly like the description on me, which I thought from the florals might be a bad thing, since florals just never work on me, but this one is amazing. It's like wearing a victorian gentleman's coat in a graveyard on a chilly night.