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Showing results for tags 'Yule 2017'.
Found 137 results
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Fear of Kissing Under the Mistletoe Pale, sickly flaps of vegetation looming over gaping archways, flaccid lips wet with hunger: cucumber and spearmint curling against the edges of dry, crumbling mistletoe. All I get is slightly dried cucumber peel. It's not bad; sort of the seasonal opposite of Squirting Cucumber. No mint, no mistletoe.
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On the night of the Epiphany, a joyful, broomstick-riding hag clad in a tattered shawl drops into chimneys all over Italy, bestowing gifts to good children, and dropping coal into the stockings of naughty kiddies. La Befana vien di notte Con le scarpe tutte rotte Col vestito alla Romana Viva, Viva La Befana! As the Three Wise Men searched for the house of the Christ child, they found themselves lost. Eventually, they stopped at a small house and knocked on the door. A small, wizened woman opened the door, holding a broom in her hand. The Astrologers asked the woman if she knew the location of the child, but, unfortunately, she did not know who these men were looking for, and could not aid them in their search. It was deep into the night, and the air was chilly, so the kindly woman offered the three men her hospitality. They spent the night in her warm, comfortable home, and shared bread and stories with one another. The Astrologers explained to the woman why they were looking for this blessed infant, and invited her to join them in their search come morning. Though she was touched by their tale, she declined, as she had a great deal of housework to do. At daybreak, the Astrologers awoke. They thanked the woman for her generosity, gathered their things, and prepared to leave. Before they departed, they, again, asked the old woman if she would like to join them on their journey. Again, she declined, and sent them on their way. After they had left, she regretted her decision, and she set off to find the Three Wise Men. After many long and frustrating hours of searching, she still could not find them. Saddened, yet still filled with hope, she stopped to give a gift to every good child she passed. La Befana comes by night With her shoes old and broken She comes dressed in the Roman way Long life to the Befana! Candy charcoal, winter lilies, parma violet, a sprig of cypress, a poof of chimney dust, and holiday sweets. straight sniff from bottle is purely sweet and gooey....absolutely nothing else ... holy moly...once applied the violet is astonishing and the dust and candy charcoal....ZomG... if you are a violet lover of bpal blends this is for you!! words cannot even describe the beauty and depth of this one...it is heartbreakingly beautiful i love it to death
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A rustle of black wings: sweet black patchouli and clove with black amber, agarwood, and gilded lilac. Put this on my hand to sniff and review, as it's subtle enough on my short hair that I can't smell it. Not sure if that influences the scent at all, but I thought I should note it! In short, I love this. The amber/agarwood base is smooth and sweet, and the spice notes are subtle. Patch doesn't take this one over in the least, which happens a lot with patch scents on me. I find it to be mostly agarwood. The lilac is more perfumey than floral, and blends nicely with the agarwood. It has a dark quality to it but also smells clean (i.e. this isn't a sexy kind of scent for me, even with the patch/amber/agarwood combo that would usually signal such a thing). It reminds me of a calm, late autumn night or a walk through the woods as the leaves are starting to fall. I find it surprisingly unisex, given the notes.
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Fear of Religious Services Sour wine drying on an ancient ciborium, crumbling pages of a yellowed sacramentary, blinding glints of bitter white sunlight shattering off a tarnished monstrance, and doleful voices droning through a haze of oppressive, smothering incense. Tons of red wine, squeeze of orange, and a hint of incense. This one just smells like fruity red wine. Sangria anyone? Great throw and wear length. For lovers of sangria.
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Blanketed with moss and chilled by winter breezes. This is lovely. The name of the scent made me think that it might be a darker forest scent, but it isn't at all. It's a bright, snow-dusted pine forest. It's all sweet pine, sap, and a dusting of snow. It makes me think of the Snow Bunny atmosphere spray I used to have, with its sweet pine note (and without the girlish perfume of Snow Bunny). This one doesn't have much throw beyond its initial spray. I sprayed it all over my apartment and on the blankets on the couch, and left for 45 minutes. Normally, when I do that and walk back into the apartment, I'll get hit with whatever scent I sprayed prior to leaving -- but when I came back, I didn't get hit with the scent of a pine forest. Fortunately, the sweet, snow-dusted pine scent lingered on the blankets. I'm not getting moss at all, so if that worries you, don't let it scare you away! As someone who loves winter and misses the scent of evergreens dearly, I'll be spraying my bottle with reckless abandon all winter.
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The festival of Roman goddess of death, Larenta, who was also known as Dea Tacita, the Silent Goddess. Spells to silence and bind slanderous enemies were cast on her holy days, as were spells of closure and suppression. During this time, offerings to the dead are left on thresholds, where spirits are said to dwell. A Roman funeral garden: cypress, thyme, oleander, crocus, gladiola, amaranth, and myrtle shrouded by herbs and flowers sacred to the Silent One. A brown/green scent with quite a bit of throw. The greens here remind me of when I used to go around at night clipping the neighborhood English boxwoods and hollies for greens to use in wreathmaking. This isn't the cedar and pine of craft store/car freshener variety. Gentle florals, no divas. They are tucked into the herbs. Smelling Larentalia deeply, I wonder if it's just a nice meditative blend or perhaps some magical intent was used in creating it. It's one of those BPAL's that smell like they come from Twilight Alchemy Lab. As a Yule blend, this works for those moments you reflect on dear ones who have departed. When nostalgia takes over. So often it's said the Winter holidays are for children. There is always a place for those who've passed on. Curious I pulled this out right after Mourning Moon. >>>>>> Takes another deep breath of the perfume. Hopefully I haven't any enemies and if these are none of them are slandering me.
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Fear of Relatives and Relations God damn it, Uncle Steve. Nobody cares what Hannity has to say about anything. Buckets of red wine, a splash of aftershave, and copious amounts of blossoming gin. Oh my goodness this is gorgeous. I originally got the decant for my guy because he loves gin and I thought this was going to be a lot darker. However it is bright and sparkling and a bit on the sweet side. The wine is lighter than I expected and I expects gives the blend its sweetness, and it is not profoundly grape-y either. The gin and aftershave combine to give a clean but not too strong bite of juniper. Classic, sophisticated and very fun. It makes me think of a glittering party of the 1920s.
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Dr. E. S. Packard, of Corunna, Me., in the Eastern Star, states that Mr. David Prescott, of South Sangerville, over ninety years of age, “wandered away into the woods, and not returning, a crowd of over a hundred men hunted for him nearly two days; the mill pond near his house was drained. Search was made in every direction but to no success. “A gentleman of that place decided to call in the aid of Mrs. Stevens; she told him somebody was lost, and not being able to visit the place she drew a map or chart of the locality, giving directions, by which, on his return he was immediately found alive, but died the next day. The day following I was at South Sangerville, and stopping at this gentleman’s house, examined the map, which was perfect in every respect. The house and shed were correctly drawn, the mill and pond near the house were marked, the field and woods, two fences over which Mr. Prescott must climb, even to the swinging of the road by the house was definitely given. “The spot where she said he was, was shown by a large black mark, and he was found exactly in that place. When we consider that Mrs. Stevens never saw this place in her normal condition, it is to me a wonderful test of spirit power.” Absolute and perfect clarity: rockrose, white amber, Corsican immortelle, Siamese benzoin, white sandalwood, and life everlasting. Sniffed, I get clouds of sweet sandalwood incense and white cotton -- not "clean laundry," but something white and cottony and opaque. I think this particular iteration of white amber is doing the powdery thing. It's not floral-forward, though the flowers advance as the blend wears down. Mostly, it's reading as benzoin/sandalwood dusting powder. There's a non-foody but vanilla-like sweetness (probably the benzoin, which contains vanillin). Also, somehow, the blend smells white. The vanilla-resin-powderyness makes me place it in the XYZ Lace family of Lab blends (e.g. Antique Lace, Black Lace, Red Lace). So this is... Psychic Lace.
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HYPOTHERMIA Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm! How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these? Bone-chilling, heart-stopping cold. In the bottle Lots of mint, spearmint being the top note. Wet: Very minty, with the spearmint prominent. The dry-down: I had high hopes for this scent, and ordered it unsniffed. If you like mint, and especially spearmint, you will like this oil. At this point I'm reminded of Cloister Graveyard in the Snow and Death of the Gravedigger; from both of those I was hoping for snow and got a lot of mint instead. Hypothermia is their LE cousin, only it's not as strong and it doesn't last as long as either of those two scents. It's also not very cool on the wrist, as is usually typical with oils that contain the snow note. The snow note, to my nose, does have mint in the blend, but it's never overpowering as the mint in these three oils. Colour me disappointed.
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Swirls of sweet dark myrrh and red benzoin. This is nothing at all like what I expected but I like it. There's a tart, hibiscus heavy tea called Red Zinger. This smells just like a heavily sweetened version of that. Below I think I can sense some dark myrrh resin, but not a lot. This hovers on the edge of being a red powdery drink mix smell, but it's better than that. I really like this.
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No additional description provided. Scent description for Malediction is here.] This one is a weird mix of Snow White's fluffly snowy almond and a deep undertone of vetiver. On wet, the vetiver is extra gritty and smelling like bacon-smoke. This actually fades out, and then it dries down to Snow White with a touch of patchouli. Good throw and wear length.
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A winters cologne: a pale chypre infused with white sage, creeping mint, pine needles, and frankincense. This isn't going to be a very helpful review, but I am extremely moved by how much this reminds me of Christmas as a kid. Specifically, it reminds me of how my mother's winter coat smelled after we came home from midnight mass on Christmas Eve. There is the faint scent of a mix of sophisticated perfumes that lingered on her collar (chypre?), the smell of church (frankincense, I suppose), and the sense of cold air and snowflakes on the wool (mint, pine and sage?). If the picture on the label had a scent, this is exactly it. I would not call it "pretty" but it is full of nostalgia for me. It is also going to be the most perfect pairing for my beloved Frostbitten Malediction perfume from the Lab.
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Six Geese-A-Laying Five Golden Rings Four Calling Birds Three French Hens Two Turtle Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree Pale white lilies and elegant gardenia shadowed by bloody clove and black myrrh, gnashing with sharp fangs of screaming eucalyptus. Lilies, gardenia, and myrrh. On wet, it's a very minty watery lily and gardenia blend. After a few hours, you get the clove and myrrh peeking through. This smells like WHEN SWANS ATTACK. Something beautiful and majestic that is ready to take you down.
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The perfected winter rose, dew covered and freshly cut. Red Rose. Limited edition. My favorite rose so far. This is the first rose scent I haven't melted off within an hour. (I was amazed the first time I wore it. Eight hours, and no need to reapply!) In the bottle, it smells like a rose from the florist - that cold hothouse smell. On, it warms up slightly, but not too much - it's got a slight bite, which is a nice change from most roses that fade to a powdery softness. I'll be very sad when I finish this one.
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Bittersweet chocolate cupcakes whisked with stout and topped with inky dark chocolate frosting. This is amazing - it's what I wanted Monsterbait Underbed to smell like. It's a dark and rich scent to begin with - somewhere between dark and mean chocolate and dark and mean stout. Not too sweet, not too boozey, and just barely savoury. On the skin it blooms. I becomes a rich, devil's food cake with the dark, yeasty tang - just a little - of stout. The chocolate cake shifts to a somehow less foody but more like frosting after a little while. It's like leaving some frosting behind on the plate when you've finished the cake. Very faintly boozey, and the stout takes the edge off of the sweetness. If you like chocolate but don't want to smell like candy, give this one a try!
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Eight Maids-A-Milking Seven Swans-A-Swimming Six Geese-A-Laying Five Golden Rings Four Calling Birds Three French Hens Two Turtle Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree A billow of lime cotton candy, a dribble of absinthe, a few scattered sugar plums, and one squished fig. This sounded far too fun to pass up, and it is!! All the notes are totally identifiable. Yummy sweet-tart lime (which is the star in this), sweet fruity sugar plums, a dash of absinthe and just a hint of sticky fig. This is a candy lover's dream. If you like lime, you should try this, this is the best lime candy note I have ever smelled. I have no idea if I will ever find occasion to wear this, but it makes me grin from ear to ear and I will be holding onto my little 5ml for times when I feel silly and whimsical.
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Like brooms of steel The Snow and Wind Had swept the Winter Street, The House was hooked, The Sun sent out Faint Deputies of heat- The Apple in the cellar snug Where rode the Bird The Silence tied His ample, plodding Steed, Was all the one that played. - Emily Dickinson Sharp, metallic slices of snow and freezing wind with a faint hint of cellar dust, burlap, and apple. In the bottle: There is such a strong camphor note to this that I cannot smell anything else. Whew. On the skin: Bitter camphor and eucalyptus with a hint of sour apples. Dry: Medicinal and sweet, but not the usual apple note I am used to from the lab. Not... really what I was hoping for with this scent. This is off to the swaps.
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Eleven Pipers PipingTen Lords-A-Leaping Nine Ladies Dancing Eight Maids-A-Milking Seven Swans-A-Swimming Six Geese-A-Laying Five Golden Rings Four Calling Birds Three French Hens Two Turtle Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree Black leather and chrome spikes. This leather is swoon worthy. Its the same as the haute macabre hg to my nose, but turned down a 1/2 notch (haute macabre hg was wayyyy too over the top for me). It does have a cologney vibe that comes and goes that I wish wasn't there, but not stopping me from buying a full size! Layered with snake oil hg...BOOM, almost snake skin hg! ( not quite as good as an ACTUAL snake skin hg would be, but still)
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Two Turtle Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree Fear not: the hens triumph in the end. Feathery bourbon vanilla, Siamese red benzoin, petitgrain, vengeful red currant, and a drop of vetiver. Wet: Whoa! Hello, vetiver! Definitely more than “a drop”! Was not expecting that. Hoping that the other notes(ANY other notes) come through on the dry down. Dry: Nope, nope, nopity nope, I said nope nope nopity nope. Still all vetiver, all the time. What’s going on with my skin! Where are all those other amazing notes?! Disappointing. I’m really hoping the other notes come out with age, otherwise this will be off to my sales page. edit: retested this, and the vetiver has definitely calmed down some.
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Nine Ladies Dancing Eight Maids-A-Milking Seven Swans-A-Swimming Six Geese-A-Laying Five Golden Rings Four Calling Birds Three French Hens Two Turtle Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree Traipsing over a stony, spiked abyss of opium pod and pink grapefruit with black plum and amber. I mostly get the opium pod freshly sprayed, but once it settles in a little it really blooms. I get plum and a little bit of grapefruit to pick it up a little. Having tried Mme. Moriarty on a lock of hair on the opposite side of my head from the one I tried this on, I feel like they could be in the same family tree. Kind of like Morticia Addams and her sister Ophelia. Not really the same at a glance, but have an obvious connection the more you look. This one is definitely the Ophelia. A bit more bright and perky superficially, but slightly sinister and aggressive the closer you get. Mme. Moriarty is the outwardly darker, but subtly sweet Morticia. What I'm trying to get at is if you like Mme. Moriarty, you might want to see if this is up your alley as well. I think the plum is doing it, but I think the opium pod also adding to the slightly smoky and mysterious vibe. Either that or my nose is off. Long story short, I think this is a big win for me.
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NOCHE BUENA A celebration of the Nativity: the light, uplifting incense of the Misa de Noche Buena, purple sage, and a vibrant bouquet of plumeria, chrysanthemum, tuberose, Angel's Trumpet, Mexican tiger lily, dahlia, and azucenas. straight sniff from bottle is an olfactory delight of plumeria and chrysanthemum.... once applied this is a deep, floral incense ... jeebus.... beth just gets better and better with these 2007 yule blends... the sage and florals swirl together and are nothing less than astonishing...the throw is fair so i will have to slather this puppy for certain...g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s
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A peculiar manifestation of light produced by physical mediums during ectoplasmic séances: otherworldly snaps of ozone glowing with unearthly light. This is a tough one for me to describe. It's definitely heavy on the ozone, but unlike any of the lab's other ozone scents. It is unisex/masculine with a subtly sweet cologne-y note, aquatic, and something that smells kinda like basil without being bitter. It has a vague tinny quality that would make it suitable for the Steamworks line, but also something that reminds me of smooth, light-coloured wood.
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Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa's wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away. Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black leather, dusty rags, and wooden switches. straight sniff from bottle reminds me oh so much of my beloved anne bonny!!! patchouli and red musk...l-o-v-e it!!! OMG...ok, honestly...i was so afraid this would be in the same league as "rat king"...i did want to love rat king....really i did....but it was far too hot and peppery for me... this one is truly, truly nothing as is described...it is all sweet and thick and resinous in the most amazing way possible...after 30 minutes or so, something almost green & herbal...anyway, for those who know me, know my chemistry with leather can be nothing less than spectacular...meaning whatever the masses smell, i usually don't ... but i do know that krampus is amazing on me and i love it beyond belief....gah!!! :D ETA: in my haste and amazement of this gorgeous scent, i found a misspelled word or two.....
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DIABLE EN BOÎTE The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd, How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids, To see the enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows, white and azure laced With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design, To note the chamber: I will write all down: Such and such pictures; there the window; such The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures, Why, such and such; and the contents o' the story. Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables Would testify, to enrich mine inventory. O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! And be her sense but as a monument, Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off: As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To the madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' the bottom of a cowslip: here's a voucher, Stronger than ever law could make: this secret Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? Why should I write this down, that's riveted, Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down Where Philomel gave up. I have enough: To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear; Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. One, two, three: time, time! - Iachimo, Cymbeline Act II, Scene 2 There are few things more disturbing than a Jack in the Box. A strangely sinister, unnerving holiday scent: redwood, bitter clove, tonka, hemp accord, and tobacco with peach blossom, black currant, and red musk. Oh no! I'm first on another Yule. In the bottle, it's very astringently medicinal. I was snorting so I could pick up what it reminded me of and it sort of burns at the back of the throat. Again, not what I was expecting when I ordered and not something I'd necessarily want to wear. But like with Yule Cat, I went ahead and put some on. Wet on skin: It's the red musk from Mircalla, but much smokier. Smoky is really the main thing I remember about first application. Drying: The smoky has wafted away and a dry wood is mostly prominent now. I really wish I knew what individual notes smell like instead of giving just general impressions. I don't know if this is the redwood or what. A sweetishness is still lurking, but it has a distinct woodiness. Specifically a dried out wood, not freshly chopped green wood. This stage gives me the impression it's just a tad on the masculine side. Much later this evening: All has settled down and Diable is just lovely. There's a soft sweetness to the deeper, rich tones of the scent that make it very wearable. I'm sure that has to be the peach blossom. Masculinity has went away and it's leaning more on the girly side now. Overall: I'm very happy that Diable hopped into my cart unsniffed. I've enjoyed all stages of this morpher and I don't plan on him just sitting around unworn. Added after I was thinking about it... I have a feeling that Diable will be supremely lovely with a bit of age.
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Out walking in the frozen swamp one grey day I paused and said, I will turn back from here. No, I will go on fartherand we shall see. The hard snow held me, save where now and then One foot went down. The view was all in lines Straight up and down of tall slim trees Too much alike to mark or name a place by So as to say for certain I was here Or somewhere else: I was just far from home. A small bird flew before me. He was careful To put a tree between us when he lighted, And say no word to tell me who he was Who was so foolish as to think what he thought. He thought that I was after him for a feather The white one in his tail; like one who takes Everything said as personal to himself. One flight out sideways would have undeceived him. And then there was a pile of wood for which I forgot him and let his little fear Carry him off the way I might have gone, Without so much as wishing him good-night. He went behind it to make his last stand. It was a cord of maple, cut and split And piledand measured, four by four by eight. And not another like it could I see. No runner tracks in this years snow looped near it. And it was older sure than this years cutting, Or even last years or the years before. The wood was grey and the bark warping off it And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle. What held it though on one side was a tree Still growing, and on one a stake and prop, These latter about to fall. I thought that only Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks Could so forget his handiwork on which He spent himself, the labour of his axe, And leave it there far from a useful fireplace To warm the frozen swamp as best it could With the slow smokeless burning of decay. - Robert Frost Bald cypress and Spanish moss, spatterdock and sundew. This is a beautiful woody, aquatic. It's a touch too strong for me. But on the right man it would be amazing!
