Latest User Reviews

A vanilla bean moonbeam threads its way through a labyrinth of mirrors. Silken jasmine vines unravel from the moon's negligee, weaving themselves into a veil that drapes across sleeping cities. A silvered net catching soft, pale fragments of dreams - a half-remembered kiss, the touch of cool desert air, the rustle of invisible wings. A drop of liquid light falls through layers of reality, a holy garland of tears and stardust-dappled night blooms. The slow stretch of time across a lunar landscape, captured in a sleepy smoked amber glass.

In the depths of the thicket, juicy purple orbs split open, birthing a swarm of cooing, jellied creatures that multiply with alarming speed. Sticky berry nectar drips from gnarled branches, transforming these chirping morsels into mischievous imps that skitter through the underbrush, their numbers doubling with each twig they snap. Ancient trees groan under the weight of the burgeoning horde, their woody sighs mingling with the fruity frenzy. The forest floor pulses, a living carpet of vegetation that shivers and expands, sprouting more berry-scented fiends with each quiver. Every breath draws in air thick with frenetic, fragrant energy as these jammy juggernauts overrun the woodland, their sweet symphony rising to a fever pitch. The once-serene grove twists into an ever-expanding maze of berry-fueled bedlam, leaving visitors dizzy in a haze of multiplying aromas and rambunctious, fruit-filled pandemonium.

Beelzebub thunders into Bike Week, his presence a tempest of lime and leather. Ancient wings, creased like a well-worn jacket, flex as he grips chrome handlebars slick with condensation from his frosty margarita. The air crackles with a zesty electricity, mixing citrus sting with infernal heat in a heady cocktail. Beneath his wheels, the earth exhales a deep, earthy groan - a mix of smoke and unholy soil that speaks of vast, wicked subterranean realms. At the edge of town, he pulls into a ubiquitous coffee franchise, the aroma of seasonal vanilla latte cutting through the infernal haze. The barista, unfazed by the sulfurous fumes, squints at the order screen and asks with practiced cheer, "Is that for Beelz, or is it Bub?" The Lord of Flies accepts his steaming cup, his "thanks, babe" shrieking out in a voice that's part anglerfish daydreams, part chiropteran echolocation. With a final rev that sounds like the gates of hell grinding open, Beelzebub toodles off into the sunset, leaving behind a trail of vanilla-tinged brimstone and the faintest whiff of lime-kissed leather.

I've spent countless YouTube hours watching travelers wind their way through Japan's remote mountains in search of hidden onsen. Macaque conjures what I imagine in those moments before slipping into these natural hot springs: that sharp intake of breath as mountain air fills the lungs, a bracing brightness that stings like citrus without any trace of sweetness. Then comes the dry herbal/woody medicinal presence of cypress wood warming in the sun, and finally, the contemplative drift of incense carried on thermal currents. Its smoke is different here - softened and diffused by rising steam until it becomes almost tactile, like silk suspended in air. There's something sacred in this solitude of smoke and steam, something that recalls the aftermath of a hot shower but earthier, more ancient - less about soap than the quiet ritual of purification, with just a whisper of mineral-rich air. The lasting impression is of warmth remembered rather than felt, like late afternoon sun lingering after the day has begun to cool.

No. 23 from Fischersund is a densely tarry and leathery scent, charred wood and peppery smoke, that dries in your hair like green, aromatic moss and balsamic fir needles and pine. It also makes me think of salty licorice and hangikjöt —but not candy and actual smoked meat, really. More like a bitter, herbal chewiness, and scorched and smoldering birch and juniper and the ghost of blistered proteins? It’s stygian, enigmatic, and bleak, and maybe this is what my doppelgänger who just climbed out of the Katla ash storms and trekked through the Jordskott forest smells like. (I realize with those references I’m mixing together both Icelandic and Swedish creeping horror —catastrophic supernatural volcanoes and prophecies about evil forests—but whatever!)

This is an intoxicating scent. One that will remain the best JP DNA ever.

Surprisingly nice, very refreshing scent for summer. What's more surprising, is that I can smell it on my skin for longer than an hour.

Beautiful complex scent that develops and circles back over many hours.

Starts off strong music, quite anamalic.

Alongside this the beautiful vanilla and a stunning amber are dancing round florals and spice.

After many hours it turns into a beautiful amber musc on me.

The amber reminds me of Grand Soir. Beautiful, vibrant, and warm.

A cozy afternoon, a warm sweater, a walk in the forest.

At first spray it's almost mouth watering. Smells like its name suggests! Warm, smokey, ambery and sweet, a little fruity, whiskey!

Dries down on me as a honey tobacco. Possibly the immortelle?

Really love this one.

Kanami (香波) means "Fragrant Wave" in Japanese. It opens with a bold, monolithic floral scent that gradually reveals its individual notes of fresh jasmine, osmanthus, Kyoto rose, magnolia petals, and ylang. While the initial burst was too cloying for me, it dries down to something surprisingly watery and introspective.

Shiragoromo (白衣) means "White Clothes" in Japanese. My father is a Sumi ink artist, so to me the opening smells just like an ink stick —fragrant wood soot mixed with natural glue. As it unfolds, jasmine & rose add sweetness to the incense from agarwood. The agarwood in this makes it a traditionally East-Asian fragrance best suited for formal occasions.

Adameku (あだめく) means "Flirty/Coquette" in Japanese. A burst of extremely sweet orange, softened by jasmine & osmanthus. The combination creates a scent very similar to grape soda or fruit-flavored hard candy. If you've ever opened a tin of Sakuma Fruit Drops from the movie, Grave of the Fireflies, you will recognize this immediately. I do not detect any amber or resin.

Boyfriend says it smells like orange bathroom cleaner.

I bought this little vial at Whole Foods in high school. It was affordable and slightly more sophisticated than the popular, Warm Sugar Vanilla from Bath & Body Works. Equal parts vanilla sugar to musk, offering intimate sillage and a few hours of wear, before fading to a powdery musk.

Once again I’m finding myself experiencing same perfume in different season and it blew me away. It smells like the most beautiful lipstick in one sniff, then in another I get some cake-like sweetness. A touch of spice. It’s perfectly elegant, but still primal with the slightly animalic facets that Shalimar is known for. I’m obsessed!

A must have

This is absolutely stunning.

Warm, beautiful woods, a little boozy. Some sweetness and a zing.

Absolutely gorgeous scent. Glad I bought a bigger sample in anticipation.

How do I start so it doesn't sound ridiculous. Eve is a "perfume" perfume. But not in a clean and sweet "perfumey" sense, more in a "everyone will know you're wearing a perfume" sense. It's incredibly potent. What hits you first is a slightly fruity, spicy accord. The fruitiness lasts only a few minutes and then the scent takes a bit more powdery (heliotrope?), more mellow turn. But it by no means loses its power. I can hardly detect any vanilla, and if any vanilla can be smelled in Eve then it's surely not a sweet, gourmand one. What I can smell most of all is oud and patchouli, and the combination is fantastic and truly spellbounding. Incredibly sexy and unlike anything else I've ever smelled, I'm addicted!

When I imagine a woman who can have a look that would snatch a rich CEO and knows EXACTLY what she’s worth in the sexiest way, I think about those women from the opening scenes of The Devil Wears Prada…

You know, the ladies who put on all those outfits that would be described with words like, “chic” and “precision”?

Anyway, pretend we know that they’re in their late 20’s or early 30’s. That we know they’re very intelligent…but mysterious.

I think of Dior Poison.

I think of all black chic suits with Agent Provacateur lacy lingerie under that blazer, and stilettos clacking on that marble floor.

I think of a spontaneous candle lit dinner date and cloth napkins.

Because BR540 is for sugar babies, Santal 33 is for hipsters, Angel and Alien by Thierry Muglier and Aquolina’s Pink Sugar reminds me of being 21. We don’t do any of those. Bye Opium, we don’t have time for your cheap coffee grounds. We’re fiercely knowledgeable and the rest of you have no idea what we’re after.

Also if you don’t overspray and just do 1 hit behind the neck, Poison envelops you almost like a veil. It’s there, people know it is, but it isn’t going to ooze all over you like molasses.

A big throwback scent that reminds me of college. Now I’m a working gal in my 30’s and had repurchased their traditional rollerball oil. The cozy, clean, notes still melt well with my vibes and I couldn’t be happier. This fragrance is a safe-space in a bottle and lasts on my skin overnight.

While you can wear musk any season, I think Love by Auric Blends leans more spring just because of its clean and dryness.

Starts of warm and smokey with a punch of spice.

dries Down softer with more citrus and the boozy warmth coming through.

An incredible scent.

True to the line's DNA but with a lovely hit of mint.

With the other notes such as cocoa, it almost gives a candy cane vibe

It's spectacular, BUT only in colder months. I tried it first in summer and it didn't impress me at all. Now, when the weather is more appropriate, I just... fell in love with it. The incense is way more prominent on my skin, honey is also very detectable as a top note. It's slightly sweet, slightly burnt hay, slightly powdery. Amazing combination, somehow reminds me of childhood.

A beautiful fresh crisp apple mixed with other fresh fruit notes. Green and slightly peppery with a soapy clean quality. Absolutely beautiful scent.