Okay, yes. Beetroot is weird–an undead gourmand?!– but it’s interesting.
Begins with a big shovelful of the same dusty soil opening that Zoologist Bat has, cellar dry, and cool. The sweet notes in the middle are an hour or so of white sugar–granulated crystals without fruit or flowers or spice–oddly earthy in its purity, and rather fun. The end lasts another two hours, a smudge of dirt on the skin, with subtle smoke that reminds me of Tank Battle.
Not one for daily wear, but I’ll douse myself in it for the local Zombie Shuffle next Halloween.
Now this is what a Halloween fragrance should be–weird, earthy, evocative, and tricky sweet.
TokyoMilk Dark #17 lists Absinthe, Vanilla Salt, Cut Greens, and Crushed Fennel on the bottle–and Arsenic lives up to that, and more.
Wormwood out of the bottle, a satisfying poison green, with a bit of dusty white frosting, both edible and stand-offish. A twitch of licorice keeps it fresh and fun for several hours at the edge of social distance, and then slides down to intimate space with intoxicating herbal green woods and mineral salts–the the kind that smell a bit sour and glitter when the light hits them right–until the next morning.
The sweeter top notes linger longer on hair and silk, and the bottom blooms brilliantly in a steaming bath (or cauldron.) Compelling and sexy. Leans to the warlock section of the spell-book.
Opens with nice earthy vodka that definitely makes one think of root vegetables, but then it warms up and the roses bloom on woody stems–sweet, pretty, and strange, with a hint of smoke in the distance.
Intriguingly genderless. In the daytime it’s cheerful–sun on fresh turned soil and trained florid roses. At night it seems Gothic–a vampire graveyard, and coolly seductive. Lasts four hours or so in personal space, with faint trails on cuffs. I like it very much.
(I have no idea what beetroot has to do with Kyoto, but I’ve never been.)
The Cure’s Kyoto Song probably has as much authentic ties to Japan as this scent, but it has some of the same dark emo vibes.
Nice. Fanghorn is a bit brighter than Murkwood and less sweet, with an earthy forest floor petrichor replacing the myrrh and incense. Realistic pine in a summer rainstorm for an hour, then green lichen on the skin for the rest of the day. Semi-permanent on cotton, with the wet fir opening.
I’m so disappointed. Sea-buckthorn, sanddorn (Swedish), argousier (French), or seaberry, is a creamy lemony pungent berry, close to a cranberry in texture and tartness.
The Old Whaling Co.’s version–a kid’s Body Shop strawberry and raspberry jam mashed with chalk and rose–was named by someone who has never touched, seen, eaten, or smelled a real seaberry.
Their Mariner’s Moon candle sounds nice.
Shanty-Tok was a wave of communal Covid-19 art, when musicians discovered the looping possibilities of the TikTok social media app, and combined it with sea shanty folk songs. The Wellerman was the best, started by Nathan Evans.
Margot Elena lists notes of mineral salts, fresh water, turned earth, and white woods–which adds up somehow to sweet seaweed.
Opens with an aquatic fruity green note that stays wet for an hour before sinking into the skin with a faint wave of salty driftwood. The solid is sheer, without much projection, but this is one I wouldn’t want to douse myself with–I think it could easily turn brackish and swampy.
Simple, amiable and unisex. Good for reminiscing about seaside vacations, but collectors’ prices seem high for those memories.
This smells like a flirtation at the race track on a sunny day–with a tumbler full of Gin & Juice on the side.
Delightfully bitter citrus, and ebony black oily resins–new tires and gear oil and leather and asphalt, all inky surfaces that get a touch of sweetness as they heat up–that stay close to the skin for the afternoon.
It’s weird but fun, and I really like the dichotomy of it. Minerals gone organic and wild and dark, but bright and warm at the same time, and strangely inviting.
Leans masculine, but I’d wear it on high heel boot days–definitely on the Want-a-Full-Bottle list, and now I’m curious about the rest of the line.
One part Beefeater’s gin, three parts Ruby Red grapefruit juice. Pour over good ice and garnish with lime.
The ad copy says “smooth creamy warming” but I get “edge of the forest hermit.”
The first spray is a burst of sour citrus and vegetables with herbs, in a messy sun-drenched garden way, then everything gets spicy, woody cloves and earthy peppercorns for an hour on the skin. The end is a slow fade of soft with smoky firewood that’s still a bit too green to burn.
I’d really enjoy this on a guy, which is funny, because the guy said he’d enjoy it on me.