This one smells oddly like…
Toast that’s had a burnt crust scraped off, peppery citrus grilled on a cedar plank, melon on the side.
It’s like a savory gourmand–
but it works, in a honeymoon morning, cabin-in-the-woods kind of way.
So Lolita Lempicka ran off and joined a coven, and came back organic and amazing.
Sugary licorice and lemonade top notes that last for hours, resin and burnt caramel all night long.
Bonfire dancing, bohemian patchouli flirting and aniseed incantations at midnight. Wakes in the morning still smelling of fairy sin on the skin.
Brash, pansexual and gorgeous.
The solid is tamed down–the gateway drug version–more secretive, the sweetness hiding in leather. I love it no less.
The soap shingle might not be the best way to test, but it’s fun. I get honey tempered with burnt cedar in the suds, and sweet resinous spice on the rinse.
I like the chocolate licorice accord, though any Lolita Lempicka Noir does it better.
Not for me, but pleasant enough to sit next to on a long bus ride.
If dolls could fart marshmallows, they’d smell like this.
A loud pbthpbthpbth of sweet plastic esthers–almost an artificial banana–then greasy coconut oil that dries down to diaper powder and decomposing Barbies left in the sun.
Weirdly sticky (and very synthetic for a LUSH scent) and lasts forever.
I tested this one in the store, and loved the cloves–it faded to spiced coffee on the skin after a few hours, but I huffed my wrist all evening–and the next day I went back for a bottle.
Maybe the weather had changed, but the woodsy notes wound up being more than I bargained for, too green, too feral-tree-sprite than the Turkish cafe I thought I was getting.
I gave it my brother, who can pull off forest faun with just a smirk.
It suits him.
Rain on tree-lined streets, organic and urban at the same time.
A huge foggy opening of oak bark and oakmoss and oak-y sweet clary sage that calms down quickly to powdery ash and sweet orange flower water.
Ambiguous and androgynous, city gardens and paved forests. I like it on other people.
A blast of jasmine and frangipani that melds into an almost edible sweet spice. The tuberose keeps it more floral than gourmand, with a sharp green edge.
On me, the solid perfume settles to the skin with creamy vanilla after an hour.
I’d rather this one in an incense stick, to burn behind a beaded curtain while drinking Indian tea.