The scent of warm, glowing jack o’lanterns on a warm autumn night: true Halloween pumpkin, spiced with nutmeg, glowing peach and murky clove.
In the Imp: OH YEAH! PUMPKIN PIE IN YOUR FACE!
On Me: Nooooo! Peaches! Why is there peaches in my perfect pumpkin pie?
On My Son: Hey Mom, remember that weird movie about Oz and a flying, talking couch?
My Son: Wasn’t the “guy” that helped Dorothy called Jack?
My Son: I think someone stole his cologne.
My Son everyone! He’s here every evening after school. Try the pizza rolls!
Sea spray with an undercurrent of leather, Bay Rum, and salty, dry woods.
In the Imp: Pirate ship.
On My Son: It’s a Pirate Ship! Mine! Queue up the music folks, getting a review will be challenge level six!
“Rum punch is not improperly called Kill-Devil; for thousands lose their lives by its means. When newcomers use it to the least excess, they expose themselves to imminent peril, for it heats the blood and brings on fevers, which in a very few hours send them to their graves.”
Sugar cane, molasses, oak wood, and honey.
In the Imp: Yo-ho, Yo Ho…
On Me: More Pirate scents…
On My Son: Yet another to add if I want to smell like Captain Jack Sparrow…and you have the HG too.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And ‘mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And ‘mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ‘twould win me
That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Through sunlit caves of ice, roses unfurl amidst dancing waves of serpentine opium smoke and amber tobacco, golden sandalwood, champaca, tea leaf, sugared lily, ginger, rich hay absolute, leather, dark vanilla, mandarin, peru balsam, and Moroccan jasmine.
In the Imp: One of my favourite poems as perfume. Citrusy, Floral, woodsy, even a hint gourmand… Masculine, Feminine.
On Me: One of the first poems I ever recited in school. Teachers loved it, classmates did not…because it was a huge long dramatic piece. Opium, Pipe Tobacco, Leather, twisted into woods and heady florals. No notes dominate, and it’s balanced, and crosses so many categories to be magnificent. I love it.
On My Son: It’s odd, but I kind of like it, and the poem. She read it without looking at a copy, that’s neat.
**Indulgent scents were acquired from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab by me or our friends. Reviews are thanks and appreciation.**