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BPAL Reviews: Obatala, Batty, Halloween: Montreal, The Seekim, The Changeling
OBATALA (GC, Excolo)
Obatala's ofrenda is soft, white and pure: milk, coconut meat, shea butter and cool, refreshing water.
In the vial: A sweet, cool, slightly damp scent that doesn't quite strike me as coconut, but could be milk, or coconut milk.
On me: Immediately on the skin there's a burst of buttery sweetness, not too thick, distinctly sweet. I find it difficult to describe what the scent matures into, and I think that's because I've never smelled shea butter—because this could well be it. It's a fleshy, full-bodied, palpable white scent, creamy, buttery, and sweetened but not foody; it stays on the safe side of cloying but is strangely oppressive. A white, milky scent seems like it should be faint, but this is anything but: throw if fairly low, but the scent itself is potent and powerful, intimating, like drowning in cream. I can't comment on wear-length—I'll wash it off instead.
Verdict: There's something here that I just can't tolerate—Obatala seems to do all the right things, but it overpowers and intimidates me with an unexpected smothering blanket of opaque, sweet, buttery milk. I've tested this twice now, and each time been surprised at the intensity and strangeness, and been forced to wash it off. This is definitely one for the swaps.
BATTY (LE, Dark Delicacies: Halloween 2011)
Dark and fuzzy, yet also dapper and debonair! If Fred Astaire was a werebat, he'd totally smell like this: dark chocolate, black oudh, tonka absolute, cassia, white oleander, sandalwood, and free-tailed bat musk.
In the vial: Strange to say, but it's almost a morpher. I get something masculine, then a hint of chocolate, then smoke, then a cologne/floral touch.
On me: Opens up as smoke and fuzzy musk, a deep warm scent. Then there's a hint of oleander and an encroaching generic floral perfume/cologne—and it never goes away. The cologne deepens out into something more masculine, refined, and dark, but it's at its heart a traditional drugstore scent, and stays that way indefinitely. Throw is low.
Verdict: Disappointed would be putting it mildly. There's a lot of promise in the vial, where I can smell almost all of the notes, but on the skin this is cologne all the way. It's a better cologne than I usually get from BPAL, but still nothing desirable or special. I may try this on fabric, to see if the vial complexity will sustain. But so far, Batty is headed to swaps.
2018 update: 2018 update: 7 years have done this some good. The chocolate has gained a stronger voice, and reminds me of The Seekim (cacao absolute, hay, black pepper, patchouli, and incense ash), a non-foodie, complicated cocoa which is spiced and dry. But Batty's cologne remains forefront, more overtly perfumey and masculine than The Seekim. "If Fred Astaire was a werebat" is a spot-on fit now.
HALLOWEEN: MONTREAL (LE, Pretty Indulgent: Halloween 2011)
Chimney smoke and woodstove fires, and all the classic scents of Halloween – loads of candy, leaves, cold earth, smashed pumpkins left over from Mat Night’s debauchery – are sharp and clear in the frosty air.
In the vial: Sweetish green sap with fruity undertones.
On me: Goes on as the outdoors—winter trees with a touch of dirt and green sap; warm, organic, but late season. There's some smoke in the background, warming up the organics, and pumpkin underneath, warm and round and orange-gold. As it dries down, it grows sweeter—not quite candy, although there may be a touch of it there, but a maple, sappy, organic sweetness, sticky and thick. The smoke and warmth dissipates, leaving a cooler-weather scent, but there's still some fruitiness, plenty of pumpkin and perhaps a touch of apple, to provide body. In both forms, Halloween: Montreal reminds me of Samhain—it's in the same family certainly: seasonal, outdoorsy but touched by foody elements, sappy and sweet. Montreal leans green and orange (pine sap, maple, pumpkin) where Samhain leans black and red (pine forests, apple), and Montreal lacks some of Samhain's complexity (I miss the smoke and spice of the earlier stages of the scent), but it well suits the description. Throw is moderate, but the oil is potent—it just takes a drop, and wear-length is going strong so far.
Verdict: As noted, I prefer the complexity of the scent's earlier stages. But the similarity to Samhain is telling—like Samhain, Montreal evokes human celebration on the edges of late autumn wilds. It's not as well refined a scent, but it still encapsulates a certain autumn experience. I'll be interested to see if it balances a bit better as it ages—the sappy sweetness can be a little heavy for me—but on the whole I quietly adore it.
THE SEEKIM (LE, Pickman Gallery: Seeking the Seekim I)
Cacao absolute, hay, black pepper, patchouli, and incense ash.
In the vial: Chocolate and vetiver. The cocoa absolute is thick, dark, and almost impossible to reintegrate into the oil.
On me: A hit of chocolate on the skin, which burns off to leave behind a beautiful mellow darkness—patchouli and ash (which leans towards full-on smoke as the scent wears) with a touch of warmth from the hay and pepper. The cocoa gives some lingering dark color and a bit of sweetness, with occasional appearances as an actual chocolate note, Boomslang-dark and beautiful—a pleasant surprise, as cocoa absolute usually vanishes on my skin. The Seekim already feels aged: it's warm and dark, smooth as smoke with slight powdery ashiness and a pepper kick, and beautiful beyond words. Scent-color is a deep smoked brown. Throw is moderate low, wear length is fairly long.
Verdict: I'm in love. Bless that I get nothing of the lemon others report, because The Seekim is a dream come true on my skin. The notes meld together into a rich dark warmth, more distinctly cocoa than I was expecting but far from foody. I may have to spring for a full bottle, because I think this will age like a dream—and I want to find out.
THE CHANGELING (LE, Pickman Gallery: Torment & Reverie)
Blonde wood, linen swaddling, pumpkin rind, and bourbon vanilla.
In the vial: A familiar cologney smell that I can't name. Woods? Linen?
On me: Bourbon vanilla as it goes on the skin, almost as dark and dirty as tobacco. About ten minutes later, an earthy pumpkin emerges, spicy and earthy, made that much darker by the bourbon vanilla. The scent has a surprising sweetness, thick and dark but not quite cloying, and a certain perfumey quality, especially in the throw. The background hides a dry/cologne note, somewhere between blonde wood and linen, which makes the scent a little airy and counteracts the dark spice of the pumpkin—and I don't love it for that. Throw is surprisingly high, and wearlength is incredible—but many hours in The Changling morphs into a pure perfumey, fruit-touched, insistent sweetness.
Verdict: I quite like The Changling for an hour of two, when the pumpkin emerges—the lean towards rind makes it dark, spicy, earthy, unique and quite lovely. But the occasional off note in the background keeps me from falling in love, and bourbon vanilla does its best to run away with the scent. For a few hours it's fine, casting a dark sweet dirty shadow over the scent, but the almost-cloying perfume that it becomes at the tail end of wear is frankly offputting—so much so that I washed it off. Aging may help the notes settle, and I'll hang on to my decant, but this is is more than a miss than a hit for me so far.
Obatala's ofrenda is soft, white and pure: milk, coconut meat, shea butter and cool, refreshing water.
In the vial: A sweet, cool, slightly damp scent that doesn't quite strike me as coconut, but could be milk, or coconut milk.
On me: Immediately on the skin there's a burst of buttery sweetness, not too thick, distinctly sweet. I find it difficult to describe what the scent matures into, and I think that's because I've never smelled shea butter—because this could well be it. It's a fleshy, full-bodied, palpable white scent, creamy, buttery, and sweetened but not foody; it stays on the safe side of cloying but is strangely oppressive. A white, milky scent seems like it should be faint, but this is anything but: throw if fairly low, but the scent itself is potent and powerful, intimating, like drowning in cream. I can't comment on wear-length—I'll wash it off instead.
Verdict: There's something here that I just can't tolerate—Obatala seems to do all the right things, but it overpowers and intimidates me with an unexpected smothering blanket of opaque, sweet, buttery milk. I've tested this twice now, and each time been surprised at the intensity and strangeness, and been forced to wash it off. This is definitely one for the swaps.
BATTY (LE, Dark Delicacies: Halloween 2011)
Dark and fuzzy, yet also dapper and debonair! If Fred Astaire was a werebat, he'd totally smell like this: dark chocolate, black oudh, tonka absolute, cassia, white oleander, sandalwood, and free-tailed bat musk.
In the vial: Strange to say, but it's almost a morpher. I get something masculine, then a hint of chocolate, then smoke, then a cologne/floral touch.
On me: Opens up as smoke and fuzzy musk, a deep warm scent. Then there's a hint of oleander and an encroaching generic floral perfume/cologne—and it never goes away. The cologne deepens out into something more masculine, refined, and dark, but it's at its heart a traditional drugstore scent, and stays that way indefinitely. Throw is low.
Verdict: Disappointed would be putting it mildly. There's a lot of promise in the vial, where I can smell almost all of the notes, but on the skin this is cologne all the way. It's a better cologne than I usually get from BPAL, but still nothing desirable or special. I may try this on fabric, to see if the vial complexity will sustain. But so far, Batty is headed to swaps.
2018 update: 2018 update: 7 years have done this some good. The chocolate has gained a stronger voice, and reminds me of The Seekim (cacao absolute, hay, black pepper, patchouli, and incense ash), a non-foodie, complicated cocoa which is spiced and dry. But Batty's cologne remains forefront, more overtly perfumey and masculine than The Seekim. "If Fred Astaire was a werebat" is a spot-on fit now.
HALLOWEEN: MONTREAL (LE, Pretty Indulgent: Halloween 2011)
Chimney smoke and woodstove fires, and all the classic scents of Halloween – loads of candy, leaves, cold earth, smashed pumpkins left over from Mat Night’s debauchery – are sharp and clear in the frosty air.
In the vial: Sweetish green sap with fruity undertones.
On me: Goes on as the outdoors—winter trees with a touch of dirt and green sap; warm, organic, but late season. There's some smoke in the background, warming up the organics, and pumpkin underneath, warm and round and orange-gold. As it dries down, it grows sweeter—not quite candy, although there may be a touch of it there, but a maple, sappy, organic sweetness, sticky and thick. The smoke and warmth dissipates, leaving a cooler-weather scent, but there's still some fruitiness, plenty of pumpkin and perhaps a touch of apple, to provide body. In both forms, Halloween: Montreal reminds me of Samhain—it's in the same family certainly: seasonal, outdoorsy but touched by foody elements, sappy and sweet. Montreal leans green and orange (pine sap, maple, pumpkin) where Samhain leans black and red (pine forests, apple), and Montreal lacks some of Samhain's complexity (I miss the smoke and spice of the earlier stages of the scent), but it well suits the description. Throw is moderate, but the oil is potent—it just takes a drop, and wear-length is going strong so far.
Verdict: As noted, I prefer the complexity of the scent's earlier stages. But the similarity to Samhain is telling—like Samhain, Montreal evokes human celebration on the edges of late autumn wilds. It's not as well refined a scent, but it still encapsulates a certain autumn experience. I'll be interested to see if it balances a bit better as it ages—the sappy sweetness can be a little heavy for me—but on the whole I quietly adore it.
THE SEEKIM (LE, Pickman Gallery: Seeking the Seekim I)
Cacao absolute, hay, black pepper, patchouli, and incense ash.
In the vial: Chocolate and vetiver. The cocoa absolute is thick, dark, and almost impossible to reintegrate into the oil.
On me: A hit of chocolate on the skin, which burns off to leave behind a beautiful mellow darkness—patchouli and ash (which leans towards full-on smoke as the scent wears) with a touch of warmth from the hay and pepper. The cocoa gives some lingering dark color and a bit of sweetness, with occasional appearances as an actual chocolate note, Boomslang-dark and beautiful—a pleasant surprise, as cocoa absolute usually vanishes on my skin. The Seekim already feels aged: it's warm and dark, smooth as smoke with slight powdery ashiness and a pepper kick, and beautiful beyond words. Scent-color is a deep smoked brown. Throw is moderate low, wear length is fairly long.
Verdict: I'm in love. Bless that I get nothing of the lemon others report, because The Seekim is a dream come true on my skin. The notes meld together into a rich dark warmth, more distinctly cocoa than I was expecting but far from foody. I may have to spring for a full bottle, because I think this will age like a dream—and I want to find out.
THE CHANGELING (LE, Pickman Gallery: Torment & Reverie)
Blonde wood, linen swaddling, pumpkin rind, and bourbon vanilla.
In the vial: A familiar cologney smell that I can't name. Woods? Linen?
On me: Bourbon vanilla as it goes on the skin, almost as dark and dirty as tobacco. About ten minutes later, an earthy pumpkin emerges, spicy and earthy, made that much darker by the bourbon vanilla. The scent has a surprising sweetness, thick and dark but not quite cloying, and a certain perfumey quality, especially in the throw. The background hides a dry/cologne note, somewhere between blonde wood and linen, which makes the scent a little airy and counteracts the dark spice of the pumpkin—and I don't love it for that. Throw is surprisingly high, and wearlength is incredible—but many hours in The Changling morphs into a pure perfumey, fruit-touched, insistent sweetness.
Verdict: I quite like The Changling for an hour of two, when the pumpkin emerges—the lean towards rind makes it dark, spicy, earthy, unique and quite lovely. But the occasional off note in the background keeps me from falling in love, and bourbon vanilla does its best to run away with the scent. For a few hours it's fine, casting a dark sweet dirty shadow over the scent, but the almost-cloying perfume that it becomes at the tail end of wear is frankly offputting—so much so that I washed it off. Aging may help the notes settle, and I'll hang on to my decant, but this is is more than a miss than a hit for me so far.