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BPAL Reviews: The Gorobble, Al-Sharian, Brown Jenkins, Baghdad, Thirteen (White Label)
THE GOROBBLE (LE, Pickman Gallery: Seeking the Seekim I)
A scent redolent of the crusty exterior of burnt marshmallows.
In the vial: Thin and sweet.
On me: There's a strange fruitiness in this as it hits the skin, and it develops smokiness on drydown. It's a smooth but strong smoke over just a hint of something white and vaguely sweet: what it says on the tin, but I underestimated just how burnt it would be. The crusty exterior is a smooth, practiced vetiver, and the marshmallow beneath is surprisingly full-bodied with that lingering impression of fruit, but the combination lacks punch—I think the marshmallow wants more sweetness, to sell itself and to contrast against the smoke. Scent-color is gray. Throw is low.
Verdict: The Gorobble has more smoke than I expected, but I can rearrange my expectations to accommodate it—but even when I do, it doesn't quite work for me. The marshmallow beneath isn't quite convincing, and the contrast between fluffy sweetness and burnt exterior isn't as dynamic as I want. It's not bad, but I keep retesting and waiting for the scent to win my heart, and it's just not happening. One for the swaps.
AL-SHARIAN (GC, Excolo)
His scent is fiery, bright and thick with sweet sinfulness: clove, peach and orange with cinnamon, patchouli and dark incense notes.
A frimp from the lab.
In the vial: Warm, golden, sweet, with a touch of boozy fruit.
On me: Spice as it hits the skin, over a rich round peach; initially, this scent is round, bright, golden, and fruity counterpointed by a spicy, smoky warmth—there's something exotic about it, perhaps in the incense, and it's lovely. The fruitiness amps during drydown, and cinnamon triumphs over the clove, patchouli, and incense; the scent resolves to something pretty much matching the description, a bright, thick, sweep, warm fruity scent rouged with red spices, but it lacks the dark counterpoint of clove et a. Scent color is golden, yellow and red. Throw and wear length are both moderate.
Verdict: I want the cloves, patchouli, and incense to stick around. They're what makes the scent a success—the contrast they give to the bright fruits is tried and true but no less brilliant for that, and the incense gives a unique and exotic edge. But those notes die off, and what they leave behind is just cinnamon over fruit; it's vivid but lacks depth, and is too bright and fruity for my tastes. All in all this isn't a keeper, however promising its initial stages.
BROWN JENKINS (GC, A Picnic in Arkham)
A small, furry, sharp-toothed scent that will nuzzle you curiously in the black hours before dawn: dusty white sandalwood and orris root, dry coconut husk, creeping musk, and the residue of ceremonial incense.
A frimp from the Lab, but one that's been on my wishlist.
In the vial: I'd hazard sandalwood, orris, and musk—it's a familiar scent but hard to name, brown and organic.
On me: Goes on cologney and sweet, and has a frankly unlikable drydown period which takes too much from the coconut and hardly matches the description. When it does dry down, this is a barely sweet, fuzzy brown scent—more orris, sandalwood, and husk than musk, so there's not much of rats or mice here and instead the scent leans a bit vegetative; it's not as powdery as I had expected, but the coconut husk in particular well matches the scent-texture promised in the description. Scent-color is a moderate brown, not too dark or saturated. Throw is moderate.
Verdict: I get almost nothing in the way of musk or incense, but I want them there—I think they'd provide welcome balance and darkness to the scent, and lean it back towards animalic instead of vegetative. What I get from Brown Jenkin instead is only okay—I like it, but not nearly as much as I want to. I'll hang onto my imp for now and hope that aging brings out those other notes and improves the scent.
BAGHDAD (GC, Wanderlust)
Amber, saffron and bergamot with mandarin, nutmeg, Bulgar rose, musk and sandalwood.
In the vial: Sharp, warm, slightly medicinal; I feel like I should be able to name the note, but can't.
On me: Powdery amber and rose as it hits the skin—which does not bode well, as my skin loves rose a bit too much. As it dries down, there's a medicinal edge—perhaps bergamot, but more herbal and dry. It casts a sharp, herbal shadow over an otherwise traditional spectrum of amber and rose accompanied by musk and sandalwood, and there's also a touch of warmth in the saffron. Until this point the rose stays in check, but post-drydown it peers its head up and then there's no stopping it: next it's a powdery, tame rose with a backing of herbs and warmth; then it grows into rose, rose, just rose, fleshy and red and especially potent in the throw.
Verdict: Blame my skin, which almost always amps rose to terrifying levels. What Baghdad is until that happens is only okay, but I honestly can't judge the true nature of this scent. This is one for the swaps.
THIRTEEN (WHITE LABEL) (LE)
In our paean to all the mysteries surrounding this enigmatic number, there are thirteen lucky and unlucky components, including white chocolate, tangerine, currant, mandarin, white tea and iris.
An old, dried-out empty; I don't know how representative it is of the true oil.
In the vial: A familiar fruity sweetness; light, sweet, not too full-bodied.
On me: The same light fruity sweetness, eventually tempering out with a bit of herbs or tea—either way a drier, more herbal scent—and losing the aggressive sweetness which could easily be white chocolate. The fruit remains, tangerine with a touch of mandarin but not much currant, a light and bright fruit, not juicy but aromatic. The scent doesn't last long, an hour or three.
Verdict: Nothing to write home about, but then I'm not a fan of white chocolate or predominant fruits. This is a light, bright, colorful sort of scent; the initial sweetness is a bit oppressive, but without it the scent is just straightforward, if pleasant, bright fruits. It's not to my taste, and not something I need to seek out in any quantity.
A scent redolent of the crusty exterior of burnt marshmallows.
In the vial: Thin and sweet.
On me: There's a strange fruitiness in this as it hits the skin, and it develops smokiness on drydown. It's a smooth but strong smoke over just a hint of something white and vaguely sweet: what it says on the tin, but I underestimated just how burnt it would be. The crusty exterior is a smooth, practiced vetiver, and the marshmallow beneath is surprisingly full-bodied with that lingering impression of fruit, but the combination lacks punch—I think the marshmallow wants more sweetness, to sell itself and to contrast against the smoke. Scent-color is gray. Throw is low.
Verdict: The Gorobble has more smoke than I expected, but I can rearrange my expectations to accommodate it—but even when I do, it doesn't quite work for me. The marshmallow beneath isn't quite convincing, and the contrast between fluffy sweetness and burnt exterior isn't as dynamic as I want. It's not bad, but I keep retesting and waiting for the scent to win my heart, and it's just not happening. One for the swaps.
AL-SHARIAN (GC, Excolo)
His scent is fiery, bright and thick with sweet sinfulness: clove, peach and orange with cinnamon, patchouli and dark incense notes.
A frimp from the lab.
In the vial: Warm, golden, sweet, with a touch of boozy fruit.
On me: Spice as it hits the skin, over a rich round peach; initially, this scent is round, bright, golden, and fruity counterpointed by a spicy, smoky warmth—there's something exotic about it, perhaps in the incense, and it's lovely. The fruitiness amps during drydown, and cinnamon triumphs over the clove, patchouli, and incense; the scent resolves to something pretty much matching the description, a bright, thick, sweep, warm fruity scent rouged with red spices, but it lacks the dark counterpoint of clove et a. Scent color is golden, yellow and red. Throw and wear length are both moderate.
Verdict: I want the cloves, patchouli, and incense to stick around. They're what makes the scent a success—the contrast they give to the bright fruits is tried and true but no less brilliant for that, and the incense gives a unique and exotic edge. But those notes die off, and what they leave behind is just cinnamon over fruit; it's vivid but lacks depth, and is too bright and fruity for my tastes. All in all this isn't a keeper, however promising its initial stages.
BROWN JENKINS (GC, A Picnic in Arkham)
A small, furry, sharp-toothed scent that will nuzzle you curiously in the black hours before dawn: dusty white sandalwood and orris root, dry coconut husk, creeping musk, and the residue of ceremonial incense.
A frimp from the Lab, but one that's been on my wishlist.
In the vial: I'd hazard sandalwood, orris, and musk—it's a familiar scent but hard to name, brown and organic.
On me: Goes on cologney and sweet, and has a frankly unlikable drydown period which takes too much from the coconut and hardly matches the description. When it does dry down, this is a barely sweet, fuzzy brown scent—more orris, sandalwood, and husk than musk, so there's not much of rats or mice here and instead the scent leans a bit vegetative; it's not as powdery as I had expected, but the coconut husk in particular well matches the scent-texture promised in the description. Scent-color is a moderate brown, not too dark or saturated. Throw is moderate.
Verdict: I get almost nothing in the way of musk or incense, but I want them there—I think they'd provide welcome balance and darkness to the scent, and lean it back towards animalic instead of vegetative. What I get from Brown Jenkin instead is only okay—I like it, but not nearly as much as I want to. I'll hang onto my imp for now and hope that aging brings out those other notes and improves the scent.
BAGHDAD (GC, Wanderlust)
Amber, saffron and bergamot with mandarin, nutmeg, Bulgar rose, musk and sandalwood.
In the vial: Sharp, warm, slightly medicinal; I feel like I should be able to name the note, but can't.
On me: Powdery amber and rose as it hits the skin—which does not bode well, as my skin loves rose a bit too much. As it dries down, there's a medicinal edge—perhaps bergamot, but more herbal and dry. It casts a sharp, herbal shadow over an otherwise traditional spectrum of amber and rose accompanied by musk and sandalwood, and there's also a touch of warmth in the saffron. Until this point the rose stays in check, but post-drydown it peers its head up and then there's no stopping it: next it's a powdery, tame rose with a backing of herbs and warmth; then it grows into rose, rose, just rose, fleshy and red and especially potent in the throw.
Verdict: Blame my skin, which almost always amps rose to terrifying levels. What Baghdad is until that happens is only okay, but I honestly can't judge the true nature of this scent. This is one for the swaps.
THIRTEEN (WHITE LABEL) (LE)
In our paean to all the mysteries surrounding this enigmatic number, there are thirteen lucky and unlucky components, including white chocolate, tangerine, currant, mandarin, white tea and iris.
An old, dried-out empty; I don't know how representative it is of the true oil.
In the vial: A familiar fruity sweetness; light, sweet, not too full-bodied.
On me: The same light fruity sweetness, eventually tempering out with a bit of herbs or tea—either way a drier, more herbal scent—and losing the aggressive sweetness which could easily be white chocolate. The fruit remains, tangerine with a touch of mandarin but not much currant, a light and bright fruit, not juicy but aromatic. The scent doesn't last long, an hour or three.
Verdict: Nothing to write home about, but then I'm not a fan of white chocolate or predominant fruits. This is a light, bright, colorful sort of scent; the initial sweetness is a bit oppressive, but without it the scent is just straightforward, if pleasant, bright fruits. It's not to my taste, and not something I need to seek out in any quantity.