a true doll fragrance
my childhood bedroom, the walls painted a sparkly lavender, the rug beneath me fuzzy and plush. there are ladybugs huddled together on my windowsill, and I ask them their opinion on the french braid I have given my bratz doll.
I'm a big fan of doll scents, and I think dolly does it best. it has that childish, plasticy undertone of the doll mist from boy smells that I love so much, the powdery lipstick and heliotrope/almost strawberry candy of pink bedroom oil from marissa zappas, and that uncanny, lactic quality of doliphor from marlou. it is soft and sweet and nostalgic, and though it's not something I would reach for enough to justify a full bottle of, I think it's beautifully done
serenity in a bottle
oud pagode invokes the feeling of doing yoga near a pond full of lily pads, meditating at dawn, setting your intentions with moonwater and charged crystals. it is a fragrance to calm the nervous system and soothe the soul. a bit starchy from the rice powder, green despite not really having any green notes. the black tea is iced and ceremonial. I wore this one for a week straight after a devastating breakup, when all I could do was hike along beautiful creeks and cry. powdery, verdant, perfect for warmer weather
quintessential leather jacket
hot older leatherbutch smoking a cigarette outside of the lesbian bar: when I graduated college you were thirteen isn't that weird
me, so drunk I can't stand straight, lipstick smeared all over my mouth: can yuo put that out on me please
tldr; smoky and powdery, one of those flickering neon lights with a woman's leg and stiletto-clad foot waving, kink night at the dyke bar, a butchfemme fragrance if I have ever smelled one
sex pollen
horny nymph nectar. syrupy, animalic, so sweet it rots your teeth out. raw honey right from the source, cherry juice flushing your lips and cheeks. this is a perfume for someone who wants raw feminine sex appeal. for some reason it makes me think of a beautiful, naked elven woman approaching you in the arbor wilds of orlais, which is very specific and niche imagery, but if you get it you get it
a perfume for artemis
damp soil on your bare feet, stained white linen dresses, a shared silver dagger. part of the ritual is indulgence, and so you mush ripe fig between your fingers until it is pulpy and feast under the full moon with your huntress sisters. ridiculously beautiful soil scent with a genius hazelnut note
