Perfume Reviews

Reviews by iobhai

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Total Reviews: 52
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51 pour Femme by Roja Dove

You're struck. Sent into a feminine coma. Heaven absolute. You arrive at a nebulous cloud, paralyzed, and your knees give out. Flower petals start to lightly tumble down around you, and trees gently sway in a wind off in the distance, their rustling leaves making the only sound. Stars twinkle silently beyond the swirling mountains of the pink nimbus, and you can't help but gasp. Your soulmate comes up from behind you and traces your aching joints with her fingers before pulling the softest casmir blanket around you. She embraces you underneath it, holds you, kisses you, and she tastes warm, with vanilla, and raspberries, and light creamy spices, and you don't want this moment to end. Ugh ugh ugh. 51 Pour Femme by Roja Dove.
10th March, 2018
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Atropa Belladonna by Shay & Blue

You've escaped to the woods with your lover for a picnic and it starts to rain. Together, you laugh and giggle as you splash your way over to some leaning trees for shelter. It turns out that she had grabbed dessert before leaving your spot: fresh blackberries dipped in vanilla creme. After you both stop laughing and you eventually catch your breath, with the rain still dripping from your faces, she looks deep into your eyes, puts one of the blackberries in her mouth, and shares it with you through a kiss. Atropa Belladonna by Shay & Blue London.
25th February, 2018
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Beloved Woman by Amouage

You're at a tea party in the early afternoon. It's the spring of 1871, and your servants are pouring fresh chamomile tea for you and your girlfriends. You breathe deeply and absorb the blooming rose garden around you, picking out the speckled lavender flowers and ferns in your mind. As you all chat and laugh together, dusty incense dances off of your Victorian dresses, reminding you of the Catholic mass you had all just attended that morning. Beloved Woman by Amouage.
25th February, 2018
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Jubilation 25 by Amouage

You're Hernán Cortés, the Spanish conquistador. You've just returned home to Spain, exhausted from your expeditions in the Maya lowlands, where you visited Nojpetén with Kan Ek'. It's now 1528, and your arrival at Charles V's courts has brought so much attention that there are hordes and hordes of guests already there wanting to witness your presence. The men tip their helmets in congratulations, the women and the children smother you with countless roses and other flowers, and the Catholic priests, dusted with incense from the morning mass, embrace you and anoint you for your miraculous victory in New Spain. Upon finishing your entrance, you bow at the feet of the king with your servants, as they open a wooden box containing a vial of sap extracted from the Mayan tree of life. King Charles is naturally curious about your offering and he agrees to sample a taste, but only on one condition: you, Hernán Cortés, must prove that it isn't poisoned. You pause for a moment to think about it, and the guards brandish their weapons, your refusal warranting your death. You decide to go ahead and take a drink, truly deafened by the silence in the room and a bit unsure of yourself. You roll the sap in your mouth, it's a thick consistency with a sweet and bitter flavor that reminds you of a honeyed resin, perhaps similar to myrrh. It's not altogether the most unpleasant experience you've had, and you lap your lips and check your person, excited to find out that you're still alive. Your survival greatly pleases the king, and you turn around to the guards sheathing their weapons and the crowds erupting into jubilation. Jubilation 25 by Amouage.
25th February, 2018
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Figment Woman by Amouage

You've just arrived in Chinatown for a secret wedding, and you're helping the florist unload a truckload of lilies and gardenias. You carry them with her through a smoky Asian restaurant where they're cooking peppery beef and sweet & sour chicken, and you go downstairs to the wedding hall. Figment Woman by Amouage.
25th February, 2018
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Lyric Woman by Amouage

You've just had sex in a rose garden. For a moment, both you and your lover are speechless, caught in a moment staring into each other's eyes. After some time, she rolls over, but you grab her and pull her close and she laughs as you spoon her. She runs her fingers along your arm, and through the soft fur of the wolf pelts covering the earth beneath you. You press your nose into the back of her neck and you smell her sweat, detecting the vanilla coffee that her servants prepared for her that morning, the cinnamon and the sweet spices from her escorted walk through the markets that afternoon, the bit of smoke from the men's cigars at the polo game that followed. She moves to get up and dress, and you understand that it's your time to leave. Before you go, she leaves you with a kiss, and you notice that your clothes, too, have absorbed all of the scents from that moment in her rose garden. Her guards follow you back to your horse, and you wonder if, or when, you'll get invited back to see your queen again. Lyric Woman by Amouage.
25th February, 2018
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Epic Woman by Amouage

You're in Egypt on one of the hottest days of the year, near the desert, standing around in some tall grass that seems to only help you boil under the sun. You're part of your brother's wedding party and you're getting ready to pose for some wedding photos, taking a smoke break. You're reminded of how his bride is obsessed with roses when the florist arrives and starts unpacking them. She hands the rose boutonnieres to you so you can pin them to your suits and she hands the rose bouquets to the bridesmaids, who begin smelling them and breathing in their chilled freshness, hoping it will help them cool down in the heat. Once you're all situated, the photos begin, and you all do your poses for the photographer, trying to stay as still as possible. In that stillness, you notice that there's no breeze, just the heat of the desert, the steaming grass, your uncomfortable sweaty suits, the light cigarette smoke lingering in the air above them, the roses perspiring on them.. but you also notice the sweetness convecting off of the bridesmaids, and you smile. Epic Woman by Amouage.
25th February, 2018
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Ciel Woman by Amouage

You're a butterfly, the white pieris rapae, fluttering on a soft breeze. It's a cool morning, but the sun is peeking out to warm your delicate wings as you fly between dew-soaked water lilies, violets, and gardenias. Some gentle winds pass through the swaying trees of the woods nearby and over the other waking insects towards you, and as you look up at the blue sky, you haven't a care in the world. Ciel Woman by Amouage.
25th February, 2018
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Memoir Woman by Amouage

You're 23 years old and you're visiting your girlfriend's apartment. It's the middle of sunny day, but her windows are covered with black-out curtains, darkening the room. She's burning some sticky incense on her dresser near a vase of dying roses that you had gotten her a few weeks ago. She's wearing Pomegranate Burt's Bees Lip Balm, and you can taste it as you share a sweet clove cigar together and watch these bright lines of light escape through her curtains and pass through the smoke to dance on her ceiling. She lays her head on your chest while you slowly run your fingers through her vanilla hair. Memoir Woman by Amouage.
25th February, 2018
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White Aoud by Montale

You're a biologist working overseas. You're in a white lab, wearing a white lab coat and white latex gloves, sitting under a white light. You're at a microscope, inspecting different bark and root cultures dissected from some ancient trees newly discovered at the edge of a mountain range in Malaysia. Out of nowhere, you get a phone call from your lover, and you step outside the white tent to take it. He's standing right there, between you and the sun, surprising you with a bouquet of roses. He grabs you and lifts you off the ground while you're trying to figure out how he flew in to see you, how he even found your research outpost. You decide to break for lunch and together you hike over to a nearby saffron farm to have a meal. White Aoud by Montale.
25th February, 2018
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Korrigan by Lubin

You're a kitten, drinking sweet milk, snuggling up against your cat momma on the leather sofa, slowly purring your way to sleep. Korrigan by Lubin.
25th February, 2018
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Mûre et Musc by L'Artisan Parfumeur

You're bathing in a stream with a bar of Ivory soap while your clothes dry out in the sun, draped over some moss-covered stones. Mure et Musc by L'Artisan Parfumeur.
25th February, 2018
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Oud Palao by Diptyque

You're roughing it in a thick forest, setting up camp with your loved ones. It's late fall and it had been raining for the past few days, so your campsite is still damp all over. It's also dense with rotten, fallen tree trunks and dead leaves, which give you a thick and organic atmosphere. There aren't too many mosquitoes out, but you decide to plant some camphor candles to repel unwanted insects from trespassing. The ladies, who hate that smell, put out some tiny vanilla candles in an attempt to mask it. You shrug, wondering if that defeats the purpose, and you start to get to work on making a fire. You leave camp and quickly give up, disappointed in that you can only find damp logs and branches. After returning and dropping off your findings, you decide it's time to take a break. You unfold a chair and sit down, pull out a cigar, and run it under your nose. Oud Palao by Diptyche.
25th February, 2018
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A Taste of Heaven by By Kilian

You're in a barber shop getting prepped for a shave. You're near a mountain spring carving your initials on the side of a tree. You're at an ice cream parlor drinking a vanilla milkshake. A Taste of Heaven by By Killian.
25th February, 2018
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This Is Not A Blue Bottle by Histoires de Parfums

You're in a torture chamber getting stabbed in the face by knives covered in sharp and bitter orange juice, while also getting burned alive by a fire fueled by some really potent charred/smoked patchouli. You want to cry out, "Help!" but, you can't think of any words other than sharp ones, because everything, in this moment, is sharp. To finish you off, someone begins rubbing some thick honey into your wounds, and you pass out. This Is Not A Blue Bottle by Histoires de Parfums.
25th February, 2018
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Oud 27 by Le Labo

You're a rotting tree. When you were alive, you spent a few hundred years enjoying a peaceful and sumptuously windy existence. You would even boast to the other trees, because your leaves and branches were always plentiful, because wildlife from all over called you their home, because lovers even carved their names in your sides. Everything was perfect until insects found you and bored into you and began tearing you apart from inside. You loosened, and you crumbled, and your whole trunk broke off and fell to the ground. Do you remember watching it erode over time while you were left as a helpless, rotting stump? Currently, your existence is not a pretty one. Every day, you're plagued by incurable necrosis. Every day, you're sprayed with urine by all kinds of animals as they mark their territory. Every day, you're sent rose petals by the wind, as if it, too, mourned your death. Congratulations, tree. You have become the headstone to your own, sorry grave. Oud 27 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Rose 31 by Le Labo

You're a rose, soaked in formaldehyde, preserved in a glass jar. Your jar is left in a dusty, abandoned workshop, and your only visitors are rodents, which seem to drop in whenever they feel the need to mark their territory. Your existence is timeless, sure, but also sour and deservedly forgotten. Rose 31 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Bergamote 22 by Le Labo

You're out adventuring and you come across an abandoned train car. You climb inside and you're immediately surrounded with rusty steel and all sorts of graffiti. After taking a look around, you find that it's mostly empty, except for an assortment of overturned industrial cleaners and a small patch of orange blossoms growing in corner. Bergamote 22 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Vetiver 46 by Le Labo

You're a piece of pork. You're soaked in a pork rub made out of vanilla extract and baby powder, then smoked over a grassy fire and marinated with cold cucumber slices. Hey, don't ask me, it's what the customer ordered. Vetiver 46 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Lys 41 by Le Labo

You're drinking a Vanilla Coke in a blooming garden of white flowers in the middle of the woods. Lys 41 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Fleur d'Oranger 27 by Le Labo

You're a bee, and you're munching on an enormous orange blossom. The citrus nectar is bright and sweet to your little bee tastebuds, so you keep digging until you've had your fill. Before long, you're so covered in the blossom's sticky, sweet, and powdery pollen that your wings are unable to flutter, and you're blown off in a breeze. You tumble towards the ground while slowly realizing that your final days on earth will be spent becoming a sweet and sticky powder yourself. Fleur d'Oranger 27 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Neroli 36 by Le Labo

You're a steel bucket, with bits of rust here and there, and you're sitting in a wet garden filled with jasmine flowers. Inside your oxidized steel frame, you're holding a batch of Fleur d'Oranger 27 by Le Labo. Your existence is dull, albeit a bit more pleasant, but unfortunately just as unwanted. Neroli 36 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Jasmin 17 by Le Labo

You're visiting the city dog pound, and you forget to bring a clothespin for your nose. You decide to carry on and suffer through it, finding the perfect (smelly) dog. When you get back to the car with your new malodorous family member, you crumble. You can't take it any longer and you need to neutralize the smell somehow. You start digging through your purse and your glovebox and you magically discover a bottle of Neroli 36 by Le Labo. Alright, so, in this moment, you think it's a good idea, but let's be frank: you're not thinking clearly. You spray it anyways, and neither you nor your doggie makes it home in one piece. Jasmin 17 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Ylang 49 by Le Labo

You're a gardenia flower, standing upright in a mostly dead garden of cucumbers and weeds. You're a millenial, tired of the hashtags, rebelling against your Instagram feed and spilling your bottle of Santal 33 by Le Labo all over the ground as you stand in a garden of white flowers. You're a chef salad (without the croutons) minding your own business when suddenly a teenager spills Coca-Cola all over you. Ylang 49 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Thé Noir 29 by Le Labo

You're sitting in time-out wondering why you're munching on some sour Fig Newtons, drinking sour rosewater, and sitting on some sour, wet hay in a stuffy barn. The Noir 29 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Ambrette 9 by Le Labo

You're a sharp pear, pressed, juiced, diluted with sweet and sweaty breast milk, and then fed to a baby. Your existence is brief, lukewarm, and unremarkable. Ambrette 9 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Labdanum 18 / Ciste 18 by Le Labo

You're a baby. Yeah, you're a baby and helplessly covered in baby powder, and for some reason the family cat keeps wanting to mark you as part of her litter or as part of her territory (or something like that). You find it hard to breathe, almost constantly, and your mom, who smells of vanilla body lotion and hand soap, has no idea. The powder follows you wherever you're carried. Your existence is suffocating. Labdanum 18 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Iris 39 by Le Labo

You're deep in the city, on a rainy day, chasing your cat, and you definitely don't have time for this. You're led to a tiny alcove off of what seems like an abandoned alley, and you discover a garden filled with violet flowers. It's also filled with weeds, and a bunch of stray cats, and it's starting to get flooded with acid rain. You wonder if you should head back home, leaving your cat with its new tribe. Iris 39 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Patchouli 24 by Le Labo

You're a product consultant and you've just stepped foot into a niche slaughterhouse to critique some liquid smoke products while you try them on some fresh pork. The place is pretty grim and you can hear squealing off in the distance, but you're pretty hyped to taste the bacon. For some reason, though, instead of participating in any taste tests, you're taken down to a grimy, morgue-like dungeon area, where a foul-smelling, ashy cremation of some diseased pigs is going on, bones and all. You didn't ask to be made an involuntary guest on a new exposé helmed by PETA, but here you are. Patchouli 24 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018
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Santal 33 by Le Labo

You're a rabbit. You live in a dead garden. Your entire diet consists of unremarkable weeds, poison ivy/oak/sumac, and the occasional poisonous flower blossom. But, this isn't just any garden, because its owner decided to plant a bunch of cucumbers this year. So, you're a rabbit. You live in a mostly dead garden. Your entire diet consists of raw cucumbers, unremarkable weeds, poison ivy/oak/sumac, and the occasional poisonous flower blossom. The best part is that every so often you get to munch on all of these things after they've been spritzed with an insecticide. Santal 33 by Le Labo.
25th February, 2018