more zomg

[st_emma]

It is probably painfully apparent that I'm developing a minor scent addiction here. But when the February 7 limited editions came out - perfectly timed for my b-day - I saw the notes for Giant Garden Slug and had to get it. And, naturally, a few other things as well. This is how they get you, I am aware.



Giant Garden Slug. In the bottle, this is the scent of a damp mulch pile. On my skin, it is a west coast rainforest after a gentle March rain: mulch, loam and evergreen needles. Granted, is not every day that one wants to smell like mulchy rainforest, but for those days, Giant Garden Slug is the way to go. Awesome, very seasonally springtime, and one of my absolute favourites.

Theopatra. This was supposed to be a blend of wheat beer and chocolate, but on my skin all I got was chocolate. It's a really great-smelling chocolate, to be sure, but I was hoping for more than just that one note. About five hours later, it developed just the tiniest hint of wheaty beerness. I was hoping for more beer.

The Large Hadron Collider Produces a Strangelet. Imagine a bizarre, yet somehow delectable, minty lettuce/lime soda that doubles as an energy drink, and which comes with a warning that if you have too many too quickly, you will become hyper, verging on the manic. Strangelet smells exactly like that, for about an hour. Then it becomes slightly soapy before morphing back into a much calmer soda. Intriguing!

Snail Fur. A lovely, delicate melange of musk, with just the tiniest clove-y kick to it. Gorgeous and subtle.

That Dream Where You're Naked at School. One of the things I love about ZOMG Smells is the names they give their scents. I chose this one today because it's a gorgeous summery day and this seemed like it would be a gorgeous summery scent - and it was! It's a very 'naked' scent in that it doesn't really seem like you're wearing scent at all until you turn your head slightly and are greeted with just the faintest whiff of amber, grapefruit and grass, augmented by just the teensiest floral note. Fresh, green and lovely.

The Melancholy Death of Nikola Tesla. Patchouli, sandalwood, and just the merest hint of violet buried beneath a cloud of industrial smoke. I realize that sounds hideous, but it's not. It's really, really not. It's dark and brooding and damaged and not entirely unsexy.

Heian-kyo. In the bottle, it was mostly cedar and aloe, but on my skin, the clove and cinnamon popped out, adding a spicy little kick to a bed of mostly cedar.