Reviews:Ecclesiastical Excesses, Fearful Pleasure, The Creeping Mist
ECCLESIASTICAL EXCESSES
Hark, Ambrosio, while I unveil your crimes! You have shed the blood of two innocents; Antonia and Elvira perished by your hand. That Antonia whom you violated, was your Sister! That Elvira whom you murdered, gave you birth! Tremble, abandoned Hypocrite! Inhuman Parricide! Incestuous Ravisher! Tremble at the extent of your offenses! And you it was who thought yourself proof against temptation, absolved from human frailties, and free from error and vice! Is pride then a virtue? Is inhumanity no fault? Know, vain Man! That I long have marked you for my prey: I watched the movements of your heart; I saw that you were virtuous from vanity, not principle, and I seized the fit moment of seduction. I observed your blind idolatry of the Madonna's picture. I bade a subordinate but crafty spirit assume a similar form, and you eagerly yielded to the blandishments of Matilda. Your pride was gratified by her flattery; Your lust only needed an opportunity to break forth; You ran into the snare blindly, and scrupled not to commit a crime which you blamed in another with unfeeling severity. It was I who threw Matilda in your way; It was I who gave you entrance to Antonia's chamber; It was I who caused the dagger to be given you which pierced your Sister's bosom; and it was I who warned Elvira in dreams of your designs upon her Daughter, and thus, by preventing your profiting by her sleep, compelled you to add rape as well as incest to the catalogue of your crimes. Hear, hear, Ambrosio! Had you resisted me one minute longer, you had saved your body and soul. The guards whom you heard at your prison door came to signify your pardon. But I had already triumphed: My plots had already succeeded. Scarcely could I propose crimes so quick as you performed them. You are mine, and Heaven itself cannot rescue you from my power. Hope not that your penitence will make void our contract. Here is your bond signed with your blood; You have given up your claim to mercy, and nothing can restore to you the rights which you have foolishly resigned. Believe you that your secret thoughts escaped me? No, no, I read them all! You trusted that you should still have time for repentance. I saw your artifice, knew its falsity, and rejoiced in deceiving the deceiver! You are mine beyond reprieve: I burn to possess my right, and alive you quit not these mountains.
-The Monk, MG Lewis
Note List:Faustian depravity: daemonorops, rose-infused frankincense, vetiver, mate absolute, and clove bud
In Bottle: Incense, roses and cloves
Wet on skin: All church incense and roses, bb. And I'm ok with that.
Drydown: Initially during drydown, the roses amp, but there's still a tiny undercurrent of clove, tiny hint of frankincense, but mostly, it screams ROSES. Thankfully, that calms down after a bit, and the fruity dragons blood comes out to play. Thankfully, it doesn't pull its usual trick of turning onto cherry-hell on me, but is thick and red. Don't really get the vetiver or the mate, but all in all it's a lovely roses/incense blend
Similar: Cathedral (what it says on the tin) All Saint's (2006 version seems a bit harsh to me, this is smoother, haven't tried 2010 version, so YMMV)
Final Verdict: Like I said, beautiful blend, but I'll stick with the decant, not hunting down a bottle.
FEARFUL PLEASURE
Another of his sources of fearful pleasure was, to pass long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives, as they sat spinning by the fire, with a row of apples roasting and spluttering along the hearth, and listen to their marvelous tales of ghosts and goblins, and haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted houses, and particularly of the headless horseman, or galloping Hessian of the Hollow, as they sometimes called him. He would delight them equally by his anecdotes of witchcraft, and of the direful omens and portentous sights and sounds in the air, which prevailed in the earlier times of Connecticut; and would frighten them woefully with speculations upon comets and shooting stars; and with the alarming fact that the world did absolutely turn round, and that they were half the time topsy-turvy!
Note List: Dried orange peels floating in simmering cider, roasted apples, smoldering firewood, chimney smoke, sassafras beer, warm hawthorn wood, and oakmoss.
In Bottle: APPLES!!!!! Touch of spice, orange an smoke, but dominated by apples.
Wet on skin: cider, orange peel, bit of smoke, it's a comfy scent. Makes me want to hunker down, wrapped in a comforter with a book.
Drydown: The warm comfort of cider never gives up. The smokiness never gets overpowering, wood note is there, but subdued.
Similar: Punkie Night (tart apple, not cider), Poisoned Apple (Again, more of a fresh apple, but smokiness is there)
Final Verdict: One of my favorites. You will need to pry it out of my cold dead hands.
THE CREEPING MIST
I stopped my horse, and looked round me again.
Yes: I saw it. With my own eyes I saw it. A pillar of white mist-between five and six feet high, as well as I could judge-was moving beside me at the edge of the road, on my left hand. When I stopped, the white mist stopped. When I went on, the white mist went on. I pushed my horse to a trot-the pillar of mist was with me. I urged him to a gallop-the pillar of mist was with me. I stopped him again-the pillar of mist stood still.
The white colour of it was the white colour of the fog which I had seen over the river-on the night when I had gone to bid her farewell. And the chill which had then crept through me to the bones was the chill that was creeping through me now.
I went on again slowly. The white mist went on again slowly-with the clear bright night all round it.
I was awed rather than frightened. There was one moment, and one only, when the fear came to me that my reason might be shaken. I caught myself keeping time to the slow tramp of the horse's feet with the slow utterance of these words, repeated over and over again: 'Jeromette is dead. Jeromette is dead.' But my will was still my own: I was able to control myself, to impose silence on my own muttering lips. And I rode on quietly. And the pillar of mist went quietly with me.
My groom was waiting for my return at the rectory gate. I pointed to the mist, passing through the gate with me.
'Do you see anything there?' I said.
The man looked at me in astonishment.
I entered the rectory. The housekeeper met me in the hall. I pointed to the mist, entering with me.
'Do you see anything at my side?' I asked.
The housekeeper looked at me as the groom had looked at me.
'I am afraid you are not well, sir,' she said. 'Your colour is all gone-you are shivering. Let me get you a glass of wine.'
-Miss Jeromette and the Clergyman, Wilkie Collins
Note List:A muculent, brumous, ill-omened scent: orris, yuzu, white ginger, linden flower, petitgrain, and lotus.
In Bottle:Grapefruit, ginger and florals. Doesn't say "Autumn" to me, but it's gorgeous all the same. Let's roll.
Wet on skin: Oh. My. God. Full blooming of the lotus note, while the yuzu provides tartness and the ginger note is bright and clear, preventing the flowers from being overpowering. Orris, with its dusty-vanillaishness is actually detectable. This is simply beautiful.
Drydown: What drydown? My skin's eaten it within an hour. *sadface* Oh, and I had such high hopes for you!
Similar: n/a
Final Verdict: In the decant, I love it. Just on, I love it. It's got a lot of my favorite notes. Disappears way too fast though. I may try again in a scent locket, and see how it goes, but I am currently disappointed.
Hark, Ambrosio, while I unveil your crimes! You have shed the blood of two innocents; Antonia and Elvira perished by your hand. That Antonia whom you violated, was your Sister! That Elvira whom you murdered, gave you birth! Tremble, abandoned Hypocrite! Inhuman Parricide! Incestuous Ravisher! Tremble at the extent of your offenses! And you it was who thought yourself proof against temptation, absolved from human frailties, and free from error and vice! Is pride then a virtue? Is inhumanity no fault? Know, vain Man! That I long have marked you for my prey: I watched the movements of your heart; I saw that you were virtuous from vanity, not principle, and I seized the fit moment of seduction. I observed your blind idolatry of the Madonna's picture. I bade a subordinate but crafty spirit assume a similar form, and you eagerly yielded to the blandishments of Matilda. Your pride was gratified by her flattery; Your lust only needed an opportunity to break forth; You ran into the snare blindly, and scrupled not to commit a crime which you blamed in another with unfeeling severity. It was I who threw Matilda in your way; It was I who gave you entrance to Antonia's chamber; It was I who caused the dagger to be given you which pierced your Sister's bosom; and it was I who warned Elvira in dreams of your designs upon her Daughter, and thus, by preventing your profiting by her sleep, compelled you to add rape as well as incest to the catalogue of your crimes. Hear, hear, Ambrosio! Had you resisted me one minute longer, you had saved your body and soul. The guards whom you heard at your prison door came to signify your pardon. But I had already triumphed: My plots had already succeeded. Scarcely could I propose crimes so quick as you performed them. You are mine, and Heaven itself cannot rescue you from my power. Hope not that your penitence will make void our contract. Here is your bond signed with your blood; You have given up your claim to mercy, and nothing can restore to you the rights which you have foolishly resigned. Believe you that your secret thoughts escaped me? No, no, I read them all! You trusted that you should still have time for repentance. I saw your artifice, knew its falsity, and rejoiced in deceiving the deceiver! You are mine beyond reprieve: I burn to possess my right, and alive you quit not these mountains.
-The Monk, MG Lewis
Note List:Faustian depravity: daemonorops, rose-infused frankincense, vetiver, mate absolute, and clove bud
In Bottle: Incense, roses and cloves
Wet on skin: All church incense and roses, bb. And I'm ok with that.
Drydown: Initially during drydown, the roses amp, but there's still a tiny undercurrent of clove, tiny hint of frankincense, but mostly, it screams ROSES. Thankfully, that calms down after a bit, and the fruity dragons blood comes out to play. Thankfully, it doesn't pull its usual trick of turning onto cherry-hell on me, but is thick and red. Don't really get the vetiver or the mate, but all in all it's a lovely roses/incense blend
Similar: Cathedral (what it says on the tin) All Saint's (2006 version seems a bit harsh to me, this is smoother, haven't tried 2010 version, so YMMV)
Final Verdict: Like I said, beautiful blend, but I'll stick with the decant, not hunting down a bottle.
FEARFUL PLEASURE
Another of his sources of fearful pleasure was, to pass long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives, as they sat spinning by the fire, with a row of apples roasting and spluttering along the hearth, and listen to their marvelous tales of ghosts and goblins, and haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted houses, and particularly of the headless horseman, or galloping Hessian of the Hollow, as they sometimes called him. He would delight them equally by his anecdotes of witchcraft, and of the direful omens and portentous sights and sounds in the air, which prevailed in the earlier times of Connecticut; and would frighten them woefully with speculations upon comets and shooting stars; and with the alarming fact that the world did absolutely turn round, and that they were half the time topsy-turvy!
Note List: Dried orange peels floating in simmering cider, roasted apples, smoldering firewood, chimney smoke, sassafras beer, warm hawthorn wood, and oakmoss.
In Bottle: APPLES!!!!! Touch of spice, orange an smoke, but dominated by apples.
Wet on skin: cider, orange peel, bit of smoke, it's a comfy scent. Makes me want to hunker down, wrapped in a comforter with a book.
Drydown: The warm comfort of cider never gives up. The smokiness never gets overpowering, wood note is there, but subdued.
Similar: Punkie Night (tart apple, not cider), Poisoned Apple (Again, more of a fresh apple, but smokiness is there)
Final Verdict: One of my favorites. You will need to pry it out of my cold dead hands.
THE CREEPING MIST
I stopped my horse, and looked round me again.
Yes: I saw it. With my own eyes I saw it. A pillar of white mist-between five and six feet high, as well as I could judge-was moving beside me at the edge of the road, on my left hand. When I stopped, the white mist stopped. When I went on, the white mist went on. I pushed my horse to a trot-the pillar of mist was with me. I urged him to a gallop-the pillar of mist was with me. I stopped him again-the pillar of mist stood still.
The white colour of it was the white colour of the fog which I had seen over the river-on the night when I had gone to bid her farewell. And the chill which had then crept through me to the bones was the chill that was creeping through me now.
I went on again slowly. The white mist went on again slowly-with the clear bright night all round it.
I was awed rather than frightened. There was one moment, and one only, when the fear came to me that my reason might be shaken. I caught myself keeping time to the slow tramp of the horse's feet with the slow utterance of these words, repeated over and over again: 'Jeromette is dead. Jeromette is dead.' But my will was still my own: I was able to control myself, to impose silence on my own muttering lips. And I rode on quietly. And the pillar of mist went quietly with me.
My groom was waiting for my return at the rectory gate. I pointed to the mist, passing through the gate with me.
'Do you see anything there?' I said.
The man looked at me in astonishment.
I entered the rectory. The housekeeper met me in the hall. I pointed to the mist, entering with me.
'Do you see anything at my side?' I asked.
The housekeeper looked at me as the groom had looked at me.
'I am afraid you are not well, sir,' she said. 'Your colour is all gone-you are shivering. Let me get you a glass of wine.'
-Miss Jeromette and the Clergyman, Wilkie Collins
Note List:A muculent, brumous, ill-omened scent: orris, yuzu, white ginger, linden flower, petitgrain, and lotus.
In Bottle:Grapefruit, ginger and florals. Doesn't say "Autumn" to me, but it's gorgeous all the same. Let's roll.
Wet on skin: Oh. My. God. Full blooming of the lotus note, while the yuzu provides tartness and the ginger note is bright and clear, preventing the flowers from being overpowering. Orris, with its dusty-vanillaishness is actually detectable. This is simply beautiful.
Drydown: What drydown? My skin's eaten it within an hour. *sadface* Oh, and I had such high hopes for you!
Similar: n/a
Final Verdict: In the decant, I love it. Just on, I love it. It's got a lot of my favorite notes. Disappears way too fast though. I may try again in a scent locket, and see how it goes, but I am currently disappointed.