I cannot remember the last time I dropped in to write one of these, so I imagine that many of you may wonder what the heck I’m doing. Well, scent is a huge part of my writing process. I use perfume oils to evoke characters, settings, and tones for myself as I draft of revise a story. And 99 times out of 100, the perfume oil I’m using comes from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab (BPAL). They’re cool–making stuff that no one else makes. You want to smell like mown grass? old books? campfire? the undead, newly risen? bubble tea? wrapping paper? hot electronics? wet wrought iron? horse stables? sex sweat? a fresh tomato? pizza? pizza BOX? They’ve got you. Really.
So, what I like to do sometimes is post reviews for their oils–how they smell wet, and how they smell dry, and also a writing prompt the scent inspires from me. I want to try that last part a little differently this time. Instead of a prompt, I’m going to say what sort of tones/characters/settings I think the scent could help to evoke in creative work.
Today, I’m posting about BPAL’s Seven Veils scents and, uh, here’s the thing… they go down from the website TOMORROW. Did you hear me? Today (31st July) is the last day to get them. So, you know. If you’re inspired, strike like lightning.
Okay, to the reviews!
Scent Description:
Calcination, the black veil. A densely-ruffled carapace of peppered ambergris, sandalwood smoke, and charred silk.
First on, this is a church scent–but more sensual than austere. That’ll be the sandalwood and the ambergris, I think. It’s not REALLY churchy, it’s church-LIKE. It’s got a ceremony about it, and a heavy shroud around that ceremony. I get the pepperiness, the char of the silk, but nothing is burning or particularly abrasive. It’s more like the darkness of… well, a confessional. There’s this foreboding to it, like having something to get off your chest, but you’re in the place for it.
As it dries, it’s more peppery, more charred, drier (of course), but it’s still itself. Which is also like the confessional. It might feel good to tell your truth, but it doesn’t change anything, does it? Wherever you go, there you are. You have the same thing to reckon with that you did going in.
For writing, I would recommend this one for anything set in a church. Tonally, it’s fraught and mysterious. We’re dealing with secrets, and the ache to tell them–versus the fear of the fall-out. Anything involving a ritual would fit. Somber characters, or characters with a confession to make.
Scent Description:
Dissolution, the flowing veil. A crystal-sequined torrent of lilac-wine organza soiled with trampled grapeskins, cinnabar smudges, and smears of liquid myrrh.
First on, this is Ssips fruit punch juice boxes: sweet and tart, yes, but what set Ssips apart was how DARK and PURPLE it tastes to me. (Do not drink BPAL perfume oil, please.) The lilac and wine are such a good pairing, here. I can’t usually wear a wine scent–it’s just a little too tart for me. But here, with the lilac, it is the best of itself–and the lilac, too, is not taking over as a floral. I’m left with this thing that is neither alcoholic nor floral, and more like a thing we can’t actually get in the world… It makes me think of the water, in the scene of Fantasia with the pegasi. For whatever that’s worth.
As it dries, it’s still itself (tart and sweet and dark), just less recognizably fruity (less Ssips). For writing, this feels like a sexy metaphorical baptism smell. Like, anything you have to write that is a little wet and wild, sensual and dark, but also transformative? This is good for that. Or, if you have any pegasi or centaurs in your cast, who would be at home cavorting over classical music, this would sit nicely with them.
Scent Description:
Separation, the veil of distinction. A tumble of pearly pale-blue chiffon shot through with slashes of white ginger and lined with ivory satin rosettes.
This is the sweetest veil so far–owing to the ginger, mostly, I think. It’s fire-bright, but not so snappy as ginger can be. Whatever the blue chiffon and ivory satin notes are, they’re making this a cozy ginger-fire–something to bury your face in and snuggle. The fire is almost heady, but not soporific. Ginger is still ginger, at the end of the day. It may not be demanding you wake up, but it’s never gonna make you go to sleep.
It stays true even in drydown. Cozy, sensual, gingery fire. It smells like writing fantasy to me. Something witchy, but distinctly good-witchy. This is a scent for magic. But maybe like… YA magic.
Scent Description:
Conjunction, the veil of reunion. Ripples of sage-green silk covered in a mossy velvet-burnout pattern of wildflowers and slithering ivy.
I have smelled a lot of greenery-centric perfume oils in my time, so my knee-jerk instinct is to start by saying what this isn’t. It’s not a very sharp plant smell, and it’s not crisp like a broken stem. Neither is it greenhouse-humid, or spicy like a tomato leaf. It’s dry, but it’s not dead or crispy like an autumn leaf. It’s dry and green, very neutral and calm. I imagine that’s the “silk” note just keeping the moss and ivy in a nice (fabric) planter. It’s just a little tiny bit sweet; I don’t pick out specific flowers, but I get the sense that they’re around. There’s a softness.
It dries to something that feels like ground-cover, softening your metaphorical footfall, making things lovely. Again, nothing is so dry that it’s dead… It’s just all so settled. Like a path that has been overgrown a long time.
That’s what I would use this for. Those moments in a story when a character discovers a literal, or metaphorical, overgrown path and follows it. It’s got this soft excitement to it, whispering. If you just disturb its peace a little bit, it’ll get louder, and whatever is underneath is going to be good. Worth exploring.
Scent Description:
Putrefaction, the veil of decay. A yellowing shroud of raw-edged Muga silk, banana-spotted with chunks of fermented fig and exuding rich, earthy puffs of mushroom dust.
In order of prominence, just as listed, it goes banana, then fig, then mushroom. This is the loveliness of things breaking down: so sweet, but not in a fake, saccharine way.
Dry, it’s less sweet and more damp. I get more of the mushroom’s presence. Not a soil smell, just a moistness–inoffensive, very natural, kind of like a your-skin-but-better thing. It’s so calming. This is one of my favorites. It’s like nothing else I own.
This is such a relief of a scent. It’s that feeling, how good it is to finally relax. How nice it can be to just, finally, be naked–emotionally or physically. I would use this for moments when characters’ walls come down, and they are suddenly themselves. If you’re writing the beat where your lover characters discover their private ritual–the thing they do with each other that they can’t do with anyone else, whatever that is–I would recommend this.
Scent Description:
Distillation, the veil of steam. Condensation gathering in clouds of tulle, white tea, aqua vitae, rosemary liqueur, and bourbon vanilla.
Condensation is correct. Steam is right. This is a light scent, but undeniably strong all the same–in the way cucumber water is strongly cucumber-scented, but of course this does not smell like cucumber. It smells like rosemary and vanilla and tea, but on this thick, dense white cloud.
It’s true to itself, dry. It holds together, as condensed things do. I’ve been talking lots lately to a very smart person in my life (an unknown quantity, we’ll say, and leave it there) about how, in the beginning of a story, there’s a moment where a protagonist’s more vague desire condenses into a specific want. This would be good for that. But, less cerebrally, anything set in the sky. Especially fun stuff with, like, sky-pirates? This feels very solar-punk, very steampunk, very light-academia.
Scent Description:
Coagulation, the veil that lays bare. Bare skin visible through a glittering web of blood-red garnet beads strung on threads spun from filaments of pure gold.
This one is my favorite of the set. It’s got a little bit of everything in it. It’s sweet but not fruity, it’s ceremonial but not smoky. I’ve seen reviews calling it a little Christmas-y, and I get that… It is a bit pagan, in the sense that it’s ritualistic and joyous. It’s unselfconscious, it’s playful, but it’s also very intentional. There’s real purpose and reverence here. You can worship with a smile on your face. You can laugh as you pray. That’s what this is.
I would use this for writing kink. You know–the good, healthy kind and not the stuff that’s actually not-kink. It’s for characters playing games very seriously.
That’s all of them! Remember, this is the LAST DAY to get these, if you’re tempted. Here’s a link to the whole set: https://blackphoenixalchemylab.com/product-tag/the-seven-veils/
Briana Una McGuckin 