I’ve tried two of the fragrances you mentioned. (Disclaimer: I'm severely hyposmic and synaesthetic, so my perceptions may not reflect common experience.)
Cockaigne
The Land of Plenty, also called Luilekkerland, the Lazy, Luscious Land: milk and honey, sweet cakes and wine.
Anticipated synaesthetic color: none; this was a bonus imp.
Synaesthetic color: warm golden-brown with a glistening white overlay.
In three words: iced oatmeal cookies—a dangerous smell for a diabetic to keep around the house. This might be suitable for children, and I could also see the oats and sweetness tying into a Celtic Fae aesthetic.
Black Rose
Exquisitely melancholy. The background scent to an ancient exequies. Heavy, dark and floral: a blend of roses, with a touch of amber and musk.
Anticipated synaesthetic color: matte charcoal black touched with muted crimson and ashes-of-roses—the sort of color scheme The Lady of the Manners would embrace.
Synaesthetic color: nothing.
The description and the forum comments made it sound like everything I’d enjoy; frustratingly, I registered nothing whatsoever beyond an initial feeble sixth-magnitude whiff, faint and fleeting as the image of a cryptid on a Buzzfeed video. I handed it off to the sister-in-law, whose summary was, “glamorous.”
I’ve never tried Dorian (from inside my skin, I’m afraid that tea is hot leaf juice), but it boasts one of the all-time great BPAL Forum reviews, courtesy of Ina Garten Davita:
First Impression: Sweet tea.
Second Impression: Oh. My. God. This is like having a cup of strong but sweet tea laced with a hint of lemon in a posh Victorian parlor whilst sitting opposite a very civilised Victoran gentleman. And as soon as the maid serving the tea is gone, this proper Victoran gentleman fucks you six ways from Sunday.
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Cockaigne
The Land of Plenty, also called Luilekkerland, the Lazy, Luscious Land: milk and honey, sweet cakes and wine.
Anticipated synaesthetic color: none; this was a bonus imp.
Synaesthetic color: warm golden-brown with a glistening white overlay.
In three words: iced oatmeal cookies—a dangerous smell for a diabetic to keep around the house. This might be suitable for children, and I could also see the oats and sweetness tying into a Celtic Fae aesthetic.
Black Rose
Exquisitely melancholy. The background scent to an ancient exequies. Heavy, dark and floral: a blend of roses, with a touch of amber and musk.
Anticipated synaesthetic color: matte charcoal black touched with muted crimson and ashes-of-roses—the sort of color scheme The Lady of the Manners would embrace.
Synaesthetic color: nothing.
The description and the forum comments made it sound like everything I’d enjoy; frustratingly, I registered nothing whatsoever beyond an initial feeble sixth-magnitude whiff, faint and fleeting as the image of a cryptid on a Buzzfeed video. I handed it off to the sister-in-law, whose summary was, “glamorous.”
I’ve never tried Dorian (from inside my skin, I’m afraid that tea is hot leaf juice), but it boasts one of the all-time great BPAL Forum reviews, courtesy of Ina Garten Davita:
First Impression: Sweet tea.
Second Impression: Oh. My. God. This is like having a cup of strong but sweet tea laced with a hint of lemon in a posh Victorian parlor whilst sitting opposite a very civilised Victoran gentleman. And as soon as the maid serving the tea is gone, this proper Victoran gentleman fucks you six ways from Sunday.