Black Vines

Kerosene's tagline is, "Smell unique." This fragrance definitely fits that profile (in the best way). I wasn't sure about this scent when I ordered a sample, and I thought I might dislike it, but... actually... my reaction was quite the opposite. I love it. Wow! The first thing I experience is a slap of multiple black licorice sticks across my face! It's so realistic! However, that's not a negative experience at all. The opening shows me how unusual and unconventional this fragrance is. (For, indeed, I've never smelled *anything* like it, on myself or anyone else. Ever. How many people do you know who choose to smell like black licorice? Not many, I'd guess! If you want to stand out, this is the way to go.) The black licorice has an almost effervescent vibe to it in the opening -- it feels sparkly, as if it's *almost* a licorice-flavored cola, but not quite. Are there hints of root beer soda? Yes, from time to time, that notion pops into my mind... yet, it never quite reaches root beer territory. It remains grounded in licorice and anise notes. Are there memories of spiced gumdrops (red and green and white and sugar-coated, piled high in a crystal bowl) in this fragrance? Sure, if you've encountered these things... I can see where the association might be made. "Craft store?" Yes, I can see that, too, but I *love* the spicy, cinnamon-laden smell of a craft store during the holidays, so it's not a negative association for me -- take that for whatever it's worth. However, it's not quite the same smell as a "typical craft store." There's more to this perfume. It's deeper than that. I definitely detect the cinnamon in this composition (also, the house of Kerosene gives you a heads-up about this on their website -- test it on your own skin prior to purchase, because some people may be sensitive to cinnamon oils... I am, and I know that because I've made my own essential oil blends with cinnamon oil in the mix, but I'm willing to endure the brief, occasional discomfort to experience the beauty of this scent unfolding on my skin... to me, it is 100% worth it). I feel like there are other "winter spice" notes accompanying this (like clove and allspice, which are not listed), but either way, it's a beautiful sleigh ride. On me, this calms down after about an hour or so... it becomes a softer, milkier, cozier version of its earlier self. The spices are still there, and so is the licorice if you inhale deeply, but the composition blends together as if it were stirred into a chai latte. It also projects less, becoming a skin scent after about 2 hours on me. I haven't tried this in the warmer months, but... if I had to guess... I'd say it's best-suited for cold temperatures. Could it be polarizing? Yes, because licorice is usually a take-it-or-leave-it scent... in most cases, you love it or you don't, and that's just the way it is. Is it worth checking out? To me, yes... absolutely!

I remember visiting a market where a spice vendor had massive containers of all types of Eastern seed and root spices - licorice root, cinnamon, anise, cloves, nutmeg, cardamom, coriander, etc. - in their store that was long but only a little wider than the average walk-in closet, and many of the spices were whole in their unadulterated form. The purveyor would grind the spices for you upon request and he was extremely busy with about seven grinders constantly whirring away. The aromas released into the air were noxiously potent to the point I couldn’t stay in the store because my throat and nasal cavities felt like they were collapsing. As wonderful and evocative as that little shop was, it was meant for people far more used to those spices as real and fresh than I was. The opening of Black Vines reminds me a lot of that experience, save for the sudden and anxious worry that I was going to suffocate. The anise, licorice, and cinnamon top needs to be experienced while braced because its pungent photorealism will shock and awe. Dry to the point of sucking moisture from its surroundings, cold, spicy, woody, and earthy. To make sure it doesn’t completely feel like you’re snorting lines out of your kitchen pantry containers, sticky and resinous conifer sap adds a bright green and sylvan lift, and a fruity currant type note adds the slightest touch of moisture and sugar needed to give it a softer and more human touch. The inspiration for this perfume are the green vines of black licorice, hence the name Black Vines, but for a perfume using a lot of naturalistic and botanical materials I feel like I’m walking through an enchanted forest, or the forest on some alien planet. Everything is correct but nothing feels right. It’s a stirring experience. The dry down to the final skin scent brings you safely home with well-sanded and smooth balsams, and a gorgeously dry and earthy tonka bean - a vanillic zapped of all sugar - wrapped in the gentlest of smoky incense. It’s a really good winter holiday potpourri, basically. I know that sounds insulting but it really isn’t, not when you realize that you wished your potpourri smelled a lot more like this. I see this being in heavy rotation for my fall scents, especially when I’m in a mood to warp my mind and senses. Great stuff.

This is really lovely. Emt1986 nailed it with the Jagermeister opening, it's a bit of an aggressive start but a smooth trip if you ride it out. A great balance of sweet spice and herbal notes that blend beautifully all the way through. As the heavy hitters fade out so does the syrupy sweetness so it balances itself as it changes into a rich, creamy dream. The dry down is a delightfully delicious masterpiece that is like TF TOBACCO VANILLE's gothic sibling, slightly more fresh/herbal with a strong black licorice backbone instead of tabacco. Both are smooth and sexy, just one giving off a darker vibe. The wonderful silky spice with creamy base is what makes them so similar on my skin. Love them both but I find BLACK VINES more rebelious with an outsider feel. Classic cool. Perfectly unisex. P.S. I think Kerosene is an underrated house because people do not expect fragrances to transform throughout the wear. Mass produced, generic scents that remain "stable" with only a brief hint of top notes that quickly burn off, have conditioned consumers to have a short attention span and limited understanding of how a carefully crafted fragrance can perform. Kerosene brings an entire scent story in a bottle. Each one is a journey that lasts hours. Just as you can't accurately judge a book by its cover, you can't judge a Kerosene scent in a few moments by spritzing on a card. You must spray on skin and give them at least 4 hours to fully develop.

Black Vines is one of those “you either get it or you don’t” fragrances and to be totally honest, you will be the only one in the room who truly gets it. Everyone else will be politely sipping their mocktail seltzers, wearing safe “vanilla, but make it beige” scents, and then you walk in smelling like a demonic Australian apothecary who moonlights at a Nambucca Valley licorice factory. The air will change and heads will turn. Someone will cough because they’re weak and wearing Jo Malone. Another person squints through their Frédéric Malle sillage, trying to place the aroma of black licorice, tarred wood, and darkened sugar that Kerosene cooked together like a weyward witch with a background in industrial molecular gastronomy. But you? You’re thriving. You’re grinning like, “yes, that’s funky-fennel sultry-smoke and candy-coated weyward-wickedness. You’re welcome Bernadette, or should I say Ralph.” Black Vines is polarizing because it’s loud, unapologetic, herbal-sweet, and just a touch villainous. It’s the scent equivalent of bringing absinthe to a Rotary Club potluck. Not everyone will love it, but the ones who do are a rare breed, and congratulations, raise a glass of Jägermeister, you’re officially their Ricola king.

Aniseed and licorice dominate this one in the opening, like other reviewers have said. If you don't like that vibe, this is not for you--Black Vines is not coy with the licorice. The opening is so staggering it raised my heart rate. However, about 90 minutes into wearing, and this has mellowed into a warm glow of sweet cinnamon, fig, tonka, and what smells to me like a somewhat smoky vanilla tincture, with the licorice and anise fading to ornamentation. Even as I write this, the cinnamon seems to be fading, as well, and the fig is taking center stage. Black Vines is a fun ride. I would absolutely describe this as a gourmand fragrance, as the ivy, balsam, fir, and incense listed don't announce themselves to me, unless it's the incense that I'm associating with the smokiness of some natural vanillas. Overall, BV somewhat resembles a fig and cinnamon cake served after several shots of an anise-forward aperitif like ouzo or raki (without the booziness). In any case, this feels like a high quality, bespoke fragrance tailored for licorice obsessives; others may find the first hour or so too challenging. Smelled from the Kerosene sample pack.