Devil's Tongue

I really didn’t like this at first. Especially not out of the bottle. The opening has a strong astringent bite that really puts me off. I guess it’s true to its name like everything else from solstice scents. I’m glad I gave it a few chances because I do like it, besides the opening. After a few minutes it calms down to a nice leather tobacco. It makes me think of that leather jacket in my closet that I haven’t worn since 1998. But in a good way. Towards the end there is a nice creamy vanilla effect with some spice note that I can’t really identify. Would be great for fall.

not as bad as the current 3.2 ratings would suggest? nothing wrong with this one to my nose. may not be a wow! feeling but it's a good egg tho. It is so blended that it is slightly hard to differentiate amongst the notes but I'd say it is a lighter, airier mix of oud, vanilla and leather.

Smells like a store that sells both paint and furniture. Take that as you will. Also it smells like Obernauf's leather care products, but there's a very small chance you'd know what I'm talking about. It's kind of balmy, oily and thick. Has an ointmenty vibe.

Beelzebub thunders into Bike Week, his presence a tempest of lime and leather. Ancient wings, creased like a well-worn jacket, flex as he grips chrome handlebars slick with condensation from his frosty margarita. The air crackles with a zesty electricity, mixing citrus sting with infernal heat in a heady cocktail. Beneath his wheels, the earth exhales a deep, earthy groan - a mix of smoke and unholy soil that speaks of vast, wicked subterranean realms. At the edge of town, he pulls into a ubiquitous coffee franchise, the aroma of seasonal vanilla latte cutting through the infernal haze. The barista, unfazed by the sulfurous fumes, squints at the order screen and asks with practiced cheer, "Is that for Beelz, or is it Bub?" The Lord of Flies accepts his steaming cup, his "thanks, babe" shrieking out in a voice that's part anglerfish daydreams, part chiropteran echolocation. With a final rev that sounds like the gates of hell grinding open, Beelzebub toodles off into the sunset, leaving behind a trail of vanilla-tinged brimstone and the faintest whiff of lime-kissed leather.