Sometimes, you just want to read a really long list. 


Beauty Queen: 

"Excuse me, I have to call everyone I have ever met, right now."

 Ah, Cordelia. A sorbet sundae that's fruity sour, and above all, cool, this perfume features pomegranate, lemon, lime, blackcurrant, raspberry, and rich vanilla with a hint of ice cream sweetness. Juicy, fresh, and bright- perfect for the cheerleader everyone loves to hate. Feminine.

 "I'm Cordelia. I don't think, I know."


 Bee Tsar: 

I know nothing of the BZZZZness of ruling.

It's a little known fact that the collapse of the royal family and subsequent rise of the Bolsheviks was not motivated solely by economic unrest. The Romanovs had many secrets, the least known of these being that they were all literally bees. Well, as you can imagine, when that came out things fell apart pretty rapidly. And now you too can smell like royalty! Masculine yet sweet, tobacco and Russian leather drip with honeyed vanilla.



"But, this is ridiculous; if he was such a patriotic American, why didn't he just report us to the authorities?"

"He decided to put his information to good use, and make a little money out of it. What could be more American than that?"

Scheming and thuggish, Mr. Boddy's body is one to keep an eye on. Otherwise, it may just get up and walk away. Seriously, how hard is it to find a pulse? Woodsy tobacco, a hint of oud, dirty leather, and a shot and sharp peppermint. A blend which is surprisingly clean and deeply masculine. 


 Broody Guy:

"I'm not evil again. Why does everyone think that?"

Dark, masculine leathers with hair gel and, who am I kidding. Angel likes to play the dark avenger card, but we're not fooled. This one smells like cake. Sweet, delicious cake with buttercream frosting. Unisex, because who doesn't like a guy who smells like a bakery?

"Stop calling me pastries!"

an actual quote from Mr. Muffin himself. 



"That'll put marzipan in your pie plate bingo!"

With slightly singed wire, motor oil, ozone, and a smooth metallic finish, this perfume calls to mind warm electronics. Subtle and slightly sweet, this perfume is just strong enough to get people slightly worried that the robot uprising is upon us. Just slightly worried. And, you know, sometimes you just want to smell like a robot. A slightly malfunctioning, overly peppy robot. Unisex?


Can't Say a Word:

"Can't even shout, can't even cry 

The gentlemen are coming by 

Looking in windows, knocking on doors 

They need to take seven and they might take yours 

Can't call to mom, Can't say a word 

You're gonna die screaming but you won't be heard."

Seven smiling men gliding across the floor. You try to scream, but you can't. Why can't you scream? As they cut into your chest and dig out your heart, you know you should be screaming. Blue cypress and yarrow, black spruce and douglas fir with an unexpected and sharp dash of lime. Unisex.


 Can't go to Mexico:

Breathing in the hot desert air, you take a sip of your drink. You love these desert nights. A tall Mexican coke with a couple of limes squeezed in, garnished with cactus blossom. You do this every friday, even though it means that you have to send the limes and flower through the decontamination chamber every time. Does the cactus flower really add all that much? Maybe not, but you feel fancy and you like feeling fancy. The desert air is suddenly agitated, blowing the cactus blossom into your eyes. as you pull it away and squint against the sand, you see a row of lights blinking in the distance. Aluminum panels and steam. Taking a step closer, you get out your phone and open up Snapchat.

"Enrique's gonna love this." 



"I like my money the way it is... when it's mine."

In ancient tradition, different oils had different meanings, and there were some said to bring wealth to those who wore them...sweet orange, bergamot, cinnamon, clove, cardamom and more mix and mingle to bring you a heady spiced citrus scent that will make you wealthier than all your wildest...well, no promises, right?


Captain Peroxide:

 "I know I'm not the first choice for heroics, and Buffy's tried to kill me more than once. And I don't fancy a single one of you at all. But... Actually, all that sounds pretty convincing." 

Spike. Dirty leather coat, smoky tobacco, bleached hair, with a soft spot for a certain slayer. He may act tough, but at the heart of it all he's a marshmallow. Red Egyptian musk gives it a smooth finish and a distinctive bloody coloring. This is the scent that has it all. Sweet but dingy. Smoky and sexy. This perfume is practically bottled pheromones. 

Unisex, leaning masculine. (but delicious on everyone.)


Cub Scout:

"I suddenly find myself needing to know the plural of apocalypse. "

Riley, you were...okay.

Vanilla. Straight up vanilla. Not that that's a bad thing! And it's a really nice vanilla, I swear. A perfect subtle scent which works great for layering and adding sweetness to other scents; worn alone, Cub Scout is simply a rich vanilla with the slightest hint of woods. Unisex.


Dame It:

Bulgarian rose, violet, lily of the valley, and a bouquet of delicate florals, peppered with hints of lime, Bartlett pear, and bergamot. The ultimate in classic perfuming. Looking at the notes, you might think that it sounds like a gross old lady perfume. But don't be fooled, we here at Smelly Yeti are too classy for that. Feminine. 


Demon Magnet:

"I laugh in the face of danger, and then I hide until it goes away."

Cedarwood, dirt, sweet and salty musks, and a trace hint of that lumberyard je ne sais quois. No wonder Anya can't resist him. Maybe the demons will flock to you too, once you smell like a hot carpenter.



This fairy may seem harmless, but beware - it has a venomous bite. 

Pink peppered strawberries and dark blackcurrants, infused with a burst of fresh ginger and lightly dusted with mocha. Feminine!


Folie à Deux:

Caught in the rain, elegant orange floats over geranium and a hint of grassy green galbanum. Sophisticated and classic - the perfect scent to wear while lost in the grounds of Versailles.



"You know, I honestly don't think there's a human word fabulous enough for me"

 Champagne, straight from the bottle. Actually, better make that two bottles. Maybe three. But drinking isn't great on an empty stomach. Snap your fingers and a demon minion brings a bowl of berries, drizzled with cream, garnished with kumquat. A little excessive? Maybe, but why not? You are a hell goddess after all.  



"I swear, I would sell my soul for a decent short game. Of course, it's a little late for that. I don't suppose I could offer your soul, huh? Really help me on the green. I'm just funning"

Mr. Mayor. It's a nice title, but have some ambition! It's the American dream, after all. Work hard, move up in the world, and become a giant demon snake. Oh, and a white picket fence. Can't forget that! Ascending into a demon requires a lot of energy, or at least a cup of coffee in the morning am I right? And maybe a few of those butterscotch candies. Mmm, mm! 



"Are you a cop?"

"No, I'm a plant."

"A plant? I thought men like you were usually called a fruit."

Tart green apple against the atmosphere of the study; leather, mahogany, sandalwood, fossilized amber and a hint of tobacco. Unisex, though a bit on the sweet side; clean and almost a bit soapy. No blood on his hands, remember?

"I didn't do it!"


Hey, McFly!:

Give me a Pepsi Free.”

“If you want a Pepsi, pal, you’re gonna pay for it.”

Inspired by old 50s ice cream parlors, this scent mixes fizzy cola and root beer with sweetshop vanilla to create a surprisingly unisex/masculine end result. Slather some on, go to the big dance. It's your density.



Well, looks like things didn't end up quite how you planned.

Was drinking the absinthe from that crazy hermit really worth it?

Catholic guilt washes over you, and as you close your eyes you can almost smellincense swirling, taste that communion wine, feel the light as it fractures through stained glass panels, hear the holy Latin on the priest's lips and the creaking of the pews...You breathe deep, cough, and open your eyes.

Everything's on fire, as always. Oh look, a disembodied head is just rolling around. At least you've got this weird egg tree to live in. From the rough stones, there's movement. A head pops up, and advances. Not just a head this time, this one has a body. The demon waddles over to you. "Want some cursed gold?" He has a wheel instead of legs and approximately seven spears stabbed through him at various angles. 

You consider it for a moment. "Nah." 



"I've been, uh, indexing the Watcher diaries covering the last couple of centuries. You would be amazed at how numbingly pompous and long-winded some of these Watchers were.'"

When there's something strange in the neighborhood...go to the library. A cup of tea, the dusty smell of leatherclad demonology books, a woody medieval weapons cabinet, and the unmistakable smell of LEARNING. Unisex.



"What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

The lunar calendar says that moon is full, but in your winding midnight stroll you've seen no sign of it. He finally did it. He lasso'ed the moon, and the sky stretches above you black and deep. This is going to make your astronomy homework difficult. 

A scent for dark, moonless nights. French lavender, crisp and cool peppermint, forest trees, soft vanilla, with hints of yuzu and lilac. 

Made for my little sister, who really did have astronomy homework when a full moon went missing. 



"I'm sorry I almost ate you."

Smell like a werewolf. Have you noticed any changes in your life? Maybe you've been craving red meat. Maybe a few times a month, you wake up in an unfamiliar place. You smell it before you see it - damp, grassy earth, fallen oak trees, mossy underbrush, dark oud...It's probably nothing to worry about. You're not howling at the moon, right? Right? Masculine.



"Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of the other guests?"

"You don't need any help from me, sir."

"That's right!"

Suits and cigars he shouldn't be able to afford, and a cagey attitude about his money, the good colonel's a military man with a lot of secrets. Woody osmanthus, leather, rum, fossilized amber and golden musk. The scent of old money. Masculine.



It might actually be more accurate to call this "Yes The Bees" because this perfume is a lovely sweet confection of candied honey and honeysuckle, punctuated by citrus and underscored with smooth vanilla. Nicholas Cage screams not included.  



Kiss kiss fall in love!

Roses. Bulgarian roses. English roses. Rosehip jasmine, pikake flower, and yuzu. Basically, FLOWERS. Plus, a hint of the tropical flavor that signifies the mark of a true silly anime - the token beach episode. 

The perfect way to be noticed by senpai- or rather, for senpai to be noticed. Feminine!



The owls are not what they seem. 

Owls look like cats. This is kind of hard to explain. If you look at a photo of an owl, what do you see? Owl. In person, they just sort of...look like cats. Small children will even point to them and say "cat!" Despite the fact that the exhibit is clearly labeled BIRDS OF PREY. In the moment, it's not hard to see why. That disdain in those big round eyes. Their love of perching.  Only in flight do they look anything less than feline. 

The scent of wildness. Tomato leaves, grass, vanilla, dirt, a slight hint of anise.


Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster:

Get your funky Zaphod Beeblebrox action on with, refreshing Pan Galactic Gargle blaster. 

According to Douglas Adams, this drink feels a bit like getting your head smashed by a slice of lemon wrapped around a gold brick. While it doesn’t have Fallian marsh gas going through it, our version is a striking citrus mint cocktail with a powerful sparkling punch. Unisex.



You don't know exactly how many days there have been so far. Not many. It barely feels like any time at all. There are so many things without names. You do not know if you have a name yet. You have a name for your world, though, for the waterfalls and towers and swirling things in the call it World.

Some of the flowers have names, too. Lilac, for the bunch that hangs down, so purple and soft. Lillies, the trumpeting bursts of color that surprise your feet in your wanderings. One of the Animals got a name today. He is called Wolf.

And then there are Thing-That-Jumps and How-Do-They-Not-Fall-From-The-Sky-I-Tried-And-Fell, things you have no name for. There are many of those. The round, bright fruits that are sour and so sweet and make your hands sticky, and the way the air smells in the day when it is hot and warm.

You want names for all of these.

For the rough skin of the trees.

For the soft skin of the Pink Flower.

For the strange no-leg thing that whispers, whispers about breaking the rules, about the fruit that's been calling to you. It's a fruit you should not look at. None of the creatures of the Garden should. You cannot fight it though. No one can. Central to the Garden, it is its beating heart. The fruit hangs from the tree, so heavy, and there's something about it you cannot ignore. You ask its name, and thing-with-no-legs responds. 

"It is Apple." 



"And monkey's brains, though popular in Cantonese cuisine, are not often to be found in Washington D.C."

They're not often to be found in perfume form either. Instead, a fluffy confection fit for the table of a senator's wife; in a thick graham cracker crust, a decadent banana cream pie topped with tart blueberries. 



"She still thinks I'm Little Miss Nobody, just her dumb little sister. Boy, is she in for a surprise."

A funky and fruity and extremely tweeny blend of mulberry, strawberry, and sparkling lime. Initially created as a joke, (to include as a surprise with other orders, a la her reveal in season five) it ended up actually being good. Too good, in fact, to keep secret. I was going to make some sort of "key" joke here but I couldn't think of one.  

The perfect perfume to wear when you find out you were actually turned into a human by monks and that all of your memories are a lie. Feminine!



"Professor Plum, you were once a professor of psychiatry specializing in helping paranoid and homicidal lunatics suffering from delusions of grandeur."

"Yes, but now I work for the United Nations."

"So your work has not changed."

Lecherous, creepy, and generally grody, there was no way his perfume would be based on personality. Enjoy sweet plums, swirled with tea and enriched with the barest hint of blackcurrant. Feminine.



Proserpine is the Roman name for Persephone, one of my favorite figures in Greek mythology. It's moody and spooky and...girl, it was obvious that pomegranate seeds count as food. Be thankful that your mom knows how to negotiate because you CLEARLY broke the rules. Dark and deep pomegranate mingles with cool and twisty caverns; a hint of gloomy underworld grounds and balances this scent.



"When are you going to get this, B? Life for a Slayer is very simple -- want... take... have"

Assertive and bold, uninhibited and reckless. Faith's always been a wild card. Wild black cherry, dirty leather, black musk, and a wisp of tobacco smoke.


Pumpkin Spice Latte:

It's always fall. December? What's December? The universe exists in a loop of October and November. 

Fall may be over, but that's no reason to stop having delicious spice in your life. Can't you just imagine it now? Caramel dripping down the peaks of foam, mingling with sweetly spiced coffee. You take a deep breath.

Anoint thyself with Pumpkin Spice Latte oils, that ye may be forever fragrant and forever blessed with the bounty that is Pumpkin Spice.



"Why are we floating around in this peach?" you say, looking nervously at the vines that are slowly encircling your makeshift boat, at their thorns.

 The Other seems unconcerned. You knew his name once, but have forgotten and feel afraid to ask. "I don't know, but it's probably some sort of weird metaphor."  A flock of fish fly overhead. 

"Can the peach?" you tear a chunk off the side. You chew it, and are almost choked with thick black honey. You spit it out. It's a fig

"What about these berries?" The Other suggests. The vines have started growing these...things. They seem edible. You snap off a cluster, and it immediately swells huge in your hand. The unexpected heaviness almost pulls you out of the peach, but The Other grabs you, holds you back. 

"I don't think I really want to try this." you say, and the other points to an advancing flock of River Swimmers, fools who don't even have a peach to live in. 

The Other takes the stem and feeds the crowd. "This way," The Other says, "They won't try to eat the peach, and we can figure out if it's safe to eat the blue thing." 

You simply stare ahead. The smell of the peach is heavy, heavy, and you can still taste the fig in your mouth. "Someone should invent clothes." you say, sighing. 


Queen of the Damned:

"What will your mommy sing when they find your body?"

Drusilla, Spike’s sometimes-paramour, wanderer of graveyards, makes for an enchanting and unconventional floral scent. Among the more traditional bouquet of roses is a mélange of darker, cooler notes of cabbage, cedarwood, tuberose moss, dewy grass, and damp earth. The overall effect is one of flowers in a graveyard. Feminine.



 "Oh, I'm being blackmailed all right, but I did what I'm being blackmailed for."

 This is one madam you don't want on your bad side. Though she may play dumb at times, she's much deadlier than she looks. Deep red bordeaux wine with oaky overtones and a subtle and smooth leather.


Slayer, The:

"Seize the moment, ‘cause tomorrow you might be dead."

Before she was a slayer, she was a teenage girl. Sweet, bright and feminine, this scent is a delicious blend of light and fruity Californian citrus. Blood orange, tangerine, Meyer lemon, and lime with a creamsicle sweetness. Feminine.

"Yeah, I'm also a person. You can't just define me by my Slayerness. That's... something-ism"


Smelt of Elderberries:

Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries!

 A cask of rich red wine, mulled with forest berries and infused with elderberry, of course. One whiff and you'll realize it's not much of an insult after all - you smell good. Doesn't help with the whole hamster-mom situation, but that was a lost cause anyway. Beware of belligerent Frenchmen. 


Song In My Heart:

"For a hundred years I offered ugly death to everyone I met, and I did it with a song in my heart."

If Angel is a slice of cake...what does that make Angelus?

Evil Cake. 

A thick slice of Black Forest Cake; ganache and thick cream, stuffed with blood red cherries. Darkly delicious. Let's ignore that wig he was forced to wear and just think about cake? And that accent - maybe another slice is in order. 


Spell Gal:

 "You found the last known Urn of Osiris on eBay?"

An old school witch with modern ways. Or is it the other way around? Witchiness in a bottle. Incenses, resins, cedar, pink peppercorn, smoky clary sage and dark oud with a bright flash of lemon. Feminine.



"You belong at-at a good old-fashioned college with keg parties and boys, not here with Hellmouths and vampires."

Sweet and simple, warm and comforting, it's a mug of hot chocolate, the brim overflowing with mini marshmallows. Folded underneath the sweet and subtle cocoa is a hint of caffeine and a smothering of sticky benzoin. Feminine.



Wake up, sheeple.

Looking for a blend that subtly evokes respect, physical attraction, and a sensualsort of POWER OVER THE MASSES OF THISWEAK AND FRAGILE EARTH, SHEEP IN NEeD OF SHEPheRdING would you like a cup of tea, Alfred? No thank you, makes me nervous. 

Blackcurrant scones dusted lightly with cinnamon and sugar, teacakes spread with raspberry jam...what, did you think it was going to be reptilian skin and sulfur? How déclassé! How gauche! Power smells like a well catered luncheon.


Unicorn Collector:

"Harmony's a vampire? She must be dying without a reflection"

Oh, Harmony. You try so hard to be bad. Bubbly and bright tangerine strawberries nestled in creamy tahitian vanilla and tonka bean. Pretty much the fruitiest, girliest scent to ever exist. 



"Do you not instinctively fear me? Maybe you should make yourself a note."

Whether it's a simple stakeout at the Camelot or mass murder, there's only one detective to call. Well, I guess you could call Keith, but we all know who's going to do the heavy lifting in the investigation: Veronica. Yup, she's a marshmallow. A big, sugared pink marshmallow, with just a hint of, that is.  Pixie spy magic in every drop. Feminine!

"A girl, a teenager, and a private detective - I'm a triple threat. Barely fits on my business card."



"Can I interest any of you in fruit or dessert?" 

The ever efficient butler, Wadsworth is a great person to have at your murder scene; he'll keep the kitchen tidy and keep the bodies organized. And they really should have taken him up on dessert. Warm peach cobbler with light hints of cardamom and cinnamon, served with creamy vanilla ice cream. The sweet peachy gourmand that dreams are made of. 

"Don't be ridiculous. If I was the murderer, why would I reveal to you how I did it?"


We are as Gods:

"That's right, man. The trio. Living as gods."

And ambrosia is the food of the gods! We don't know what that tastes like, but the next closest thing is ambrosia salad: coconut, pineapple, cool whip, cream cheese, pecan, cherry, and a heaping handful of marshmallows.

Is this the most accurate scent to represent a few basement dwelling evil nerds? Maybe not, but no one wants to smell like desperation and sadness.

Fruity, sweet, and, feminine! 



"it-it- the f - it -flam - flames. Flames, on the side of my face, breathing-breathl- heaving breaths. Heaving breaths... Heathing..." 

She's gone to...a lot of funerals. Wears a lot of black. But the flowers, they're always white. Jasmine, gardenias, tuberose, sprinkled with yuzu, burning with ginger and pink peppercorn. 


Who's that Girl?:

"I am a she-witch, a very powerful she-witch - or witch, as is more accurate. I am not to be trifled with..."

Willow. Sweet and shy but powerful; not one of those wanna-blessed-be's. A sweet quasi-gourmand scent of cookies, sugar and spice and everything nice...with a witchy twist. The classic bakery smell undercut by incense and a splash of ginger. Feminine, leaning unisex.