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Limited Edition

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LIMITED EDITION BLENDS
No imp’s ears are available for Limited Edition scents.
Presented in an amber apothecary glass vial.

Note: only 5ml bottles are offered in our limited edition scents. Please check the BPAL forum for stock updates. No samples can be requested for any limited edition scents, as they are not taken into consideration or assimilated into stock when the limited edition oils are made. Simply put: there are none to give. If you request a sample of a limited edition scent, we will swap for a random “permanent” scent.

All limited edition scents are $23!

  • (Not so) Penitent (Mini) Magdalene

    $23

    Lilith, Ted, and I were playing dress up one night, and during her snack break in the kitchen, it occurred to me that she – and the whole accidental tableau – reminded me strongly (and strangely) of Georges de la Tour’s Penitent Magdalene.

    So, of course, Ted and I threw together an impromptu 30-second staging with junk lying around the house and took a photo.

    Learning art history through role playing and silly photo shenanigans!

    Candle wax, smoke, red sandalwood, a dusting of kitchen spices, and a dribble of vanilla ice cream.

    Out of Stock
  • Amicitia

    $23

    “We’ll be friends forever, won’t we, Pooh?” asked Piglet.

    “Even longer,” Pooh answered.

    A tribute to true friendship, and love that transcends distance and time: white sage and chaparral with sweet cedar, caramelized honey, warm fig, and carnation blossoms.

    Out of Stock
  • Avunculus

    $23

    In hindsight, it was something of an omen that Lilith would be born on Brian’s birthday. He was with her on the day of her birth, and I have no doubt that they will love each other eternally. Yes, they are family, but he is also her friend: her pillar of support, her precious uncle, dearer to her heart than he could possibly know.

    I created this scent as much for Brian as I did for Lilith; it is the scent of the summer that lives in one’s heart. Orange blossom honey, white coconut, and pear with flecks of golden amber that glimmers like sunlight on water.

    Out of Stock
  • Blueberry Picking

    $23

    I wanted to go with a less-literal name for this scent, but Lilith vetoed me! My little monster is a tremendous help around the garden. She helps me water, plant, and deadhead the flowers, but by far… harvesting is her favorite chore.

     Sun-warmed, slightly squishy blueberries plus overgrown grass, overgrown honeysuckle, overgrown lavender, overgrown lemon verbena, and a smattering of un-pulled weeds.

    Out of Stock
  • Ghost Houses

    $23

    Last year, Lilith visited Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 in the Garden District with us. As she walked among the vaults and tombs, she announced to us, “When I get older, I’m going to help ghosts fix their houses.”

     Marble, wild grasses, rusted iron, white clover, coneflowers, and daisies filtered through a sepulchral mist.

    Out of Stock
  • Goofballs

    $23

    This one – name, scent, and photo selection – is entirely Lilith’s. She wanted this scent to smell like “how friendship feels when you’re hanging out in the grass.” Per Lilith’s description: “wet grass and sunshine, dogs and wood, and my feet in warm dirt and flowers I pick.”

    Photo by Jan Easter!

    Out of Stock
  • Hearts for Ghost Friends

    5.00 out of 5
    $23

    Lilith named this one, and I think it’s absolutely perfect.

    I know I’ve told this story before, but the kindness behind it means so much to me that you’re all going to have to bear with me while I tell it again. The privilege of being the narrator!

    While we were at Lafayette Cemetery this spring, Lilith discovered all the beads, toys, and trinkets that people leave on the crypts. As she wandered through the cemetery grounds, she arranged the beads that she found into hearts and pillaged my purse (and Ted’s pockets!) for change and small items she could leave for the ghosts. She told me that people leave things like this for their ghost friends so that the spirits know that their “people friends” are thinking about them, and so they won’t be lonely while they wait for more people to come visit them. Lilith and I still talk about the ghost friends she met in New Orleans that day. Evidently, some of them have taken up residence in my basement and behind our bar because she couldn’t bear to leave them behind. The more the merrier, right?

    Friendship beyond death. The scent of ghostly companionship, and imaginary friends that might not be quite so imaginary: oleander and frankincense with white rose, soft carnation, spectral white musk, and velvety magnolia.

    Out of Stock
  • Lily Witch

    $23

    Lilith named this scent, and said this perfume should smell like witches. Her interpretation is swathed in anise, lime, almond, and witchin’ herbs, and holds a bouquet of pale, graceful lilies. The end result is a sweet, nutty absinthe’d lime with a hint of spice and leather.

    Out of Stock
  • Mermaid

    5.00 out of 5
    $23

    Peter was not with them for the moment, and they felt rather lonely up there by themselves. He could go so much faster than they that he would suddenly shoot out of sight, to have some adventure in which they had no share.

    He would come down laughing over something fearfully funny he had been saying to a star, but he had already forgotten what it was, or he would come up with mermaid scales still sticking to him, and yet not be able to to say for certain what had been happening.

    It was really rather irritating to children who had never seen a mermaid.
    ― JM Barrie, Peter Pan

    Lilith, I hope you never stop seeing mermaids. I hope your invisible friends always sing with you, and that the ghosts in your attic tell you stories every night. I hope you never forget how to dream, and I hope you never forget why dreams matter.

    A tiny siren’s perfume of pink seaweed, lotus petals, Tahitian tiare, white gardenia, orange blossom, sea salt, and vanilla-infused benzoin.

    Out of Stock
  • Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha

    $23

    Salutations to the supreme Lord Ganesh, whose curved trunk and massive body shines like a million suns and showers his blessings on everyone. Oh my lord of lords, Ganesha, kindly remove all obstacles, always and forever from all my activities and endeavors.

    Lilith’s favorite deity – by far – is Ganesha, inspired by her kindergarten teacher and the works of Sanjay Patel. Her meditation technique, however, is as much a product of her Mom & Me practice at home as her enthusiastic love of Teen Titans. I’d attempted to persuade Lilith to meditate with me many times, but she didn’t have much of an interest in doing so until she started watching Teen Titans again in earnest. Kindergarten was a challenging transition year for her, and meditation was something she employed often to cope with the stress. I tried to encourage her to chant a variety of mantras, and she used many of Ganesha’s, but her go to was always Azarath Metreon Zinthos.

    So, thank you, DC Comics, Sanjay Patel, and (especially) Ganesha, for helping give my daughter tools to help her through rough days.

     This is a meditation blend that I created for Lilith: sweet frankincense, Mysore sandalwood, and a few drops of rose and clary sage.

    Out of Stock
  • The Hierophant and the Empress

    $23

    Let the woman be girt with a sword before me: the many-throned, many-minded, many-wiled, daughter of Zeus.

    Red and white roses, everblooming gardenia, violet leaf, Oman frankincense, styrax, honey myrtle, mallow flower.

    Out of Stock
  • Venustas

    4.00 out of 5
    $23

    Sometimes when I look at my daughter, I feel like I can see the woman that she’ll become someday. This is a perfume for that woman, forever my daughter: frankincense, sweet myrrh, bourbon vanilla, and a hint of willowy, pale fougere.

    Out of Stock
  • Very Pink Surprise Cake

    $23

    A few weeks before DragonCon this year, I took ill with a persistent, irritating, gooey flu. To cheer up me up, my crazy, wonderful daughter and her crazy, wonderful dad threw me a surprise party. They decorated Lilith’s room, baked me a cake in the Easy Bake Oven (it tasted very pink), and brought me little gifts, including a ridiculously pink lipstick, some balloons and noisemakers, and a bottle of OxyClean. (Long story.)

    This perfume captures the ridiculously pink scent of that ridiculously pink cake. I love my family.

    Out of Stock

Limited Edition - Lupercalia 2015

Celebrate the warmth of passion in the dead of winter with our Lupercalia fragrances, scents for the lovelorn and lustful, the depraved and the intemerate. Whether you’re in the mood to scrutinize shadowy, aberrant passions or bask in the rose-tinted warmth of new love, we’ve got something that will be right up your alley.

All of these perfume oil blends are $24 per 5ml bottle and are, as always, presented in an amber apothecary vial.

The Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab Lupercalia series will be live until 6 April 2015.

The Trading Post Lupercalia series will be debuting soon!

  • Creeper Dragon

    $24

    This bit of artwork is one of my favorite miniatures simply because it makes me laugh. It is a detail from Roman d’Alexandre, showing Nectanebus all dragon’d up and ready to get busy.

    All this is well and good, medieval Alexander romances are fascinating, but this image will always simply be Creeper Dragon to me.

    Creeper Dragon Musk: daemonorops, green leather, and red musk with dribbles of honey and white cream.

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  • Dolce Stil Nuovo

    $24

    Love always finds shelter in the gentle heart. Dolce Stil Nuovo is a 13th & 14th century Florentine literary style that celebrates love and womanhood through heartfelt, delicate, and melodious sonnets, ballate, and canzones. This is fin’amor, Courtly Love, in its most moving form, and the emotions that these words express reflect love that both spiritual and idealized.

    Within this literary movement, earthly love reaches for the Divine.

    Who is she coming, whom all gaze upon,
    Who makes the air tremulous with light,
    And at whose side is Love himself? that none
    Dare speak, but each man’s sighs are infinite.
    Ah me! how she looks round from left to right,
    Let Love discourse: I may not speak thereon.
    Lady she seems of such high benison
    As makes all others graceless in men’s sight.
    The honor which is hers cannot be said;
    To whom are subject all things virtuous,
    While all things beauteous own her deity.
    Ne’er was the mind of man so nobly led
    Nor yet was such redemption granted us
    That we should ever know her perfectly.

    Our interpretation of Dolce Stil Nuovo is a blend of rose otto, carnation, vanilla flower, lavender and jasmine with the clarity of crystalline white musk and the warmth of golden amber.

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  • For Each Ecstatic Moment

    $24

    For each ecstatic instant
    We must an anguish pay
    In keen and quivering ratio
    To the ecstasy.

    For each beloved hour
    Sharp pittances of years,
    Bitter contested farthings
    And coffers heaped with tears.

    – Emily Dickinson

    Equal parts joy and grief, lust and regret, pain and pleasure: velvet-red roses and sensual aged patchouli with night-blooming jasmine, caramelized bourbon vanilla, labdanum, black amber, and oudh.

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  • Liaison

    $24

    A big bud of moon hangs out of the twilight,
    Star-spiders spinning their thread
    Hang high suspended, withouten respite
    Watching us overhead.

    Come then under the trees, where the leaf-cloths
    Curtain us in so dark
    That here we’re safe from even the ermin-moth’s
    Flitting remark.

    Here in this swarthy, secret tent,
    Where black boughs flap the ground,
    You shall draw the thorn from my discontent,
    Surgeon me sound.

    This rare, rich night! For in here
    Under the yew-tree tent
    The darkness is loveliest where I could sear
    You like frankincense into scent.

    Here not even the stars can spy us,
    Not even the white moths write
    With their little pale signs on the wall, to try us
    And set us affright.

    Kiss but then the dust from off my lips,
    But draw the turgid pain
    From my breast to your bosom, eclipse
    My soul again.

    Waste me not, I beg you, waste
    Not the inner night:
    Taste, oh taste and let me taste
    The core of delight.
    - DH Lawrence

    The loveliest darkness, the core of delight: Moroccan black musk, white tea leaf, Indonesian black sandalwood, frankincense, honeycomb, jonquil, and clove.

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  • Night’s Pavilion

    $24

    I worship you like night’s pavilion,
    O vase of sadness, o great silent one,
    And love you more since you escape from me,
    And since you seem, my night’s sublimity,
    To mock me and increase the leagues that lie
    Between my arms and blue immensity.

    I move to attack, beseige, assail,
    Like eager worms after a funeral.
    I even love, o beast implacable,
    The coldness which makes you more beautiful.

    Not the desperation, desolation and anguish of unrequited love, but the distant, chill and pitiless scent of the object of that doomed desire. White musk, osmanthus, Nile lily and frankincense.

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  • Olisbos

    $24

    As for old flames and lovers-they’re none left.
    And since Milesians went against us,
    I’ve not seen a decent eight-fingered dildo.
    Yes, it’s just leather, but it helps us out.

    The ancient Greeks sure weren’t shy about taking care of business. The port city of Miletus was once famed throughout the Mediterranean as a source of excellent stone, wood, and padded leather dildos. This scent is the celebration of an age-old pastime: polished wood, well-loved leather, and olive oil.

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  • Red Lantern

    $24

    A tribute to the opium den cum bawdyhouses of Shanghai in the 1930’s. Golden amber, blonde tobacco, Sudanese black coconut, rich caramel, black currant, white opium and delphinium laced with a sensual blend of Asian spice.

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  • Sic Erit

    $24

    Esse quid hoc dicam, quod tam mihi dura videntur
    strata, neque in lecto pallia nostra sedent,
    vacuus somno noctem, quam longa, peregi,
    lassaque versati corporis ossa dolent?
    nam, puto, sentirem, siquo temptarer amore.
    an subit et tecta callidus arte nocet?
    sic erit; haeserunt tenues in corde sagittae,
    et possessa ferus pectora versat Amor.
    Cedimus, an subitum luctando accendimus ignem?
    cedamus! leve fit, quod bene fertur, onus.
    vidi ego iactatas mota face crescere flammas
    et rursus nullo concutiente mori.
    verbera plura ferunt, quam quos iuvat usus aratri,
    detractant prensi dum iuga prima boves.
    asper equus duris contunditur ora lupatis,
    frena minus sentit, quisquis ad arma facit.
    acrius invitos multoque ferocius urget
    quam qui servitium ferre fatentur Amor.
    En ego confiteor! tua sum nova praeda, Cupido;
    porrigimus victas ad tua iura manus.
    nil opus est bello–veniam pacemque rogamus;
    nec tibi laus armis victus inermis ero.
    necte comam myrto, maternas iunge columbas;
    qui deceat, currum vitricus ipse dabit,
    inque dato curru, populo clamante triumphum,
    stabis et adiunctas arte movebis aves.
    ducentur capti iuvenes captaeque puellae;
    haec tibi magnificus pompa triumphus erit.
    ipse ego, praeda recens, factum modo vulnus habebo
    et nova captiva vincula mente feram.
    Mens Bona ducetur manibus post terga retortis,
    et Pudor, et castris quidquid Amoris obest.
    omnia te metuent; ad te sua bracchia tendens
    vulgus ‘io’ magna voce ‘triumphe!’ canet.
    blanditiae comites tibi erunt Errorque Furorque,
    adsidue partes turba secuta tuas.
    his tu militibus superas hominesque deosque;
    haec tibi si demas commoda, nudus eris.
    Laeta triumphanti de summo mater Olympo
    plaudet et adpositas sparget in ora rosas.
    tu pinnas gemma, gemma variante capillos
    ibis in auratis aureus ipse rotis.
    tunc quoque non paucos, si te bene novimus, ures;
    tunc quoque praeteriens vulnera multa dabis.
    non possunt, licet ipse velis, cessare sagittae;
    fervida vicino flamma vapore nocet.
    talis erat domita Bacchus Gangetide terra;
    tu gravis alitibus, tigribus ille fuit.
    Ergo cum possim sacri pars esse triumphi,
    parce tuas in me perdere, victor, opes!
    adspice cognati felicia Caesaris arma–
    qua vicit, victos protegit ille manu.

    WHO is it that can tell me why my bed seems so is hard and why the bedclothes will not stay upon it? Wherefore has this night–and oh, how long it was!–dragged on, bringing no sleep to my eyes? Why are my weary limbs visited with restlessness and pain? If it were Love that had come to make me suffer, surely I should know it. Or stay, what if he slips in like a thief, what if he comes, without a word of warning, to wound me with his cruel arts? Yes, ’tis he! His slender arrows have pierced my heart, and fell Love holds it like a conquered land. Shall I yield me to him? Or shall I strive against him, and so add fuel to this sudden flame? Well, I will yield; burdens willingly borne do lighter weigh. I know that the flames will leap from the shaken torch and die away in the one you leave alone. The young oxen which rebel against the yoke are more often beaten than those which willingly submit. And if a horse be fiery, harsh is the bit that tames him. When he takes to -the fray with a will, he feels the curb less galling. And so it is with Love; for hearts that struggle and rebel against him, he is more implacable and stern than for such as willingly confess his sway.

    Ah well, be it so, Cupid; thy prey am I. I am a poor captive kneeling with suppliant hands before my conqueror. What is the use of fighting? Pardon and peace is what I ask. And little, I trow, would it redound to your glory, armed as you are, to strike down a defenceless man. Crown thy brows with myrtle and thy mother’s doves yoke to thy car. Thy step-father will give thee the chariot that befits thee, and upon that chariot, amid the acclamations of the throng, thou shalt stand a conqueror, guiding with skill thy harnessed birds. Captives in thy train, youths and maidens shall follow, and splendid shall be thy triumph. And I, thy latest victim, shall be there with my fresh wound, and with submissive mien I will bear my new-wrought fetters. Prudence shall be led captive with hands bound behind her back, and Modesty, and whatsoever else is an obstacle to Love. All things shall be in awe of thee, and stretching forth their arms towards thee the throng with mighty voice shall thunder “Io Triumphe!” Caresses shall be thy escort, and Illusion and Madness, a troop that ever follows in thy train. With these fighting on thy side, nor men nor gods shall stand against thee; but if their aid be lacking, naked shalt thou be. Proud to behold thy triumph, thy mother will applaud thee from High Olympus and scatter roses on thy upturned face. Thy wings and thy locks shall be adorned with precious stones, and all with gold resplendent shalt thou drive thy golden car. Then too, if I know thee well, thou wilt set countless other hearts on fire, and many a wound shalt deal as thou passest on thy way. Repose, even when thou art fain to rest, cometh not to thine arrows. Thy ardent flame turns water itself to vapour. Such was Bacchus when he triumphed over the land of the Ganges. Thou art drawn along by doves; his car was drawn by tigers. Since, then, I am to have a part in thy godlike triumph, lose not the rights which thy victory gives thee over me. Bethink thee of the victories of thy kinsman Cæsar; he shields the conquered with the very hand that conquers them.

    – – –

    Thus it will be; slender arrows are lodged in my heart,
    and Love vexes the chest that it has seized.
    Should I surrender or stir up the sudden flame by battling it?
    I will surrender; a burden becomes light when it is carried willingly.
    - Ovid, translation by J. Lewis May

    Slender arrows lodged in my heart: red amber, benzoin, red musk, bourbon geranium, oak bark, Atlas cedar, and 13-year aged Sumatran patchouli.

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  • Signior Dildo

    $24

    With thanks to Sir John Wilmot.

    This signior is sound, safe, ready, and dumb
    As ever was candle, carrot, or thumb;
    Then away with these nasty devices, and show
    How you rate the just merit of Signior Dildo.

     

    Count Cazzo, who carries his nose very high,
    In passion he swore his rival should die;
    Then shut himself up to let the world know
    Flesh and blood could not bear it from Signior Dildo.

    A rabble of pricks who were welcome before,
    Now finding the porter denied them the door,
    Maliciously waited his coming below
    And inhumanly fell on Signior Dildo.

    Nigh wearied out, the poor stranger did fly,
    And along the Pall Mall they followed full cry;
    The women concerned from every window
    Cried, ‘For heaven’s sake, save Signior Dildo.’

    The good Lady Sandys burst into a laughter
    To see how the ballocks came wobbling after,
    And had not their weight retarded the foe,
    Indeed’t had gone hard with Signior Dildo.

     

    A scent of pearls and ivory: orris, violet leaf, narcissus, and Madagascar vanilla.

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  • Smut

    $24

    Quintessential BPAL filth. Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

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  • The Doom of Beauty

    $24

    Choice soul, in whom, as in a glass, we see,
    Mirrored in thy pure form and delicate,
    What beauties heaven and nature can create,
    The paragon of all their works to be!
    Fair soul, in whom love, pity, piety,
    Have found a home, as from thy outward state
    We clearly read, and are so rare and great
    That they adorn none other like to thee!
    Love takes me captive; beauty binds my soul;
    Pity and mercy with their gentle eyes
    Wake in my heart a hope that cannot cheat.
    What law, what destiny, what fell control,
    What cruelty, or late or soon, denies
    That death should spare perfection so complete?
    - Michelangelo Buonarroti

    An opulent, bittersweet Renaissance-inspired fragrance: Hungary water, parma violets, and roseated oil.

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Limited Edition - Lupercalia 2015 - Box of Bonbons

This year’s Box of Bonbons is particularly peculiar –

Limited Edition - Lupercalia 2015 - Ode to Venus

While I would dearly love to share artwork here for the following three Lupercalia subsets, in the interest of protecting those that are underage or possess delicate sensibilities, I’ll only be listing the notes here. Please refer to our web site for the naughty bits.

++ ODE TO VENUS
A line inspired by the timeless beauty of vintage nude postcard photography; in our vision, each of these women illustrates a facet of the splendor of the Roman goddess of love.

Venus, bright Goddess of the skies,
To whom unnumbered temples rise,
Jove’s daughter fair, whose wily arts
Delude fond lovers of their hearts;
Oh, listen gracious to my prayer,
And free my mind from anxious care.

If e’er you heard my ardent vow,
Propitious goddess, hear me now!
And oft my ardent vow you’ve heard,
By Cupid’s friendly aid preferred,
Oft left the golden courts of Jove
To listen to my tales of love.

The radiant car your sparrows drew;
You gave the word, and swift they flew,
Through liquid air they winged their way,
I saw their quivering pinions play:
To my plain roof they bore their queen,
Of aspect mild and look serene.

Soon as you came by your command,
Back flew the wantoned, feathered band,
Then, with a sweet enchanting look,
Divinely smiling, thus you spoke;
“Why didst thou call me to thy cell?
Tell me, my gentle Sappho, tell.

“What healing medicine shall I find
To cure thy love-distempered mind?
Say, shall I lend thee all my charms
To win young Phaon to thy arms?
Or does some other swain subdue
Thy heart? my Sappho, tell me, who?

“Though now, averse, thy charms he slight,
He soon shall view thee with delight:
Though now he scorns thy gifts to take,
He soon to thee shall offerings make;
Though now thy beauties fail to move,
He soon shall melt with equal love.”

Once more, O Venus! hear my prayer,
And ease my mind of anxious care;
Again vouchsafe to be my guest,
And calm this tempest in my breast!
To thee, bright queen, my vows aspire;
O grant me all my heart’s desire!

Limited Edition - Lupercalia 2015 - Ode to Mars

To strike a balance with this year’s Ode to Venus, we present an Ode the God of War and Agriculture: a series of six emboldening, strengthening, fertile scents that embody dominance, power, vitality, and sexual potency.

Magnanimous, unconquer’d, boistrous Mars,
In darts rejoicing, and in bloody wars
Fierce and untam’d, whose mighty pow’r can make
The strongest walls from their foundations shake:
Mortal destroying king, defil’d with gore, 5
Pleas’d with war’s dreadful and tumultuous roar:
Thee, human blood, and swords, and spears delight,
And the dire ruin of mad savage fight.
Stay, furious contests, and avenging strife,
Whose works with woe, embitter human life; 10
To lovely Venus, and to Bacchus yield,
To Ceres give the weapons of the field;
Encourage peace, to gentle works inclin’d,
And give abundance, with benignant mind.

Limited Edition - Lupercalia 2015 - Shunga

A limited edition Salon series celebrating the joy, humor, playfulness, and thrill of sexual intercourse through scent interpretations of Edo era Japanese erotic art.

Limited Edition - Yule 2014

Yule will be live until February 5th, 2015.

  • Butter Rum Cookie

    $23

    Rum-soaked brown butter cookies, crusted with sugar, soaked in almond and garnished with orange rind and pummeled pecans.

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  • Chanukkiyah

    $23

    Baruch ata Ado-nai, Elo-heinu Melech ha’olam, Asher kid’shanu b’mitzvosav v’tzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Chanukah.

    Baruch ata Ado-nai, Elo-heinu Melech ha’olam, She’asah nisim la’avoseinu, bayamim ha’hem baz’man hazeh.

    Baruch ata Ado-nai, Elo-heinu Melech ha’olam, She’hecheyanu, vekiyemanu vehigi’anu laz’man hazeh.

    Olive oil, beeswax, glowing amber, sweet sufganiyot, pomegranate, and fig.

    Ha’Neiros halalu anachnu madlikin al hanisim ve’al hanifla’os, ve’al hat’shu’os ve’al hamilchamos, sh’asisa la’avoseinu bayamim hahem baz’man hazeh, al yedei kohaneicha hakedoshim. Vechol sh’monas yemei Chanukah, haneiros halalu kodesh hem. Ve’ein lanu reshus le’hishtamesh ba’hem, eh’la lir’osam bilvad, ke’dei le’hodos u’lehalel leshimcha hagadol al nisecha ve’al nifle’osecha ve’al yeshu’oshecha.

    Ma’oz tzur yeshu’asi
    Lecha na’eh leshabe’ach
    Tikone bais tefilasi
    Ve’sham todah nezabe’ach
    Le’es Tachin Mabe’ach
    Mitzar ham’nabe’ach
    Az egmor beshir mizmor
    Chanukas hamizbe’ach.

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  • Chocolate Stout Cupcake

    $23

    Bittersweet chocolate cupcakes whisked with stout and topped with inky dark chocolate frosting.

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  • Christmas Pudding

    $23

    Black Phoenix’s Christmas Pudding is loosely based on a medieval recipe, and is crafted, as tradition dictates, from thirteen ingredients (representing Christ and his apostles, natch). Thick with treacle, smoky with suet (suet accord, sillies – there’s no mutton fat in this perfume!), and sweet with stirred custard.

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  • Dumb Cake

    $23

    What all the ingredients of the cake were I know not, but one principal one was salt. I remember being told some years ago, by an old inhabitant in one of the dales, about the composition of this mystic cake. It was somewhat as follows: In the first place four people had to assist in the making of it, each taking an equal share in the work, adding small portions of its component parts, stirring the pot, and so forth. During the whole time of its manufacture and consumption a strict silence has to be observed. Even when it is being taken out of the oven each of the interested parties must assist in the work. When made it is placed on the table in the middle of the room, and the four persons stand at the four corners of the room. When set on the table the cake is divided into equal portions and put upon four plates or vessels.

    The spirit of the future husband of one of the four would then appear and taste from the plate of his future bride, being only visible to her whose husband he was destined to be. As a preliminary to this, every door of the house had to be thrown open. The traditional hour for making the feast was midnight.

    A method of divination, the Dumb Cake was employed on auspicious evenings – Midwinter, Midsummer Eve, All Hallows, New Year’s, St. Mark’s Eve, St. Agnes’ Eve – so that single women would be able to divine the identity of their future husbands. The cakes were to be baked in silence, and “two must make it, two must bake it, and two must break it, and the third put it under each of their pillows.”

    The two must go to the larder and jointly get the various ingredients. First they get a bowl, each holding it and wash and dry it together. Then each gets a spoonful of flour, a spoonful of water and a little salt. When making the cake they must stand on something they have never stood on before. They must mix it together and roll it. Then they draw a line across the middle of the cake and each girl cuts her initials each on opposite sides of the line. Then both put it into the oven and bake it. The two take it out of the oven, and break it across the line and the two pieces are given to the third girl who places a piece under each pillow and they will dream of their future.

    Not a word must be spoken and the two girls after giving the pieces to the third girl have to walk backwards to bed and get into bed backwards. One word or exclamation by either of the three girls will break the charm.

    The cake was to be left by the fireplace overnight, and the door was to be left open. While the querant slept, her future husband’s double would creep into the house and prick her future husband’s initials into the cake pieces. If the door swung shut by accident, the spirit double would be trapped and the maiden cursed.

    This is the scent of an awkward encounter with a Yule-evoked doppelgänger mate: spectral cologne, blurry herbs, fireplace ash, and a dusting of crumbs.

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  • Egg Nog

    $23

    Sweet brandy, dark rum, heavy cream, sugar, and a dash of nutmeg.

    (Now with extra nog!)

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  • El Dia de los Reyes

    $23

    The Day of Kings, the Celebration of the Magi. In Mexico, on January 6th, children place their shoes by their windows. If they have been good during the previous year, the Wise Men tuck gifts into their shoes during the night.

    Hot cocoa with cinnamon, coffee, and brown sugar.

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  • Faunalia

    $23

    Held on December 5th, this is the festival of the Horned God of the Forest, one of the di indigetes of Rome, god of cattle, fertility, wild, untamed nature, and prophecy through dreams. The scent of a thick, starlit, unspoiled forest, with a burst of wild musk, opobalsamum, black bryony, mandragora, and hemlock.

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  • Gacela of the Dark Death

    $23

    I want to sleep the sleep of the apples,
    I want to get far away from the busyness of the cemeteries.
    I want to sleep the sleep of that child
    who longed to cut his heart open far out at sea.

    I don’t want them to tell me again how the corpse keeps all its blood,
    how the decaying mouth goes on begging for water.
    I’d rather not hear about the torture sessions the grass arranges for
    nor about how the moon does all its work before dawn
    with its snakelike nose.

    I want to sleep for half a second,
    a second, a minute, a century,
    but I want everyone to know that I am still alive,
    that I have a golden manger inside my lips,

    that I am the little friend of the west wind,
    that I am the elephantine shadow of my own tears.

    When it’s dawn just throw some sort of cloth over me
    because I know dawn will toss fistfuls of ants at me,
    and pour a little hard water over my shoes
    so that the scorpion claws of the dawn will slip off.

    Because I want to sleep the sleep of the apples,
    and learn a mournful song that will clean all earth away from me,
    because I want to live with that shadowy child
    who longed to cut his heart open far out at sea.

    Terebinth pine, pitch, and clove.

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  • Gelt

    $23

    Sevivon, sov, sov, sov
    Chanukah, hu chag tov
    Chanukah, hu chag tov
    Sevivon, sov, sov, sov!

    Chag simcha hu la-am
    Nes gadol haya sham
    Nes gadol haya sham
    Chag simcha hu la-am.

    A bounty of chocolate coins! Dry cocoa and golden amber!

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  • Haloa

    $23

    Sacred to both Demeter and Dionysus, this is a celebration of the of the pruning of the vines, the first fermentation of the year’s wine, and of the consecration of the next year’s planting. The service was lead by the heterai and the Eleusinian Arkhontes, and began with the preparation of a banquet that honors Demeter’s bounty and the fertility aspect of Dionysus with pudenda- and phallus-shaped cakes. After the preliminary feast, the magistrates departed, and the heterai held a second rite that consisted of copious wine consumption, ritual symbolic fornication, and formal offerings of incense, grain, and cakes to sacred statues of the deities and to clay images of genitalia. Finally, the magistrates and priests were permitted to rejoin the ritual. A Priest and Priestess bore torches that symbolizes Demeter and her daughter Persephone presided over the final ceremony, which culminated in the ultimate celebration of fertility: an orgy that lasted til dawn.

    Wine grapes, pomegranate, myrrh, frankincense and olive leaf, and the warm scent of offertory cakes.

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  • Hans Trapp

    $23

    Schoi, do kummt d’r Hans Trapp.
    Ar het a scheni Zepfelkapp’
    Un a Bart wiss wie a Schimmel.
    Ar kummt vum schena Starnehimmel
    Un bringt da Kinder a Ruada,
    Wu net dien singe un bata.
    Schoi, Hans Trapp, mir sin so klein
    Un brav un folje d’heim.
    Müesch net kumme mit dim Stacka,
    Denn mir kenne singe un oi bata.
     

    A legend born of the life of Hans von Trotha and his wars with the Papacy, this restless spirit terrorizes the disobedient children of France and Germany at Christmastime. This cannibalistic demon lives in a hut high up in the mountains of Bavaria disguised as a scarecrow, gnashing his teeth as he plots his Yuletide punishments.

    Tattered leather, dry straw, matted hair, sharpened sticks, and a bundle of switches.

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  • Hard Cider Cake

    $23

    A thick, spongy white cake spiked with hard apple cider and frosted with whiskey-laden buttercream.

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  • Hot Buttered Rum

    $23

    Hot buttered rum with a touch of molasses, lightly spiced and swirled with a touch of cream.

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  • Krampus

    5.00 out of 5
    $23

    Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa’s wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away.

    Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black and rust-brown leathers, dusty rags, and wooden switches.

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  • Lick It with Consent

    $23

    Lick It is back, as minty and sweet as ever, and now you can lick it for a good cause: proceeds from every sale of Lick It With Consent will be donated to RAINN.

    (For a spot-on dissertation on what consent entails, please visit Erika Moen and Matthew Nolan’s VERY NSFW infographic. Oh Joy Sex Toy is not a sponsor of Black Phoenix, or the other way around. Er, whichever. This is just a damn good link, and I wanted to pass it on!)

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  • Mari Lwyd

    4.00 out of 5
    $23

    An echo of the rites of Rhiannon, the Great Queen and Mother of Horses, the Mari Lwyd is a Midwinter tradition in Wales. The beribboned Grey Mare travels door to door with her entourage, seeking permission to wassail and initiate a contest of wit: the pwnco, a battle of improvised verses filled with good-natured ridicule set to song. If the Mari party were victorious, they were invited into the home to partake of ale and cakes and provide entertainment for the family.

    Welsh cakes and ale with a smattering of dried lavender.

    Out of Stock
  • Midnight Mass

    4.00 out of 5
    $23

    I will wash my hands among the innocent; and will compass thy altar, O Lord: That I may hear the voice of thy praise: and tell of all thy wondrous works. I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house; and the place where thy glory dwelleth. Take not away my soul, O God, with the wicked: nor my life with bloody men: In whose hands are iniquities: their right hand is filled with gifts.

    But as for me, I have walked in my innocence: redeem me, and have mercy on me. My foot hath stood in the direct way: in the churches I will bless thee, O Lord.

    In Roman Catholic tradition, the Christmas season begins liturgically on Christmas Eve, though it is forbidden to celebrate the Christmas Mass before midnight. The most devout attend Midnight Mass, celebrating both the Eucharist and the drama of the Nativity.

    This perfume is a traditional Roman Catholic sacramental incense, most often used during a Solemn Mass. Traditionally, five tears of this incense, each encased individually in wax that has been fashioned into the shape of a nail, are inserted into the paschal candle. This is, of course, represents the Five Wounds of Our Risen Savior. Symbolically, the burning of the incense signifies spiritual fervor, the fragrance itself inspires virtue, and the rising smoke carries our prayers to God.

    Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, factorem caeli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium.

    Et in unum Dominum Iesum Christum, Filium Dei unigenitum, et ex Patre natum ante omnia saecula. Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine, Deum verum de Deo vero, genitum non factum, consubstantialem Patri; per quem omnia facta sunt. Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem descendit de caelis. Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est. Crucifixus etiam pro nobis sub Pontio Pilato, passus et sepultus est, et resurrexit tertia die, secundum Scripturas, et ascendit in caelum, sedet ad dexteram Patris. Et iterum venturus est cum gloria, iudicare vivos et mortuos, cuius regni non erit finis. 

    Et in Spiritum Sanctum, Dominum et vivificantem, qui ex Patre procedit. Qui cum Patre et Filio simul adoratur et conglorificatur: qui locutus est per prophetas. Et unam, sanctam, catholicam et apostolicam Ecclesiam. Confiteor unum baptisma in remissionem peccatorum. Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum, et vitam venturi saeculi. Amen.

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  • Nuclear Winter

    $23

    Annihilation. The ice, desolation and barrenness of nuclear devastation shot through by a beam of radioactive mints.

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  • Rose Red

    $23

    The perfected winter rose, dew covered and freshly cut.

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  • Snow White

    $23

    A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers.

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  • Strawberry Sufganiyot

    $23

    A sugar-dusted pile of sufganiyot, trickling bright rivulets of strawberry jelly.

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  • The Fruit of Paradise

    $23

    While Persephone visited the realm of Hades, she tasted one single pomegranate seed, an act which compelled her to remain connected to the Land of the Dead for all eternity. Demeter’s grief over her beloved daughter’s absence that brings on the bleakness and barrenness of the winter months.

    The Fruit of Paradise, the Nectar of Death: bittersweet pomegranate.

    Illustration by Abigail Larson!

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  • Winter-Time

    $23

    Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,

    A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
    Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
    A blood-red orange, sets again.

    Before the stars have left the skies,
    At morning in the dark I rise;
    And shivering in my nakedness,
    By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

    Close by the jolly fire I sit
    To warm my frozen bones a bit;
    Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
    The colder countries round the door.

    When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
    Me in my comforter and cap;
    The cold wind burns my face, and blows
    Its frosty pepper up my nose.

    Black are my steps on silver sod;
    Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
    And tree and house, and hill and lake,
    Are frosted like a wedding cake.

    Sweet, soft snow.

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  • Yuletide

    $23

    Ripe, bursting, blood red holly berries pricked by sharp, waxy holly leaves.

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Limited Edition - Yule 2014 - An Evening with the Spirits

I felt my hair blown and lifted by currents of air, and cool breezes played about my face and hands. Then began a strange sensation, which I had sometimes felt at seances. Frequently I have heard it described by others as of cobwebs being passed over the face, but to me, who watched it curiously, it seemed that I could feel fine threads being drawn out of the pores of my skin.

I experienced none of the fear of the previous evening. At first I had a strange eerie feeling somewhat akin to it, but that passed off, and I became perfectly calm and indisposed to move, or to answer any of the many questions addressed to me by my friends outside. At the same time I took a great interest in analysing my own sensations and wondered as to what would come of the experiment, for that something was about to happen I was certain.

  • A Measurement of the Soul

    $23

    If then, man, in every act, leaves the impression, or daguerreotype of his mental being upon the scenes of his life and the subjects of his action, we are by this law furnished with a new clue to the history of our race; and I think it highly probable, that, by the application of this principle, the chasms of history may be supplied, and a glimpse may be obtained of unrecorded ages and nations, whose early history is lost in darkness. The ancient manuscripts, paintings, and other works of art, which still exist – the crucifixes, garments, armor, and other ancient relics, still preserved – are doubtless still instinct with the spirit that produced them, and capable of revealing to psychometric exploration, the living realities with which they were once connected. At present, these relics are barren of significance. Their hidden meaning lies waiting the future explorer, as the hieroglyphics of Egypt awaited the arrival of Champillion to interpret their significance. And why should not the world be filled with the monuments and unwritten records of its past history? It would seem, to the superficial thinker, that man was entirely limited to tradition and written records for his knowledge of the past; but physical science proves, that the world possesses, embodied in enduring monuments, the story of its progressive existence. The geologist finds, in the different strata of the earth, in its curiously mingled and irregular structure, and in the fossil remains which it conceals in its bosom, the history of its various changes of surface, and of the antediluvian races of animals which have long been extinct. The huge Saurian monsters, which he portrays from their fossil relics, rise before the eye as incredible chimeras. And over this fertile region, now occupied by prosperous States, he revives, by the magic power of science, the antediluvian seas and their strange inhabitants, unknown to man.

    The Past is entombed in the Present! The world is its own enduring monument; and that which is true of its physical, is likewise true of its mental career. The discoveries of Psychometry will enable us to explore the history of man, as those of geology enable us to explore the history of the earth. There are mental fossils for psychologists as well as mineral fossils for the geologists; and I believe that hereafter the psychologist and the geologist will go hand in hand — the one portraying the earth, its animals and its vegetation, while the other portrays the human beings who have roamed over its surface in the shadows, and the darkness of primeval barbarism! Aye, the mental telescope is now discovered which may pierce the depths of the past and bring us in full view of the grand and tragic passages of ancient history! I know that, to many of my readers, unaccustomed to these investigations, and unacquainted with the first experimental facts of this great science, these anticipations must seem a visionary hope – too grand, too romantic, too transcendently beautiful to be true. But observe, that all is based upon familiar experiments, and these results are but legitimate deductions from familiar facts. As surely as the expansive power of steam gives premonition of the ocean steamship, does the power of Psychometry give promise of all the glorious performance to which I have alluded.

    —Buchanan, 1842

    A tactile scent, groaning under the weight of aeons: wild fig, cedarwood, venerable ti leaf, and white sage.

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  • Claircognizance

    4.00 out of 5
    $23

    Dr. E. S. Packard, of Corunna, Me., in the Eastern Star, states that Mr. David Prescott, of South Sangerville, over ninety years of age, “wandered away into the woods, and not returning, a crowd of over a hundred men hunted for him nearly two days; the mill pond near his house was drained. Search was made in every direction but to no success.

     “A gentleman of that place decided to call in the aid of Mrs. Stevens; she told him somebody was lost, and not being able to visit the place she drew a map or chart of the locality, giving directions, by which, on his return he was immediately found alive, but died the next day. The day following I was at South Sangerville, and stopping at this gentleman’s house, examined the map, which was perfect in every respect. The house and shed were correctly drawn, the mill and pond near the house were marked, the field and woods, two fences over which Mr. Prescott must climb, even to the swinging of the road by the house was definitely given.

    “The spot where she said he was, was shown by a large black mark, and he was found exactly in that place. When we consider that Mrs. Stevens never saw this place in her normal condition, it is to me a wonderful test of spirit power.”

    Absolute and perfect clarity: rockrose, white amber, Corsican immortelle, Siamese benzoin, white sandalwood, and life everlasting.

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  • Ectoplasm

    $23

    In examining and reporting these cases the witnesses averred that certain people, whom they called “materializing mediums,” had the strange physical gift that they could put forth from their bodies a viscous, gelatinous substance which appeared to differ from every known form of matter in that it could solidify and be used for material purposes, and yet could be reabsorbed, leaving absolutely no trace even upon the clothes which it had traversed in leaving the body.

    This substance was actually touched by some enterprising investigators, who reported that it was elastic and appeared to be sensitive, as though it was really an organic extrusion from the medium’s body.

    —Arthur Conan Doyle, 1930

    A luminous, viscid blend of white amber, lemongrass, white oakmoss, and davana.

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  • Eusapia

    4.00 out of 5
    $23

    “The case I allude to is that of an invalid woman who belongs to the humblest class of society. She is nearly thirty years old and very ignorant; her look is neither fascinating nor endowed with the power which modern criminologists call irresistible; but when she wishes, be it by day or by night, she can divert a curious group for an hour or so with the most surprising phenomena. Either bound to a seat or firmly held by the hands of the curious, she attracts to her the articles of furniture which surround her, lifts them up, holds them suspended in the air like Mahomet’s coffin, and makes them come down again with undulatory movements, as if they were obeying her will. She increases their weight or lessens it according to her pleasure. She raps or taps upon the walls, the ceiling, the floor, with fine rhythm and cadence. In response to the requests of the spectators, something like flashes of electricity shoot forth from her body, and envelop her or enwrap the spectators of these marvellous scenes. She draws upon cards that you hold out, everything that you want – figures, signatures, numbers, sentences – by just stretching out her hand toward the indicated place.

    “If you place in the corner of the room a vessel containing a layer of soft clay, you find after some moments the imprint in it of a small or a large hand, the image of a face (front view or profile) from which a plaster cast can be taken. In this way portraits of a face taken at different angles have been preserved, and those who desire so to do can thus make serious and important studies.

    “This woman rises in the air, no matter what bands tie her down. She seems to lie upon the empty air, as on a couch, contrary to all the laws of gravity; she plays on musical instruments – organs, bells, tambourines – as if they had been touched by her hands or moved by the breath of invisible gnomes… This woman at times can increase her stature by more than four inches.

    —Chiaia, in a letter to Lombroso

    Pale lilacs, white tea, and candle wax.

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  • Gossips of Ghost Land

    $23

    They are imps of the kitchen, or drawing-room at most; and, if any spirit answers to their sphere, it must be those of unclaimed and disaffected ghosts, who, having no substance within themselves, out of which to compound a spiritual body, wander about church-yards, or haunt the localities where they enacted old crimes, or lived frivolous and disjointed lives. … It may be that the spirits called the Rappers… belong to this class. They are in, what Dante would call Limbo, driven to and fro, perturbed and lonely. These eagerly question the finer spirits, who pass through their realm on their way to higher spheres, of all the gossip that used to interest them on earth. But, inasmuch as the companionship of these people was in no way desirable while they lived in this world, they become less so when separated from the body. They are the gossips of ghost land, poor, frivolous, flimsy wretches, who receive the shred of thought here, and the shadows only of through in the spirit world, for all thought has a body and a substance as it were to itself, so that we say a thought may be grasped in anticipation of the fact hereafter; hence, thought finding no lodgment in these thin poor spirits, floats right through them. They have a restless desire for tangibility, and are perpetually trying to command material objects in a way to make themselves known.

    —d’Espérance, 1897

    Idle poltergeists and truant phantoms loitering in darkened corners and shadowed hallways: black cedar, patchouli, and tea leaf spiked with a tittering cackle of pink peppercorn, mate, and lime rind.

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  • Luminous Phasmatis

    $23

    A peculiar manifestation of light produced by physical mediums during ectoplasmic séances: otherworldly snaps of ozone glowing with unearthly light.

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  • Practical Occultism

    $23

    Practical Occultism consists, first, of a perfect mastery of the individual’s own spirit. No advance whatever can be made in acquiring power over other spirits, such as controlling the lower or  supplicating the higher, until the spirit within has acquired such perfect mastery of itself, that it can never be moved to anger or emotion—realizes no pleasure, cares for no pain; experiences no mortification at insult, loss, or disappointment—in a word, subdues every emotion that stirs common men’s minds.

    To arrive at this state, severe and painful as well as long continued discipline is necessary. Having acquired this perfect equilibrium, the next step is power. The individual must be able to wake when he pleases and sleep when he pleases; go in spirit during bodily sleep where he will, and visit—as well as remember when awake—distant scenes.

    He must be enabled by practice, to telegraph, mentally, with his fellow associates, and present himself, spiritually, in their midst.

    He must, by practice, acquire psychological control over the minds of any persons—not his associates—beneath his own calibre of mind. He must be able to still a crying infant, subdue fierce animals or angry men, and by will, transfer his thought without speech or outward sign to any person of a mental calibre below himself; he must be enabled to summon to his presence elementary spirits, and if he desires to do so (knowing the penalties attached), to make them serve him in the special departments of Nature to which they belong.

    He must, by virtue of complete subjugation of his earthly nature, be able to invoke Planetary and even Solar Spirits, and commune with them to a certain degree.

    To attain these degrees of power the processes are so difficult that a thorough practical occultist can scarcely become one and yet continue his relations with his fellow-men.

    He must continue, from the first to the last degree, a long series of exercises, each one of which must be perfected before another is undertaken.

    A practical occultist may be of either sex, but must observe as the first law inviolable chastity—and that with a view of conserving all the virile powers of the organism. No aged person, especially one who has not lived the life of strict chastity, can acquire the full sum of the powers above named. It is better to commence practice in early youth, for after the meridian of life, when the processes of waste prevail over repair, few of the powers above described can be attained; the full sum never.

    Strict abstinence from animal food and all stimulants is necessary. Frequent ablutions and long periods of silent contemplation are essential. Codes of exercises for the attainment of these powers can be prescribed, but few, if any, of the self-indulgent livers of modern times can perform their routine.

    The arts necessary for study to the practical occultist are, in addition to those prescribed in speculative occultism, a knowledge of the qualities of drugs, vapors, minerals, electricity, perfumes, fumigations, and all kinds of anæsthetics.

    And now, having given in brief as much as is consistent with my position—as the former associate of a secret society—I have simply  to add, that, whilst there are, as in Masonry, certain preliminary degrees to pass through, there are numerous others to which a thoroughly well organized and faithful association might advance. In each degree there are some valuable elements of practical occultism demanded, whilst the teachings conveyed are essential preliminaries. In a word, speculative occultism must precede practical occultism; the former is love and wisdom, the latter, simply power.

    A Victorian occultist’s incense, invoking the Four Archangels: precious wildcrafted Indian frankincense with myrrh, cassia, sandarac, palmarosa, white sage, red sandalwood, elemi, and drops of star anise bound with grains of kyphi.

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  • Psychodynamic Discharge

    5.00 out of 5
    $23

    In certain cases, emotionally charged complexes of representation, which have become autonomous and dissociated, seem to automatically and compulsively press for discharge and realisation through haunting phenomena…. Hence, the so-called haunting occurs in place of a neurosis.

    —Albert von Schrenck-Notzing

    Repressed rage, terror, and subjugated sexuality erupting through fierce bursts of uncontrollable psychic phenomena: black leather and red musk with aged black patchouli, Chinese rose, black pepper, coconut meat, Haitian vetiver, and igneous red ginger.

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  • Spirit Board

    $23

    CRAZED THROUGH “OUIJA”
    Neglected by Her Lover She Seeks Comfort of a Fortune-Telling Device

    BRIDGEPORT, Conn., Nov. 20.— Mrs. Eugenia Carpenter, a young woman living at 221 Myrtle, av., has been receiving attention from a young man who very recently ceased to call upon her.

    Mrs. Carpenter bought a fortune-telling board called “ouija,” and from it received the prediction that her suitor would not return to her.

    Last night she was found wandering almost nude in the streets.

    Her reason was gone and at intervals she cried out “Ouija said so and I knew it was true.”

    November 21st 1891
    Boston Daily Globe

    Redwood and bois de rose with white lilac, dried pink roses, and black tea.

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  • Table-Turning

    $23

    In the month of December, another fair American medium arrived in England. This lady and her husband, Dr. Roberts, attended a course of lectures I was then delivering in Providence Chapel, upon Mesmerism and Animal Magnetism. They introduced themselves to me, and invited me to visit them. I did so, many times; and to them do I owe much; for, through the information I received from them, I have been enabled to inquire more fully into this soul-stirring, and very important subject, after several Seances at Mrs. Roberts’s in Dyer’s Buildings, Holborn [MD: original], where I witnessed the moving of the table in various directions. This is what is called “Table-turning,” and which has been attributed to Electricity or Animal Magnetism, by many intelligent and scientific persons… I have seen a loo-table suspended in the air, at least six inches from the ground, without anyone in the body touching it.

    —Hardinge, 1854

    A heavy, tactile scent that thrums with voices from beyond: black polished teakwood, gullies of ectoplasm, and ghostly white musk.

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  • The Fox Sisters

    $23

    For the sake of continuity the subsequent history of the Fox sisters will now be given after the events at Hydesville. It is a remarkable, and to Spiritualists a painful, story, but it bears its own lesson and should be faithfully recorded. When men have an honest and whole-hearted aspiration for truth there is no development which can ever leave them abashed or find no place in their scheme.

    For some years the two younger sisters, Kate and Margaret, gave séances at New York and other places, successfully meeting every test which was applied to them. Horace Greeley, afterwards a candidate for the United States presidency, was, as already shown, deeply interested in them and convinced of their entire honesty. He is said to have furnished the funds by which the younger girl completed her very imperfect education.

    During these years of public mediumship, when the girls were all the rage among those who had no conception of the religious significance of this new revelation, and who concerned themselves with it purely in the hope of worldly advantage, the sisters exposed themselves to the enervating influences of promiscuous séances in a way which no earnest Spiritualist could justify. The dangers of such practices were not then so clearly realized as now, nor had it occurred to people that it is unlikely that high spirits would descend to earth in order to advise as to the state of railway stocks or the issue of love affairs. The ignorance was universal, and there was no wise mentor at the elbow of these poor pioneers to point the higher and the safer path. Worst of all, their jaded energies were renewed by the offer of wine at a time when one at least of them was hardly more than a child. It is said that there was some family predisposition towards alcoholism, but even without such a taint their whole procedure and mode of life were rash to the last degree. Against their moral character there has never been a breath of suspicion, but they had taken a road which leads to degeneration of mind and character, though it was many years before the more serious effects were manifest.

    Some idea of the pressure upon the Fox girls at this time may be gathered from Mrs. Hardinge Britten’s* description from her own observation. She talks of “pausing on the first floor to hear poor patient Kate Fox, in the midst of a captious, grumbling crowd of investigators, repeating hour after hour the letters of the alphabet, while the no less poor, patient spirits rapped out names, ages and dates to suit all comers.” Can one wonder that the girls, with vitality sapped, the beautiful, watchful influence of the mother removed, and harassed by enemies, succumbed to a gradually increasing temptation in the direction of stimulants?

    —Arthur Conan Doyle

    Deception and despair: rose geranium and tea roses with mahogany wood, bourbon vanilla, and apple peel.

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  • Vital Fluid

    $23

    Modern philosophy has admitted a plenum or universal principle of fluid matter, which occupies all space; and that as all bodies moving in the world, abound with pores, this fluid matter introduces itself through the interstices and returns backwards and forwards, flowing through one body by the currents which issue therefrom to another, as in a magnet, which produces that phenomenon which we call Animal Magnetism. This fluid consists of fire, air and spirit, and like all other fluids tends to an equilibrium, therefore it is easy to conceive how the efforts which the bodies make towards each other produce animal electricity, which in fact is no more than the effect produced between two bodies, one of which has more motion than the other; a phenomenon serving to prove that the body which has most motion communicates it to the other, until the medium of motion becomes an equilibrium between the two bodies, and then this equality of motion produces animal electricity.

    —Wonders and mysteries of animal magnetism displayed; or the history, art, practice, and progress of that useful science, from its first rise in the city of Paris, to the present time. With several Curious Cases and new Anecdotes of the Principal Professors, 1791.

    The breath and tears and pulse of all life; the fluid that flows through all creation, permeating space and time and spirit: olibanum, red benzoin absolute, labdanum, betel leaf, galbanum, mastic, and angelica.

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Limited Edition - Yule 2014 - The Phobias

The holiday season is a source of joy for many – frolicking in the snow, decking the halls, stringin’ up lights, belting out carols. It is a time for family and good cheer, jolly men in furry red suits, and tales of merriment and miracles.

For others, it is a source of pure terror.

  • Chionophobia

    $23

    Fear of Snow

    A suffocating, oppressive white shroud: a fragrance heavy with ice, strangled by damp oakmoss, artemisia, and muguet.

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  • Christougenniatiko Dentrophobia

    $23

    Fear of Christmas Trees

    Ghastly misshapen branches casting long, twisted shadows and clutching at you with prickly needle-like fingers: pine pitch, bone-white dried fir, and spruce tar with opoponax and blackened tobacco.

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  • Cryophobia

    $23

    Fear of Extreme Cold

    Cold – unending, heart-piercing cold – that slices through skin and muscle like a gleaming, razor-edged dagger until it penetrates bone and fills your marrow: white eucalyptus, frosted mint, raw frankincense, davana, iris petal, white grapefruit, and wormwood.

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  • Deipnophobia

    $23

    Fear of Dinner Conversations

    Wine spilled across freshly pressed table linens, a wilted holiday bouquet, and a furtive hint of whiskey and baked bread.

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  • Hagiophobia

    $23

    Fear of Saints and Holy Things

    The scent of mad piety, blood and martyrdom, soul-crushing guilt, and frenzied devotion: frankincense and myrrh disoriented by labdanum, unsteady yuzu, shredded ginger, black cypress, and Aleppo Pine wood thickened with dragon’s blood resin.

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Limited Edition - Yule 2014 - Gingerbread Cotillion II

Now you shall hear a story that somebody’s great-great-grandmother told a little girl ever so many years ago:

There was once a little old man and a little old woman, who lived in a little old house in the edge of a wood. They would have been a very happy old couple but for one thing — they had no little child, and they wished for one very much. One day, when the little old woman was baking gingerbread, she cut a cake in the shape of a little boy, and put it into the oven.

Presently she went to the oven to see if it was baked. As soon as the oven door was opened, the little gingerbread boy jumped out, and began to run away as fast as he could go.

The little old woman called her husband, and they both ran after him. But they could not catch him. And soon the gingerbread boy came to a barn full of threshers. He called out to them as he went by, saying:

I’ve run away from a little old woman,
A little old man,
And I can run away from you, I can!

Then the barn full of threshers set out to run after him. But, though they ran fast, they could not catch him. And he ran on till he came to a field full of mowers. He called out to them:

I’ve run away from a little old woman,
A little old man,
A barn full of threshers,
And I can run away from you, I can!

Then the mowers began to run after him, but they couldn’t catch him. And he ran on till he came to a cow. He called out to her:

I’ve run away from a little old woman,
A little old man,
A barn full of threshers,
A field full of mowers,
And I can run away from you, I can!

But, though the cow started at once, she couldn’t catch him. And soon he came to a pig. He called out to the pig:

I’ve run away from a little old woman,
A little old man,
A barn full of threshers,
A field full of mowers,
A cow,
And I can run away from you, I can!

But the pig ran, and couldn’t catch him. And he ran till he came across a fox, and to him he called out:

I’ve run away from a little old woman,
A little old man,
A barn full of threshers,
A field full of mowers,
A cow and a pig,
And I can run away from you, I can!

Then the fox set out to run. Now foxes can run very fast, and so the fox soon caught the gingerbread boy and began to eat him up.

Presently the gingerbread boy said, “Oh dear! I’m quarter gone!” And then, “Oh, I’m half gone!” And soon, “I’m three-quarters gone!” And at last, “I’m all gone!” and never spoke again.

Limited Edition - Ligeia

And the will therein lieth, which dieth not. Who knoweth the mysteries of the will, with its vigor? For God is but a great will pervading all things by nature of its intentness. Man doth

This year, we are ringing in the return of autumn by celebrating the life and undeath of one of our most cherished friends, Ligeia. Artwork by Ivonne Carley and Harry Clarke.

Ligeia has been extended until February 5th, 2015!

  • A Brilliant and Ruby Colored Fluid

    3.00 out of 5
    $23

    It was then that I became distinctly aware of a gentle footfall upon the carpet, and near the couch; and in a second thereafter, as Rowena was in the act of raising the wine to her lips, I saw, or may have dreamed that I saw, fall within the goblet, as if from some invisible spring in the atmosphere of the room, three or four large drops of a brilliant and ruby colored fluid. If this I saw –not so Rowena. She swallowed the wine unhesitatingly, and I forbore to speak to her of a circumstance which must, after all, I considered, have been but the suggestion of a vivid imagination, rendered morbidly active by the terror of the lady, by the opium, and by the hour. 

    A spectre’s poison: unknowable strange toxins dribbled into warmed red wine.

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  • A Tremor Upon the Lips

    $23

    I listened — in extremity of horror. The sound came again — it was a sigh. Rushing to the corpse, I saw  –distinctly saw — a tremor upon the lips.

    The stirring of another’s heartbeat within your chest, the vacuum of a stranger’s breath within your lungs: Laotian oudh, carrot seed, white orris, and bitter raw frankincense chilled by elemi and eucalyptus blossom.

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  • Bewildered in a Dream

    $23

    The greater part of the fearful night had worn away, and she who had been dead, once again stirred –and now more vigorously than hitherto, although arousing from a dissolution more appalling in its utter hopelessness than any. I had long ceased to struggle or to move, and remained sitting rigidly upon the ottoman, a helpless prey to a whirl of violent emotions, of which extreme awe was perhaps the least terrible, the least consuming. The corpse, I repeat, stirred, and now more vigorously than before. The hues of life flushed up with unwonted energy into the countenance –the limbs relaxed –and, save that the eyelids were yet pressed heavily together, and that the bandages and draperies of the grave still imparted their charnel character to the figure, I might have dreamed that Rowena had indeed shaken off, utterly, the fetters of Death. But if this idea was not, even then, altogether adopted, I could at least doubt no longer, when, arising from the bed, tottering, with feeble steps, with closed eyes, and with the manner of one bewildered in a dream, the thing that was enshrouded advanced boldly and palpably into the middle of the apartment.

    A disorienting eddy of French lavender, black tea, orange blossom, sharp green tea leaf, pink flowering thorn, and a blot of inky resins.

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  • Blacker than the Raven Wings of Midnight

    2.50 out of 5
    $23

    Shrinking from my touch, she let fall from her head, unloosened, the ghastly cerements which had confined it, and there streamed forth, into the rushing atmosphere of the chamber, huge masses of long and dishevelled hair; it was blacker than the raven wings of the midnight! And now slowly opened the eyes of the figure which stood before me. “Here then, at least,” I shrieked aloud, “can I never –can I never be mistaken –these are the full, and the black, and the wild eyes –of my lost love –of the lady –of the LADY LIGEIA.”

     The scent of Ligeia reborn: black tea leaf fougere with black sandalwood, opalescent vanilla, osmanthus,  18-year aged Indonesian patchouli, and the suggestion of ancient incense smoke.

    Out of Stock
  • Fettered in the Shackles of the Drug

    $23

    In the excitement of my opium dreams (for I was habitually fettered in the shackles of the drug) I would call aloud upon her name, during the silence of the night, or among the sheltered recesses of the glens by day, as if, through the wild eagerness, the solemn passion, the consuming ardor of my longing for the departed, I could restore her to the pathway she had abandoned –ah, could it be forever? –upon the earth.

    Sweet opium smoke, neroli, yellow bergamot, and piquant, strange star anise.

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  • Incipient Madness

    2.00 out of 5
    $23

    Alas, I feel how much even of incipient madness might have been discovered in the gorgeous and fantastic draperies, in the solemn carvings of Egypt, in the wild cornices and furniture, in the Bedlam patterns of the carpets of tufted gold! I had become a bounden slave in the trammels of opium, and my labors and my orders had taken a coloring from my dreams.

    A thunderous passion, conceived in obsession and nurtured in the bowels of delirium, that grasps in desperation through the darkest shadows of the ether. An unwholesome smoky musk, dark and sweet, laced with Virginia tobacco, honeyed black currant, and red patchouli.

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  • Some Strangeness in the Proportion

    5.00 out of 5
    $23

    Yet her features were not of that regular mould which we have been falsely taught to worship in the classical labors of the heathen. “There is no exquisite beauty,” says Bacon, Lord Verulam, speaking truly of all the forms and genera of beauty, without some strangeness in the proportion.” Yet, although I saw that the features of Ligeia were not of a classic regularity –although I perceived that her loveliness was indeed “exquisite,” and felt that there was much of “strangeness” pervading it, yet I have tried in vain to detect the irregularity and to trace home my own perception of “the strange.”

    Rich vanilla sandalwood elegantly distorted by oudh, labdanum, scarlet saffron, and pink pepper.

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  • The Radiance of an Opium-Dream

    $23

    There is one dear topic, however, on which my memory fails me not. It is the person of Ligeia. In stature she was tall, somewhat slender, and, in her latter days, even emaciated. I would in vain attempt to portray the majesty, the quiet ease, of her demeanor, or the incomprehensible lightness and elasticity of her footfall. She came and departed as a shadow. I was never made aware of her entrance into my closed study save by the dear music of her low sweet voice, as she placed her marble hand upon my shoulder. In beauty of face no maiden ever equalled her. It was the radiance of an opium-dream –an airy and spirit-lifting vision more wildly divine than the phantasies which hovered vision about the slumbering souls of the daughters of Delos.

    A haze of tuberose, pale jasmine, vanilla orchid, and lily, with a faint jagged edge of opium tar.

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  • The Tumultuous Vultures of Stern Passion

    2.50 out of 5
    $23

    Of all the women whom I have ever known, she, the outwardly calm, the ever-placid Ligeia, was the most violently a prey to the tumultuous vultures of stern passion. And of such passion I could form no estimate, save by the miraculous expansion of those eyes which at once so delighted and appalled me –by the almost magical melody, modulation, distinctness and placidity of her very low voice –and by the fierce energy (rendered doubly effective by contrast with her manner of utterance) of the wild words which she habitually uttered.

    Of such passion, I could form no estimate: sanguine red musk, red benzoin, wild plum, vetiver tar, and Indonesian patchouli beneath a still pool of sheer white musk and vanilla-gilded lily.

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  • Verdant Decay

    $23

    Ligeia had brought me far more, very far more than ordinarily falls to the lot of mortals. After a few months, therefore, of weary and aimless wandering, I purchased, and put in some repair, an abbey, which I shall not name, in one of the wildest and least frequented portions of fair England. The gloomy and dreary grandeur of the building, the almost savage aspect of the domain, the many melancholy and time-honored memories connected with both, had much in unison with the feelings of utter abandonment which had driven me into that remote and unsocial region of the country. Yet although the external abbey, with its verdant decay hanging about it, suffered but little alteration, I gave way, with a child-like perversity, and perchance with a faint hope of alleviating my sorrows, to a display of more than regal magnificence within.

    A claustrophobic thicket of yew, cypress, and drooping oak grown wild with dense mounds of bittersweet nightshade, gleaming white foxglove, creeping black ivy, clusters of marshy false morel and fly agaric, and a smear of crushed, overripe baneberries.

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Limited Edition - Halloween 2014

Ligeia has been extended until February 5th, 2015!

  • All Saints

    4.00 out of 5
    $23

    Based on a venerable French pontifical incense blend: monastic frankincense and myrrh, Damascus rose, Russian gardenia, cassia, and lily of the valley wafting on a chill Autumn wind. A celebration of the glory and suffering of the saints and martyrs of the Church.

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  • All Souls

    $23

    A day of remembrance and intercession. Without the prayers and sacrifices of their families and loved ones, the faithful departed may not be cleansed of their venal sins, and thereby cannot attain beatific vision. On November 2nd, prayers are sung and offerings are made to aid lost souls in transcending purgatory. An incense blend that invokes the higher qualities of mercy and compassion, mingled with the soft, sugared currant scent of offertory soul cakes.

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  • Autumn Cider

    4.00 out of 5
    $23

    Fermented apple juice, brown sugar, spice, lemon zest, butterscotch liquor, and orange slices.

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  • Autumn Overlooked My Knitting

    5.00 out of 5
    $23

    Autumn — overlooked my Knitting
    Dyes — said He — have I
    Could disparage a Flamingo
    Show Me them — said I

    Cochineal — I chose — for deeming
    It resemble Thee
    And the little Border — Dusker
    For resembling Me

    For my knitter posse! A warm scent, as delicate as lace and as soft as cashmere, and as cozy as wool, punctuated with red currant for the blazing red of cochineal and surrounded a border of soft grey ambergris and a swirl of autumn leaves.

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  • Devil’s Night

    3.50 out of 5
    $23

    Devil’s Eve, Devil’s Night, Gate Night, Trick Night, Mischief Night; whatever your name for it might be, the chaos is still the same. Contrary to popular belief, this festival of pandemonium isn’t unique to Detroit. Falling on October 30th, it is an evening of mayhem and destruction. On the gentler side, it may be celebrated by practical jokes, an egging, Ding-Dong-Ditch, or enthusiastic TP’ing of your most hated neighbor’s trees, and on the more violent side, arson and vandalism. This is the scent of autumn night, fires in the distance, with a touch of boozy swoon, playful sugar and thuggish musk.

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  • Feeding the Dead

    $23

    A barrel of beer, a pyramid of cakes, and three sticks of incense.

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  • Hallow-e’en 1914

    $23

    “Why do you wait at your door, woman,
    Alone in the night?”
    “I am waiting for one who will come, stranger,
    To show him a light.
    He will see me afar on the road
    And be glad at the sight.” 

    “Have you no fear in your heart, woman,
    To stand there alone?
    There is comfort for you and kindly content
    Beside the hearthstone.”
    But she answered, “No rest can I have
    Till I welcome my own.” 

    “Is it far he must travel to-night,
    This man of your heart?”
    “Strange lands that I know not and pitiless seas
    Have kept us apart,
    And he travels this night to his home
    Without guide, without chart.” 

    “And has he companions to cheer him?”
    “Aye, many,” she said.
    “The candles are lighted, the hearthstones are swept,
    The fires glow red.
    We shall welcome them out of the night—
    Our home-coming dead.”

    -  Winifred M. Letts

    A welcome for the home-coming dead: an incense of dried ivy and maple leaf with honeyed fig, black cypress, and grave dirt.

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  • Magnificent Autumn

    2.50 out of 5
    $23

    By what a subtle alchemy the green leaves are transmuted into gold, as if molten by the fiery blaze of the hot sun! A magic covering spreads over the whole forest, and brightens into more gorgeous hues. The tree-tops seem bathed with the gold and crimson of an Italian sunset. Here and there a shade of green, here and there a tinge of purple, and a stain of scarlet so deep and rich, that the most cunning artifice of man is pale beside it. A thousand delicate shades melt into each other. They blend fantastically into one deep mass. They spread over the forest like a tapestry woven with a thousand hues.

    Magnificent Autumn! He comes not like a pilgrim, clad in russet weeds. He comes not like a hermit, clad in gray. But he comes like a warrior, with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.

    The scene changes.

    It is the Indian summer. The rising sun blazes through the misty air like a conflagration. A yellowish, smoky haze fills the atmosphere; and

    -A filmy mist,
    Lies like a silver lining on the sky.

    The wind is soft and low. It wafts to us the odor of forest leaves, that hang wilted on the dripping branches, or drop into the stream. Their gorgeous tints are gone, as if the autumnal rains had washed them out. Orange, yellow, and scarlet, all are changed to one melancholy russet hue. The birds, too, have taken wing, and have left their roofless dwellings. Not the whistle of a robin, not the twitter of an eavesdropping swallow, not the carol of one sweet, familiar voice! All gone. Only the dismal cawing of a crow, as he sits and curses, that the harvest is over, – or the chit-chat of an idle squirrel, – the noisy denizen of a hollow tree, – the mendicant friar of a large parish, – the absolute monarch of a dozen acorns!

    Another change.

    The wind sweeps through the forest with a sound like the blast of a trumpet. The dry leaves whirl in eddies through the air. A fret-work of hoar-frost covers the plain. The stagnant water in the pools and ditches is frozen into fantastic figures. Nature ceases from her labors, and prepares for the great change. In the low-hanging clouds, the sharp air, like a busy shuttle, weaves her shroud of snow. There is a melancholy and continual roar in the tops of the tall pines, like the roar of a cataract. It is the funeral anthem of the dying year.

    A scent that wanders through the Ages of Autumn, from the last green leaf to the first breath of winter.

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  • October

    3.00 out of 5
    $23

    Ay, thou art welcome, heaven’s delicious breath!
    When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
    And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
    And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
    Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
    In the gay woods and in the golden air,
    Like to a good old age released from care,
    Journeying, in long serenity, away.
    In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
    Might wear out life like thee, ‘mid bowers and brooks
    And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
    And music of kind voices ever nigh;
    And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
    Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.

    Dry, cold autumn wind. A rustle of red leaves, a touch of smoke and sap in the air.

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  • Samhain

    4.00 out of 5
    $23

    Truly the scent of autumn itself — damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.

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  • Some Strangeness in the Proportion

    5.00 out of 5
    $23

    Yet her features were not of that regular mould which we have been falsely taught to worship in the classical labors of the heathen. “There is no exquisite beauty,” says Bacon, Lord Verulam, speaking truly of all the forms and genera of beauty, without some strangeness in the proportion.” Yet, although I saw that the features of Ligeia were not of a classic regularity –although I perceived that her loveliness was indeed “exquisite,” and felt that there was much of “strangeness” pervading it, yet I have tried in vain to detect the irregularity and to trace home my own perception of “the strange.”

    Rich vanilla sandalwood elegantly distorted by oudh, labdanum, scarlet saffron, and pink pepper.

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  • Sonnet d’Automne

    3.00 out of 5
    $23

    Ils me disent, tes yeux, clairs comme le cristal:
    “Pour toi, bizarre amant, quel est donc mon mérite?”
    – Sois charmante et tais-toi! Mon coeur, que tout irrite,
    Excepté la candeur de l’antique animal,

    Ne veut pas te montrer son secret infernal,
    Berceuse dont la main aux longs sommeils m’invite,
    Ni sa noire légende avec la flamme écrite.
    Je hais la passion et l’esprit me fait mal!

    Aimons-nous doucement. L’Amour dans sa guérite,
    Ténébreux, embusqué, bande son arc fatal.
    Je connais les engins de son vieil arsenal:

    Crime, horreur et folie! – Ô pâle marguerite!
    Comme moi n’es-tu pas un soleil automnal,
    Ô ma si blanche, ô ma si froide Marguerite?

    -

    They say to me, your eyes, clear as crystal:
    “For you, bizarre lover, what is my merit then?”
    – Be charming and be still! My heart, which all things irk,
    Except the candor of the animals of old,

    Does not wish to reveal its black secret to you,
    Whose lulling hands invite me to long sleep,
    Nor its somber legend written with flame.
    I hate passion; intelligence makes me suffer!

    Let us love each other sweetly. Tenebrous Love,
    Ambushed in his shelter, stretches his fatal bow.
    I know all the weapons of his old arsenal:

    Crime, horror, and madness! – pale marguerite!
    Are you not, like me, an autumnal sun,
    O my Marguerite, so white and so cold?

    – Charles Baudelaire, translated by William Aggeler

    Tenebrous Love: a shivering white musk with vanilla-infused white cocoa, amber incense, and dead, dry leaves.

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  • Suck It

    5.00 out of 5
    $23

    A vampiric good time. Sexy and suckable: black cherry brandy and a whisper of red wine.

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  • Sugar Skull

    3.00 out of 5
    $23

    Vibrant with the joy and sweetness of life in death! A blend of five sugars, lightly dusted with candied fruits.

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  • Tattie Bogle

    3.00 out of 5
    $23

    (Now in 5ml!)

    Alane upon the field she stood,
    The tattie-bogle, tall an’ prood.
    But certie, she wis smairt an’ braw,
    A bonnie lass, tho’ made o’ straw.

    Her gowden hair wis made o’ oo.
    Her dentie goon when it wis new
    Langsyne, hid been the guidwife’s best.
    Sae trigly wis the bogle drest!

    The beasts they cam’ frae a’ the airts.
    (The tod ran tours frae furrin’ pairts.)
    They cam’ by day, they cam’ by nicht,
    To see a maist byordnar sicht.

    An’ craws an sparras by the score,
    A wale o’ burds, mair nor afore.
    The fermer roared an’ raged aboot.
    ‘A’ll cast yon tattie-bogle oot!’

    Pair tattie-bogle, she wis wae.
    ‘Eh!’ said the houlet, ‘Whits a dae?’
    He flew doon frae the elder tree.
    ‘Noo, dry yer e’en an’ herk tae me.

    ‘See, lassie, tak ma guid advice.
    There is nae yiss ye bein’ nice.
    Can ye nae glower an’ skreich an’ a’
    Tae sen’ thae cooardie burds awa’?’

    The bogle grat nae mair: instead
    ‘A’m much obleeged tae ye,’ she said
    ‘Ma voice is lood – jist like the craik!’
    ‘Then sing,’ he said, ‘ for ony sake!’

    It chilled the verra bluid tae hear
    The bogle’s sang : frae far an’ near
    The burds rose up, a’ frichtit sair
    An’ nivver cam back ony mair.

    Sae should ye pass at skreich o’ day
    Alang the road frae Auchenblae,
    An’ hear a strange uncanny soun,
    That scares the burds for miles aroon,

    A soon like pincils on a sclate,
    Be on yer way an’ dinna wait.
    Ye can be shair as onything
    Ye’ve heard the tattie-bogle sing.

    Hay, gunpowder, patchouli, a sliver of bark, autumn herbs, and sun-baked wood.

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  • The Radiance of an Opium-Dream

    $23

    There is one dear topic, however, on which my memory fails me not. It is the person of Ligeia. In stature she was tall, somewhat slender, and, in her latter days, even emaciated. I would in vain attempt to portray the majesty, the quiet ease, of her demeanor, or the incomprehensible lightness and elasticity of her footfall. She came and departed as a shadow. I was never made aware of her entrance into my closed study save by the dear music of her low sweet voice, as she placed her marble hand upon my shoulder. In beauty of face no maiden ever equalled her. It was the radiance of an opium-dream –an airy and spirit-lifting vision more wildly divine than the phantasies which hovered vision about the slumbering souls of the daughters of Delos.

    A haze of tuberose, pale jasmine, vanilla orchid, and lily, with a faint jagged edge of opium tar.

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  • The White Witch

    4.33 out of 5
    $23

    O brothers mine, take care! Take care!
    The great white witch rides out to-night.
    Trust not your prowess nor your strength,
    Your only safety lies in flight;
    For in her glance there is a snare,
    And in her smile there is a blight.

    The great white witch you have not seen?
    Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth,
    Like nursery children you have looked
    For ancient hag and snaggle-tooth;
    But no, not so; the witch appears
    In all the glowing charms of youth.

    Her lips are like carnations, red,
    Her face like new-born lilies, fair,
    Her eyes like ocean waters, blue,
    She moves with subtle grace and air,
    And all about her head there floats
    The golden glory of her hair.

    But though she always thus appears
    In form of youth and mood of mirth,
    Unnumbered centuries are hers,
    The infant planets saw her birth;
    The child of throbbing Life is she,
    Twin sister to the greedy earth.

    And back behind those smiling lips,
    And down within those laughing eyes,
    And underneath the soft caress
    Of hand and voice and purring sighs,
    The shadow of the panther lurks,
    The spirit of the vampire lies.

    For I have seen the great white witch,
    And she has led me to her lair,
    And I have kissed her red, red lips
    And cruel face so white and fair;
    Around me she has twined her arms,
    And bound me with her yellow hair.

    I felt those red lips burn and sear
    My body like a living coal;
    Obeyed the power of those eyes
    As the needle trembles to the pole;
    And did not care although I felt
    The strength go ebbing from my soul.

    Oh! she has seen your strong young limbs,
    And heard your laughter loud and gay,
    And in your voices she has caught
    The echo of a far-off day,
    When man was closer to the earth;
    And she has marked you for her prey.

    She feels the old Antaean strength
    In you, the great dynamic beat
    Of primal passions, and she sees
    In you the last besieged retreat
    Of love relentless, lusty, fierce,
    Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet.

    O, brothers mine, take care! Take care!
    The great white witch rides out to-night.
    O, younger brothers mine, beware!
    Look not upon her beauty bright;
    For in her glance there is a snare,
    And in her smile there is a blight.

    Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet: gold-flecked honey amber pulsating with red musk, patchouli coeur, bourbon vanilla, inky vetiver, pomegranate rind, myrrh, blackened violet leaf, and blood red rose petals.

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  • The Witch-Bride

    5.00 out of 5
    $23

    A fair witch crept to a young man’s side,
    And he kiss’d her and took her for his bride. 

    But a Shape came in at the dead of night,
    And fill’d the room with snowy light. 

    And he saw how in his arms there lay
    A thing more frightful than mouth may say. 

    And he rose in haste, and follow’d the Shape
    Till morning crown’d an eastern cape. 

    And he girded himself, and follow’d still
    When sunset sainted the western hill. 

    But, mocking and thwarting, clung to his side,
    Weary day!—the foul Witch-Bride.

    (Aw, c’mon, Allingham. Foul is a pretty strong choice of words, dontcha think?)

    Pale and lovely, with eyes belladonna-wide: hemlock blossoms and ghostly nightshade veiled by wisteria, white frankincense, black amber, and narcissus resin.

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Limited Edition - Halloween 2014 - Seven Visions of Autumn

Autumn is my favorite season. Though it harbingers the onset of the death of the year, it rings in a peculiar melancholy, a bittersweet life of its own. The harvest ensures the strength of the community, the leaves fall to give renewed life to the earth, and the winds and wildfires cast away the detritus and make way for new growth.

Autumn is equal parts grief and compassion. It is the soul’s twilight: the dusk of reflection before the solitude of winter.

I don’t remember the last time we had a proper autumn in Los Angeles. I know that sounds melodramatic—I’m a Pisces; we thrive on internal melodrama—but the weather has been so consistently hot for so long that autumn, and certainly winter, seem like a distant memory. I’ve been daydreaming quite a bit about how autumn makes me feel—I miss it so much!—and these daydreams gave birth to seven visions of autumn. I started playing with perfume without the desire to interpret a specific concept other than the drifting idea of Fall: a story in scent without words or images, just a winding path of memory and longing.

Limited Edition - Halloween 2014 - Single Notes

Black Phoenix’s cheeky interpretation of the iconic scents of the season. No actual single notes were harmed in the creation of these blends.

Limited Edition - Halloween 2014 - The Pumpkin Patch

Last year, we held a pumpkin carving contest; the winning gourds are featured on this year’s Patch labels. A million thanks to everyone that participated! It was an absolute joy sharing in your artistry!

  • Pumpkin I

    3.00 out of 5
    $23

    Pumpkin artwork by Amy Kinard!

    Pumpkin cream with cardamom, black tea, allspice, and ginger milk.

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  • Pumpkin II

    3.50 out of 5
    $23

    Pumpkin artwork by Asenath Waite!

    Blackened pumpkin with clove, tobacco absolute, aged patchouli, and oakmoss.

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  • Pumpkin III

    3.00 out of 5
    $23

    Pumpkin artwork by Messy Nessie!

    Pumpkin with Atlas cedar, black fig, Laotian benzoin, bourbon vanilla, and copal.

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  • Pumpkin IV

    4.00 out of 5
    $23

    Pumpkin artwork by Neal Segler!

    Warm pumpkin with three honeys, oudh, sweet frankincense, and champaca resin.

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  • Pumpkin V

    2.00 out of 5
    $23

    Pumpkin artwork by Ruby Velez!

    Pumpkins, pumpkin vines, and wild mushrooms with white sage, cade, sweetgrass, and vanilla-infused rosewood.

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Limited Edition - Limited Edition: Neil Gaiman

  • Lemon-Scented Sticky Bat

    4.00 out of 5
    $26

    …last week Maddy woke me up early in the morning.

    “Daddy,” she said, “There's a bat on the kitchen window.”

    “Grumphle,” I said and went back to sleep.

    Soon, she woke me up again. “I did a drawing of the bat on the kitchen window,” she said, and showed me her drawing. For a five year old she's a very good artist. It was a schematic of the kitchen windows, showing a bat on one of the windows.

    “Very nice dear,” I said. Then I went back to sleep.

    When I went downstairs…

    We have, instead of dangling fly papers, transparent strips of gluey clear plastic, about six inches long and an inch high, stuck to the windows on the ground floor. When they accumulate enough flies, you peel them off the window and throw them away.

    There was a bat stuck to one. He was facing out into the room. “I think he's dead,” said my assistant Lorraine.

    I peeled the plastic off the window. The bat hissed at me.

    “Nope,” I said. “He's fine. Just stuck.”

    The question then became, how does one get a bat (skin and fur) off a fly-strip. Luckily, I bethought me of the Bram Stoker award. After the door had fallen off (see earler in this topic) I had bought some citrus solvent to take the old glue to reglue the door on.

    So I dripped citrus solvent onto the grumpy bat, edging him off the plastic with a twig, until a lemon-scented sticky bat crawled onto a newspaper. Which I put on the top of a high woodpile, and watched the bat crawl into the logs. With any luck he was as right as rain the following night…

    Sticky-sweet iced lemon sugar!

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