Lunacy, Scalia, Carnaval Diabolique

Carnaval Logo

This month’s blue moon hangs high and bright, and with it, Terra Caloris and Blue Moon have reappeared:

  • Terra Caloris

    $23

    The Land of Heat: red musk flickering with hot red amber, red pepper, scorched thyme, frankincense, green cardamom, and Ceylon cinnamon.

    Caution: this oil contains cinnamon, and is not suitable for those with sensitive skin.

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  • Blue Moon July 2015

    $23

    The spirit of the full moon is capricious, intense and passionate, yet still distant, aloof and cold. Luna herself governs glamours, bewitchments and dream-work, innocent wonder, transient pleasure and delight, the Moment, impulse, mystery and veils. The Blue Moon is one of her rarest manifestations, and this scent is formulated to encapsulate her most complex and profound nature:

    Mugwort and bay, for psychic sensitivity…
    Myrrh for protection and purity of spirit…
    Lotus root for true dreaming…
    Clary sage for euphoria…

    … within a crystalline prism of white vegetal musk shimmering with damp violet leaf, tranquil styrax, green tea absolute, and palmarosa.

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There’s much to announce!

We have created a scent to commemorate Midian Unmade. The scent is sold exclusively at Dark Delicacies and on the Dark Delicacies web site.

Inspired by Clive Barker’s Cabal, this volume of short stories, edited by Stoker Award-winning anthologist Del Howison and internationally bestselling urban fantasy author Joseph Nassise, Midian Unmade tells us of Midian after the fall. Contributors to Midian Unmade include: Karl Alexander, author of the classic novel Time After Time; actor, writer, and director Amber Benson (Tara Maclay on Buffy the Vampire Slayer); New York Times bestselling author Nancy Holder; Hugo and John W. Campbell Award-winner Seanan McGuire; Bram Stoker Award winner Weston Ochse, David J. Schow, winner of the World Fantasy Award, writer of the screenplay for The Crow; New York Times bestselling writer Stephen Woodworth.

MIDIAN UNMADE
A hint of lonliness
A desire for belonging
The copper taste of blood
The reuniting of the Breed
Inevitable
–          Del Howison

Midian Unmade: blood-soaked soil, scorched cypress branches, and faint remnants of Baphomet’s temple incense.

At this time, Dark Delicacies is only able to process domestic mail order purchases for BPAL scents.

DARK DELICACIES

DARK DELICACIES: MIDIAN UNMADE SIGNING

We’ve had myriad political figures throughout US history that have possessed acid tongues, but few in the modern era have provided such a constant stream of colorfully vitriolic superlatives as Antonin Scalia.

He is the federal court’s beat poet of indignation and right-wing rage.

For your pleasure, we present a line dedicated to SCOTUS’ reigning Sick Burn Champion, the cranky, flamboyant, inimitable Justice Antonin Gregory Scalia. Proceeds from every single bottle will be donated to the Southern Poverty Law Center, the Trevor Project, and the National Center for Transgender Equality.

++ THE COLLECTED POETIC WORKS OF ANTONIN SCALIA

Hubris is sometimes defined as o’erweening pride; and pride, we know, goeth before a fall.

  • Ask the Nearest Hippie

    $26

    Obergefell vs Hodges

    Who ever thought that intimacy and spirituality [whatever that means] were freedoms? And if intimacy is, one would think Freedom of Intimacy is abridged rather than expanded by marriage. Ask the nearest hippie.

    An olfactory guide, created to assist you in locating nearby hippies: patchouli, hemp, smoky vanilla bean, and cannabis accord.

    (No, there is no actual weed in this perfume, silly.)

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  • Jiggery Pokery

    $26

    King vs Burwell

    The Court’s next bit of interpretive jiggery-pokery involves other parts of the Act that purportedly presuppose the availability of tax credits on both federal and state Exchanges. Ante, at 13–14.

    I dunno. “Jiggery Pokery” just felt like it needed a whimsical scent attached to it, so here’s some pink pepper cotton candy with a sliver of orange peel and a hint of vanilla cream.

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  • Looming Spectre of Inutterable Horror

    $26

    Arizona vs United States

    We are not talking here about a federal law prohibiting the States from regulating bubble-gum advertising, or even the construction of nuclear plants. We are talking about a federal law going to the core of state sovereignty: the power to exclude.

    The Court opinion’s looming specter of inutterable horror—“[i]f §3 of the Arizona statute were valid, every State could give itself independent authority to prosecute federal registration violations”—seems to me not so horrible and even less looming.

    If securing its territory in this fashion is not within the power of Arizona, we should cease referring to it as a sovereign State.

    Wherein Scalia channels Lovecraft: raw frankincense and tobacco absolute with Russian leather, blackened champaca, bitter clove, red patchouli, bourbon vanilla and petitgrain.

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  • Mummeries and Straining-to-be Memorable Passages

    $26

    Obergefell vs Hodges

    Buried beneath the mummeries and straining-to-be-memorable passages of the opinion is a candid and startling assertion: No matter what it was the People ratified, the Fourteenth Amendment protects those rights that the Judiciary, in its ‘reasoned judgment,’ thinks the Fourteenth Amendment ought to protect.

    Rosemary is for remembrance: rosemary water with lavender, blackberry, Italian bergamot, and white musk.

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  • Mystical Aphorisms of the Fortune Cookie

    $26

    Obergefell vs Hodges

    If, even as the price to be paid for a fifth vote, I ever joined an opinion for the Court that began: ‘The Constitution promises liberty to all within its reach, a liberty that includes certain specific rights that allow persons, within a lawful realm, to define and express their identity,’ I would hide my head in a bag. The Supreme Court of the United States has descended from the disciplined legal reasoning of John Marshall and Joseph Story to the mystical aphorisms of the fortune cookie.

    Almond fortune cookies and a bit of roadside palm reader-inspired incense.

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  • Pure Applesauce

    $26

    King vs Burwell

    The Court claims that the Act must equate federal and state establishment of Exchanges when it defines a qualified individual as someone who (among other things) lives in the “State that established the Exchange,” 42 U. S. C. §18032(f )(1)(A). Otherwise, the Court says, there would be no qualified individuals on federal Exchanges, contradicting (for example) the provision requiring every Exchange to takethe “ ‘interests of qualified individuals’ ” into accountwhen selecting health plans. Ante, at 11 (quoting §18031(e)(1)(b)). Pure applesauce.

    Our applesauce is decidedly impure: mashed apples with sugar and honey, slivered with tobacco tar and black tea.

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Carnaval Logo

Carnaval Diabolique has reappeared, after an extended tour through Malbolge and Cocytus. Acts I & II have returned, and the remaining acts will follow. Art by the inimitable Julie Dillon, represented in the Carnaval as Iulia. A selection of scents have been gently (and not-so-gently!) reformulated in this itieration.

Each scent travels with its pitch card. Purchases of Mme Moriarty come with a randomly drawn tarot card for a little impromptu divination. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is not responsible for any dire tidings or baneful portents that may come your way.

And now, without further ado –

++CARNAVAL DIABOLIQUE
A Pantomime of Deviltry and Debauch in Seven Acts

PERFUME OIL BLENDS
$26.00 per 5ml bottle.
Presented in an amber apothecary vial.

++ ACT 1: THE PROLOGUE

Tattered and stained parchment signs lead you through a maze of dark woods and damp leaves; a curl of opium smoke, black musk and floral perfume compels you through the darkness towards the firelight in the distance. The faraway wailing of a phantom calliope grows louder as you approach the isolated clearing, and creaking gates announce your arrival. Massive crumbling statues adorn the gates, depicting a surrealistic scene of cavorting imps, grinning demons, and heavy-lidded succubi. A huge neon sign hums and sparks, marking the entrance:

It flashes, “Carnaval Diabolique”.

It is midnight on the midway, and in the air, the scent of nighttime rain, ozone, and heavy summer blooms mingles with thick incense, and a disconcerting blend of sugar and brimstone. Black and orange banners flutter in sinister gaiety, snapping weirdly in the chill breeze as lightning slashes through the sky. In the gloom, the Carnaval thrums with life and unlife; the murmuration is low-pitched, punctuated by gasps, soft cries, and moans, and the smooth, resonant voices of the carnaval talkers, grinders, candy butchers, and pitchmen carry over it all.

  • Carnaval Diabolique

    $24

    Straight from the twisted alleys of Dis, by way of the City of Angels: opium smoke, lemon flower, heliotrope, tuberose, black musk, vanilla, coconut, apricot flower.

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  • The Candy Butcher

    $24

    An exquisite, enigmatic woman sidles up to you, bearing a tray of strange, dusty curios, chocolate creatures, serpentine taffy, and candied skulls. Her skin is dusky, her eyes are heavy-lidded and sensual, her hair is the fine, soft white of spun sugar, and her skin is softly scented with cocoa. She holds a shrunken head aloft, and beckons.

    Bittersweet chocolate with a heavy cream undertone.

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++ ACT 2: FIAT NOX

A surge of warm, dark bodies buoys you along, pulling you past the crowded, candle-lit entrances to innumerable tents striped in bone white, blood red, pumpkin orange and twilight violet canvas. Through the shadows cast by the gaslamps and swinging red lanterns, you move through the ghoulish entertainment.

  • Mme. Moriarty, Misfortune Teller

    $24

    A colorless woman bursts from an elaborate gold and ruby tent and faints dead at your feet. Soft laughter emits from the dark entrance to the tent, and the scent of musk, black fruits and incense touches your senses. Looking up, you see that the sign hovering above the unconscious woman is adorned with images of the Major Arcana’s Tower and reads:

    “Mme. Moriarty, Misfortune Teller.
    No fate too grim, no future too bleak.”

    A tiny woman with floor-length black dreadlocks walks out of the tent, stepping over the prone body. She is clothed in deep red wrappings, and is bedecked in golden ornaments bearing alchemical symbols and charms representing eternity, chance, and wisdom. She pauses, looks you over slowly, and then flicks a tarot card at your feet.

    Red musk, vanilla bean, pomegranate, black currant, patchouli leaf and wild plum.

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  • The Organ Grinder

    $24

    A handsome, dark-skinned man weaves and dances his way through the crowd. Veves have been burned into the face of his old acoustic guitar, which he strums casually as he strolls though the crowd. A winged Capuchin monkey is balanced on his shoulder, holding out a rusty metal cup. The guitar player’s melancholy chords begin to mingle strangely with a cacophonous jangling sound. The discordant symphony grows and swells as he moves toward a cloaked and hooded figure; this spectre’s skeletal hands operate a dilapidated barrel organ that stands at a crossroads in the midway. As they come together, the music hits a nightmarish crescendo; your heart heaves with longings unfulfilled, your vision swims, and your head is filled with whispered incantations and gallows secrets. In that instant, you suddenly understand the profundity of deals made in Heaven and Hell, and the price of desire.

    Almond milk, sarsaparilla, tobacco smoke, High John the Conqueror root, coconut hull, black patchouli and white pine bark.

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  • Pulcinella & Teresina

    $24

    Your eyes are drawn to a gilded miniature stage whose sign reads: “All Praises to the Lord of Misrule!” Upon the platform, a sneering wooden jester waltzes with a hollow-eyed and bleeding wooden maiden, while a wooden devil floats above them.

    Labdanum, cedar, teak and red rose.

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  • Melisande, the Puppet Mistress

    $24

    Behind the diminutive stage, the puppet mistress stands, a pale and grinning Professor, the Lady of Chaos. Her hands are tangled in web-like strings; a swazzle peeks through her violet lips. Behind her, you see a wavering image, with all the vague haziness of a mirage: a leaping coyote, a flame-haired and scarred Norseman, a glittering golden spider, a laughing monkey, a leering satyr, a shadowy flutist, and an African youth dressed in black and red.

    Jasmine sambac, dark musk, violet water, vanilla bean and mimosa.

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  • Doc Constantine

    $24

    As you pass the tiny stage, you come across a large canvas tent, illuminated within, the exterior dotted with odd splatters. In front of the tent stands a scorched wooden cart covered in a jumble of bottles, jars, vials and twisted steel implements, and an elaborate, gold-gilded sign reads:

    “Doc Constantine Cures What Ails Ye!
    Liniments, salves, potions and elixirs for every malady of the body and spirit!”

    A scream splits the air, jarring you. You see shadows move jaggedly within the tent, there is another scream, and all is suddenly still and silent. After a long heartbeat, the door flap opens. A man steps out wearing a crystal-eyed schnabel mask in the style of medieval plague doctors, carmine streaking his sleeves, vest, and the blonde hair that crowns him. He pulls off the mask, and you see a handsome figure, almost beatific. He rolls a cigarette, lights it, takes a deep pull, and winks at you slyly as he gestures at the multitude of concoctions he has for sale. A bent crone, her body as bowed and knotty as an ancient oak, shuffles up to the wagon with rosy-cheeked, tow-headed maiden following her at a small distance. As she approaches the doctor, the crone gestures at herself, running a gnarled hand down her body in a sweeping movement, and casting a sideways glance at her grandchild. Smiling an angel’s smile, Doc Constantine hands the old woman a potion the color of cold, congealed blood. She drinks it quickly, gasping. Before your eyes her body shimmers and blurs, and a shower of dark sparks seems to engulf her. Where the crone stood, there is now a voluptuous, raven-haired vixen, vibrant, sensual, at the prime of her life and sexual vitality. Her shriek of joy is interrupted by another’s scream of shock: the rigors of age have not vanished; they have moved aside, and the young woman has aged horribly, taking on the crone’s burden.

    Sheer musk, cedar smoke, fir needle, chaparral, black amber and leather.

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  • Xanthe, the Weeping Clown

    $24

    From the corner of your eye, you see what seems to be a swirl of pale, translucent spirits. Ghostly in form, their faces are masks of pain and fury. Their insubstantial bodies churn and roil around a hissing, wailing clown. Her greasepaint is smeared with tears, and her fanged crimson mouth is turned down in a vicious scowl while blood drips from her lips. Her costume is torn and threadbare, and a steel-bright glint around her waist draws your eyes to an arsenal of razors, knives, and cleavers hanging from her belt. She swats futilely at the spirits as she shoves and scratches her way through the crowd.

    Guava, orange peel, white pepper, spun sugar and apple blossom.

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  • Iulia, L’Artiste du Diable

    $24

    A chittering buzz rises from a small crowd that has gathered around an opulent velvet-draped tent. Some are fidgeting impatiently; others try in vain to peep within the tent. Within moments, a slim, stunningly handsome man emerges from the entryway to the sound of gasps and scattered applause. His face is lit with fierce joy, and he bows almost smugly to the assemblage. Grabbing a flirtatious blonde from the mob, he kisses her in a rush of mad passion, his arm encircles her waist, and he leads her directly to a nearby opium den. The crowd disperses, and curiosity pulls you forward. You push open the fringed, beaded tent-flap and enter the dimly-lit room. A lovely, voluptuous redhead stands before an ornate antique easel. Her luminous alabaster skin and the phosphorescence emanating from her paintbrush seem to be the only source of light. As you adjust to the gloom, you see that the walls are covered with atrocities: an exhibit of dissolution. The myriad canvases show men and women in various stages of rot and decay, a panoply of indulgence, teeth set in fury, mouths leering in lust, hands grasping greedily.

    The scarlet woman turns her gleaming sightless eyes towards you and, in a husky, compelling voice, she speaks:

    “Why let the years tear at your youthful splendor? Why let the mark of your sins stain your fine features? Will you let the cold, creeping grasp of time and the toil of temptation mar your visage? Why should the pleasures of our flesh wreak such havoc?”

    She leans in close to you and whispers, “Let me capture your soul on this canvas in oil and blood, and you will be beautiful forever.”

    White tea, sugar cane, orange blossom, rockrose, lemon balm, white mint, and honey.

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  • Theodosius, the Legerdemain

    $24

    A flash of light and the smell of sulfur seize your attention. A vast black tent stands before you, subtly glowing with an unnatural, almost phosphorescent light. This tent has no pennants, no ornamentation, save for a carved ebony sign, lettered in silver:

    “Master Theodosius
    Legerdemain, Medium, Conjurer
    One thousand years of marvels.
    Enter at your peril.”

    Another flash blinds you, and from a swirl of smoke a rakish, devilishly handsome man appears, long black hair falling down halfway to his waist, elegant and sinister in an inky silk tuxedo and a voluminous cape. The shadow he casts against the tent, oddly, seems to be that of an enormous corvus, and his eyes radiate a deep azure light. Staring fixedly at you, he snaps his fingers, and two bolts of violet lightning strike the ground on either side of him, blinding you momentarily. As your eyes adjust, you see that two lovely, slender, waiflike women now stand upon the scarred ground beside him, dressed in tattered ballerina costumes the nebulous color of smoke. Turning to his right, he touches the woman’s lips and says, “Seachd seachd uair!” She opens her mouth, and a flock of diminutive bats fly forth from her throat. Turning to his left, he touches the other woman’s hair and repeats, “Seachd seachd uair!” What once was a gleaming mane of stark white hair is now a nest of writhing vipers. She opens her mouth, baring fangs, and spits forth a thin stream of venom. The Master swirls his cape, which suddenly seems to grow and twist like a living shadow, and in a final flash of red lightning and a deafening thunderclap, he and both his assistants vanish.

    Earl Grey tea leaves, a white fougere, jasmine leaf, pearlescent white musk, and vanilla bean.

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  • Antonino, the Carny Talker

    $24

    As you approach an enormous patchwork tent, a curious sound catches your attention: the rattle of bones and the tinkling of tiny bells heralds the arrival of a gaunt and ghastly creature. An animated skeleton dressed in a jester’s motley saunters towards the front of the tent, waving an orange and black striped cane at the crowd in an effort to clear a path. The jester makes his way past the fog-shrouded, faded, colossal posters that adorn the tent to a platform in front of the massive tent’s entrance. His ivory smile frozen in a gleeful rictus grin, he steps up onto the platform, taps the cane three times, and the jester costume vanishes. Suddenly dark eyes appear in the empty sockets, bones are wrapped in muscle, sinew grows over the bones, blood fills rapidly appearing veins. Before your eyes, the skeletal jester has become a dapper, handsome man, dressed in black and orange, with a skull-ornamented straw hat tilted jauntily upon his shining black hair.

    His smile is slick and conspiratorial. With a flourish and arcing wave of his cane, he booms:

    “Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! This is Carnaval Diabolique’s notorious 13-In-1: the finest freak show in all the Hells! What marvels await you, you ask? Simply the strangest and most fantastic creatures, human and inhuman, gathered for your entertainment, enlightenment and erudition!”

    With the cane, he gestures at the gigantic posters that adorn the tent. The images, once hazy, suddenly come into focus.

    “From the depths of the Black Forest: Arachnina, the Spider Girl! From the rain-swept streets of London: Hope and Faith, the Siamese Twins! From ruins of old Aquae Sextia: Wulric, the Wolf Man!

    “Thalassa, the Galapagos Mermaid! A vision of life-in-death, Eshe!

    “All in all, THIRTEEN anatomical curiosities, miracles of genetics, magick and science, masters of marvels, ALIVE ON THE INSIDE!”

    White musk, wild plum, vetiver, black coconut, verbena, fig, and lavender.

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Meanwhile, at Black Phoenix Trading Post

The Claw Polishes have returned!

Synesthesia! These are our interpretations of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab perfumes, expressed through color.

Black Phoenix nail lacquer is quick drying and chip resistant. Our formula is free of toluene, DBP, and formaldehyde, providing you with excellent long-lasting color without sacrificing your health or the environment to do so!

Please note:
These polishes are not scented with BPAL perfumes. The perfumes were utilized as inspirations.

We have done our best to accurately represent the color and texture of the polishes. However, the appearance of the colors on a computer may vary from monitor to monitor.

++ CLAW POLISH

BAKU
HOLOGRAPHIC CRÈME WITH MULTICHROME FLAKE
Soothing lilac, speckled with the remnants of dark dreams.  

BELLADONNA
CRÈME
Queen of poisons: a royal, inky violet. 

BLACK ANNIS
CRÈME
The darkest point of nighttime; an ink-black terror. 

DANCE OF DEATH
SHIMMER-LADEN CRÈME
Sooty green, resplendent with serpentine, golden shimmer. 

DENN DIE TODTEN REITEN SCHNELL
CRÈME
Sombre slate grey, a frail offering. 

EMBALMING FLUID
GLOW-IN-THE DARK SHEER GLITTER JELLY
Nearly sheer glittery glow-in-the-dark polish! Utilize for some gloriously ghoulish layering. Despite what the name implies, this formula, like all the others we offer, does not contain formaldehyde!

EVENT HORIZON
GLITTER-SHOT CRÈME
Crushed starlight, lost forever in the blue-black.

FIRE OF LOVE
GLITTER
The spark of desire. Glitter-full, deep-red, hot as hell.

HARLOT
CRÈME
Stark, unabashed red.

JUKE JOINT
GLITTER-SHOT CRÈME
An impertinent charmer, sugar-dusted, electric mint.

LE LETHE
METALLIC PEARL
An indolent, sultry shade of red.

LIBERTINE
CRÈME
Perfect, utterly debauched burgundy.

ONEIROI
IRIDESCENT
Ever-shifting dreams. An opalescent haze of grey and lavender on the westward horizon.

SPELLBOUND
CRÈME
Come-hither enchantment. A vampy, blackened berry.

TEMPLE OF DREAMS
FOIL
Star-dappled darkness.

UNSEELIE
SHIMMER
Ruled by the Queen of Air and Darkness, the Court sows chaos wherever it rides. Dangerously seductive; the essence of crushed stars.

Claw polishes can be found here!

And for the moment, that’s all the news that’s fit to print!

Plagues of Egypt, OG BB & April Lunacy

Many years ago, Black Phoenix released a scent called Banshee Beat. We have 110 bottles left to sell of the remaining stock, and they’re releasing into the wild as OG BB. The bottles have matured beautifully; the patchouli note is richer, deeper, and lovelier than ever.

  • OG BB

    $30

    Many years ago, Black Phoenix released a scent called Banshee Beat. We have 110 bottles left to sell of the remaining stock, and they’re releasing into the wild as OG BB. The bottles have matured beautifully; the patchouli note is richer, deeper, and lovelier than ever.

    A tousled, sexy mix of patchouli, vanilla, and hemp.

    **Because we know that so many people love this scent, Black Phoenix will be offering an updated version in our GC soon under an appropriately silly name, Revenant Rhythm.

    Out of Stock

Because we know that so many people love this scent, Black Phoenix will be offering an updated version in our GC soon under an appropriately silly name, Revenant Rhythm.

++APRIL LUNACY

++ PLAGUES OF EGYPT

Buy all ten Plagues, and get a free exclusive imp: the Angel of Death!

ANGEL OF DEATH
Aged frankincense and white sandalwood gilded by a richly spiced agarwood.

Please note: the Angel of Death will only pay a visit to your home if you purchase a full set of Plagues. Otherwise, he’ll simply pass over.

At this time, we are unable to process Golden Calves as payment. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.

The Plagues will be decimating the land until 4 June 2015.

  • Blood Throughout All the Land

    $23

    Beholde, I will smite with the rod that is in my hand, vpon the waters which are in the riuer, and they shalbe turned to blood. And the fish that is in the riuer shall die, and the riuer shall stincke, and the Egyptians shall loathe to drinke of the water of the riuer. And the Lord spake vnto Moses, Say vnto Aaron, Take thy rod, & stretch out thine hand vpon the waters of Egypt, vpon their streames, vpon their riuers, and vpon their ponds, and vpon all their pooles of water, that they may become blood, and that there may be blood throughout all the land of Egypt, both in vessels of wood, and in vessels of stone. And Moses and Aaron did so, as the Lord commanded: and he lift vp the rod and smote the waters that were in the riuer, in the sight of Pharaoh, and in the sight of his seruants: and all the waters that were in the riuer, were turned to blood.  And the fish that was in the riuer died: and the riuer stunke, and the Egyptians could not drinke of the water of the riuer: and there was blood throughout all the land Egypt.

    Olive wood, acacia, and juniper, stone and clay, all thick with blood and crusted with dust.

    Out of Stock

  • Smite All Thy Borders with Frogges

    $23

    Beholde, I will smite all thy borders with frogges. And the riuer shall bring foorth frogges abundantly, which shall goe vp and come into thine house, and into thy bed-chamber, and vpon thy bed, and into the house of thy seruants, and vpon thy people, and into thine ouens, and into thy kneading troughes. And the frogges shall come vp both on thee, and vpon thy people, and vpon all thy seruants. And the Lord spake vnto Moses; Say vnto Aaron, Stretch foorth thine hand with thy rodde ouer the streames, ouer the riuers, and ouer the ponds, and cause frogges to come vp vpon the land of Egypt. And Aaron stretched out his hand ouer the waters of Egypt, and the frogges came vp, and couered the land of Egypt. And the Magicians did so with their inchantments, and brought vp frogges vpon the land of Egypt.

    Amphibious green musk with bog moss, benzoin, Mountain sage, Brazilian vetiver, tomato leaf, cucumber pulp, and unripe squash.

    Out of Stock

  • All the Dust of the Land

    $23

    Stretch out thy rod, and smite the dust of the land, that it may become lice, thorowout all the land of Egypt. And they did so: for Aaron stretched out his hand with his rod, and smote the dust of the earth, and it became lice, in man and in beast: all the dust of the land became lice throughout all the land of Egypt. And the Magicians did so with their enchantments to bring foorth lice, but they could not: so there were lice vpon man and vpon beast.

     An infestation of Ceylon cinnamon bark, black patchouli, tonka absolute, bitter almond, and frankincense.

    Out of Stock

  • A Grievous Swarm

    4.00 out of 5
    $23

    Beholde, I will send swarmes of flies vpon thee, and vpon thy seruants, and vpon thy people, and into thy houses: and the houses of the Egyptians shall bee full of swarmes of flies, and also the ground whereon they are. And I will seuer in that day the lande of Goshen in which my people dwell, that no swarmes of flies shall be there, to the end thou maiest know that I am the Lord in the midst of the earth. And I will put a diuision betweene my people and thy people: to morrow shall this signe be. And the Lord did so: and there came a grieuous swarme of flies into the house of Pharaoh, and into his seruants houses, and into all the lande of Egypt: the land was corrupted by reason of the swarme of flies.

    Black pepper and vetiver with cardamom, blackened vanilla, and tobacco absolute.

    Out of Stock

  • A Very Grievous Murraine

    $23

    Behold, the hand of the Lord is vpon thy cattell which is in the field, vpon the horses, vpon the asses, vpon the camels, vpon the oxen, and vpon the sheepe: there shall be a very grieuous murraine. And the Lord shall seuer betweene the cattell of Israel, and the cattell of Egypt, and there shall nothing die of all that is the childrens of Israel. And the Lord appointed a set time, saying, To morrow the Lord shall doe this thing in the land.

    Brown musk, myrrh, and sun-baked leather afflicted by splotches of saffron and red musk.

    Out of Stock

  • Upon Man and Upon Beast

    $23

    Take to you handfuls of ashes of the fornace, and let Moses sprinkle it towards the heauen, in the sight of Pharaoh: And it shall become small dust in all the land of Egypt, and shall bee a boyle breaking forth with blaines, vpon man and vpon beast, throughout all the land of Egypt. And they tooke ashes of the fornace, and stood before Pharaoh, and Moses sprinkled it vp toward heauen: and it became a boile breaking forth with blaines, vpon man and vpon beast.

    Dry patchouli and white sandalwood oozing with lesions of labdanum, wet red cherry, and opoponax.

    Out of Stock

  • Fire Mingled with the Haile

    4.00 out of 5
    $23

    Behold, to morrow about this time, I wil cause it to raine a very grieuous haile, such as hath not bene in Egypt, since the foundation thereof euen vntill now. Send therefore now, and gather thy cattell, and all that thou hast in the field: for vpon euery man and beast which shal be found in the field, and shal not bee brought home, the haile shall come downe vpon them, and they shall die. Hee that feared the word of the Lord amongst the seruants of Pharaoh, made his seruants and his cattell flee into the houses. And he that regarded not the word of the Lord, left his seruants and his cattell in the field. And the Lord saide vnto Moses, Stretch forth thine hand toward heauen, that there may be haile in all the land of Egypt, vpon man and vpon beast, and vpon euery herbe of the field, thorowout the land of Egypt. And Moses stretched foorth his rod toward heauen, and the Lord sent thunder and haile, and the fire ranne along vpon the ground, and the Lord rained haile vpon the land of Egypt. So there was haile, and fire mingled with the haile, very grieuous, such as there was none like it in all the land of Egypt, since it became a nation. And the haile smote throughout all the land of Egypt, all that was in the field, both man and beast: and the haile smote euery herbe of the fielde, and brake euery tree of the field.

    Fields smashed by torrential rain, seared by gouts of celestial fire.

    Out of Stock

  • They Shall Eate the Residue of that which is Escaped

    $23

    Behold, to morrow will I bring the locusts into thy coast. And they shall couer the face of the earth, that one cannot be able to see the earth, and they shall eate the residue of that which is escaped, which remaineth vnto you from the haile, and shall eate euery tree, which groweth for you out of the field. And they shall fill thy houses, and the houses of all thy seruants, and the houses of all the Egyptians, which neither thy fathers, nor thy fathers fathers haue seene, since the day that they were vpon the earth, vnto this day.

    Dry vanilla mint with rosewood, balsam, green sandalwood, green mate absolute, and sage.

    Out of Stock

  • Three Dayes

    $23

    Stretch out thine hand toward heauen, that there may be darkenesse ouer the land of Egypt, euen darkenes which may be felt. And Moses stretched foorth his hand toward heauen: and there was a thicke darkenesse in all the land of Egypt three dayes. They saw not one another, neither rose any from his place for three dayes: but all the children of Israel had light in their dwellings.

    The impenetrable darkness of opoponax and vetiver, sliced through with a shiver of mint, white grape, star anise, and pungent frankincense.

    Out of Stock

  • About Midnight

    $23

    About midnight will I goe out into the midst of Egypt. And all the first borne in the lande of Egypt shall die, from the first borne of Pharaoh, that sitteth vpon his throne, euen vnto the first borne of the maid seruant that is behind the mill, and all the first borne of beasts.  And there shall bee a great crie throughout all the land of Egypt, such as there was none like it, nor shall bee like it any more.

    Judgement rendered: vanillic sandalwood, holy balsam, cedar, and frankincense.

    Out of Stock

Terra Vigoris & The Bards of Ireland

Cuchulain's Fight with the Sea

March brings a full moon and poetry.

  • Terra Vigoris

    $23

    The Land of Cheerfulness: blood orange and apricot with Chinese geranium, Italian bergamot, langsat pulp, cardamom, white peach, and white sandalwood.

    Out of Stock

The Bards Of Ireland have returned for 2015!

This series is a celebration of Irish poetry, hailing the songs of Ireland throughout the ages.

Bards Of Ireland will be live until May 6th.

  • Cuchulain’s Fight with the Sea

    $24

    A man came slowly from the setting sun,
    To Emer, raddling raiment in her dun,
    And said, 'I am that swineherd whom you bid
    Go watch the road between the wood and tide,
    But now I have no need to watch it more.'

    Then Emer cast the web upon the floor,
    And raising arms all raddled with the dye,
    Parted her lips with a loud sudden cry.

     That swineherd stared upon her face and said,
    'No man alive, no man among the dead,
    Has won the gold his cars of battle bring.'

     'But if your master comes home triumphing
    Why must you blench and shake from foot to crown?' 

    Thereon he shook the more and cast him down
    Upon the web-heaped floor, and cried his word:
    'With him is one sweet-throated like a bird.' 

    'You dare me to my face,' and thereupon
    She smote with raddled fist, and where her son
    Herded the cattle came with stumbling feet,
    And cried with angry voice, 'It is not meet
    To idle life away, a common herd.'

    'I have long waited, mother, for that word:
    But wherefore now?' 

    'There is a man to die;
    You have the heaviest arm under the sky.' 

    'Whether under its daylight or its stars
    My father stands amid his battle-cars.' 

    'But you have grown to be the taller man.'

    'Yet somewhere under starlight or the sun
    My father stands.' 

    'Aged, worn out with wars
    On foot, on horseback or in battle-cars.'

    'I only ask what way my journey lies,
    For He who made you bitter made you wise.' 

    'The Red Branch camp in a great company
    Between wood's rim and the horses of the sea.
    Go there, and light a camp-fire at wood's rim;
    But tell your name and lineage to him
    Whose blade compels, and wait till they have found
    Some feasting man that the same oath has bound.'

    Among those feasting men Cuchulain dwelt,
    And his young sweetheart close beside him knelt,
    Stared on the mournful wonder of his eyes,
    Even as Spring upon the ancient skies,
    And pondered on the glory of his days;
    And all around the harp-string told his praise,
    And Conchubar, the Red Branch king of kings,
    With his own fingers touched the brazen strings. 

    At last Cuchulain spake, 'Some man has made
    His evening fire amid the leafy shade.
    I have often heard him singing to and fro,
    I have often heard the sweet sound of his bow.
    Seek out what man he is.' 

    One went and came.
    'He bade me let all know he gives his name
    At the sword-point, and waits till we have found
    Some feasting man that the same oath has bound.' 

    Cuchulain cried, 'I am the only man
    Of all this host so bound from childhood on. 

    After short fighting in the leafy shade,
    He spake to the young man, 'Is there no maid
    Who loves you, no white arms to wrap you round,
    Or do you long for the dim sleepy ground,
    That you have come and dared me to my face?' 

    'The dooms of men are in God's hidden place,'

    'Your head a while seemed like a woman's head
    That I loved once.' 

    Again the fighting sped,
    But now the war-rage in Cuchulain woke,
    And through that new blade's guard the old blade
    Broke,
    And pierced him.

     'Speak before your breath is done.'

    'Cuchulain I, mighty Cuchulain's son.'

    'I put you from your pain.  I can no more.'

    While day its burden on to evening bore,
    With head bowed on his knees Cuchulain stayed;
    Then Conchubar sent that sweet-throated maid,
    And she, to win him, his grey hair caressed;
    In vain her arms, in vain her soft white breast.
    Then Conchubar, the subtlest of all men,
    Ranking his Druids round him ten by ten,
    Spake thus:  'Cuchulain will dwell there and brood
    For three days more in dreadful quietude,
    And then arise, and raving slay us all.
    Chaunt in his ear delusions magical,
    That he may fight the horses of the sea.'
    The Druids took them to their mystery,
    And chaunted for three days.

    Cuchulain stirred,
    Stared on the horses of the sea, and heard
    The cars of battle and his own name cried;
    And fought with the invulnerable tide.

    —WB Yeats

    Grief and rage battering upon the waves: salt-crusted clove stem, flayed kelp, juniper, and white patchouli.

    Out of Stock

  • Dark Rosaleen

    $24

    O my dark Rosaleen,
    Do not sigh, do not weep!
    The priests are on the ocean green,
    They march along the deep.
    There’s wine from the royal Pope,
    Upon the ocean green;
    And Spanish ale shall give you hope,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My own Rosaleen!

    Shall glad your heart, shall give you hope,
    Shall give you health, and help, and hope,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    Over hills, and thro’ dales,
    Have I roam’d for your sake;
    All yesterday I sail’d with sails
    On river and on lake.
    The Erne, at its highest flood,
    I dash’d across unseen,
    For there was lightning in my blood,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    My own Rosaleen!
    O, there was lightning in my blood,
    Red lighten’d thro’ my blood.
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    All day long, in unrest,
    To and fro, do I move.
    The very soul within my breast
    Is wasted for you, love!
    The heart in my bosom faints
    To think of you, my Queen,
    My life of life, my saint of saints,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My own Rosaleen!
    To hear your sweet and sad complaints,
    My life, my love, my saint of saints,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    Woe and pain, pain and woe,
    Are my lot, night and noon,
    To see your bright face clouded so,
    Like to the mournful moon.
    But yet will I rear your throne
    Again in golden sheen;

    ‘Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My own Rosaleen!
    ‘Tis you shall have the golden throne,
    ‘Tis you shall reign, and reign alone,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    Over dews, over sands,
    Will I fly, for your weal:
    Your holy delicate white hands
    Shall girdle me with steel.
    At home, in your emerald bowers,
    From morning’s dawn till e’en,
    You’ll pray for me, my flower of flowers,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My fond Rosaleen!
    You’ll think of me through daylight hours
    My virgin flower, my flower of flowers,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    I could scale the blue air,
    I could plough the high hills,
    Oh, I could kneel all night in prayer,
    To heal your many ills!
    And one beamy smile from you
    Would float like light between
    My toils and me, my own, my true,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My fond Rosaleen!
    Would give me life and soul anew,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    O, the Erne shall run red,
    With redundance of blood,
    The earth shall rock beneath our tread,
    And flames wrap hill and wood,

    And gun-peal and slogan-cry
    Wake many a glen serene,
    Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My own Rosaleen!
    The Judgement Hour must first be nigh,
    Ere you can fade, ere you can die,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    —James Clarence Mangan

    Impassioned patriotism cloaked in the guise of a love song: golden frankincense gilding pine pitch, sun-touched amber, and oakmoss resinoid.

    Out of Stock

  • Fairy Thorn

    $24

    “Get up, our Anna dear, from the weary spinning-wheel;
    For your father’s on the hill, and your mother is asleep;
    Come up above the crags, and we’ll dance a Highland reel
    Around the Fairy Thorn on the steep.”     

     At Anna Grace’s door ’twas thus the maidens cried,
    Three merry maidens fair in kirtles of the green;
    And Anna laid the rock and the weary wheel aside,
    The fairest of the four, I ween.    

    They’re glancing through the glimmer of the quiet eve,
    Away in milky wavings of neck and ankle bare;
    The heavy-sliding stream in its sleepy song they leave,
    And the crags in the ghostly air.  

    And linking hand-in-hand, and singing as they go,
    The maids along the hillside have ta’en their fearless way,
    Till they come to where the rowan trees in lonely beauty grow
    Beside the Fairy Hawthorn grey.  

    The Hawthorn stands between the ashes tall and slim,
    Like matron with her twin grand-daughters at her knee;
    The rowan berries cluster o’er her low head grey and dim
    In ruddy kisses sweet to see.             

    The merry maidens four have ranged them in a row,
    Between each lovely couple a stately rowan stem,
    And away in mazes wavy, like skimming birds they go,
    Oh, never carolled bird like them!            

    But solemn is the silence on the silvery haze
    That drinks away their voices in echoless repose,
    And dreamily the evening has stilled the haunted braes,
    And dreamier the gloaming grows.           

    And sinking one by one, like lark-notes from the sky,
    When the falcon’s shadow saileth across the open shaw,
    Are hushed the maidens’ voices, as cowering down they lie
    In the flutter of their sudden awe.           

    For, from the air above and the grassy ground beneath,
    And from the mountain-ashes and the old white-thorn between,
    A power of faint enchantment doth through their beings breathe,
    And they sink down together on the green.           

    They sink together silent, and stealing side to side,
    They fling their lovely arms o’er their drooping necks so fair,
    Then vainly strive again their naked arms to hide,
    For their shrinking necks again are bare.           

    Thus clasped and prostrate all, with their heads together bowed,
    Soft o’er their bosoms beating—the only human sound—
    They hear the silky footsteps of the silent fairy crowd,
    Like a river in the air gliding round.          

    Nor scream can any raise, nor prayer can any say,
    But wild, wild the terror of the speechless three—
    For they feel fair Anna Grace drawn silently away,
    By whom they dare not look to see.         

    They feel their tresses twine with her parting locks of gold,
    And the curls elastic falling, as her head withdraws.
    They feel her sliding arms from their trancèd arms unfold,
    But they dare not look to see the cause;  

    For heavy on their senses the faint enchantment lies
    Through all that night of anguish and perilous amaze
    And neither fear nor wonder can ope their quivering eyes,
    Or their limbs from the cold ground raise; 

    Till out of night the earth has rolled her dewy side,
    With every haunted mountain and streamy vale below;
    When, as the mist dissolves in the yellow morningtide,
    The maiden’s trance dissolveth so.                 

    Then fly the ghastly three as swiftly as they may,
    And tell their tale of sorrow to anxious friends in vain—
    They pined away and died within the year and day,
    And ne’er was Anna Grace seen again.

    —Samuel Ferguson

     Drawn away by the spirits, never to be seen again: an eerie veil of vanilla musk twirled with tuberose, Siamese red benzoin, cassis flower, Irish moss, white sandalwood, plum nectar, violet leaf, and apple petals.

    Out of Stock

Lupercalia 2015

Lupercalia

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.

Blessed Lupercalia to all!

  • Creeper Dragon

    5.00 out of 5
    $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.

    Out of Stock
  • 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.

    Out of Stock
  • 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.

    Out of Stock
  • For Each Ecstatic Instant

    $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.

    Out of Stock
  • 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.

    Out of Stock
  • 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.

    Out of Stock
  • 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.

    Out of Stock
  • Red Lantern

    5.00 out of 5
    $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.

    Out of Stock
  • 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.

    Out of Stock
  • 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.

    Out of Stock
  • Smut

    $24

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

    Out of Stock

This year’s Box of Bonbons is particularly peculiar –

++BOX OF BONBONS 2015

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!

  • Alma Venus

    $24

    Mother Venus

    Amber-infused blood orange with Italian neroli, ambergris, orange flower absolute, French beeswax, tuberose, Himalayan cedar, and honey.

    Out of Stock

++ 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.

It wouldn’t be Lupercalia without our Shunga series, would it?

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

++SHUNGA

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