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  Tavern of Hell Perfume Oil

  Sometimes I would venture from my sepulchre to the jazz of night Paris, where having gathered the colours, I would think them over in front of the fire. I could be seen walking through a funeral corridor of my house and descending down a black spiral of steep stairs; rushing underground to Montmartre, all impatience to see the fiery rubies of the Moulin Rouge cross. I wondered thereabouts, then bought a ticket to watch frenzied delirium of feathers, vulgar painted lips and eyelashes of black and blue.

  Naked feet, and thighs, and arms, and breasts were being flung on me from bloody-red foam of translucent clothes. The tuxedoed goatees and crooked noses in white vests and toppers would line the hall, with their hands posed on canes. Then I found myself in a pub, where the liqueurs were served on a coffin (not a table) by the nickering devil: “Drink it, you wretched!” Having drunk, I returned under the black sky split by the flaming vanes, which the radiant needles of my eyelashes cross-hatched. In front of my nose a stream of bowler hats and black veils was still pulsing, foamy with bluish green and warm orange of feathers worn by the night beauties: to me they were all one, as I had to narrow my eyes for insupportable radiance of electric lamps, whose hectic fires would be dancing beneath my nervous eyelids for many a night to come.

  White gardenia, ambergris bouquet, lavender fougere, orange blossom, melissa, tobacco flower, coriander, ebony wood, ylang ylang, absinthe and aged whiskey.

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  Persephone Perfume Oil

  Daughter of Jove, almighty and divine, come, blessed queen, and to these rites incline:
  Only-begotten, Pluto’s honor’d wife, O venerable Goddess, source of life:
  ‘Tis thine in earth’s profundities to dwell, fast by the wide and dismal gates of hell:
  Jove’s holy offspring, of a beauteous mien, Praxidike, with lovely locks, infernal queen:
  Source of the Eumenides, whose blest frame proceeds from Jove’s ineffable and secret seeds:
  Mother of Eubouleos, Sonorous, divine, and many-form’d, the parent of the vine:
  The dancing Horai attend thee, essence bright, all-ruling virgin, bearing heav’nly light:
  Illustrious, horned, of a bounteous mind, alone desir’d by those of mortal kind.
  O, vernal queen, whom grassy plains delight, sweet to the smell, and pleasing to the sight:
  Whose holy form in budding fruits we view, Earth’s vig’rous offspring of a various hue:
  Espous’d in Autumn: life and death alone to wretched mortals from thy power is known:
  For thine the task according to thy will, life to produce, and all that lives to kill.
  Hear, blessed Goddess, send a rich increase of various fruits from earth, with lovely Peace;
  Send Health with gentle hand, and crown my life with blest abundance, free from noisy strife;
  Last in extreme old age the prey of Death, dismiss we willing to the realms beneath,
  To thy fair palace, and the blissful plains where happy spirits dwell, and Pluto reigns.

  Pomegranate and rose.

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  Vixen Perfume Oil

  Lascivious, flirtatious, and vampy as hell. A true heartbreaker’s perfume. The innocence of orange blossom tainted by the beguiling scents of ginger and patchouli.

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  Bette Noir Perfume Oil

  The Paradigm’s martial artist and weapons master, Bette carries a grim secret—that she alone knows Plutonian’s one true vulnerability.

  Benzoin, wild plum, smoky amber, bergamot, orange blossom, myrrh, and dark berries.

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