Related products

• 

  Embalming Fluid

  A light, pure scent: white musk, green tea, aloe and lemon.

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
• 

  Imp Pack: White Floral Perfume Oil

  – The Ghost
  A thin, sinuous, creeping chill, the scent of glee-filled undeath: white iris, osmanthus, Calla lily, tomb-crawling ivy and a coffin spray of gladiolus, lisianthus and delphinium.

  – Pele
  Muguet and Hawaiian white ginger enveloped by warm, damp tropical blooms.

  – Seraphim
  Calla lily, wisteria, white sandalwood, Damascus rose and frankincense.

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

  – Juliet
  Sweet pea with stargazer lily, calla lily, heliotrope, honeysuckle, white musk and a touch of fresh pear.

  – Zephyr
  Lemon, lemon verbena, neroli, white musk, white florals, white sandalwood, China musk, bergamot and a drop of vanilla.

  Out of Stock
• 

  51 Perfume Oil

  Luminescent, glowing, and otherworldly: green mandarin, neroli, honeydew, white amber, guava, freesia, white and green musks hovering over desert scrub, smashed wood, and the dry, biting scent of night air over the Groom Lake salt flats.

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
• 

  Ode on Melancholy Perfume Oil

  No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
  Wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
  Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss’d
  By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
  Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
  Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
  Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
  A partner in your sorrow’s mysteries;
  For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
  And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

  But when the melancholy fit shall fall
  Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
  That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
  And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
  Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
  Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
  Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
  Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
  Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
  And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

  She dwells with Beauty — Beauty that must die;
  And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
  Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
  Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
  Ay, in the very temple of Delight
  Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
  Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
  Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine;
  His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,
  And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

  Beauty, joy, pleasure and delight: devastated. This is the scent of the hopelessness, torment and despair of love. Lavender and wisteria, heart-wrenching pale rose, desolate white sandalwood and thin, tear-streaked white musk.

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page