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  Rakshasa Perfume Oil

  This haunting, exotic scent is named in honor of the shapeshifting demons from Hindu mythology. Sandalwood with rose and patchouli.

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  La Belle au Bois Dormant Perfume Oil

  The Sleeping Beauty. A gentle, lovely scent, slightly soporific, but beautiful in its quiet repose. Plumeria and white pear, Damascus rose, tuberose, magnolia and evening dew.

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  Wanda Perfume Oil

  “And yet a restless, always unsatisfied craving for the nudity of paganism,” she interrupted, “but that love, which is the highest joy, which is divine simplicity itself, is not for you moderns, you children of reflection. It works only evil in you. As soon as you wish to be natural, you become common. To you nature seems something hostile; you have made devils out of the smiling gods of Greece, and out of me a demon. You can only exorcise and curse me, or slay yourselves in bacchantic madness before my altar. And if ever one of you has had the courage to kiss my red mouth, he makes a barefoot pilgrimage to Rome in penitential robes and expects flowers to grow from his withered staff, while under my feet roses, violets, and myrtles spring up every hour, but their fragrance does not agree with you. Stay among your northern fogs and Christian incense; let us pagans remain under the debris, beneath the lava; do not disinter us. Pompeii was not built for you, nor our villas, our baths, our temples. You do not require gods. We are chilled in your world.”

  Along with Loviatar, she has become something of a Patron Goddess of all Dominatrixes, Wanda is the breathtakingly beautiful sable-wrapped marble queen of Sacher-Masoch’s fantasies. Her scent is a deep red merlot with a faint hint of leather, sexual musk and body heat over crushed roses, violets and myrtle.

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  La Bella Donna Della Mia Mente Perfume Oil

  My limbs are wasted with a flame,
  My feet are sore with traveling,
  For, calling on my Lady’s name,
  My lips have now forgot to sing.

  O Linnet in the wild-rose brake
  Strain for my Love thy melody,
  O Lark sing louder for love’s sake,
  My gentle Lady passeth by.

  She is too fair for any man
  To see or hold his heart’s delight,
  Fairer than Queen or courtesan
  Or moonlit water in the night.

  Her hair is bound with myrtle leaves,
  (Green leaves upon her golden hair!)
  Green grasses through the yellow sheaves
  Of autumn corn are not more fair.

  Her little lips, more made to kiss
  Than to cry bitterly for pain,
  Are tremulous as brook-water is,
  Or roses after evening rain.

  Her neck is like white melilote
  Flushing for pleasure of the sun,
  The throbbing of the linnet’s throat
  Is not so sweet to look upon.

  As a pomegranate, cut in twain,
  White-seeded, is her crimson mouth,
  Her cheeks are as the fading stain
  Where the peach reddens to the south.

  O twining hands! O delicate
  White body made for love and pain!
  O House of love! O desolate
  Pale flower beaten by the rain!

  Soft, lush myrtle and dry, sweet melilot with wild rose, pomegranate juice and peach blossom against a background of deep aquatic notes and a twirl of melancholy autumn breezes.

  Out of Stock This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page