Additional information
Weight | 1 oz |
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$29.00
The perfume of withering leaves, their brittle forms surrendering to the flame, releasing a sigh of bitter smoke that is flickering with the ghosts of summer’s memory.
Weight | 1 oz |
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In the rapture of my enormous humiliation I live in your warm life, and you shall die — die, sweetly die — into mine. I cannot help it; as I draw near to you, you, in your turn, will draw near to others, and learn the rapture of that cruelty, which yet is love; so, for a while, seek to know no more of me and mine, but trust me with all your loving spirit.”
And when she had spoken such a rhapsody, she would press me more closely in her trembling embrace, and her lips in soft kisses gently glow upon my cheek.
Inevitable surrender. Opening with a heady blend of blood orange and black cherry, the heart of this perfume pulsates with narcotic jasmine, sinuous tuberose, blood amber, vanilla silk, and deep red labdanum.
After all these dreams there remained on waking a remembrance of having been in a place very nearly dark, and of having spoken to people whom I could not see; and especially of one clear voice, of a female’s, very deep, that spoke as if at a distance, slowly, and producing always the same sensation of indescribable solemnity and fear. Sometimes there came a sensation as if a hand was drawn softly along my cheek and neck. Sometimes it was as if warm lips kissed me, and longer and longer and more lovingly as they reached my throat, but there the caress fixed itself. My heart beat faster, my breathing rose and fell rapidly and full drawn; a sobbing, that rose into a sense of strangulation, supervened, and turned into a dreadful convulsion, in which my senses left me and I became unconscious.
The crescendo of a phantom’s caress: golden frankincense and cardamom smothered by honeyed kisses of labdanum, red rose, merlot, black oud, and myrrh.
Black oud spookied up with pumpkin puree, amaretto, scorched caramel, almond paste, cacao nibs, and honey.
“It was a bad family, and here its bloodstained annals were written,” he continued. “It is hard that they should, after death, continue to plague the human race with their atrocious lusts.”
Palatial grandeur in ruins, its decrepit majesty poised in the liminal space between decay and beauty. A haunting memory of all-consuming desire: the rich, earthy depth of oud, vetiver, and moss, grounded in the untamed wilds of the forest, echoing the ancient stones that remain.
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