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  A hard candy for hard times: bright, sticky berry with an extra crystalline sparkle and just a pinch of grit.

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  Phantom Team of Horses Perfume Oil

  About two miles from the village of Canton, Me., is a cosey, old-fashioned farm-house which is located directly opposite a graveyard, with no other house in sight. From the window of this little house nothing can be seen except the graveyard with its gleaming stones, and the hills and mountains round about.
  
  The family that has been occupying the house moved out not long ago, declaring that they could not stand it any longer, that they were wellnight distracted by the demonstrations. When they told their story a former resident, who now lives in Hartford, announced that he had known for years that the place was haunted. He had not told any one for fear of the ridicule of his neighbors.
  
  The demonstrations were not only in the house, but in the barn and around the premises. Regularly every night at 12 o’clock a team of horses rushes from the direction of the village, rumbles over the little bridge at a slashing gait, and then disappears. It never reaches the house. Instead, ghostly voices address the members of the family who have the temerity to live there, the voices coming from all parts of the house, but never so clearly that they can be located.
  
  On one memorable night a member of the family went to the barn just at dusk without a lantern. A figure stood at the corner of the building, and he ran to learn what the straggler wanted about the place. The figure silently and mysteriously melted into the shadows and was gone.
  
  The Buffalo News, April 20, 1904
  
  A spectral cacophony of shimmering, translucent dun sandalwood, grey amber, and wraith-chilled chestnut galloping through the mist-cloaked shadows of time, a clattering of clove and black pepper, and a crack of phantom leather.

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  Gently, Gently, They are Timid Perfume Oil

  Softly, softly, hear the rustle
  Of the Spirits airy wings;
  They are coming down to mingle
  Once again with earthly things,
  With their rapping, and their tapping
  Rap-tap-tap to wake our napping,
  In the restless dream of error:
  Hear the weird the Spirit brings –
  Rap-tap-tap lost friends are near you;
  Rap-tap-tap they see and hear you;
  In their mystic converse rappy
  They declare good Spirits happy.
  
  Gently, gently, they are timid
  If a medium is not there;
  They may leave you in delusion,
  And dissolve again to air.
  Tis no fable – beings able –
  Rap-tap-tap upon a table;
  And their language is translated,
  While the watch with guardian care
  Rap-tap-tap lost friends are near you;
  Rap-tap-tap they see and hear you;
  In their mystic converse rappy
  They declare good Spirits happy

  Spirit Rappings, lyrics by T.E. Garrett, music by W.W. Rossington
  
  A joyful undeath: candied orange and pink peppercorn, sugared freesia petals, vanilla bean, and white honey.
  

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  Ectoplasm 2024 Perfume Oil

  In examining and reporting these cases the witnesses averred that certain people, whom they called “materializing mediums,” had the strange physical gift that they could put forth from their bodies a viscous, gelatinous substance which appeared to differ from every known form of matter in that it could solidify and be used for material purposes, and yet could be reabsorbed, leaving absolutely no trace even upon the clothes which it had traversed in leaving the body.

   

  This substance was actually touched by some enterprising investigators, who reported that it was elastic and appeared to be sensitive, as though it was really an organic extrusion from the medium’s body.
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