Gloomily, Gloomily Perfume Oil

GLOOMILY, GLOOMILY

“Good morning, Eeyore,” said Pooh.

“Good morning, Pooh Bear,” said Eeyore gloomily. “If it is a good morning,” he said. “Which I doubt,” said he.

“Why, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can’t all, and some of us don’t. That’s all there is to it.”

“Can’t all what?” said Pooh, rubbing his nose.

“Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.”

“Oh!” said Pooh. He thought for a long time, and then asked, “What mulberry bush is that?”

“Bon-hommy,” went on Eeyore gloomily. “French word meaning bonhommy,” he explained. “I’m not complaining, but There It Is.”

Every solid friend group has at least one goth kid representing. Soft grey musk, pink thistle, lavender ash, tea leaves, pale iris, grey lilac, and rain-soaked moss.

Each purchase of Gloomily, Gloomily comes with a 1/32 oz imp of the Donkey’s Tail. The Donkey’s Tail is not available for sale on its own, and make sure you keep it safe as you never know where it might end up.

THE DONKEY’S TAIL

“That Accounts for a Good Deal,” said Eeyore gloomily. “It Explains Everything. No Wonder.”

Doubles as a bell-pull: a beribboned strip of French lavender, bourbon vanilla, silver thistle, grey musk, pink silk, and well-loved grey cotton.

5ml Perfume Oil
Price
Regular price $32.00
Regular price Sale price $32.00
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The Hundred-Acre Wood

Christopher Robin was sitting outside his door, putting on his Big Boots. As soon as he saw the Big Boots, Pooh knew that an Adventure was going to happen, and he brushed the honey off his nose with the back of his paw, and spruced himself up as well as he could, so as to look Ready for Anything.

Part nursery dream, part ancient magic. Beneath the dappled sunlight of the Hundred Acre Wood hums something older: the hush of time, the sweetness of honey and kindness, the wisdom of wonder and simplicity, the moss-soft echo of laughter trailing down a timeworn path.

Here live the small gods of childhood: a bear of very little brain, a timid pig, a gloomy donkey, a fussy rabbit, a wise owl, a tiger all bounce and blaze, a patient mother and her precocious child, and the bees, forever busy. Their world is stitched from memory and meadow air, a place of lost afternoons, joyous contentment, and golden jars of honey that never seem to empty.

Each scent in this collection captures a moment of joy, of comfort, of courage, and of melancholy, suspended like amber light in a bottle.

Somewhere in the Wood someone is humming.

Yule 2025

No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn. Hal Borland’s reassurance feels especially poignant now, in a year that has asked so much of us. It has been a challenging season in countless ways: globally, locally, intimately. The darkness has felt long, the chill of countless terrors freezing the breath in our lungs and the beat of our hearts. And yet, threaded through every difficult moment is a truth that refuses to dim: we are not meant to walk through any of this alone.

Community is not a luxury in times like these; it is a lifeline. It is the network of hands that lift us up when we falter, it is the shelter against the storm. In dark times, community becomes the architecture of hope, built from small acts of care: a meal cooked, a message sent, a burden shared.

Love, too, becomes a form of courage during periods of extreme upheaval. It is the choice to remain open-hearted despite the horrors. Compassion is love’s companion; supporting those who are vulnerable, asking for help when we need it, offering comfort without being asked… this is what will keep the cold from taking root inside us.

No winter lasts forever. And when the thaw comes – when sunlight returns to the edges of our days – it will be because we kept one another warm. With the strength we find in each other, with the communities we build and nurture, we will see spring again together soon.

Hold onto each other. We’re all we have.

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