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  13 December 2024 Perfume Oil

  13 is significant, whether you consider it lucky, unlucky or just plain odd. Many believe it to be unfortunate…

  … because there were 13 present at the Last Supper.
  … Loki crashed a party of 12 at Valhalla, which ended in Baldur’s death.
  … Oinomaos killed 13 of Hippodamia’s suitors before Pelops finally, in his own shady way, defeated the jealous king.
  … In ancient Rome, Hecate’s witches gathered in groups of 12, the Goddess herself being the 13th in the coven.

  Concern over the number thirteen echoes back beyond the Christian era. Line 13 was omitted form the Code of Hammurabi.

  The shivers over Friday the 13th also have some interesting origins:

  … Christ was allegedly crucified on Friday the 13th.
  … On Friday, October 13, 1307, King Philip IV of France ordered the arrests of Jaques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, and sixty of his senior knights.
  … In British custom, hangings were held on Fridays, and there were 13 steps on the gallows leading to the noose.

  To combat the superstition, Robert Ingersoll and the Thirteen Club held thirteen-men dinners during the 19th Century. Successful? Hardly. The number still invokes trepidation to this day. A recent whimsical little serial killer study showed that the following murderers all have names that total thirteen letters:

  Theodore Bundy
  Jeffrey Dahmer
  Albert De Salvo
  John Wayne Gacy

  And, with a little stretch of the imagination, you can also fit ”˜Jack the Ripper’ and ”˜Charles Manson’ into that equation.

  More current-era paranoia: modern schoolchildren stop their memorization of the multiplication tables at 12. There were 13 Plutonium slugs in the atomic bomb that was dropped on Nagasaki. Apollo 13 wasn’t exactly the most successful space mission. All of these are things that modern triskaidekaphobes point to when justifying their fears.

  For some, 13 is an extremely fortuitous and auspicious number…

  … In Jewish tradition, God has 13 Attributes of Mercy. Also, there were 13 tribes of Israel, 13 principles of Jewish faith, and 13 is considered the age of maturity.
  … The ancient Egyptians believed that there were 12 stages of spiritual achievement in this lifetime, and a 13th beyond death.
  … The word for thirteen, in Chinese, sounds much like the word which means “must be alive”.

  Thirteen, whether you love it or loathe it, is a pretty cool number all around.

  … In some theories of relativity, there are 13 dimensions.
  … It is a prime number, lucky number, star number, Wilson Prime, and Fibonacci number.
  … There are 13 Archimedean solids.

  AND…
  … There were 13 original colonies when the United States were founded.

  Says a lot about the US, doesn’t it?

  Thirteen scents of comfort; a supplication for safety and succor during turbulent, dark times. Warm wool, fresh baked bread, steaming black tea, and a gooey brownie spiced with fresh ginger, green cardamom, black peppercorn, coriander, clove bud, fennel, star anise, honey, and cream.

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  Fuck This Heat Perfume Oil

  What global warming? Slivers of ice to cool things down, lavender and hops flower to soothe the nerves.

  Proceeds benefit getting the goddamn AC fixed in the front parlor at BPAL so Teddy and Claire don’t sweat to death and we don’t roast people alive at Lunacy.

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  Naughty or Nice 2024 Perfume Oil and Coin Set

  How decent were you this year? Don’t bother to lie… the coin knows all, the coin tells all.

  We’re releasing an extremely limited quantity of this collectible coin and perfume set, just in time for a last-minute redemption arc. The bearer of each hefty diestruck 2” coin is officially qualified to diagnose niceness or naughtiness (their own, or others’) within a 0.0001% margin of error. Just spin it, flip it, or toss it for nearly instant results.

  We’ll even help you leverage the outcome: proceeds from the sales of this set will be split between Feeding America and Philabundance.

  So if it still comes up NAUGHTY… you know you really blew it somewhere!
  
  Art and coin design by the inimitable Tanya Bjork!

  NAUGHTY
  Solve. No judgment from us: whatever you did, you surely had your reasons! Instead we’ll simply break down your stubborn resistance to virtue with a dose of black leather, patchouli, and sweet oud, dissipating any lingering angst with a volley of lemon peel, dried plum, opium pod, cardamom, hazelnut, almond, and dates.

   

  NICE
  Coagula. Let us join together in smug benevolence! The rewards will be plentiful for those gathered up in our aetheric cloud of sugared vanilla musk, candyfloss, and ruby chocolate warmed with a hint of clove. 

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
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  Please Scream Inside Your Heart Perfume Oil

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
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  Please Scream Inside Your Heart Sticker

  Please do not stick these on or inside your heart.

  Illustration by Drew Rausch for Black Phoenix!

  Out of Stock
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  Please Scream Inside Your Snake Oil Perfume Oil

  Tying in with our experimental work in fear: we have screamed into our Snake Oil… and we can’t stop sniffing ourselves! BPAL’s signature scent — deep, rich earthy notes swirled with vegetal musks, sugared vanilla bean, and dark spices — has been polluted by the funnel cake frenzy that is our Please Scream Inside Your Heart perfume blend. The results are so comforting, we almost forgot why we started screaming in the first place. (Almost.)

  Note: This product DOES NOT come with the limited edition sticker that was included with Please Scream Inside Your Heart. Just one more thing to scream about! (Elizabeth clearly has a possum bias. -Ed)

  Label art by Drew Rausch!

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  Schrödinger’s Checkmark Perfume Oil

  A  hubristic statement fragrance that says: You are valid, you are official, you are VERIFIED… or are you? Guess you’ll have to shell out for it first, try it on, and then see how you feel (an experience that old-school indie fragrance fans are already well accustomed to).

  Anyway, we haven’t market-tested this product or cleared it with any investors. We just rushed it into production with the intention of fine-tuning later based on reactions online. So… what do you think? Would you pay for it as-is? How about now, if we claim to have made subtle improvements? We definitely made them. Wait, come back!

  The scent of questionable clout: airy, sticky marshmallow fluff, oily benzoin, and blackened, slick patchouli.

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  Snake Oil: 2009 Vintage Perfume Oil

  Back in 2009, we bottled a hooch-jug of Snake Oil and put it aside in a cool, dark nook. We’ll be selling the fruits of our labor and patience in 100 bottle increments.

  We will be making announcements prior to each hundred-bottle release.

  By far, our most popular scent! Magnetic, mysterious, and exceedingly sexual in nature. Our signature scent, deep, rich earthy notes swirled with vegetal musks, sugared vanilla bean, and dark spices.
  .

  Out of Stock
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  Snake Oil: 2014 Vintage Perfume Oil

  Two years onward from our great cross-country move, we’re still opening boxes we forgot we’d packed, unearthing many oily treasures — for example, a hooch jug of Snake Oil bottled in 2014, aged to perfection in the temperature-controlled darkness of a West coast warehouse, and then an East coast one.

  We’ve chosen to break up this limited quantity of bottles into smaller batches to be released gradually over time, in hopes that it will help more folks stand a chance of acquiring them; today’s is the first such release. Once our own private well of 2014 Snake Oil runs dry, that will be it forever!
  
  Snake Oil: By far, our most popular scent! Magnetic, mysterious, and exceedingly sexual in nature. Our signature scent, deep, rich earthy notes swirled with vegetal musks, sugared vanilla bean, and dark spices.

  Out of Stock

Limited Edition - Lightning Strikes

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  Lightning Strikes Cinema Perfume Oil

  The scent of sitting in a darkened theater in a rainstorm circa 1935, marveling at the alchemy that transforms scribbled words into specters of light, shadow, and sound: dripping umbrellas, a nicotine haze clinging to musty velvet curtains, camphorous vapors rising from strips of hot celluloid.

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  Lightning Strikes Literature Perfume Oil

  The incendiary moment when a human hand snatches fire from the gods of creativity and channels it onto the page: a lightning storm stirred with beeswax candle smoke, yellowing notebooks, and pools of India ink.

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  Lightning Strikes the Future Perfume Oil

  Iconic images that ripple through decades of culture and counter-culture, forming an exquisite corpse of horror, glamour, intellectual discourse, and feminist rage that rises to meet the challenges of humanity’s increasingly uncertain fate. The ultimate lab experiment: streaks of feral red musk twining in a double-helix around a pulsing, electrified core of fossilized amber, erupting from a glimmering pool of reactor coolant.

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Limited Edition - Fire Down Below

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  A Hundred Years Ago Perfume Oil

  Well a hundred years on the eastern shore
  Oh yes, oh
  Oh, a hundred years on the eastern shore
  A hundred years ago

  Well its Bully John from Baltimore
  Well I knew him well on the eastern shore
  Well it’s Bully John’s the boy for me
  He’s a buckle on land and a bully at sea
  Well its been a long time and a very long time
  Well its been a long time since I made this rhyme
  Well my old mother she wrote to me
  Me darling son come home from sea
  Well I thought I heard the first mate cry
  That bleeding top main sheave is dry
  Well I thought I heard the old man say
  Well it’s one more pull and then belay

  Well a hundred years on the eastern shore
  Oh yes, oh
  Oh, a hundred years on the eastern shore
  A hundred years ago

  A woody, sea-crisp scent, sun-blasted and creaking: green vetiver and ocean mist with a blast of elemi, verbena, and wild bergamot.

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  A-Rovin’ Perfume Oil

  In Amsterdam there dwells a maid
  Maid of Amsterdam

  In Amsterdam there dwells a maid
  Mark well what do I say
  In Amsterdam there dwells a maid
  And she is mistress of her trade

  I’ll go no more a-rovin’ with you fair maid
  A-roving, A-roving, since roving’s been my ruin
  I’ll go no more a-roving with you fair maid

  A perfume for mistresses and masters of a very specific trade: sultry red musk, heady jasmine, tobacco leaf, red sandalwood, hay sugar, golden honey, sweet carnations, and warm leather.

  Proceeds from the sale of this scent benefit Decriminalize Sex Work, a national organization pursuing a state-by-state strategy to end the prohibition of consensual adult prostitution in the United States. “We work with local organizations, advocates, and lobbyists to build community support and convince legislators to stop prostitution-related arrests. Evidence shows that decriminalizing sex work will help end human trafficking, improve public health, and promote community safety.”

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  Asleep in the Deep Perfume Oil

  Many brave hearts are asleep in the deep so beware! Beware!
  What of the storm when the night is o’er? There is no trace or sign!
  Save where the wreckage hath strewn the shore, peaceful the sun doth shine.
  But when the wild raging storm did cease, under the billows two hearts found peace.
  No more to part, no more of pain, the bell may now toll its warning in vain.

  Loudly the bell in the old tower rings
  Biding us list to the warning it brings.
  Sailor take care! Sailor take care!
  Danger is near thee, beware! Beware!
  Beware! Beware!

  A hymn to all who sleep beneath the waves. Sailor beware! A lightless abyss of black plum, sea salt, opium tar accord, labdanum, and indigo benzoin.

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  Boney Was a Warrior Perfume Oil

  Boney was a warrior
  Way hey ya
  A warrior a terrier
  John Francois

  Boney fought the Russians
  Way hey ya
  The Russians and the Prussians
  Jean Francois

  Moscow was a-blazing
  Way hey ya
  And Boney was a-raging
  Jean Francois

  Boney went to Elba
  Way hey ya
  Boney he came back again
  Jean Francois

  Boney went to Waterloo
  Way hey ya
  There he got his overthrow
  Jean Francois

  Then they took him off again
  Way hey ya
  Aboard the Billy Ruffian
  Jean Francois

  He went to Saint Helena,
  Way hey ya
  There he was a prisoner,
  Jean Francois

  Boney broke his heart and died
  Way hey ya
  Away in Saint Helena
  Jean Francois

  A brief and succinct biography of Napoleon jumbled with the French shanty, Jean François de Nantes. Relevant to our shared interests: Napoleon was a fragrance connoisseur, and he kept a standing order with his perfumer for a delivery of fifty bottles per month.

  A fresh, light Napoleonic-era cologne with hints of rosemary, almond, oakmoss, and jasmine.

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  Good Ship Venus Perfume Oil

  The third mate’s name was Morgan
  By God he was a gorgon
  From half past eight he played till late
  Upon the captain’s organ

  The rest of the lyrics are too bawdy for me to post outside of a Lupercalia warning.

  Salt-crusted wooden planks warmed by cardamom, 7-year aged patchouli, tonka bean, mace, and black pepper.

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  Hanging Johnny Perfume Oil

  They call me Hanging Johnny
  Away, boys, away!
  But I never hanged nobody
  So hang, boys, hang!

  They says I hanged my graddy
  And then I hanged my family

  They says I hanged my mother
  It is they and my brother

  I hanged a rotten liar
  But I hanged a bloody friar

  They tells I hang for money
  But hanging’s so bloody funny

  We all will hang together
  It’s all for better weather

  I’d hang to make things jolly, I’d hang all wrong and folly, we all will hang together: hemp rope, red sandalwood, and white cedar.

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  Haul on the Bowline Perfume Oil

  Haul on the bowlin’, the bully ship’s a-rolling,
  Haul on the bowlin’, the bowlin’ haul!
  Haul on the bowlin’, Kitty is me darlin’.
  Haul on the bowlin’, Kitty comes from Liverpool.
  Haul on the bowlin’, it’s a far cry to payday.

  A short-haul shanty for getting the job done. A thumping chant of patchouli, tobacco absolute, black cedar, and cocoa bean.

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  Leave Her, Johnny Perfume Oil

  Oh the times are hard and the wages low
  Leave her, Johnny, leave her
  Oh the times are hard and the wages low
  And it’s time for us to leave her.

  Oh my old mother she wrote to me
  ‘My dear son, come home from sea.’

  It was rotten meat and weevilly bread
  ‘You’ll eat or starve,’ the Old Man said.

  I thought I heard the Old Man say
  ‘You can go ashore and collect your pay.’

  It’s time for us to say goodbye
  For the old pierhead is drawing nigh.

  Leave her, Johnny, leave her
  Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her
  The voyage is done and the winds don’t blow
  And it’s time for us to leave her.

  A sailor’s love song to her ship: Laotian oud, white cedarwood, sweet black patchouli, spiced rum, blackened fig, and coconut.

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  Roll the Old Chariot Perfume Oil

  Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
  Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
  Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
  An’ we’ll all hang on behind!

  So we’ll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
  An’ we’ll roll the golden chariot along!
  So we’ll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
  An’ we’ll all hang on behind!

  It is said that after Horatio Nelson’s death at the Battle of Trafalgar, his body was preserved in a cask of rum (or in some tales, brandy) in order to preserve it for transport back to England. When the cask arrived, though, it was empty of spirits, and a hole in the cask was found where the sailors had been sucking the booze out with a straw.

  Oak planks, iron, brandy, and spiced rum.

  The remains of Vice-Admiral Nelson have been omitted from this fragrance.

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  Row Bullies Row Perfume Oil

  The boardinghouse masters came aboard in a trice
  A shouting and a promising all that was nice
  Til one old crib took a liking to me
  Says he you’re a fool, lad, to follow the sea

  And it’s row, row bullies row

  Says he there’s a job as is waiting for you
  With lashings of liquor and beggar-all to do
  Says he what you say lad, will you? – or two?
  Says I you old bastard, I’m damned if I do

  And it’s row, row bullies row

  But the best of intentions they never goes far
  After thirty two days at the door of the bar
  I tossed off me liquor and what do you think
  That rotten old bastard had doctored me drink

  And it’s row, row bullies row

  Next I remember I woke in the morn
  On a the three skysail yarder bound south round Cape Horn
  With an old set of oilskins and two pair of socks
  And an IOU nailed to the lid of my box

  And it’s row, row bullies row

  Honeyed rum, a whiff of almond, and a hint of something suspiciously soporific.

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  The Wellerman Perfume Oil

  There was a ship that put to sea,
  And the name of the ship was the Billy at Tea
  The wind came up, her bow dipped down,
  Blow, my bully boys, blow.

  Soon may the Wellerman come
  And bring us sugar and tea and rum.
  One day, when the tonguin’ is done,
  We’ll take our leave and go.

  She had not been two weeks from shore
  When down on her a right whale bore.
  The captain called all hands and swore
  He’d take that whale in tow.

  Before the boat had hit the water
  The whale’s tail came up and caught her.
  All hands to the side, harpooned and fought her,
  She dived down below.

  A line we dropped all in pursuit
  She raised her tail, a last salute.
  But the harpoon lodged there’s no dispute
  She dived down below.

  For six long days and six long nights
  She drove us south with all her might,
  Until we were too tired to fight,
  Then we let her go.

  The line was cut, the whale was freed;
  The Captain’s mind was not on greed.
  He belonged to the sailor’s creed
  And he let that whale go.

  Sugar, tea, and rum.

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