Angelica
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Gossip, Slang, and Cuss-Words Perfume Oil
Out of StockTo Gossip, Slang and “Cuss-Words”
I’ll bid a last “Adieu”
And place a bridle on my tongue
And thoughtless actions, too!
Here’s to a kinder, gentler year: lavender and mallow with orris root, angelica, frosted vanilla bean, and osmanthus. -
Lychee Vulva Perfume Oil
Out of StockLychee, pink peppercorn, rosehip tea, pink peonies, angelica, and ylang ylang.
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On Work Perfume Oil
Add to cartYou work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth.
For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life’s procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.
When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.
Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings together in unison?
Always you have been told that work is a curse and labour a misfortune.
But I say to you that when you work you fulfil a part of earth’s furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born,
And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life,
And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life’s inmost secret.
But if you in your pain call birth an affliction and the support of the flesh a curse written upon your brow, then I answer that naught but the sweat of your brow shall wash away that which is written.
You have been told also that life is darkness, and in your weariness you echo what was said by the weary.
And I say that life is indeed darkness ‘save when there is urge,
And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge,
And all knowledge is vain save when there is work,
And all work is empty save when there is love;
And when you work with love you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another, and to God.
And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.
Often have I heard you say, as if speaking in sleep, “He who works in marble, and finds the shape of his own soul in the stone, is nobler than he who ploughs the soil. And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it on a cloth in the likeness of man, is more than he who makes the sandals for our feet.”
But I say, not in sleep but in the overwakefulness of noontide, that the wind speaks not more sweetly to the giant oaks than to the least of all the blades of grass;
And he alone is great who turns the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by his own loving.
Work is love made visible.
And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy.
For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter bread that feeds but half man’s hunger.
And if you grudge the crushing of the grapes, your grudge distils a poison in the wine. And if you sing though as angels, and love not the singing, you muffle man’s ears to the voices of the day and the voices of the night.Work is love made visible, so let’s all chip in and do the work. White sandalwood, fig, bourbon vanilla, and angelica.
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Sumpatheia Perfume Oil
Add to cartAn oil to help you overcome feelings of loneliness and isolation while cultivating and retaining compassion for yourself, your communities, and the broader world.
This oil contains lily, hyacinth, angelica, frankincense, tulsi, Roman chamomile, and lemon. -
The Harlot’s House Perfume Oil
Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product pageWe caught the tread of dancing feet,
We loitered down the moonlit street,
And stopped beneath the harlot’s house.Inside, above the din and fray,
We heard the loud musicians play
The “Treues Liebes Herz” of Strauss.Like strange mechanical grotesques,
Making fantastic arabesques,
The shadows raced across the blind.We watched the ghostly dancers spin
To sound of horn and violin,
Like black leaves wheeling in the wind.Like wire-pulled automatons,
Slim silhouetted skeletons
Went sidling through the slow quadrille.The took each other by the hand,
And danced a stately saraband;
Their laughter echoed thin and shrill.Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed
A phantom lover to her breast,
Sometimes they seemed to try to sing.Sometimes a horrible marionette
Came out, and smoked its cigarette
Upon the steps like a live thing.Then, turning to my love, I said,
“The dead are dancing with the dead,
The dust is whirling with the dust.”But she–she heard the violin,
And left my side, and entered in:
Love passed into the house of lust.Then suddenly the tune went false,
The dancers wearied of the waltz,
The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl.And down the long and silent street,
The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet,
Crept like a frightened girl.The dead are dancing with the dead, the dust is whirling with the dust: angel’s trumpet, violet, white sandalwood, oude, copaiba balsam, angelica, white tea, olibanum, and oakmoss.
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Touched Twice Perfume Oil
Add to cartIt was long that the unicorn stood by Prince Lír before she touched him with her horn. For all that her quest had ended joyously, there was weariness in the way she held herself, and a sadness in her beauty that Molly had never seen. It suddenly seemed to her that the unicorn’s sorrow was not for Lír but for the lost girl who could not be brought back; for the Lady Amalthea, who might have lived happily ever after with the prince. The unicorn bowed her head, and her horn glanced across Lír’s chin as clumsily as a first kiss.
He sat up blinking, smiling at something long ago. “Father,” he said in a quick, wondering voice. “Father, I had a dream.” Then he saw the unicorn, and he rose to his feet as the blood on his face began to shine and move again. He said, “I was dead.”
The unicorn touched him a second time, over the heart, letting her horn rest there for a little space. They were both trembling. Prince Lír put his hands out to her like words. She said, “I remember you. I remember.”
As delicate as life, as gentle as death, and as powerful as love: sheer, luminescent vanilla musk with frangipani, red sandalwood, frankincense, champaca flower, coconut, rose absolute, white cyclamen, Himalayan mogra, angelica, and white oud.