Bergamot - Italian
A Spirit, Katie Perfume OilOut of Stock
On my arrival (June 5) all appeared fair enough. I found the mediums established on the second floor of a small house in Ninth Street near Arch. There were but two rooms on the floor, a front parlor and a bedroom; the lower floor under both rooms being occupied as a shop for the sale of musical instruments. In a back corner of the parlor was a walnut cabinet, seven feet wide and eight feet high, with a door that opened into the parlor, and two apertures, five and six feet high respectively, both curtained with black cloth. We had lamp-light, shaded but sufficient to enable us to recognize faces and to see everything that passed in the room. After we had examined the cabinet, the medium entered it, closing the door.
Soon at one of the apertures appeared a fair, thoughtful young face, a girl of eighteen apparently, by whom I was cordially welcomed in a low, pleasant voice. She returned and spoke to us several times. At the close of the sitting she twice appeared, robed in white, just within the cabinet door; not coming out, however, into the room: the first time (so I was told) that she had ever shown herself in full form.
It was evidently a living, moving, thinking being. Yet I suspended judgment. One of the mediums was out of our sight. Then there was a door — locked, padlocked, and otherwise effectually secured, it seemed, but yet a door — from the cabinet into the bedroom adjoining. The possibility of a confederate suggested itself.
Forty memorable sittings followed. Gradually test conditions were perfected, and every imaginable ground for suspecting deception was removed; and then, instead of failure, all the phenomena came out in greater perfection than before. I select the more remarkable; to copy my notes in full would involve tedious repetition.
June 7. Katie allowed Dr. Child to feel her pulse; its beats were distinct, about seventy-two a minute. A lady offered her a gold ring, and asked me to put it on her finger. I did so. The hand, beautifully formed, was like that of a mortal woman, nearly of the same temperature as my own, and slightly moist. At the close of the sitting she advanced into the room, dropped a finger on my head, and touched several other persons.
June 9. I gave her a long chain, composed of Violet’s hair, a present to myself more than forty-five years ago: hoping, as I told Katie, thereby to attract Violet herself in accordance with her promise. I observed that Katie wore the gold ring. But when, at the close of the sitting, examined with a light every nook and corner in the cabinet, neither ring nor chain was to be found.
June 10. Katie called me up to the aperture, handed me back the hair chain, and said: “Violet wishes you to keep this, in memory of her, until you are called to meet her in her spirit-home.”
– Touching Visitants From a Higher Life, Robert Dale Owen
In memory of her: green cognac, rose water, and Italian bergamot.
Alabaster Vulva Perfume OilOut of Stock
White amber and sheer vanilla, orris butter, Italian bergamot, and narcissus.
Back in Blueblack Perfume OilOut of Stock
The color of a raven’s wing, gleaming like an oil slick: cistus labdanum, oakmoss, black vetiver, Italian bergamot, chocolate oudh, French lavender, violet leaf and petal, and sweet aged patchouli.
Blackberry Moon 2022 Perfume OilOut of Stock
A thorn-scratched stain of sweet purple-black pulp, a tangle of bright green leaves touched with amber and russet musk, a dribble of blackberry wine, and hints of green tea, Italian bergamot, patchouli root, and wild fig.
Creating the World Perfume OilOut of Stock
Stanisław Ignacy Witkiewicz
Scorched cedarwood, vanilla husk, Italian bergamot, dried red fruits, indigo, leather, and red oud.
Eyeball Seaboar Alchemy Lab Perfume OilOut of Stock
Scratched at the last minute on the advice of our legal counsel, who was afraid people might misunderstand and pour the perfume directly into their eyes. “For External Purposes Only Seaboar” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
White sandalwood, sweet patchouli, sea salt, Italian bergamot, and honey.
Fortuna Primigenia Perfume OilOut of Stock
The Fortunes that Govern Childbearing, the Fortunes of a Child at the Moment of Their Birth
A hymn for blessing new mothers and newborn babies: white ambrette seed, motherwort, peony, jasmine tea, green tea leaf, Italian bergamot, and white cedar.
(If you are pregnant or nursing, please do not use this oil, and please do not use this oil on infants or toddlers. It is best used in a scent locket, or to adorn clothing or amulets.)
Happy Couple Reading a Book Together Perfume OilOut of Stock
White tea, Italian bergamot, jasmine sambac, and cucumber.
In Splendoribus Sanctorum Perfume OilOut of Stock
In the brightness of the Saints, from the womb before the Daystar I begot Thee: golden amber, frankincense, and Italian bergamot.
L’Intention Fait Valoir les Bagatelles Perfume OilOut of Stock
Black tea, lavender buds, Italian bergamot, and Siamese benzoin.
Pallid Bat Perfume OilOut of Stock
I want my rooftop filled with Pallid Bats. Not only are they cute as hell, but their favored meal is the Arizona bark scorpion, whose sting is the most venomous to be found in North America.
Bats > Scorpions
Tea leaf, bourbon, a sting of white ginger, and Italian bergamot swirled in amber incense smoke.
Serving Gill Perfume OilAdd to cart
A swimsuit with no padding: the perfect gender-amphibious look.
Aquamarine musk snarled in kelp, pine pitch, seafoam, Italian bergamot, and orchid.
Sunrise Kimono Perfume OilOut of Stock
Yellow amber, lemon peel, Italian bergamot, white grapefruit, cedarwood, golden apple, and mimosa.
Teahouse on Nakanocho in Yoshiwara Hair GlossAdd to cart
Green tea, pink grapefruit, white amber, and Italian bergamot.
The Cross of Snow Perfume OilOut of Stock
In the long, sleepless watches of the night,
A gentle face — the face of one long dead —
Looks at me from the wall, where round its head
The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light.
Here in this room she died; and soul more white
Never through martyrdom of fire was led
To its repose; nor can in books be read
The legend of a life more benedight.
There is a mountain in the distant West
That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines
Displays a cross of snow upon its side.
Such is the cross I wear upon my breast
These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes
And seasons, changeless since the day she died.
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Cypress, Spanish moss, and clove bud with labdanum, Italian bergamot, and white tobacco flower.
The Emperor’s Beard Perfume OilOut of Stock
Sweet tobacco and raw patchouli with Italian bergamot, pine needle, vintage dime store musk, and red sandalwood.
The Little Ghost who Died for Love Perfume OilAdd to cart
‘Fear not, O maidens, shivering
As bunches of the dew-drenched leaves
In the calm moonlight… it is the cold sends quivering
My voice, a little nightingale that grieves.
Now Time beats not, and dead Love is forgotten…
The spirit too is dead and dank and rotten,
And I forget the moment when I ran
Between my lover and the sworded man ―
Blinded with terror lest I lose his heart.
The sworded man dropped, and I saw depart
Love and my lover and my life… he fled
And I was strung and hung upon the tree.
It is so cold now that my heart is dead
And drops through time… night is too dark to see
Him still… But it is spring; upon the fruit-boughs of your lips,
Young maids, the dew like India’s splendor drips.
Pass by among the strawberry beds, and pluck the berries
Cooled by the silver moon; pluck boughs of cherries
That seem the lovely lucent coral bough
(From streams of starry milk those branches grow)
That Cassiopeia feeds with her faint light,
Like Ethiopia ever jeweled bright.
Those lovely cherries do enclose
Deep in their sweet hearts the silver snows,
And the small budding flowers upon the trees
Are filled with sweetness like the bags of bees.
Forget my fate… but I, a moonlight ghost,
Creep down the strawberry paths and seek the lost
World, the apothecary at the Fair.
I, Deborah, in my long cloak of brown,
Like the small nightingale that dances down
The cherried boughs, creep to the doctor’s bare
Booth… cold as ivy in the air,
And, where I stand, the brown and ragged light
Holds something still beyond, hid from my sight.
Once, plumaged like the sea, his swanskin head
Had wintry white quills… “Hearken to the Dead
I was a nightingale, but now I croak
Like some dark harpy hidden in night’s cloak
Upon the walls; among the Dead, am quick;
Oh, give me medicine, for the world is sick;
Not medicines, planet―spotted like fritillaries
For country sins and old stupidities,
Nor potions you may give a country maid
When she is lovesick… love in earth is laid,
Grown dead and rotten” … so I sank me down,
Poor Deborah in my long cloak of brown.
Though cockcrow marches, crying of false dawns,
Shall bury my dark voice, yet still it mourns
Among the ruins ― for it is not I,
But this old world, is sick and soon must die!’
– Edith Sitwell
Give me medicine, for the world is sick: dew―drenched new leaves shuddering in the moonlight, a shiver of white musk, and a drop of Italian bergamot.
Walking My Daughter to Class Perfume OilOut of Stock
Every year, Beth photographs me walking hand in hand with Lilith on the first day of school, but (months ago before the pandemic hit) I wasn’t sure if this year would be different due to my daughter going to middle school: I was scared that she might feel like she is too old to walk with me.
It made me so happy that when we started up the stairs on the first day of distance learning, she reached out and held my hand.
Dorian-misted lavender, French oakmoss, Italian bergamot, and bourbon vanilla.