Bourbon

  • Avenger

    Inspired by the character CHRISTINE SPAR.
    A fashionable and fiery journalist who adopts the Grendel persona to avenge the death of her only child and is consumed by the dark identity.

    Plush vanilla bourbon and rum accord with pink pepper, patchouli, clove, pikaki, golden amber, caraway, tuberose, and jacarandá-da-bahia.

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  • Blackcurrant Glogg

    A sweet, dark ember of winter pleasure: port wine, brandy, and bourbon simmered with white sugar, cardamom, cinnamon, clove, orange peel, and wild blackcurrant.

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  • Bonfire Toffee

    Our spin on a traditional Guy Fawkes Night treat: treacle toffee soaked in rich, dark bourbon.

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  • Bram Stoker

    No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.

    Bourbon vetiver with opoponax, Italian bergamot, and hay absolute.

    Illustrated by Abigail Larson.
    Purchase the tee here!

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  • Emma

    Better known as the “Parisian Queen of America,” needs little introduction in this country.

    Emma’s “House of all Nations,” as it is commonly called, is one place of amusement you can’t very well afford to miss while in the Tenderloin District. Everything goes here. Fun is the watchword.

    Business has been on such an increase at the above place of late that Mdme. Johnson had to occupy an “Annex.” Emma has never less than twenty pretty women of all nations, who are clever entertainers.

    Remember the name,

    Emma Johnson
    331 and 333 Basin Street

    Vanilla bourbon, tea rose, jasmine, pink pepper, and patchouli.

    Out of Stock
  • Isaac, The Living Skeleton

    To your side, you hear a man’s deep whisper, “Slowly I turned… inch by inch… step by step….” A scream interrupts him, and a roar of laughter pulses through the shadowed hall. Following the commotion, you move to the next stage. A bone-thin man moves across the stage, and sits upon an overstuffed, threadbare armchair. A battered violin is propped against the chair’s side. The audience starts to dissipate, and you realize that you must have just missed his performance. Relaxing, he reclines lazily, and as the light falls on his face, you come to realize that he is truly skeletal: a thin membrane of skin covers most of his body, but in many places, bone is completely exposed. He winks at you, and chuckles at your obvious discomfiture. The sweet smoke from his cigar touches your senses, and you hear the soft clink of the ice as he swirls the bourbon in his tumbler.

    “Late for the show, are ya, friend? I’ll tell you a quick one, and then you’d best skedaddle. I have better things to do than sit here and be gawked at all night.” He takes a swig from his tumbler.

    “A man goes to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist says, ‘I think you’re crazy.’ The man says, ‘I want a second opinion.’ The psychiatrist shrugs and says, ‘Alright, you’re ugly, too.’”

    His attention is diverted by a scantily clad woman in the audience beside you, and he leers at her. “Hello, nurse!” he growls, and leans towards her lecherously. “How’s about you come back to my dressing room, and I show you my stamp collection?”

    Bourbon, black tobacco tar, dry bone, bay rum aftershave, and sleazy cologne.

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  • Jazz Funeral

    Considered a great honor, this is one of the most distinguished aspects of New Orleans culture. Its roots lie in the customs of the Dahomeans and Yoruba people, and is a celebration of both the person’s life and the beauty and solemnity of their death. The procession is lead by the Grand Marshal, resplendent in his black tuxedo, white gloves and black hat in hand; almost a vision of the great Baron Samedi himself. The music begins with solemn, tolling dirges, moves into hymns of sorrow, loss and redemption. When the burial site is reached, a two-note preparatory riff is sounded, and the drummers start the second-line beat, heralding the switch in music to joyous, upbeat songs, dancing, and the unfurling of richly decorated umbrellas by the ‘second line’ friends, family, loved ones and stray celebrants. Strutting, bouncing, and festive dance accompanies the upbeat ragtime music that sends the departed soul onto its next journey.

    Didn’t he ramble
    … he rambled
    Rambled all around
    … in and out of town
    Didn’t he ramble
    … didn’t he ramble
    He rambled till the butcher cut him down.

    His feet was in the market place
    his head was in the street
    Lady pass him by, said
    look at the market meat
    He grabbed her pocket book
    and said I wish you well
    She pulled out a forty-five
    said I’m head of personnel.

    Didn’t he ramble
    … he rambled
    Rambled all around
    … in and out of town
    Didn’t he ramble
    … didn’t he ramble
    He rambled till the butcher cut him down.

    He slipped into the cat house
    made love to the stable
    Madam caught him cold
    said I’ll pay you when I be able
    Six months had passed
    and she stood all she could stand
    She said buddy when I’m through with you
    Ole groundhog gonna be shakin yo’ hand.

    Didn’t he ramble
    … he rambled
    Rambled all around
    … in and out of town
    Didn’t he ramble
    … didn’t he ramble
    He rambled till the butcher cut him down.

    I said he rambled
    lord
    … ’till the butcher shot him down.

    Bittersweet bay rum, bourbon, and a host of funeral flowers with a touch of graveyard dirt, magnolia and Spanish Moss.

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  • Juke Joint

    A bawdy, gleefully wicked and unruly scent: Kentucky Bourbon, sugar and a sprig of mint.

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  • Pallid Bat

    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
    (Sorry, Scorpios!)

    Tea leaf, bourbon, a sting of white ginger, and Italian bergamot swirled in amber incense smoke.

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  • Pumpkin Tobacco

    Sweet black tobacco infused with dried pumpkin and soaked in bourbon.

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  • Resistance

    The Midterms are on November 6th.

    We have mere weeks before the election, and the stakes are really fucking high. I am an optimistic person by nature, but the truth of the matter is that if the Democrats don’t win back the majority, we are well and truly fucked. You have to vote like your life depends on it, BECAUSE IT DOES. YOUR LIFE and the lives of those in your community are at stake. The lives of your LGBTQ friends, loved ones, and neighbors. The lives of women. The lives of black Americans. The lives of refugees. The lives of people with disabilities. The lives of the homeless and the poor.

    And LITERALLY EVERYONE’S LIFE, as the dismantling of environmental laws will be the death of us all.

    It is NOT hyperbole to say that the result of this midterm election will impact the civil rights, the health, the safety, and the liberties of EVERYONE AROUND YOU, and you must act. The horrors of the Trump Administration MUST be held in check.

    November 6th. That’s the deadline. Commit all you can to the hard work it’s going to take to wrest back control of Congress. I know you’re tired. I am, too. I know you’re exhausted by the unending onslaught of horrors that the GOP has assailed us with. I am, too. I know that it is getting harder and harder to keep despair at bay.

    In order to have a participatory democracy, you have to participate. There is SO MUCH that you can do to push back, to resist, and to make a change for the better. But you HAVE to act. You have to vote. You have to encourage others to vote. You have to invest your time, your voice, and your resources into actually working towards making this country a safe, sane, prosperous place for all of us.

    But you have two weeks. Two weeks within which YOU can make a difference. YOU can stem the tide.

    HERE’S WHAT YOU CAN DO TO HELP THE BLUE WAVE MANIFEST:

    Hey, extroverts! Sign up to phone bank for Democratic candidates!
    Phonebank With Indivisible
    Phonebank With Swingleft

    Also for extroverts! Reach out to a local campaign and see if they need help canvassing, handing out literature, or making calls. You can also search for candidates who are in close races in vulnerable districts. Check out swingleft.org; it will help you find the nearest House district that could swing to the Democrats.

    Extroverts! Go door to door!

    Hey, introverts! Postcards to Voters is the answer for you! If you can commit to writing ten postcards a day, that’s one hundred and forty votes you might be securing for Dem candidates! If you can manage twenty postcards every day, that’s almost THREE-HUNDRED people you’re encouraging to hit the polls before November 6. If you can get your friends to help, that number increases exponentially. Even if you can’t meet that twenty postcard per day goal, every single postcard matters because every single vote matters.

    Tools for working locally:
    Resources for How to Take the House Back from the GOP
    Find Your Local Indivisible Chapter
    Swing Left

    If you’ve got some cash to spare, donate it directly to blue candidates fighting for vulnerable seats, or donate it to PACs and organizations that will distribute the funds to boost blue candidates. Some options:
    EMILY’s List
    Senate Majority PAC
    House Majority PAC
    The Flippable Fund

    Share information on voter ID and residency requirement laws in your state and help people make sure that their right to vote is enforced.
    Voter Registration Rules by State
    ACLU: Voting Rights
    Rock the Vote: Knowing Your Voting Rights
    Residency Requirements for Voting

    FIGHT VOTER SUPPRESSION:
    ACLU: Fighting Voter Suppression
    Fighting Voter Suppression

    MAKE SURE YOU ARE REGISTERED TO VOTE, and encourage everyone in your network to confirm their voter registration, too.

    AND MOST IMPORTANT: VOTE. Vote, encourage others to vote. Overwhelm the polls.

    We all have A LOT going on in our lives right now. I get it. I’m trying to run a business and raise a kid on top of all this, but it is now or never. You must find the strength, the will, and the courage to act. You have to keep fighting. I believe in you. I believe in us. I believe with all my heart that we can do this. We just need to do it TOGETHER, and do all we can to encourage others to put in the work, too.

    It is hard work. It is an uphill climb. But you can DO this. Do it for your family, do it for your community, do it for your LGBTQ friends and family, do it for the marginalized racial, ethnic, and religious communities that are suffering under the depredations of the GOP.

    WE CAN DO THIS.

    RESISTANCE
    I created this scent as a symbol of solidarity. It is an autumn scent, swirled with fall leaves, huddled against the cold winds of November.

    We’re together in this fight. You’re not alone.

    Bourbon vanilla and vintage champaca absolute with sweet patchouli, dried red fruits, leather accord, pumpkin rind, and a splash of bourbon.

    We have been wrestling with how to disburse funds for this scent for over a week, and decided that the best impact we can make is by helping the ACLU fight voter suppression.

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  • Wulric, The Wolfman

    A lively tune is being played nearby; it is syncopated, a disjointed song, but perky and upbeat. As you turn to the next stage, you see the broad back and shaggy hair of the next performer. He is seated on a stool in front of a battered upright piano. Wire pokes out from holes in the back of the decrepit beechwood, and broken pinblocks are scattered on the floor. A bowl of glistening viscera has been plopped on a small end table next to the pianist. You can see that the ivory keys of the piano are smeared with blood. He pounds and tinkles the keys merrily, and laughs to himself. The man turns to the audience, and his unkempt russet hair, feral yellow eyes, wild balbo, and chin curtain beard betray his lycanthropic nature. He smiles widely, innocently, and waves his red-stained, black-clawed paw in a genial welcome. He bellows cheerfully, “Hi there! Make yourself comfortable! Don’t you look absolutely necrolishious! HA! HAHA! I just made that word up!” He laughs again, turns, and resumes playing the piano. The rambling tune picks up pace, and he plays with a showman’s flourish. The song slows as he chats with the audience from over his shoulder. “You know, my ex-girlfriend was a real handful, but really… I’ve never known a woman that was as tender as she was. She was all gushy, and well… to be honest, she just fell to pieces for me. Eventually, things ran their course… three courses, really… and, as they say, nothing lasts forever. But I’ll always have a piece of her, here… close to my heart.” He chuckles, and pats the chest of his patchwork overcoat.

    In the distance, possibly from Meskhenet’s stage, you hear one of the phantom musicians give Wulric a gratuitous rim shot.

    Friendly, charming, and cuddly, but possessing one hell of a mean streak: cocoa absolute, French vanilla, birch tar, lavender, bourbon vetiver, wild musk, cardamom husk, clary sage, and cistus.

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