Caramel

  • This image is decorative

    Agrat-Bat-Mahlaht Perfume Oil

    Amber, cream accord, white honey, apple blossom, skin musk, caramel, and teak.

    Add to cart
  • Bien Loin D’Ici Perfume Oil

    This is the house, the sacred box,
    Where, always draped in languorous frocks,
    And always at home if someone knocks,

    One elbow into the pillow pressed,
    She lies, and lazily fans her breast,
    While fountains weep their soulfullest:

    This is the chamber of Dorothy.
    Fountain and breeze for her alone
    Sob in that soothing undertone.
    Was ever so spoiled a harlot known?

    With odorous oils and rosemary,
    Benzoin and every unguent grown,
    Her skin is rubbed most delicately.
    The flowers are faint with ecstasy.

    The Scarlet Woman, aglow with sensual indolence: red musk, benzoin, caramel accord, golden honey, and spiced Moroccan unguents.

    Select Options
  • This image is decorative
  • chestnut vulva

    Chestnut Vulva Perfume Oil

    Sweet chestnut, vanilla cashmere, toasted cardamom, and caramel.

    Add to cart
  • Placeholder

    Gluttony Perfume Oil

    Thick, sugared and bloated with sweetness. Dark chocolate, vanilla, buttercream, and hops with pralines, hazelnut, toffee and caramel.

    Out of Stock
  • This image is decorative

    Gula Bath Oil

    Please note all bath oils are 4oz

    Cocoa absolute, sugar cane, honey, black currant, vanilla, and caramel.

    It is the just doom of laziness and gluttony to be inactive without ease and drowsy without tranquility. — Samuel Johnson

    4oz Bottle

    Add to cart
  • LAVENDER PLUM GALETTE

    Lavender Plum Galette Perfume Oil

    A mouth-watering mixture of glistening plum wedges and ground almonds, enfolded in flaky crust and drizzled with lavender sea-salted caramel.

    Add to cart
  • Schmendrick Perfume Oil

    Wonder and love and great sorrow shook Schmendrick the Magician then, and came together inside him, and filled him, filled him until he felt himself brimming and flowing with something that was none of these. He did not believe it, but it came to him anyway, as it had touched him twice before and left him more barren than he had been. This time, there was too much of it for him to hold: it spilled through his skin, sprang from his fingers and toes, welled up equally in his eyes and his hair and the hollows of his shoulders. There was too much to hold, too much ever to use; and still he found himself weeping with the pain of his impossible greed. He thought, or said, or sang, I did not know that I was so empty, to be so full;.

    Unexplored potential: sweet, raw tobacco leaves, chamomile, clary sage, meadow sage, Mysore sandalwood, sultana raisins, and caramel.

    Add to cart
  • This image is decorative

    Tiresias, The Androgyne Perfume Oil

    Upon the next stage, a spotlight is focused on a mammoth bronze sculpture of two snakes entwined. Their bodies are wrapped around each other in an intimate embrace, and their tongues touch suggestively. The deep, somber boom of a standing bass leads into a twelve-string guitar’s plaintive moan, and as the music swells, a stunning, statuesque woman steps out from behind the statue, her fierce and regal face in profile. The spotlight dims to a deep amber-red, and shines a dark, sanguine light onto her, tinting her long, wild hair the color of blood. She sings:

    Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless.
    Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless.
    Little white flowers will never awaken you,
    Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.
    Angels have no thought of ever returning you.
    Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
    Gloomy Sunday.

    She turns, and abruptly faces left. Her features are coarser, more masculine, and you notice the rough, dusky shadow of an evening beard on the singer’s face. On this side, the hair is cropped short, and as s/he sighs and begins the next verse, you hear the voice deepen to a weathered, sorrowful baritone.

    Gloomy is Sunday; with shadows I spend it all.
    My heart and I have decided to end it all.
    Soon there’ll be candles and prayers that are sad, I know.
    Death is no dream, for in death I’m caressing you.
    With the last breath of my soul I’ll be blessing you.
    Gloomy Sunday.

    The singer turns to face the audience, and your senses reel. On the left side, the features are sharp, but feminine. You can see the curve of her breast, the soft fullness of her hips, the arch of her fine brow. On the right, it is the body of an Adonis, muscular and commanding. You see that a thick seam runs down the center of the body, stitched roughly.

    Though the vision is disconcerting, the warmth and passion in the singer’s voice swells inside your heart, and you are spellbound. Enraptured, you realize that though the gender is opposed on either side, one soul binds the whole.

    Dark, moody, and bittersweet: black currant, patchouli, tobacco, cinnamon leaf, caramel, muguet, and red sandalwood.

    Add to cart