Clove

  • Al-Shairan

    The enemy of God, also named Iblis, He Who Despaired of the Mercy of God. Al-Shairan is the leader of the Jinn, a tempter who whispers false suggestions to men enticing them into evil and perfidious acts, and is the sworn enemy of all of Adam’s children.

    His scent is fiery, bright and thick with sweet sinfulness: clove, peach and orange with cinnamon, patchouli and dark incense notes.

    Select Options
  • All Hallows Chaos: Samhain

    “Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos.”
    ― Mary Shelley, 1831

    This Samhain, we’re reveling in the desecration of a classic blend: “Damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.”

    Add to cart
  • Arachne of Lydia

    Rukh was standing before a cage that contained nothing but a small brown spider weaving a modest web across the bars. “Arachne of Lydia,” he told the crowd. “Guaranteed the greatest weaver in the world – her fate’s the proof of it. She had the bad luck to defeat the goddess Athena in a weaving contest. Athena was a sore loser, and Arachne is now a spider, creating only for Mommy Fortuna’s Midnight Carnival, by special arrangement. Warp of snow and woof of flame, and never any two the same. Arachne.”

    Strung on the loom of iron bars, the web was very simple and almost colorless, except for an occasional rainbow shiver when the spider scuttled out on it to put a thread right. But it drew the onlookers’ eyes – and the unicorn’s eyes as well – back and forth and steadily deeper, until they seemed to be looking down into great rifts in the world, black fissures that widened remorselessly and yet would not fall into pieces as long as Arachne’s web held the world together. The unicorn shook herself free with a sigh, and saw the real web again. It was very simple, and almost colorless.

    “It isn’t like the others,” she said. “No,” Schmendrick agreed grudgingly. “But there’s no credit due to Mommy Fortuna for that. You see, the spider believes. She sees those cat’s-cradles herself and thinks them her own work. Belief makes all the difference to magic like Mommy Fortuna’s. Why, if that troop of witlings withdrew their wonder, there’d be nothing left of all her witchery but the sound of a spider weeping. And no one would hear it.”

    Soft brown and Tyrian purple: dusty clove and blackcurrant.

    Out of Stock
  • 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.

    Add to cart
  • 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.

    Add to cart
  • Blóðughadda

    Crushed Baltic amber, golden fig, oud wood, red patchouli, white clove, and saffron.

    Add to cart
  • Blood

    A vital, bold scent, throbbing with sensuality. Essence of dragon’s blood resin, thickened with myrrh and cherry, with a trickle of clove.

    Select Options
  • Blood Kiss

    Lush, creamy vanilla and the honey of the sweetest kiss smeared with the vital throb of husky clove, swollen red cherries, but darkened with the vampiric sensuality of vetiver, soporific poppy and blood red wine, and a skin-light pulse of feral musk.

    Select Options
  • Café Mille et une Nuits

    Shisha and thick coffee brewed with cardamom pods, cinnamon, clove, black pepper, and nutmeg.

    Add to cart
  • California Leaf-Nosed Bat

    The California Leaf-Nosed Bat prefers the desert. They’re homebodies and do not migrate, and they’re also definitely Type A bats, as they don’t hibernate. Go go go!

    Nightfall in the desert: Mojave yucca, creosote bush, saguaro, dusty clove, and sacred datura.

    Add to cart
  • Clémence

    Patchouli, Kashmiri tea, cardamom, black pepper, carnation, and clove.

    Add to cart
  • Eau de Ghoul

    They all started telling stories, then, of how fine and wonderful a thing it was to be a ghoul, of all the things they had crunched up and swallowed down with their powerful teeth. Impervious they were to disease or illness, said one of them. Why, it didn’t matter what their dinner had died of, they could just chomp it down. They told of the places they had been, which mostly seemed to be catacombs and plague-pits (“Plague Pits is good eatin’,” said the Emperor of China, and everyone agreed.) They told Bod how they had got their names and how he, in his turn, once he had become a nameless ghoul, would be named, as they had been.

    “But I don’t want to become one of you,” said Bod.

    “One way or another,” said the Bishop of Bath and Wells, cheerily, “you’ll become one of us. The other way is messier, involves being digested, and you’re not really around very long to enjoy it.”

    “But that’s not a good thing to talk about,” said the Emperor of China.”Best to be a Ghoul. We’re afraid of nuffink!”

    And all the ghouls around the coffin-wood fire howled at this statement, and growled and sang and exclaimed at how wise they were, and how mighty, and how fine it was to be scared of nothing.

    Dessicated skin coated in blackened ginger, cinnamon, and mold-flecked dirt, with cumin, bitter clove, leather, and dried blood.

    Add to cart
  • Eighth Lash

    Matted fur, oakmoss, and clove.

    Add to cart
  • Fortuna Felix

    The Joys of Good Fortune

    A hymn to laughter, joy, and merriment: blood orange and champaca bubbling with blonde tobacco, osmanthus, sweet clove, and vanilla.

    Out of Stock
  • Fortuna Mala

    Fickle Fortune

    A hymn to propitiate the gods of misfortune and honor the balance of forces in the universe: vetiver, patchouli, and black clove.

    Out of Stock
  • Fortuna Restitutrix

    The Fortunes of Warriors: She Who Restores, She Who Brings the Soldiers Home

    A hymn for the safety and good fortune for soldiers, and a prayer to bring them home: leather, sweet clove, and olive blossom.

    Out of Stock
  • Hetairae

    The sublimely beautiful, fiercely independent, impeccably cultured, fascinatingly worldly and witty courtesans of ancient Greece. A seductive and dazzling blend of golden honey, fiery patchouli, sweet fig and clove, and a blushing touch of ylang ylang.

    Select Options
  • Hilma

    The amiable, ebullient proprietor of the Mirror Ballroom, where Jelly Roll Morton got his first gig.

    Miss Burt, while very young, is of a type that pleases most men of today – the witty, pretty, and natty – a lady of fashion.

    Her managerial possibilities are phenomenal, to say the least, and her success here has proven itself beyond a doubt.

    Miss Burt has been with us but a short while but has won all hearts. Her palace is second to none. It is good for one who loves the beautiful to visit Miss Burt’s handsome palace. There are no words for the ladies – one can only realize the grandeur of feminine beauty and artistic settings after an hour or so in the palace of Hilma Burt.

    Miss Burt, aside from having two handsome homes here, has one in St. Louis and one in Kansas City, Mo., where, it is said, she is as popular as in New Orleans.

    Don’t forget to converse with her, as she is very clever, jolly, and cultured.

    205 N. Basin

    Honeysuckle, Bulgarian rose, night blooming jasmine, sweet clove, cedarwood, black tea, and nectarine.

    Out of Stock
  • Hunter

    He turned, and standing there was a tall woman, with long, tawny hair, and skin the color of burnt caramel. She wore dappled leather clothes, mottled in shades of gray and brown. She had a battered leather duffel bag over her shoulder. She was carrying a staff, and she had a knife at her belt and an electric flashlight strapped to her wrist. She was also, without question, the most beautiful woman that Richard had ever seen.

    Leonine amber, tanned hides, clove, and clary sage.

    Add to cart
  • Hyakki Yagyō

    Demonic black musk, inky myrrh, black coconut, champaca blossom, and smoky clove bud.

    Out of Stock
  • In Time of Plague

    Adieu, farewell earth’s bliss!
    This world uncertain is:
    Fond are life’s lustful joys,
    Death proves them all but toys.
    None from his darts can fly;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Rich men, trust not in wealth,
    Gold cannot buy you health;
    Physic himself must fade;
    All things to end are made;
    The plague full swift goes by;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Beauty is but a flower
    Which wrinkles will devour;
    Brightness falls from the air;
    Queens have died young and fair;
    Dust hath closed Helen’s eye;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Strength stoops unto the grave,
    Worms feed on Hector brave;
    Swords may not fight with fate;
    Earth still holds ope her gate;
    Come, come! the bells do cry;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Wit with his wantonness
    Tasteth death’s bitterness;
    Hell’s executioner
    Hath no ears for to hear
    What vain art can reply:
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Haste therefore each degree
    To welcome destiny;
    Heaven is our heritage,
    Earth but a player’s stage.
    Mount we unto the sky;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!
    – Thomas Nashe

    Blackened roses against a backdrop of velvet opoponax, bitter clove, and tobacco abosolute.

    Add to cart
  • Jack

    The scent of warm, glowing jack o’lanterns on a warm autumn night: true Halloween pumpkin, spiced with nutmeg, glowing peach and murky clove.

    Select Options
  • Lambs-Wool

    According to William Shepard Walsh, the Gentleman’s Magazine for May of 1784 stated, “this is a constant ingredient at merrymaking on Holy Eve.” He also quotes Vallancey’s etymological speculation: “The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, etc., and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, — that is, the day of the apple fruit, — and being pronounced Lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to Lambs-wool.”

    A popular holy day beverage in 18th century Ireland: roasted apples mashed into warmed milk and ale, with nutmeg, sugar, ginger, and clove.

    Add to cart
  • Looming Spectre of Inutterable Horror

    Arizona vs United States

    We are not talking here about a federal law prohibiting the States from regulating bubble-gum advertising, or even the construction of nuclear plants. We are talking about a federal law going to the core of state sovereignty: the power to exclude.

    The Court opinion’s looming specter of inutterable horror—“[i]f §3 of the Arizona statute were valid, every State could give itself independent authority to prosecute federal registration violations”—seems to me not so horrible and even less looming.

    If securing its territory in this fashion is not within the power of Arizona, we should cease referring to it as a sovereign State.

    Wherein Scalia channels Lovecraft: raw frankincense and tobacco absolute with Russian leather, blackened champaca, bitter clove, red patchouli, bourbon vanilla and petitgrain.

    Add to cart
  • Luke 10:25-37

    On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

    “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

    He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’[c]; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

    “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

    But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

    In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii[e] and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

    “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

    The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

    Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

    Go and do likewise: golden amber and saffron, white sandalwood, and clove.

    Add to cart
  • Mexican Long-Tongued Bat

    The Gene Simmons of the Phyllostomidae family, this little buddy has a tongue built for harvesting nectar, extending up to a third of its body length and covered in hairy and horny papillae.

    Smoked chili peppers, caramelized saffron, and clove bud.

    Add to cart
  • Mincemeat Pie

    No minces were harmed in the making of this pie perfume.

    Figs, raisins, dried cherries, and suet accord (vegan-safe!) steeped in dark brown sugar, crystallized ginger, lemon and orange zest, nutmeg, allspice, and clove, embraced by an apple cider cornmeal crust.

    Add to cart
  • Moons of Saturn: Hati

    East sat the crone,

    in Iárnvidir,

    Fenrir’s progeny:

    of all shall be

    one especially

    the moon’s devourer,

    in a troll’s semblance.

    Hati Hróðvitnisson, He Who Hates, the Enemy, He Who Swallows the Moon. The son of Fenris, he feasts on the flesh of the dead and on the final day, he will devour the moon and spatter the skies with blood.

    He is sated with the last breath

    of dying men;

    the gods’ seat he

    with red gore defiles:

    swart is the sunshine

    then for summers after;

    all weather turns to storm.

    Frost-limned fur, hackles hunched with insatiable, implacable rage, and death-white fangs crusted with clove-tinted blood.

    Out of Stock
  • Ninth Lash

    Clove, honey, and helichrysum.

    Add to cart
  • Only a Sip

    Shadow began to feel headachy. There was a pounding quality to the starlight, something that resonated with the pulse in his temples and his chest. At the bottom of the next hill he stumbled, opened his mouth to say something and, without warning, he vomited.

    Wednesday reached into an inside pocket, and produced a small hip flask. “Take a sip of this,” he said. “Only a sip.”

    The liquid was pungent, and it evaporated in his mouth like a good brandy, although it did not taste like alcohol. Wednesday took the flask away, and pocketed it. “It’s not good for the audience to find themselves walking about backstage. That’s why you’re feeling sick. We need to hurry to get you out of here.”

    Orange peel, rosemary oil, peppermint, and cloves.

    Add to cart
  • Plunder

    The scent of a pirate’s bumboat, overflowing with stolen wares: tea leaf, cassia, cinnamon bark, clove, allspice, sandalwood, tobacco, peppercorn, and nutmeg.

    Out of Stock
  • Port-Au-Prince

    Dark, decadent and incomparably exotic: the rich scent of buttered rum flavored with almond, bay, clove and sassafras.

    Select Options
  • Samhain

    Truly the scent of autumn itself — damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.

    Add to cart
  • Samhainophobia

    The Fear of Halloween

    Menacing Haitian vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.

    Add to cart
  • Scraps of Poetry

    A citrus chypre with French lavender, yellow bergamot, and clove bud.

    Out of Stock
  • Studie Einer Ziege

    Pieter Boel

    Sweet labdanum with clove, tobacco absolute, and guiac wood.

    Add to cart
  • Sybaris

    The pinnacle of wealth, luxury, self-indulgent pleasure, voluptuousness and sensuality.

    Bright violet with sweet clove, Mediterranean incense notes and tonka bean.

    Select Options
  • The Fiery Mountains

    The aspirations of man, both in the material and spiritual worlds: clove, birch tar, red ginger root, and frankincense.

    Out of Stock
  • The Grindhouse

    Throaty laughter captures your attention. Across the lane you see a buxom Venetian woman standing before a huge black and red striped tent. Her head is inclined towards a dapper, leering man, and they appear to be sharing a private joke. He reaches into his waistcoat and produces a gold coin. The woman plucks it from his fingers. He bows, and walks into the tent with a swagger. A sign flashes above the tent flap in letters that seem to be aflame: The Grindhouse, Dead or Live Girls.

    The Madam turns towards you and smiles. As she approaches, someone within the tent strikes a few keys on a tuneless piano, and begins to play Jelly Roll Morton’s ‘the Crave’. The light within the tent illuminates the interior, shining behind the silhouettes of naked women gyrating lewdly upon raised stages, writhing in time with the music.

    In the distance, behind the tent, you hear a whip crack, and a man’s scream. Tittering laughter follows, and the screams continue.

    “Voulez-vous un morceau de la boîte de bonbon?” she asks, gesturing gracefully towards the tent.

    The Madam’s perfume envelops you.

    Florentine iris, red musk, mimosa, magnolia, Damascus rose, clove, and vanilla bean.

    Add to cart
  • The Harvest of the Empress

    Fancy with prophetic glance
    Sees the teeming months advance;
    The field, the forest, green and gay;
    The dappled slope, the tedded hay;
    Sees the reddening orchard blow,
    The Harvest wave, the vintage flow.

    Wheat stalks, hay absolute, and clove.

    Out of Stock
  • The Hourglass

    “I feel like all the sands are at the bottom of the hourglass.”
    “Turn it over, then.”

    The white roses and orange blossoms of hope penetrating despair’s black fog of opoponax, black myrrh, bruised violet, clove, funereal lily, and grief-struck carrot seed.

    Add to cart
  • The Legerdemain

    The twilight in between the stage performer and the Magus; the sleight of hand trick transforms into true sorcerous skill: black silken musk, dark clove, guiac wood, black pepper, frankincense, and cardamom.

    Out of Stock
  • The Silk Strings of the Shamisen

    Wisteria and white clove, green tea leaf, and frankincense.

    Out of Stock
  • The Stranger

    The unknown factor, the outsider entering your town uninvited, unannounced, and unknown: a narcotic black chypre with crushed violets, indigo lilac, patchouli, oakmoss absolute, labdanum, and clove.

    Out of Stock
  • The Wild Men of Jezirat Al Tennyn

    You are shocked out of the torch song’s melancholy mood by shrieks, hoots, and yowls. You move to your left, and see that instead of a stage, a gigantic iron cage has been hung, hovering a few feet off of the ground. Elaborate, delicate silver sigils are engraved upon huge iron disks that have been mounted to the sides of the cage, and they flicker and spark whenever one of the wild men touches the iron bars that imprison them. The backdrop depicts a blistering volcanic eruption, spiked with thick luminescent bolts of lightning. Several beings are held within the cage, male and female, spanning every age. They flash their razor-fanged smiles at you malevolently as they anxiously crawl, pace, and stalk the length of their prison, stopping occasionally to pose and preen as they gossip with one another in an unrecognizable guttural, grinding language. Their tattooed skin glows an angry crimson, curving horns protrude from their skulls, and their eyes blaze with unholy light.

    Fiery, primal, and precociously diabolical: red amber, Spanish moss, Indonesian patchouli, ambergris, sweet ambrette seed, red pepper, two cloves, and vanilla flower.

    Add to cart
  • There Was Beauty, There Was Wine

    The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the “Red Death.”

    Gushes of black and red wine splattering damask rose and white pear, engulfed in thick clove incense.

    Add to cart
  • Troll

    They call me Troll;
    Gnawer of the Moon,
    Giant of the Gale-blasts,
    Curse of the rain-hall,
    Companion of the Sibyl,
    Nightroaming hag,
    Swallower of the loaf of heaven.
    What is a Troll but that?

    A lurching, hateful, bitter scent. This is a gruesome blend of ghastly greens and blacks: vetiver, pine pitch, troll musk, black basil, clove smoke, and scorched cumin.

    Select Options
  • V. The Pope

    This is my body, he said, two thousand years ago. This is my blood.

    It was the only religion that delivered exactly what it promised: life eternal, for its adherents.

    There are some of us alive today who remember him. And some of us claim that he was a messiah, and some think that he was just a man with very special powers. But that misses the point. Whatever he was, he changed the world.

    Life everlasting: clove-smoke, benzoin, rose maroc, Jerusalem cedar, cistus, and frankincense.

    Add to cart
  • Vespillo

    The Vespillo are dedicated to assisting newly infected vampires in understanding and accepting their condition and learning to live with the challenges that vampires face. Vespillo, like the Transeo, tend to become members of vampire-acceptance movements, pushing for a wider understanding of vampires among the human population.

    A grounded, earthy scent, evocative of the soul’s finer qualities: patchouli, clove, neroli, night-blooming jasmine, sage, and iris.

    Add to cart
  • Voodoo

    A midnight scent, evoking images of flickering golden firelight reflecting off the sheen of glistening skin and the jerking shadows of bodies suffused with spiritual ecstasy. A deep, powerful, resonant blend of myrrh, patchouli, vetiver, lime, vanilla, pine, almond and clove.

    Select Options
  • Wrath

    A scent aflame with rage, swirling in the red haze of hatred: dragon’s blood spiked with black pepper, clove, and cinnamon.

    Select Options