Fir

  • Aperotos Eros Perfume Oil

    Strong as death, and cruel as the grave,
    Clothed with cloud and tempest’s blackening breath,
    Known of death’s dread self, whom none outbrave,
    Strong as death,

    Love, brow-bound with anguish for a wreath,
    Fierce with pain, a tyrant-hearted slave,
    Burns above a world that groans beneath.

    Hath not pity power on thee to save,
    Love? hath power no pity? Nought he saith,
    Answering: blind he walks as wind or wave,
    Strong as death.

    Unloving love: benzoin, Indian musk, massoia bark, myrrh, ambrette seed, galbanum, bergamot, and fir.

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    Christougenniatiko Dentrophobia Perfume Oil

    Fear of Christmas Trees

    Ghastly misshapen branches casting long, twisted shadows and clutching at you with prickly needle-like fingers: pine pitch, bone-white dried fir, and spruce tar with opoponax and blackened tobacco.

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  • Dracul Perfume Oil

    Named in honor of Vlad III, Tepes, of the Order of the Dragon. Black musk, tobacco, fir, balsam of peru, cumin, bitter clove, crushed mint, and orange blossom.

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  • Hexennacht 2020 Perfume Oil

    The Night of the Witches. In the Teutonic calendar, April 30, not October 31, was the night that the witches congregated to celebrate their Work through ecstatic dance, wild music and revelry. The witches fêted with spirits, fairies, and a bevy of otherworldly creatures atop Brockenberg peak in the Harz region of Germany, where they lit an enormous bonfire and cavorted naked until midnight… at which point they donned their robes, boarded their brooms, flying rams and sacred goats, scooped up their cat familiars, and sped off into the night. In later days, it was believed that on this night the witches conjured the devil, who would then select one of them for his bride.

    This perfume is the scent of the witches’ revel: German fir and forest herbs, incense and bonfire smoke, broom straw, and the wet, glimmering scent of skin warmed by dance.

    Illustration: the Dance of the Witches, Isaac Levitan

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    Hexennacht Perfume Oil

    The Night of the Witches. In the Teutonic calendar, April 30, not October 31, was the night that the witches congregated to celebrate their Work through ecstatic dance, wild music and revelry. The witches fêted with spirits, fairies, and a bevy of otherworldly creatures atop Brockenberg peak in the Harz region of Germany, where they lit an enormous bonfire and cavorted naked until midnight… at which point they donned their robes, boarded their brooms, flying rams and sacred goats, scooped up their cat familiars, and sped off into the night. In later days, it was believed that on this night the witches conjured the devil, who would then select one of them for his bride.

    This perfume is the scent of the witches’ revel: German fir and forest herbs, incense and bonfire smoke, broom straw, and the wet, glimmering scent of skin warmed by dance.

    Illustration by Stefan Eggeler, 1922.

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    Ibis and Jacquel’s Funeral Parlor Home & Linen Spray

    Ibis and Jacquel was a small, family-owned funeral home: one of the last truly independent funeral homes in the area, or so Mr. Ibis maintained. “Most fields of human merchandising value nationwide brand identities,” he said. Mr. Ibis spoke in explanations: a gentle, earnest lecturing that put Shadow in mind of a college professor who used to work out at the Muscle Farm and who could not talk, could only discourse, expound, explain. Shadow had figured out within the first few minutes of meeting Mr. Ibis that his expected part in any conversation with the funeral director was to say as little as possible. “This, I believe, is because people like to know what they are getting ahead of time. Thus, McDonald’s, Wal-Mart, F. W. Woolworth (of blessed memory): store brands maintained and visible across the entire country. Wherever you go, you will get something that is, with small regional variations, the same.”

    “In the field of funeral homes, however, things are, perforce, different. You need to feel that you are getting small-town personal service from someone who has a calling to the profession. You want personal attention to you and your loved one in a time of great loss. You wish to know that your grief is happening on a local level, not on a national one. But in all branches of industry-and death is an industry, my young friend, make no mistake about that-one makes ones money from operating in bulk, from buying in quantity, from centralizing one’s operations. It’s not pretty, but it’s true. Trouble is, no one wants to know that their loved ones are traveling in a cooler-van to some big old converted warehouse where they may have twenty, fifty, a hundred cadavers on the go. No, sir. Folks want to think they’re going to a family concern, somewhere they’ll be treated with respect by someone who’ll tip his hat to them if he sees them in the street.”

    Mr. Ibis wore a hat. It was a sober brown hat that matched his sober brown blazer and his sober brown face. Small gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. In Shadow’s memory Mr. Ibis was a short man; whenever he would stand beside him, Shadow would rediscover that Mr. Ibis was well over six feet in height, with a cranelike stoop. Sitting opposite him now, across the shiny red table, Shadow found himself staring into the man’s face.

    “So when the big companies come in they buy the name of the company, they pay the funeral directors to stay on, they create the apparency of diversity. But that is merely the tip of the gravestone. In reality, they are as local as Burger King. Now, for our own reasons, we are truly an independent. We do all our own embalming, and it’s the finest embalming in the country, although nobody knows it but us. We don’t do cremations, though. We could make more money if we had our own crematorium, but it goes against what we’re good at. What my business partner says is, if the Lord gives you a talent or a skill, you have an obligation to use it as best you can. Don’t you agree?”

    “Sounds good to me,” said Shadow.

    “The Lord gave my business partner dominion over the dead, just as he gave me skill with words. Fine things, words. I write books of tales, you know. Nothing literary. Just for my own amusement. Accounts of lives.” He paused. By the time Shadow realized that he should have asked if he might be allowed to read one, the moment had passed. “Anyway, what we give them here is continuity: there’s been an Ibis and Jacquel in business here for almost two hundred years. We weren’t always funeral directors, though. We used to be morticians, and before that, undertakers.”

    “And before that?”

    “Well,” said Mr. Ibis, smiling just a little smugly, “we go back a very long way…”

    Egyptian embalming compound: beeswax and fir resin, myrrh, natron salt, cassia, palm wine, lichen, henna, and camphor.

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    Samhain Perfume Oil

    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.

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  • Sealing Sanctuary Perfume Oil

    This month’s TAL offering is a twofer: once your house has been freshened and cleansed with Cleaning House, renew and energize your home protection with Sealing Sanctuary. This oil is crafted to be a dazzling ward against illness, anger, cruelty, jealousy, sorrow, baneful magic, hostile spirits, and violence. It can be used on doors, doorways, and windows, and can be used to anoint protection candles, charms, and amulets.

    This oil contains purslane, sandalwood, blessed salt, palo santo, fir, juniper, hyssop, and rue.

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    Talvikuu Perfume Oil

    Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings
    To his strong bones, strides o’er the groaning rocks:
    He withers all in silence, and his hand
    Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.

    Skeletal limbs of birch and fir coated in a thick, impenetrable blanket of snow. This is the death of the year personified.

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    The Country Gets Wilder as We Go Perfume Oil

    2 November, night.-All day long driving. The country gets wilder as we go, and the great spurs of the Carpathians, which at Veresti seemed so far from us and so low on the horizon, now seem to gather round us and tower in front…Oh, what will to-morrow bring to us? We go to seek the place where my poor darling suffered so much. God grant that we may be guided aright, and that He will deign to watch over my husband and those dear to us both, and who are in such deadly peril. As for me, I am not worthy in His sight. Alas! I am unclean to His eyes, and shall be until He may deign to let me stand forth in His sight as one of those who have not incurred His wrath.

    A snow-capped, untamed maze of fir, poplar, and oak. Ghostly beech reaching skeletal arms into the ink-black sky.

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    The Flame of the Bear Perfume Oil

    An incense for Solstice rites: fir resin, bayberry, myrrh, mistletoe, and oak bark.

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    Winter Trees Perfume Oil

    All the complicated details
    of the attiring and
    the disattiring are completed!
    A liquid moon
    moves gently among
    the long branches.
    Thus having prepared their buds
    against a sure winter
    the wise trees
    stand sleeping in the cold.

    – William Carlos Williams

    A liquid moon gliding through gaunt branches, illuminating the first quiet buds of spring: pale yellow amber and verbena, snow-covered maple and oak, a scattering of fir needles, and tiny snowdrop petals.

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