Flowers

  • Athens Perfume Oil

    A reformulation and modernization of a true Classical Greek perfume, myrrhine: voluptuous myrrh, golden honey, red wine, and sweet flowers.

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    Baba Yaga Perfume Oil

    Then suddenly the wood became full of a terrible noise; the trees began to groan, the branches to creak and the dry leaves to rustle, and the Baba Yaga came flying from the forest. She was riding in a great iron mortar and driving it with the pestle, and as she came she swept away her trail behind her with a kitchen broom.

    Spell-soaked herbs and flowers, cold iron, broom twigs, bundles of moss and patchouli root, and moth dust.

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  • FRAU HOLLE

    Frau Holle Perfume Oil

    Frau Holle, or Holda, is the personification of the changes wrought when winter seizes the land: she rides the chill winds in her chariot, shaking out her featherbeds in order to precipitate snowfall. The rolling fog is the smoke from her hearth fire, and thunder claps when she reels her flax. Holda is a goddess of matrons, who governs spinning, domestic chores, witchcraft and witches, and the Wild Hunt. She presides over the transition of souls, both to and from this world. Though she is childless, she watches over children, and the spirits of newborns spring forth from her sacred pool. Her festival falls during midwinter, when the dead roam free. She holds court in Hörselberg, from which the Wild Hunt is issued, and all the beasts in the land heed her call.

     

    Snow-covered pines, witches herbs, bestial musk, flax, and ethereal flowers that represent both birth and death.

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    Imp Pack: Soft Floral Perfume Oil

    Ave Maria Gratia Plena
    Rosewood with Sicilian lemon peel, red Mysore sandalwood, pale musks, sweet mountain sage and a dusting of lily, night-blooming jasmine and orris.

    Lucy’s Kiss
    The gentle scent of rose and a blend of Victorian spices

    Delight
    Frangipani, with rose, tuberose, and jasmine.

    Maiden
    White tea, carnation and Damask Rose.

    Vasilissa
    Creamy skin musk and blushing pink musk with soft sandalwood, white amber, dutiful myrrh, and star jasmine.

    Nocturne
    Deepest violet touched with lilac and tuberose.

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    Imp Pack: White Floral Perfume Oil

    The Ghost
    A thin, sinuous, creeping chill, the scent of glee-filled undeath: white iris, osmanthus, Calla lily, tomb-crawling ivy and a coffin spray of gladiolus, lisianthus and delphinium.

    Pele
    Muguet and Hawaiian white ginger enveloped by warm, damp tropical blooms.

    Seraphim
    Calla lily, wisteria, white sandalwood, Damascus rose and frankincense.

    Tavern of Hell
    White gardenia, ambergris bouquet, lavender fougere, orange blossom, melissa, tobacco flower, coriander, ebony wood, ylang ylang, absinthe and aged whiskey.

    Juliet
    Sweet pea with stargazer lily, calla lily, heliotrope, honeysuckle, white musk and a touch of fresh pear.

    Zephyr
    Lemon, lemon verbena, neroli, white musk, white florals, white sandalwood, China musk, bergamot and a drop of vanilla.

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    Kataniya, The Clockwork Woman Perfume Oil

    The sound of metal smashing metal jars your ears, and you follow the cacophony to the next stage. The backdrop is painted with streaks of lightning, and you see that an iron sign hangs above it, now broken, pounded into pieces, possibly by a hammer or mallet. Despite the damage, you can still make out the words that have been burned into its face:

    Property of Pygmalion Industries, LLC

    A slender, willowy blonde is facing the sign, looking up at it thoughtfully. She reaches up, and with unbelievable strength, speed, and fury, pounds the sign with her fists until it is an unrecognizable mess, and it falls to the ground with a thunderous crash. She turns, and you realize that this is no creature born of woman: she is half human, half machine. Her exposed stomach shows brass and copper gears, and her joints are girded with steel. You see that her hands are covered in blood as she reaches towards a large burlap sack on the floor, picks it up, and tosses it at your feet. It lands with a sickening wet splat. She locks her gaze on yours, and her hollow, mechanical voice murmurs, “I am no man’s property.”

    Gentle flowers over hot metal, shocked to life.

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  • Leanan Sidhe Perfume Oil

    “Most of the Gaelic poets, down to quite recent times, have had a Leanhaun Shee, for she gives inspiration to her slaves and is indeed the Gaelic muse — this malignant fairy. Her lovers, the Gaelic poets, died young. She grew restless and carried them away to other worlds, for death does not destroy her power.” – W.B. Yeats

    The name translates to “fairy, love of my soul”. A vampiric spirit and a dark muse, the love of the Leanan Sidhe is both a gift and a curse. These eerily beautiful Irish spirits drain the sanity and lifeforce of the men they inspire to artistic greatness. Her kiss infuses a man with depth of vision and feeling, otherworldly passion, and a sudden and ineffable understanding of the unending sadness that plagues mankind. Her perfume is a crush of Irish herbs and flowers, Gaelic mists, and nighttime dew.

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    Lily, The Prostitute Perfume Oil

    Heady blossoms of jasmine, white gardenia, and magnolia sharpened by neroli, given a voluptuous depth by red patchouli, oakmoss, and cedar.

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    Mama-Ji Perfume Oil

    Shadow saw the old woman, her dark face pinched with age and disapproval, but behind her he saw something huge, a naked woman with skin as black as a new leather jacket, and lips and tongue the bright red of arterial blood. Around her neck were skulls, and her many hands held knives, and swords, and severed heads.

    Spices, cardamom, nutmeg, and flowers.

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    Mr. Ibis Perfume Oil

    The smoke stung Shadow’s eyes. He wiped the tears away with his hand, and, through the smoke, he thought he saw a tall man in a suit, with gold-rimmed spectacles. The smoke cleared and the boatman was once more a half-human creature with the head of a river bird.

    Papyrus, vanilla flower, Egyptian musk, African musk, aloe ferox, white sandalwood.

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  • Night Gaunt Perfume Oil

    No one ever found what the night-gaunts took, though those beasts themselves were so uncertain as to be almost fabulous. Carter asked them if night-gaunts sucked blood and liked shiny things and left webbed footprints, but they all shook their heads negatively and seemed frightened at his making such an inquiry. When he saw how taciturn they had become he asked them no more, but went to sleep in his blanket.

    Their scent of their slick, rubbery hides is bittersweet, ticklish, and skin-creeping: something akin to yuzu, white grapefruit, and kumquat mixed with the snow-dusted flowers of Mount Ngranek.

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  • SNOW WHITE

    Snow White Perfume Oil

    A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers.

    Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith.

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    Tezcatlipoca Perfume Oil

    Lord of the Smoking Mirror, god of sorcery, nighttime, darkness, beauty, war, heroic men, beautiful women, and all material concerns. Tezcatlipoca is the Master Magician, a trickster god and shapeshifter, governing all worldly matters, and is also the Great Tempter, seducing men into evil acts and subsequently punishing them for their transgressions. Deep cocoa laced with patchouli, leather armor, ritual incense, and a touch of Xochiquetzal’s flowers.

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  • The Lilac Wood Perfume Oil

    It was always spring in her forest, because she lived there, and she wandered all day among the great beech trees, keeping watch over the animals that lived in the ground and under bushes, in nests and caves, earths and treetops. Generation after generation, wolves and rabbits alike, they hunted and loved and had children and died, and as the unicorn did none of these things, she never grew tired of watching them.

    Ageless trees, everblooming flowers, brilliant grass, a flicker of fireflies, and soft shadows.

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    The Three Ghost Children Perfume Oil

    “What happened to you all?” asked Coraline. “How did you come here?”

    “She left us here,” said one of the voices. “She stole our hearts, and she stole our souls, and she took our lives away, and she left us here, and she forgot about us in the dark.”

    “You poor things,” said Coraline. “How long have you been here?”

    “So very long a time,” said a voice.

    “Aye. Time beyond reckoning,” said another voice.

    “I walked through the scullery door,” said the voice of the one that thought it might be a boy, “and I found myself back in the parlor. But she was waiting for me. She told me she was my other mamma, but I never saw my true mamma again.”

    “Flee!” said the very first of the voices-another girl, Coraline fancied. “Flee, while there’s still air in your lungs and blood in your veins and warmth in your heart. Flee while you still have your mind and your soul.”

    “I’m not running away,” said Coraline. “She has my parents. I came to get them back.”

    “Ah, but she’ll keep you here while the days turn to dust and the leaves fall and the years pass one after the next like the tick-tick-ticking of a clock.”

    “No,” said Coraline. “She won’t.”

    There was silence then in the room behind the mirror.

    “Peradventure,” said a voice in the darkness, “if you could win your mamma and your papa back from the beldam, you could also win free our souls.” “Has she taken them?” asked Coraline, shocked.

    “Aye. And hidden them.”

    “That is why we could not leave here, when we died. She kept us, and she fed on us, until now we’ve nothing left of ourselves, only snakeskins and spider husks. Find our secret hearts, young mistress.”

    “And what will happen to you if I do?” asked Coraline.

    The voices said nothing.

    “And what is she going to do to me?” she said.

    The pale figures pulsed faintly; she could imagine that they were nothing more than afterimages, like the glow left by a bright light in your eyes, after the lights go out.

    “It doth not hurt,” whispered one faint voice.

    “She will take your life and all you are and all you care’st for, and she will leave you with nothing but mist and fog. She’ll take your joy. And one day you’ll awake and your heart and your soul will have gone. A husk you’ll be, a wisp you’ll be, and a thing no more than a dream on waking, or a memory of something forgotten.”

    “Hollow,” whispered the third voice. “Hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow.”

    I based the scent on a description of the characters that Neil sent to me in an email:

    “Well, I like the idea that it would contain flowers and flame and fairy things… but from so long ago that they’ve almost forgotten who they are. So it would be a ghost perfume….”

    In the perfume, I also tried to capture the blue-violet-white of an afterimage and the silence of a snuffed candle. The scent is dry with age, taut with loss, grief, and heartbreak, and sorrowful in the unspeakable desolation of simply being forgotten.

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    Yemaya Perfume Oil

    Lady of the Ocean, Queen of Mothers, Mother of the Children of the Fishes. She is the River of Life, the ocean is her womb, and she is the mother of many of the Orishas. Yemaya shares the oceans with her lover / brother / son / brother-self, Olokun, and She governs the uppermost part of the waters where the sun’s rays mingle with Her waters to promote life and growth. Yemaya is everlasting, She is motherhood, the universal drive for the survival of a species, the procreative urge, the instinct of a mother protecting her young, and She is the governess of all life on Earth. She is the Most Fruitful of Women, and both She and Olokun are the protectors and benefactors of those who wish to conceive. Yemoya, being the mother of Shango, also has jurisdiction over rain and snow. She has seven roads and seven manifestations, all corresponding to the Seven Seas. She is the blood that pumps through our veins, and the sound of our blood rushing through our bodies is Her lullaby. She is in constant motion, never resting, ever vigilant and though she may seem calm on the surface, there is always activity within Her waters. The Great Mother possesses breathtaking beauty, patience and a gentle hand, yet She is also fearsome, temperamental, moody and stern. She nurtures her children, but She is also a disciplinarian. She is symbolized by the fish, mermaid, seagull, wharf rat, ibis, vulture and duck, and She shares the beauty of the peacock feather with Oshun. Her ofrenda is a bounty of melons and grapes, strewn with the petals of the flowers of motherhood, draped with sea mosses.

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