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  • Ask the Nearest Hippie

    Ask the Nearest Hippie

    5 out of 5

    Obergefell vs Hodges

    Who ever thought that intimacy and spirituality [whatever that means] were freedoms? And if intimacy is, one would think Freedom of Intimacy is abridged rather than expanded by marriage. Ask the nearest hippie.

    An olfactory guide, created to assist you in locating nearby hippies: patchouli, hemp, smoky vanilla bean, and cannabis accord.

    (No, there is no actual weed in this perfume, silly.)

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  • deadleaves2017 WEB dead leaves hemp mossy soil frankincense and oudh
  • YULE 2017 LABEL - DIABLE EN BOÎTE

    Diable en Boîte

    The crickets sing, and man’s o’er-labour’d sense
    Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus
    Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken’d
    The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,
    How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily,
    And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
    But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon’d,
    How dearly they do’t! ‘Tis her breathing that
    Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o’ the taper
    Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,
    To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
    Under these windows, white and azure laced
    With blue of heaven’s own tinct. But my design,
    To note the chamber: I will write all down:
    Such and such pictures; there the window; such
    The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures,
    Why, such and such; and the contents o’ the story.
    Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
    Above ten thousand meaner moveables
    Would testify, to enrich mine inventory.
    O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
    And be her sense but as a monument,
    Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off:
    As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard!
    ‘Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
    As strongly as the conscience does within,
    To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
    A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
    I’ the bottom of a cowslip: here’s a voucher,
    Stronger than ever law could make: this secret
    Will force him think I have pick’d the lock and ta’en
    The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end?
    Why should I write this down, that’s riveted,
    Screw’d to my memory? She hath been reading late
    The tale of Tereus; here the leaf’s turn’d down
    Where Philomel gave up. I have enough:
    To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
    Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning
    May bare the raven’s eye! I lodge in fear;
    Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
    One, two, three: time, time!

    – Iachimo, Cymbeline Act II, Scene 2

    There are few things more disturbing than a Jack in the Box. A strangely sinister, unnerving holiday scent: redwood, bitter clove, tonka, hemp accord, and tobacco with peach blossom, black currant, and red musk.

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  • Rogue

    Rogue

    4.44 out of 5

    Soft, well-worn black leather, hemp, and rosin.

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