Honey

  • A Robe All Red With Dripping Gore Perfume Oil

    Blood musk, red amber, honey, and threads of scarlet saffron.

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  • A SNOWY BENCH

    A Snowy Bench Perfume Oil

    Snow-covered bamboo reeds, white pear, plum blossoms, honeyed green tea, and Japanese narcissus.

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    Against Idleness and Mischief Perfume Oil

    How doth the little busy bee
    Improve each shining hour
    And gather honey all the day
    From every opening flower!

    How skilfully she builds her cell!
    How neat she spreads the wax!
    And labours hard to store it well
    With the sweet food she makes.

    In works of labour or of skill,
    I would be busy too;
    For Satan finds some mischief still
    For idle hands to do.

    In books, or work, or healthful play,
    Let my first years be passed,
    That I may give for every day
    Some good account at last.

    Pollen-dusted honey, diligent tonka, steadfast chamomile, and goodly hyssop.

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    Agrat-Bat-Mahlaht Perfume Oil

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

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    Alice

    Curiouser and curiouser. Milk and honey with rose, carnation and bergamot.

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    Alice Hair Gloss

    Curiouser and curiouser. Milk and honey with rose, carnation and bergamot.

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  • 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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  • Bard Perfume Oil

    A ridiculously charismatic blend of bay rum, honey, and white musk mingling with the scent of harp wood and lute strings and the twang of horn brass.

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    Bast Perfume Oil

    There was a girl. He had met her somewhere, and now they were walking across a bridge. It spanned a small lake, in the middle of a town. The wind was ruffling the surface of the lake, making waves tipped with whitecaps, which seemed to Shadow to be tiny hands reaching for him.

    — Down there, said the woman. She was wearing a leopard-print skirt, which flapped and tossed in the wind, and the flesh between the top of her stockings and her skirt was creamy and soft and in his dream, on the bridge, before God and the world, Shadow went down to his knees in front of her, burying his head in her crotch, drinking in the intoxicating jungle female scent of her. He became aware, in his dream, of his erection in real life, a rigid, pounding, monstrous thing as painful in its hardness as the erections he’d had as a boy, when he was crashing into puberty.

    He pulled away and looked upward, and still he could not see her face. But his mouth was seeking hers and her lips were soft against his, and his hands were cupping her breasts, and then they were running across the satin smoothness of her skin, pushing into and parting the furs that hid her waist, sliding into the wonderful cleft of her, which warmed and wetted and parted for him, opening to his hand like a flower.

    The woman purred against him ecstatically, her hand moving down to the hardness of him and squeezing it. He pushed the bedsheets away and rolled on top of her, his hand parting her thighs, her hand guiding him between her legs, where one thrust, one magical push . . .

    Now he was back in his old prison cell with her, and he was kissing her deeply. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, clamped her legs about his legs to hold him tight, so he could not pull out, not even if he wanted to.

    Never had he kissed lips so soft. He had not known that there were lips so soft in the whole world. Her tongue, though, was sandpaper-rough as it slipped against his.

    —Who are you? he asked.

    She made no answer, just pushed him onto his back and, in one lithe movement, straddled him and began to ride him. No, not to ride him: to insinuate herself against him in series of silken-smooth waves, each more powerful than the one before, strokes and beats and rhythms that crashed against his mind and his body just as the wind-waves on the lake splashed against the shore. Her nails were needle-sharp and they pierced his sides, raking them, but he felt no pain, only pleasure, everything was transmuted by some alchemy into moments of utter pleasure.

    He struggled to find himself, struggled to talk, his head now filled with sand dunes and desert winds.

    —Who are you? he asked again, gasping for the words.

    She stared at him with eyes the color of dark amber, then lowered her mouth to his and kissed him with a passion, kissed him so completely and so deeply that there, on the bridge over the lake, in his prison cell, in the bed in the Cairo funeral home, he almost came. He rode the sensation like a kite riding a hurricane, willing it not to crest, not to explode, wanting it never to end.

    A desert wind alight with myrrh and golden amber, cardamom and honey, bourbon vanilla and cacao.

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    Behind the Veils Perfume Oil

    Blood-red light cascades through languorous folds of sheer cloth. Hell-bright embers breathe into the gloom as billowing ribbons of thick, dark incense wrap their tendrils of smoke around your body like the curious hands of a lover.

    Heady red musk, myrrh and honey, drops of cinnamon and crushed cardamom pod, the taste of opium-laced black wine, sweet oudh, and threads of saffron.

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    Bengal Perfume Oil

    A sultry and unruly blend that emulates the ambient scent of the markets in ancient Bengal: skin musk with honey, peppers, clove, cinnamon bark and ginger.

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  • 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.

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    Bilquis Perfume Oil

    The Queen of Sheba, half-demon, they said, on her father’s side, witch woman, wise woman, and queen, who ruled Sheba when Sheba was the richest land there ever was, when its spices and its gems and scented woods were taken by boat and camel-back to the corners of the earth, who was worshipped even when she was alive, worshipped as a living goddess by the wisest of kings, stands on the sidewalk of Sunset Boulevard at 2:00 A.M. staring blankly out at traffic like a slutty plastic bride on a black-and-neon wedding cake. She stands as if she owns the sidewalk and the night that surrounds her.

    Honey, myrrh, lily of the valley, rose otto, fig leaf, almond, ambrette, red apple, and warm musk.

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  • Blood Kiss Hair Gloss

    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.

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    Cakes and Ale Perfume Oil

    Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous,
    there shall be no more cakes and ale?

    — Sir Toby Belch

    Hell yeah, we’ll have cakes and ale: honey cakes and stout.

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    Cockaigne Perfume Oil

    The weather is always mild, the wine flows freely, sex is readily available, and all people enjoy eternal youth.

    The Land of Plenty, also called Luilekkerland, the Lazy, Luscious Land: milk and honey, sweet cakes and wine.

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    Dana O’Shee Perfume Oil

    In Irish folklore the Dana O’Shee are a fae, elven people that live in a realm of beauty, their nobility akin to our that own Age of Chivalry, eternally beautiful and eternally young. They surround themselves with the pleasures of the Arts, they live for the hunt, and to this day can be seen riding in procession through the Irish countryside at twilight, led by their King and Queen. However, the Dana O’Shee are not benevolent creatures, despite what their unearthly beauty may imply. They are vengeful and treacherous and possess a streak of mischievous malice, and many have whispered that their true home lies deep in the shadowed groves of the Realm of the Dead. Hearing even a single chord of their otherworldly music leaves one stunned and lost to the mortal realms for ever, finding themselves prey to the Dana O’Shee’s hunt or enslaved in their Court as servants or playthings.

    Offerings of milk, honey and sweet grains were made to placate these creatures, and it is that the basis of the scent created in their name.

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    Dawn: Maiden Perfume Oil

    Tea roses, honeysuckle, heliotrope, olive blossom, milk, and honey.

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    Dawn: Mother Perfume Oil

    Red roses, saffron, honey, and frankincense.

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  • Dead Blonde Perfume Oil

    “Of course young women enjoy slashers. Adolescent girls have spent their lives absorbing our cultural disgust for womanhood, only to find themselves thrust into the middle of it, suddenly the butt of every joke. Their underlying anxieties are hit with a toxic sludge of predatory attention, sexual objectification, and impossible standards, growing to fifty times their natural size. It is not easy to become a monster. It is not fun to slip – suddenly and for the rest of your life – out of humanity and into womanhood. Girls are left reckoning with the fact that their social status, their human value, even their basic survival, are all suddenly contingent on men. Thus, at the exact moment they’re beginning to have sex and enter romantic relationships, girls watch stories in which a moment’s lapse in judgment, or a single instance of giving in to temptation, results and agony and annihilation – not because that’s what they want, but because it’s already happening, and they have precious few other ways to process it.”

    A wilting corsage of tea roses and white roses, bearing forensic traces of honeyed lip gloss and coconut oil suntan lotion.

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  • Defututa Perfume Oil

    Good Gods, what a night that was,
    The bed was so soft, and how we clung,
    Burning together, lying this way and that,
    Our uncontrollable passions
    Flowing through our mouths.
    If I could only die that way,
    I’d say goodbye to the business of living.

    Olive blossom, honey, smoky vanilla, cinnamon, jasmine, sandalwood, and champaca flower.

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    Door Perfume Oil

    She was dressed in a variety of clothes thrown over each other: odd clothes, dirty velvets, muddy lace, rips and holes through which other layers and styles could be seen. She looked, Richard thought, as if she’d done a midnight raid on the History of Fashion section of the Victoria and Albert Museum, and was still wearing everything she had taken. Her short hair was filthy, but looked like it might have been a dark reddish color under the dirt. 

    Golden honey, nicotiana, blue chamomile, and cistu

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    Dragon’s Milk Perfume Oil

    A truly fae nectar! Dragon’s blood resin and honeyed vanilla.

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    Dragon’s Musk Perfume Oil

    Dominant, passionate, devastating. Dragon’s blood and five deep musks.

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  • Dwarven Ale Perfume Oil

    Brewed with fermented mushrooms, pumpkin rind, honey, and apple rootstock.

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  • Eden Perfume Oil

    At the center of the Garden of Eden stands the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Though modern interpretations of the Bible claim that it was an apple that the Serpent of the Tree offered to Eve, it is widely believed that the true Fruit of True Knowledge was, in fact, a fig.

    This oil contains the innocence of the Garden, coupled with the Truth and Erudition found in the fruit of the Tree of Evil: fig leaf, fig fruit, honeyed almond milk, toasted coconut and sandalwood.

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    Eisheth Zenunim Perfume Oil

    Honey, ambergris, neroli, white peach, patchouli, and cocoa absolute.

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  • erotic paraphernalia and an incense vessel

    Erotic Paraphernalia and an Incense Vessel Atmosphere Spray

    Honeyed black musk, lotus root, blood orange, ambrette seed, mimosa, balsam, and sandalwood incense.

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    Eve Perfume Oil

    Eve is eternal: in three-thousand years, she has likely traveled the length and breadth of the world, immersed in innumerable cultures throughout the ages, observing the ebb and flow of humanity and the imperishability of nature itself. Despite her age, she is the character that seems most rooted, always experiencing each moment with open eyes, always fully present.

    Her scent is one that travels through the eons: the Irish moss, yarrow, and hawthorn of the Iron Age Britons, ancient Rome’s omphacium and honey, myrrh and calamus from Egypt, the frankincense and damask roses of the Florentine Renaissance, white sandalwood from the Far East, Moroccan saffron and rose water, and a swirl of incense from the souks.

    Out of Stock
  • Every Sweet Thing Perfume Oil

    Honey-dripping plakous, rose petals, caramelized hazelnut, and goat’s milk

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    Fairy Wine Perfume Oil

    Mr. Bromios had set up a wine-tent and was selling wines and pasties to the village folk, who were often tempted by the foods being sold by the folk from Beyond the Wall but had been told by their grandparents, who had got it from their grandparents, that it was deeply, utterly wrong to eat fairy food, to drink fairy water and sip fairy wine.

    An ethereal vintage, steeped with dandelion, honey, and red currants.

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  • feed me and fill me with pleasure

    Feed Me and Fill Me With Pleasure Perfume Oil

    For my heart too springs up at the pressure,

    Mine eyelids too moisten and burn;

    Ah, feed me and fill me with pleasure,

    Ere pain come in turn.

     

    Black patchouli, honey, and thick vanilla amber.

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    For the Joy of It Perfume Oil

    In prison Shadow had learned there were two kinds of fights: don’t fuck with me fights, where you made it as showy and impressive as you could, and private fights, real fights, which were fast and hard and nasty, and always over in seconds.

    “Hey, Sweeney,” said Shadow, breathless, “why are we fighting?”

    “For the joy of it,” said Sweeney, sober now, or at least, no longer visibly drunk. “For the sheer unholy fucken delight of it. Can’t you feel the joy in your own veins, rising like the sap in the springtime?” His lip was bleeding. So was Shadow’s knuckle.

    Whiskey, mead, honey, gold, sweat, and blood.

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  • Good Perfume Oil

    Shimmering celestial musk with vanilla, white honey, acacia, and sugar cane.

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    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

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    Hal Perfume Oil

    Saffron-infused bourbon vanilla, blackened honey, Kashmir wood, Atlas cedar, ambrette seed, hay, and Egyptian jasmine absolute.

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    Harlequin Perfume Oil

    Inspired by the character EPPY THATCHER.
    A futuristic, gothic harlequin, addicted to a heinous hallucinogen with the street name “Grendel”, who leads chaotic attacks against the corrupt Catholic Church.

    Psychotomimetic: pink grapefruit, white honey, orange blossom, saffron, champagne grape, elemi, guaiac, blonde tobacco, and olibanum.

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  • Hetairae Perfume Oil

    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.

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  • HILDEGARD’S CAKES OF JOY

    Hildegard’s Cakes of Joy Perfume Oil

    Nutmeg (Nux muscata) has great heat and good moderation in its powers. If a person eats a nutmeg, it will open up his heart, make his judgment free from obstruction, and give him a good disposition. Take some nutmeg and an equal weight of cinnamon and a bit of cloves, and pulverize them. Then make small cakes with this and fine whole wheat flour and water. Eat them often. It will calm all bitterness of the heart and mind, open your heart and impaired senses, and make your mind cheerful. It purifies your senses and diminishes all harmful humors in you. It gives good liquid to your blood, and makes you strong.

     

    The best grain is spelt (spelta). It is hot, rich, and powerful. It is milder than other grains. Eating it rectifies the flesh and provides proper blood. It also creates a happy mind and puts joy in the human disposition.</em>

    – Hildegard von Bingen’s Physica, translated by Priscilla Throop

     

    A hearty, humor-balancing, cheer-inducing cake crafted with spelt, nutmeg, clove, and a dollop of honey.

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  • Horreur Sympathique Perfume Oil

    From livid skies that, without end,
    As stormy as your future roll,
    What thoughts into your empty soul
    (Answer me, libertine!) descend?

    – Insatiable yet for all
    That turns on darkness, doom, or dice,
    I’ll not, like Ovid, mourn my fall,
    Chased from the Latin paradise.

    Skies, torn like seacoasts by the storm!
    In you I see my pride take form,
    And the huge clouds that rush in streams

    Are the black hearses of my dreams,
    And your red rays reflect the hell,
    In which my heart is pleased to dwell.

    The perfume of a hellbound soul, gleefully lost to iniquity: blood musk, golden honey, thick black wine, champagne grapes, tobacco flower, plum blossom, tonka bean, oakmoss, carnation, benzoin, opoponax, and sugar cane.

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  • hymn to st brigid

    Hymn to St. Brigid Perfume Oil

    Far above enthroned in glory

    Sweetest Saint of Erin’s Isle

    See thy children kneel before thee

    Turn on us a Mother’s smile.

    Sancta Mater, hear our pleading

    Faith and hope and holy love

    Sweet St. Brigid, Spouse of Jesus,

    Sent to us from Heaven above.

    Sweet St. Brigid, Erin’s children,

    Far and near o’er land and sea

    In the world and in the cloister

    Fondly turn with love to thee.

    Sancta Mater, sooth the mourner

    Shield the weary tempted soul

    Sweet St. Brigid, guide thy children

    To thy bright and happy home.

     

    A bounty of butter, honey, and sweet cream.

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    Iulia, L’Artiste du Diable Perfume Oil

    A chittering buzz rises from a small crowd that has gathered around an opulent velvet-draped tent. Some are fidgeting impatiently; others try in vain to peep within the tent. Within moments, a slim, stunningly handsome man emerges from the entryway to the sound of gasps and scattered applause. His face is lit with fierce joy, and he bows almost smugly to the assemblage. Grabbing a flirtatious blonde from the mob, he kisses her in a rush of mad passion, his arm encircles her waist, and he leads her directly to a nearby opium den. The crowd disperses, and curiosity pulls you forward. You push open the fringed, beaded tent-flap and enter the dimly-lit room. A lovely, voluptuous redhead stands before an ornate antique easel. Her luminous alabaster skin and the phosphorescence emanating from her paintbrush seem to be the only source of light. As you adjust to the gloom, you see that the walls are covered with atrocities: an exhibit of dissolution. The myriad canvases show men and women in various stages of rot and decay, a panoply of indulgence, teeth set in fury, mouths leering in lust, hands grasping greedily.

    The scarlet woman turns her gleaming sightless eyes towards you and, in a husky, compelling voice, she speaks:

    “Why let the years tear at your youthful splendor? Why let the mark of your sins stain your fine features? Will you let the cold, creeping grasp of time and the toil of temptation mar your visage? Why should the pleasures of our flesh wreak such havoc?”

    She leans in close to you and whispers, “Let me capture your soul on this canvas in oil and blood, and you will be beautiful forever.”

    White tea, sugar cane, orange blossom, rockrose, lemon balm, white mint, and honey.

    Out of Stock
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    Jaawi Perfume Oil

    Sweet Indonesian patchouli, red benzoin, champaca attar, French lavender, coconut husk, bay leaf, tobacco absolute, lime, and honey.

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  • Jezebel Perfume Oil

    Biblical witch, priestess of Astarte, and general troublemaker. A true role model for today’s upwardly mobile Modern Woman. A gloriously decadent blend of honey, roses, orange blossom and sandalwood.

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  • Kali Perfume Oil

    Kali, the Black One, is the fearless Goddess of Destruction, Creation, Energy [in her Shakti aspect] and Dissolution. Also named Kaliratri [Black Night] and Kalikamata [Black Earth-Mother], she is the fiercest aspect of Devi, the supreme mother goddess. Kali is a protector Goddess, the destroyer of evil spirits and guardian of the faithful. She, along with her consort Shiva, represent the unending cycle of death and birth, sexual union, creation and destruction. Kali annihilates ignorance, maintains the natural order of the world, and blesses those who strive for spiritual awareness and knowledge of true holiness with infinite tenderness and motherly love. The constant, unending Work of Creation is called the “The Play of Kali”.

    This perfume is a blend of the sacred blooms of cassia, hibiscus, musk rose, Himalayan wild tulip, lotus and osmanthus swirled with offertory dark chocolate, red wine, tobacco, balsam and honey.

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  • Kill-Devil Perfume Oil

    “Rum punch is not improperly called Kill-Devil; for thousands lose their lives by its means. When newcomers use it to the least excess, they expose themselves to imminent peril, for it heats the blood and brings on fevers, which in a very few hours send them to their graves.”

    Sugar cane, molasses, oak wood, and honey.

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    Lady Una Perfume Oil

    “Why, you are crying.”

    She said nothing. Dunstan pulled her toward him, wiping ineffectually at her face with his big hand; and then he leaned into her sobbing face, and, tentatively, uncertain of whether or not he was doing the correct thing given the circumstances, he kissed her, full upon the burning lips.

    There was a moment of hesitation, and then her mouth opened against his, and her tongue slid into his mouth, and he was, under the strange stars, utterly, irrevocably, lost.

    Honey musk, green tea leaf, blackberry leaf, vanilla bean, and fae spices.

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  • Les Bijoux Perfume Oil

    My well-beloved was stripped. Knowing my whim,
    She wore her tinkling gems, but naught besides:
    And showed such pride as, while her luck betides,
    A sultan’s favored slave may show to him.

    When it lets off its lively, crackling sound,
    This blazing blend of metal crossed with stone
    Gives me an ecstasy I’ve only known
    Where league of sound and lustre can be found.

    She let herself be loved: then, drowsy-eyed,
    Smiled down from her high couch in languid ease.
    My love was deep and gentle as the seas
    And rose to her as to a cliff the tide.

    My own approval of each dreamy pose,
    Like a tamed tiger, cunningly she sighted:
    And candour, with lubricity united,
    Gave piquancy to every one she chose.

    Her limbs and hips, burnished with changing lustres
    Before my eyes, clairvoyant and serene,
    Swanned themselves, undulating in their sheen;
    Her breasts and belly, of my vine the clusters,

    Like evil angels rose, my fancy twitting,
    To kill the peace which over me she’d thrown,
    And to disturb her from the crystal throne
    Where, calm and solitary, she was sitting.

    So swerved her pelvis that, in one design,
    Antiope’s white rump it seemed to graft
    To a boy’s torso, merging fore and aft.
    The talc on her brown tan seemed half-divine.

    The lamp resigned its dying flame. Within,
    The hearth alone lit up the darkened air,
    And every time it sighed a crimson flare
    It drowned in blood that amber-coloured skin.

    Skin musk and honey, blood-red rose, orange blossom, white peach, red apple, frankincense and myrrh.

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    Matthew 18:6 Perfume Oil

    But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.

    White sandalwood, honey, and champaca.

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    Mithras Perfume Oil

    “…You run into Mithras yet? Red cap. Nice kid.”

    “No, I don’t think so.”

    “Well . . . I’ve never seen Mithras around here. He was an army brat. Maybe he’s back in the Middle East, taking it easy, but I expect he’s probably gone by now. It happens. One day every soldier in the empire has to shower in the blood of your sacrificial bull. The next they don’t even remember your birthday.”

    Oblations of milk, oil, honey, and blood.

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  • Mommy Fortuna Perfume Oil

    When the first wagon drew even with the place where the unicorn lay asleep, the old woman suddenly pulled her black horse to a stop. All the other wagons stopped too and waited silently as the old woman swung herself to the ground with an ugly grace. Gliding close to the unicorn, she peered down at her for a long time, and then said, “Well. Well, bless my old husk of a heart. And here I thought I’d seen the last of them.” Her voice left a flavor of honey and gunpowder on the air. “If he knew,” she said and she showed pebbly teeth as she smiled. “But I don’t think I’ll tell him.”

    Honey, gunpowder, dried herbs and pleonectic, twopenny magics.

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    Monk Perfume Oil

    Sandalwood incense, ti leaf, and honeyed saffron.

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    Nanny Ashtoreth Perfume Oil

    She wore a knit tweed suit and discreet pearl earrings. Something about her might have said nanny, but it said it in an undertone of the sort employed by British butlers in a certain type of American film. It also coughed discreetly and muttered that she could well be the sort of nanny who advertises unspecified but strangely explicit services in certain magazines.

    Middle Eastern flowers, amber, honey, blood red-berries, whip leather, and polished paddle wood.

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  • Nightingale Perfume Oil

    The national bird of Ukraine. A lovely and powerful song translated into scent: toasted bourbon vanilla, sweet oats and honey, cardamom, and cream.

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    Non-Compliant Perfume Oil

    Too butch, too femme, too sexy, not sexy enough, too smart, too big, too loud, too angry.

    Sugar and bile, leather and blood, honey and rum, shredded patchouli and vetiver, tobacco and lime.

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    O Perfume Oil

    The scent of sexual obsession, slavery to sensual pleasure, and the undercurrent of innocence defiled utterly. Amber and honey with a touch of vanilla.

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  • oak moon

    Oak Moon 2023 Perfume Oil

    The century oak, rugged and gaunt,
    Holds high to-day, as he was wont
    A hundred years ago, his head,
    Hoary with snows that have vanished,
    Defiant and grim to the wind’s wild taunt.
    The hooting owl finds here a haunt,
    And feathered choristers now chaunt
    As when the century’s dawn made red
    The century oak.

     

    No season’s coil his heart can daunt;
    Processive years their changes vaunt,
    But, constant till the line have fled
    And mouldered in oblivion’s bed,
    He holds his own, rugged and gaunt, –
    The century oak.
    – Harvey Carson Grumbine

     

    Oak bark, tree sap, wild acorns, and a touch of honey.

     

    Art by Drew Rausch!

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    Pepper Perfume Oil

    She herself had short red hair and a face which was not so much freckled as one big freckle with occasional areas of skin.

    Pepper’s given first names were Pippin Galadriel Moonchild. She had been given them in a naming ceremony in a muddy valley field that contained three sick sheep and a number of leaky polythene teepees. Her mother had chosen the Welsh valley of Pant y Gyrdl as the ideal site to Return to Nature. (Six months later, sick of the rain, the mosquitoes, the men, the tent trampling sheep who ate first the whole commune’s marijuana crop and then its antique minibus, and by now beginning to glimpse why almost the entire drive of human history has been an attempt to get as far away from Nature as possible, Pepper’s mother returned to Pepper’s surprised grandparents in Tadfield, bought a bra, and enrolled in a sociology course with a deep sigh of relief.)

    There are only two ways a child can go with a name like Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, and Pepper had chosen the other one: the three male Them had learned this on their first day of school, in the playground, at the age of four.

    They had asked her her name, and, all innocent, she had told them.

    Subsequently a bucket of water had been needed to separate Pippin Galadriel Moonchild’s teeth from Adam’s shoe. Wensleydale’s first pair of spectacles had been broken, and Brian’s sweater needed five stitches.

    The Them were together from then on, and Pepper was Pepper forever, except to her mother, and (when they were feeling especially courageous, and the Them were almost out of earshot) Greasy Johnson and the Johnsonites, the village’s only other gang.

    Wild English roses, French gardenia, vanilla, honey, golden ginger, blood orange, pine resin, pink pepper, crushed berries, tuberose, bergamot, and geranium.

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  • pomegranate vulva

    Pomegranate Vulva Perfume Oil

    Garnet rivulets of pomegranate juice, honeyed amber resin, labdanum, ylang ylang, tuberose, and red plum.

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  • Precious Beauty Perfume Oil

    Sweet cream, white fig, sugar cane, honey, vanilla silk, sugared oats, and almond cakes.

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    Pure Applesauce Perfume Oil

    King vs Burwell

    The Court claims that the Act must equate federal and state establishment of Exchanges when it defines a qualified individual as someone who (among other things) lives in the “State that established the Exchange,” 42 U.S.C. 18032(f)(1)(A). Otherwise, the Court says, there would be no qualified individuals on federal Exchanges, contradicting (for example) the provision requiring every Exchange to take the ” ‘interests of qualified individuals’ ” into accountwhen selecting health plans. Ante, at 11 (quoting 18031(e)(1)(b)). Pure applesauce.

    Our applesauce is decidedly impure: mashed apples with sugar and honey, slivered with tobacco tar and black tea.

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    Qandisa Perfume Oil

    The Moroccan Goddess of Carnal Desire. Dwelling in fresh-water springs and rivers, she is doom: her embrace drives men mad with mindless lust. Sacrifices are made to the Lady of Lust on the Summer Solstice in the hopes of placating her passions and driving her red-tinged gaze away. Black musk, blackened saffron, lemon peel, and vetiver draped over thick honey.

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  • Raminou Perfume Oil

    Suzanne Valadon

    A tawny, majestic blend of red velvet musk, golden vanilla, ambrette seed, tonka bean, sweet myrrh, oakmoss, honey, red labdanum, cashmere, patchouli, and saffron threads.

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    Sara Pezzini Perfume Oil

    A hint of leather and an understated vintage musk layered over the scent of lightly perspiring, honey-dusted skin.

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    Sed Non Satiata Perfume Oil

    Strange goddess, brown as evening to the sight,
    Whose scent is half of musk, half of havanah,
    Work of some obi, Faust of the Savanah,
    Ebony witch, and daughter of the night.

    By far preferred to troth, or opium, or sleep,
    Love vaunts the red elixir of your mouth.
    My caravan of longings seeks in drouth
    Your eyes, the wells at which my cares drink deep.

    Through those black eyes, by which your soul respires,
    Pitiless demon! pour less scorching fires.
    I am no Styx nine times with flame to wed.

    Nor can I turn myself to Proserpine
    To break your spell, Megera libertine!
    Within the dark inferno of your bed.

    A pounding heartbeat coalesced into scent: demonic passion and brutal sexuality manifested through myrrh, red patchouli, cognac, honey, and tuberose and geranium in a breathy, panting veil over the darkest body musk.

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    Seth Perfume Oil

    Sudanese myrrh, papyrus, champaca flower, black lotus, amber, and honeyed leather.

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  • sister death

    Sister Death Perfume Oil

    My sister Death! I pray thee come to me

    Of thy sweet charity,

    And be my nurse but for a little while;

    I will indeed lie still,

    And not detain thee long, when once is spread,

    Beneath the yew, my bed:

    I will not ask for lillies or for roses;

    But when the evening closes,

    Just take from any brook a single knot

    Of pale Forget-me-not,

    And lay them in my hand, until I wake,

    For his dear sake;

    (For should he ever pass and by me stand,

    He might understand ―)

    Then heal the passion and the fever

    With one cool kiss, for ever.

    – Digby Mackworth Dolben 

    Pale gilded lilies and roses in the labdanum shadow of a yew tree, a sprig of forget-me-not, the dwindling memory of a genteel cologne, and the honeyed breathlessness of a kiss.

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  • slug

    Slug Perfume Oil

    A relaxed, lazy scent; slightly sebaceous and sweetly slimy: warm, buttery honey cream and dribbles of amber. May we all have at least a few gentle, sweet slug moments throughout this holiday season.

     

    Painted by Nagasawa Rosetsu.

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  • snake oil hot toddy

    Snake Oil Hot Toddy Perfume Oil

    BPAL’s perennial favorite, Snake Oil, soaked in whiskey, honey, and a twist of lemon.

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  • A vintage-looking photograph of an old-fashioned pen and inkwell with text reading "Sonnet"

    Sonnet Perfume Oil

    Alice Moore Dunbar-Nelson

    I had not thought of violets late,
    The wild, shy kind that spring beneath your feet
    In wistful April days, when lovers mate
    And wander through the fields in raptures sweet.
    The thought of violets meant florists’ shops,
    And bows and pins, and perfumed papers fine;
    And garish lights, and mincing little fops
    And cabarets and soaps, and deadening wines.
    So far from sweet real things my thoughts had strayed,
    I had forgot wide fields; and clear brown streams;
    The perfect loveliness that God has made,—
    Wild violets shy and Heaven-mounting dreams.
    And now—unwittingly, you’ve made me dream
    Of violets, and my soul’s forgotten gleam.

    Heaven-mounting dreams: a cluster of wild violets, the first lilac blossoms of spring, honeyed honeysuckle, ylang ylang, a touch of fennel, and cerise musk.

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  • Sudha Segara Perfume Oil

    Named after the primordial ocean of milk where Lord Vishnu reclines upon the thousand-headed Naga. Sweet milk and warm, healing ginger with a touch of golden honey and our blend of Ambrosia.

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    Sweets to the Sweet Perfume Oil

    One sight did catch her attention however. Scrawled on the paving stones she was walking over—and all but erased by rain and the passage of feet—the same phrase she'd seen in the bedroom of number 14: “Sweets to the sweet.” The words were so benign; why did she seem to sense menace in them? Was it in their excess, perhaps, in the sheer overabundance of sugar upon sugar, honey upon honey?

    Sugar upon sugar, honey upon honey: white cane sugar and honey absolute.

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    The Best Lies Perfume Oil

    “Such a pity,” Zorya Vechernyaya told Shadow. “In my fortune for you, I should have said you would have a long life and a happy one, with many children.”

    “That is why you are a good fortune-teller,” said Zorya Utrennyaya. She looked sleepy, as if it were an effort for her to be up so late. “You tell the best lies.”

    The melodious sweetness of false fortunes: sugar-swept honey and rose.

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    The Carousel Perfume Oil

    Calliope music played: a Strauss waltz, stirring and occasionally discordant. The wall as they entered was hung with antique carousel horses, hundreds of them, some in need of a lick of paint, others in need of a good dusting; above them hung dozens of winged angels constructed rather obviously from female store-window mannequins; some of them bared their sexless breasts; some had lost their wigs and stared baldly and blindly down from the darkness.

    And then there was the carousel.

    A sign proclaimed it was the largest in the world, said how much it weighed, how many thousand lightbulbs were to be found in the chandeliers that hung from it in Gothic profusion, and forbade anyone from climbing on it or from riding on the animals.

    And such animals! Shadow stared, impressed in spite of himself, at the hundreds of full-sized creatures who circled on the platform of the carousel. Real creatures, imaginary creatures, and transformations of the two: each creature was different. He saw mermaid and merman, centaur and unicorn, elephants (one huge, one tiny), bulldog, frog and phoenix, zebra, tiger, manticore and basilisk, swans pulling a carriage, a white ox, a fox, twin walruses, even a sea serpent, all of them brightly colored and more than real: each rode the platform as the waltz came to an end and a new waltz began. The carousel did not even slow down.

    “What’s it for?” asked Shadow. “I mean, okay, world’s biggest, hundreds of animals, thousands of lightbulbs, and it goes around all the time, and no one ever rides it.”

    “It’s not there to be ridden, not by people,” said Wednesday. “It’s there to be admired. It’s there to be.”

    A place of power and possibility, of gods diabolical and celestial: glowing amber and heady cinnamon, the green of growing things and the white of thunderclaps, sweet myrrh and sacred styrax, forest moss and blood-soaked battlefields, papyrus and clay, rose petals, wildflowers, abbatoirs, and honey.

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    The Illustrated Woman Perfume Oil

    Skin musk, smoky vanilla, pine pitch, patchouli, Indian resins, golden honey, and tobacco.

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    The Sun’s Treasure Perfume Oil

    “Have you remembered how I do my little coin trick?” he asked Shadow with a grin.

    “I have not.”

    “If you can guess how I did it,” said Mad Sweeney, his lips purple, his blue eyes beclouded, “I’ll tell you if you get warm.”

    “It’s not a palm is it?” asked Shadow.

    “It is not.”

    “Is it a gadget of some kind? Something up your sleeve or elsewhere that shoots the coins up for you to catch?”

    “It is not that neither. More whiskey, anybody?”

    “I read in a book about a way of doing the miser’s dream with latex covering the palm of your hand, making a skin-colored pouch for the coins to hide behind.”

    “This is a sad wake for Great Sweeney who flew like a bird across all of Ireland and ate watercress in his madness: to be dead and unmourned save for a bird, a dog, and an idiot. No, it is not a pouch.”

    “Well, that’s pretty much it for ideas,” said Shadow. “I expect you just take them out of nowhere.” It was meant to be sarcasm, but then he saw the expression on Sweeney’s face. “You do,” he said. “You do take them from nowhere.”

    “Well, not exactly nowhere,” said Mad Sweeney. “But now you’re getting the idea. You take them from the hoard.”

    “The hoard,” said Shadow, starting to remember.

    “Yes.”

    “You just have to hold it in your mind, and it’s yours to take from. The sun’s treasure. It’s there in those moments when the world makes a rainbow. It’s there in the moment of eclipse and the moment of the storm.” And he showed Shadow how to do the thing. This time Shadow got it.

    Radiant amber and orange blossom, golden oudh, and saffron-threaded honey.

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  • The Things We Do Make Echoes Perfume Oil

    Goldfish-orange overripe mangoes, blackcurrant, strawberry pulp, red benzoin, honey, streaks of white ginger, a splatter of star anise, an erratic jolt of eucalyptus and mint, and a dribble of absinthe.

    Words by Neil Gaiman, art by David Mack.

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    The Urchins Perfume Oil

    You hear a tittering of laughter: high-pitched and discordant, like bent, cracked silver bells clattering onto sheets of rusted metal. In the gloom of a dilapidated tent, the glow of small red eyes reflects on shining steel blades.

    Dust and dead, dry flowers, ice-cold skin, the swish of a metal blade, and a memory of honey.

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    This is Your Wilderness Perfume Oil

    Honeyed patchouli with cypress, black pine, and tobacco absolute.

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    Tlazolteotl Perfume Oil

    It is the lady of midnight and she has arrived! She of Two Faces, She Who Eats Filth, the Death Caused by Lust – Tlazolteotl – is the Aztec goddess of the regenerative function of the earth, human sexuality, and fertility. She represents the active female principle in the eternal cycle of life feeding death and death feeding life. Her arms, dressed in flayed skins, embrace mirrored principles of sin and  purification: she inspires lust, depravity, overindulgence, vice, lechery, and licentiousness, and is also empowered to cleanse and forgive moral, spiritual, and fleshly sins. Her scent is a melding of her symbols and offerings: chapapote and black copal with cacao, black honey, maize, and cotton blossoms.

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  • voyeur

    Voyeur Perfume Oil

    Honeyed labdanum, neroli, vanilla husk, night blooming jasmine, pink rose petals, and pale threads of incense smoke.

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    White Rabbit Perfume Oil

    Strong black tea and milk with white pepper, ginger, honey and vanilla, spilled over the crisp scent of clean linen.

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  • Wisdom, Justice, Moderation Perfume Oil

    A poem about Georgia, sung through scent: red cedar, sweetgum, yellow jasmine, peach, and honey.

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  • womb furie

    Womb Furie Hair Gloss

    In the middle of the flanks of women lies the womb, a female viscus, closely resembling an animal; for it is moved of itself hither and thither in the flanks, also upwards in a direct line to below the cartilage of the thorax and also obliquely to the right or to the left, either to the liver or spleen; and it likewise is subject to falling downwards, and, in a word, it is altogether erratic. It delights, also, in fragrant smells, and advances towards them; and it has an aversion to fetid smells, and flees from them; and on the whole the womb is like an animal within an animal.

    – Aretaeus the Cappadocian

     

    Oh, that wily womb! Hippocrates and his followers considered the womb a mobile creature, causing mayhem as it writhed its way through a woman’s body. Sometimes this ornery organ, due to lack of sexual activity, would create conflicts within a woman’s system or would become blocked itself, causing anxiety, nervousness, water retention, and sleeplessness. With the assistance of doctors, nursemaids, hand tools, or, occasionally, self-manipulation, this vexing condition could be alleviated through hysterical paroxysms.

     

    Or, as we call it nowadays: orgasm.

     

    An itch that needs to be scratched: Snake Oil and three types of honey.

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  • womb furie

    Womb Furie Perfume Oil

    In the middle of the flanks of women lies the womb, a female viscus, closely resembling an animal; for it is moved of itself hither and thither in the flanks, also upwards in a direct line to below the cartilage of the thorax and also obliquely to the right or to the left, either to the liver or spleen; and it likewise is subject to falling downwards, and, in a word, it is altogether erratic. It delights, also, in fragrant smells, and advances towards them; and it has an aversion to fetid smells, and flees from them; and on the whole the womb is like an animal within an animal.

    – Aretaeus the Cappadocian

     

    Oh, that wily womb! Hippocrates and his followers considered the womb a mobile creature, causing mayhem as it writhed its way through a woman’s body. Sometimes this ornery organ, due to lack of sexual activity, would create conflicts within a woman’s system or would become blocked itself, causing anxiety, nervousness, water retention, and sleeplessness. With the assistance of doctors, nursemaids, hand tools, or, occasionally, self-manipulation, this vexing condition could be alleviated through hysterical paroxysms.

     

    Or, as we call it nowadays: orgasm.

     

    An itch that needs to be scratched: Snake Oil and three types of honey.

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  • Yukikeisetsu Perfume Oil

    Sesshu Toyo

    Frost-tipped hinoki, balsam, frangipani, white tea, ho wood, and honey.

    Out of Stock