Jasmine

  • A-Rovin’ Perfume Oil

    In Amsterdam there dwells a maid
    Maid of Amsterdam

    In Amsterdam there dwells a maid
    Mark well what do I say
    In Amsterdam there dwells a maid
    And she is mistress of her trade

    I’ll go no more a-rovin’ with you fair maid
    A-roving, A-roving, since roving’s been my ruin
    I’ll go no more a-roving with you fair maid

    A perfume for mistresses and masters of a very specific trade: sultry red musk, heady jasmine, tobacco leaf, red sandalwood, hay sugar, golden honey, sweet carnations, and warm leather.

    Proceeds from the sale of this scent benefit Decriminalize Sex Work, a national organization pursuing a state-by-state strategy to end the prohibition of consensual adult prostitution in the United States. “We work with local organizations, advocates, and lobbyists to build community support and convince legislators to stop prostitution-related arrests. Evidence shows that decriminalizing sex work will help end human trafficking, improve public health, and promote community safety.”

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  • Ave Maria Gratia Plena Perfume Oil

    Was this His coming! I had hoped to see
    A scene of wondrous glory, as was told
    Of some great God who in a rain of gold
    Broke open bars and fell on Danae:
    Or a dread vision as when Semele
    Sickening for love and unappeased desire
    Prayed to see God’s clear body, and the fire
    Caught her brown limbs and slew her utterly:
    With such glad dreams I sought this holy place,
    And now with wondering eyes and heart I stand
    Before this supreme mystery of Love:
    Some kneeling girl with passionless pale face,
    An angel with a lily in his hand,
    And over both the white wings of a Dove.

    A pale, delicate, truly angelic blend. A scent created to emulate Adonis’ halo of beauty: fragile, distant, and radiant. Rosewood with Sicilian lemon peel, red Mysore sandalwood, pale musks, sweet mountain sage and a dusting of lily, night-blooming jasmine and orris.

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  • Boney Was a Warrior Perfume Oil

    Boney was a warrior
    Way hey ya
    A warrior a terrier
    John Francois

    Boney fought the Russians
    Way hey ya
    The Russians and the Prussians
    Jean Francois

    Moscow was a-blazing
    Way hey ya
    And Boney was a-raging
    Jean Francois

    Boney went to Elba
    Way hey ya
    Boney he came back again
    Jean Francois

    Boney went to Waterloo
    Way hey ya
    There he got his overthrow
    Jean Francois

    Then they took him off again
    Way hey ya
    Aboard the Billy Ruffian
    Jean Francois

    He went to Saint Helena,
    Way hey ya
    There he was a prisoner,
    Jean Francois

    Boney broke his heart and died
    Way hey ya
    Away in Saint Helena
    Jean Francois

    A brief and succinct biography of Napoleon jumbled with the French shanty, Jean François de Nantes. Relevant to our shared interests: Napoleon was a fragrance connoisseur, and he kept a standing order with his perfumer for a delivery of fifty bottles per month.

    A fresh, light Napoleonic-era cologne with hints of rosemary, almond, oakmoss, and jasmine.

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    Caterpillar Perfume Oil

    Heavy incense notes waft lazily through a mix of carnation, jasmine, bergamot, and neroli over a lush bed of dark mosses, iris blossom, deep patchouli and indolent vetiver.

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  • Cathouse Home & Linen Spray

    A nineteenth century Southern bordello: magnolia, jasmine, honey musk, tobacco, vanilla bean, bourbon vanilla, and Spanish moss.

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    Daiyu Perfume Oil

    Moroccan jasmine, chrysanthemum, tea leaf, white musk, and acai berry.

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    Dawn: Mourning Victory Perfume Oil

    Red sandalwood, night-blooming jasmine, white tea, hyacinth, rosehips, and tuberose.

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    Dawn: Priestess Perfume Oil

    Damascus rose, jasmine, myrrh, opoponax, white sage, and patchouli.

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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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  • Delight Perfume Oil

    In ancient India it was believed that a specific combination of flower petals, when strewn across a couple’s bed, would amplify desire and sexual pleasure. This blend is a blend of the same floral essences, refined into a gloriously sinful perfume blend. Frangipani, with rose, tuberose, and jasmine.

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    Eostre of the Dawn Perfume Oil

    There was a woman sitting on the grass, under a tree, with a paper tablecloth spread in front of her, and a variety of Tupperware dishes on the cloth.

    She was—not fat, no, far from fat: what she was, a word that Shadow had never had cause to use until now, was curvaceous. Her hair was so fair that it was white, the kind of platinum-blonde tresses that should have belonged to a long-dead movie starlet, her lips were painted crimson, and she looked to be somewhere between twenty-five and fifty.

    As they reached her she was selecting from a plate of deviled eggs. She looked up as Wednesday approached her, put down the egg she had chosen, and wiped her hand. “Hello, you old fraud,” she said, but she smiled as she said it, and Wednesday bowed low, took her hand, and raised it to his lips.

    He said, “You look divine.”

    “How the hell else should I look?” she demanded, sweetly. “Anyway, you’re a liar. New Orleans was such a mistake—I put on, what, thirty pounds there? I swear. I knew I had to leave when I started to waddle. The tops of my thighs rub together when I walk now, can you believe that?” This last was addressed to Shadow. He had no idea what to say in reply, and felt a hot flush suffuse his face. The woman laughed delightedly. “He’s blushing! Wednesday, my sweet, you brought me a blusher. How perfectly wonderful of you. What’s he called?”

    “This is Shadow,” said Wednesday. He seemed to be enjoying Shadow’s discomfort. “Shadow, say hello to Easter.”

     

    Jasmine and honeysuckle, sweet milk and female skin.

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    Eshe, A Vision of Life-In-Death Perfume Oil

    Moving counter-clockwise through the room, you come upon the next stage. The backdrop is shredded, and seems to have been torn in a fury. On the remaining half of the canvas, you can barely make out a faded illustration of the sun setting over a pyramid. On the center of the platform, an elaborate golden sarcophagus has been set upright and propped up towards the edge of the stage. Beside it, upon the ground, sits a hooded lantern. A woman’s image is painted on the front of the sarcophagus, and upon the gold limned body, a tale is being told in hieroglyphics: scenes of murder, carnage, and grotesque, mad passion. Although you do not know the language, the inscription upon the tomb translates within your mind, and the words burn behind your eyes as if they were written in blood and fire: “The Guardian will never part the veil for her soul. Mighty Sutekh, have pity on us all.” A thin, dark-skinned man wearing a linen loincloth climbs onto the stage. His form is frail and withered, he is impossibly old, yet his long, straight hair is as black as the night skies. With solemn, reverential gravity, he slowly moves the casket lid aside. Within the box, you see a skeletal figure wrapped in stained, ragged cloths, draped in a mauve cloth. The dark-skinned man bends low, and lights the lanterna magica. From within the glass, images begin to form, and glowing alchemical symbols cast their eerie light onto the mummy. As the lights touch the creature, the desiccated body swells, and with horrific, agonizing slowness, a woman’s form begins to appear within the wrappings. At her chest, the rotted wrappings burst, exposing sinew and the glinting white bones of her ribs. Her hands reach towards her face, and with a screech of agony and eons-long rage, she tears the gauze from her glittering black eyes.

    The perfume of life-in-death: embalming herbs, black myrrh, white sandalwood, black orchid, paperwhites, olive blossom, tomb dust, and Moroccan jasmine.

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  • Falling Stars Perfume Oil

    Franz Von Stuck


    A blanket of benzoin and velvet indigo musk dotted with sparks of white musk, crystalline jasmine, yellow bergamot, and night-blooming flowers.

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  • Highwayman Perfume Oil

    A brace of loaded pistols
    He carried night and day;
    He never robbed a poor man
    Upon the king’s highway;
    But what he’d taken from the rich,
    Like Turpin and Black Bess,
    He always did divide it
    With the widow in distress.

    Stand and deliver! Vetiver with gardenia, blood red rose, night-blooming jasmine, a dash of cinnamon and a faint hint of leather

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    Invidia Bath Oil

    Please note all bath oils are 4oz

    White grapefruit, tea leaf, white ginger, orange blossom, jasmine, honey myrtle, and lime.

    O, beware, my lord, of jealousy!
    It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
    The meat it feeds on.

    4oz Bottle

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    Jasmine Cottage Perfume Oil

    She’d rented the cottage furnished, which meant that the actual furniture was the special sort you find in these circumstances and had probably been left out for the dustmen by the local War on Want shop. It didn’t matter. She didn’t expect to be here long.

    If Agnes was right, she wouldn’t be anywhere long. Nor would anyone else.

    Camellia, jasmine, heather, orange blossom, osmanthus, wisteria, thyme, angelica, freesia, granny’s nightcap, and English wildflowers.

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    Kitsune-Tsuki Perfume Oil

    Kitsune-Tsuki are malevolent Japanese spirits, akin to western werebeasts: women are possessed by the spirits of foxes, who compel them to perform acts of wickedness and mischief. Asian plum, orchid, daffodil, jasmine and white musk.

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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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  • Limitations Perfume Oil

    The subtlest strain a great musician weaves,
    Cannot attain in rhythmic harmony
    To music in his soul. May it not be
    Celestial lyres send hints to him? He grieves
    That half the sweetness of the song, he leaves
    Unheard in the transition. Thus do we
    Yearn to translate the wondrous majesty
    Of some rare mood, when the rapt soul receives
    A vision exquisite. Yet who can match
    The sunset’s iridescent hues? Who sing
    The skylark’s ecstasy so seraph-fine?
    We struggle vainly, still we fain would catch
    Such rifts amid life’s shadows, for they bring
    Glimpses ineffable of things divine.

    – Henrietta Cordelia Ray

    Dusk-purple jasmine and wild plum, orris absolute, honeysuckle, red mandarin, and benzoin.

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  • Mata Hari Perfume Oil

    A renowned exotic dancer and courtesan, possessed of aristocratic elegance, matchless charm, an iron will and a streak of fearlessness. The actual events of her life have met with much speculation, and to this day it is unclear whether or not she was truly a German spy. Despite shaky evidence of her guilt, she was tried for espionage by a closed court-martial and was executed by a French firing squad in 1917.

    Her scent is striking and bold with a delicate yet dark undertone: five roses with soft jasmine, warmed by vanilla, fig, tonka bean and mahogany, spiced with a drop of coffee bean

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  • Moscow Perfume Oil

    A rich, bold blend of imperial rose, carnation, lush jasmine, lily of the valley, dark musk, amber, bergamot and gilded tangerine.

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  • Muse Perfume Oil

    A light, invigorating floral and citrus blend. Tuberose, lotus and jasmine with a hint of lime.

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    Namaste Perfume Oil

    A Sanskrit blessing and word of greeting that bears a powerful symbolism. It represents the Oneness of all of existence, the union of matter and spirit, perfect wholeness. It is accompanied by a gesture: Anjali — hands pressed together, fingertips heavenward, pressed together over the heart’s chakra.

    This oil blend is a serene, soothing Indian blend, created to bring calm and joy to the heart and peace to the spirit. Sandalwood, jasmine, rose, patchouli, cedarwood and lemongrass.

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  • New Orleans Perfume Oil

    Reminiscent of hothouse blooms on a humid night, ripe, but touched with decay. Sweet honeysuckle and jasmine with a hint of lemon and spice.

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  • Nyx Perfume Oil

    Named in honor of the primeval Greek Goddess of Night. A scent reflecting inky black skies and eternal desolation. Night-blooming jasmine, warmed by myrrh, lifted by the promise of rose.

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  • Rapture Perfume Oil

    Sensual ecstasy, the blinding red fire of the apex of sexual pleasure: Moroccan rose, Sumatran rose, mandarin, Egyptian myrrh, night-blooming jasmine, bergamot and neroli thrust into Arabian musk.

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    Thalassa, The Galapagos Mermaid Perfume Oil

    A massive glass tank is positioned on the stage, decorated with a rough canvas painting of sand and sea. Within the tank, you see a swirl of ivory, coral, and russet. After a few rushed passes, the furiously moving creature slows and makes her way towards the glass. As she approaches, you see that her features are lovely and delicate, and though her pearl-adorned torso is that of a beautiful, slender woman, her bewitching face is crowned by lethal spikes and instead of legs she has a writhing serpentine tail. Upon spotting you, her dorsal spikes flare, and she sneers maliciously. She slaps the face of the tank with her powerful tail, and you hear a crack and groan as the glass fractures under the strain.

    Seaweed, kelp, salty ocean spray, bitter almond, night-blooming jasmine, frankincense, and benzoin.

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    The East Perfume Oil

    But there were times when the wind blew from beyond the wall, bringing with it the smell of mint and thyme and redcurrants, and at those times there were strange colors seen in the flames in the fireplaces in the village.

    The scent of the winds beyond the wall: bluebonnet, passion flower, freesia, jasmine tea, mint, thyme, and redcurrant.

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  • The Obsidian Widow Perfume Oil

    Tinkling tiny feet scuttle across a massive oak desk, navigating through a flurry of papers and a maze of discarded books, wires, and bolts. Glistening green venom beads at its chelicerae, and a ruby hourglass flashes from the creature’s underbelly as it begins to weave.

    Pinot noir, dark myrrh, red sandalwood, black patchouli, night-blooming jasmine, and attar of rose.

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    Twilight Perfume Oil

    An enigmatic, otherworldly scent, brimming with power and mystery.

    Lavender and jasmine, with a touch of glowing honeysuckle.

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  • Uruk Perfume Oil

    A city of mystery, wonder and majesty, said to have been built by order of Gilgamesh. Thick bitter almond and heady night-blooming jasmine with saffron, cinnamon leaf, red patchouli, river lilies, bergamot, fig leaf and the sacred incense of Inanna.

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    Vespillo Perfume Oil

    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.

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    Vicomte de Valmont Perfume Oil

     I promised her my eternal love, and I actually thought that for a couple of hours. 

    Rake, scoundrel, demon in a frock coat. Devilishly seductive, ultimately tragic; a villain undone and redeemed by love. Based on an 18th century gentlemen’s cologne: ambergris, white musk, white sandalwood, Spanish Moss, orange blossom, three mints, jasmine, rose geranium and a spike of rosemary.

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  • Wicked Perfume Oil

    A paean to all the Wicked Queens, Evil Stepmothers, and other misunderstood villainesses throughout history and lore. Lends an aura of majesty, refinement, strength, and a deep, brooding malice. A sophisticated, womanly scent: rich myrrh and jasmine draped in the subtlest rose.

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  • Wilde Perfume Oil

    To stab my youth with desperate knives, to wear
    This paltry age’s gaudy livery,
    To let each base hand filch my treasury,
    To mesh my soul within a woman’s hair,
    And be mere Fortune’s lackeyed groom, — I swear
    I love it not! these things are less to me
    Than the thin foam that frets upon the sea,
    Less than the thistle-down of summer air
    Which hath no seed: better to stand aloof
    Far from these slanderous fools who mock my life
    Knowing me not, better the lowliest roof
    Fit for the meanest hind to sojourn in,
    Than to go back to that hoarse cave of strife
    Where my white soul first kissed the mouth of sin.

    A sophisticated traditional gentleman’s cologne, with just the slightest taint of patchouli’s passion, tonka bean’s decadence, the philanthropy of bergamot, moss’ cynicism, the sharp wit of lavender, and the hopeless romantic longing of jasmine and thyme.

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    Zorya Vechernyaya Perfume Oil

    “You see, I am the only one of us who brings in any money. The other two cannot make money fortune-telling. This is because they only tell the truth, and the truth is not what people want to hear. It is a bad thing, and it troubles people, so they do not come back. But I can lie to them, tell them what they want to hear. So I bring home the bread.”

    Red musk and wild plum, orange blossom and jasmine, juniper berries, sweet incense and vetiver-laced sandalwood.

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