Leather

  • A Holy Man Advises

    A Holy Man Advises a Woman to Invoke Mary Against a Devil

    Jean Miélo
    White musk, tobacco flower, white tea, Tunisian neroli, and blonde leather.

    Out of Stock
  • A Low Candle-Lit Room

    A Low Candle-Lit Room

    He beckoned me into a low, candle-lit room with massive exposed rafters and dark, stiff, sparse furniture of the seventeenth century. The past was vivid there, for not an attribute was missing. There was a cavernous fireplace and a spinning-wheel at which a bent old woman in loose wrapper and deep poke-bonnet sat back toward me, silently spinning despite the festive season. An indefinite dampness seemed upon the place, and I marvelled that no fire should be blazing. The high-backed settle faced the row of curtained windows at the left, and seemed to be occupied, though I was not sure. I did not like everything about what I saw, and felt again the fear I had had. This fear grew stronger from what had before lessened it, for the more I looked at the old man’s bland face the more its very blandness terrified me. The eyes never moved, and the skin was too like wax. Finally I was sure it was not a face at all, but a fiendishly cunning mask. But the flabby hands, curiously gloved, wrote genially on the tablet and told me I must wait a while before I could be led to the place of festival.

    Candle wax and waxen “skin,” rotting leather and reeking damp wood, and the ashes of a yawning, cold fireplace.

    Out of Stock
  • A Phantasmagoria

    A Phantasmagoria: Scene – Conjuring Up an Armed Skeleton

    James Gillray
    Wig powder, amber-perfumed leather gloves, and rose petals with a sliver of oak bark and cauldron smoke.

    Out of Stock
  • A Very Greivous Murraine

    A Very Grievous Murraine

    Behold, the hand of the Lord is vpon thy cattell which is in the field, vpon the horses, vpon the asses, vpon the camels, vpon the oxen, and vpon the sheepe: there shall be a very grieuous murraine. And the Lord shall seuer betweene the cattell of Israel, and the cattell of Egypt, and there shall nothing die of all that is the childrens of Israel. And the Lord appointed a set time, saying, To morrow the Lord shall doe this thing in the land.

    Brown musk, myrrh, and sun-baked leather afflicted by splotches of saffron and red musk.

    Out of Stock
  • All That I Possess

    All That I Possess

    4 out of 5

    I am here with all that I possess, Sir – A name, a patch of land and the will to make it yield. The least you can grant me is the courtesy of your time and the chance to prove it to you, and these fine gentlemen, that my will, dear Sir, is at the very least, as strong as yours.

    Amber, clove and leather takes shape through the scent of raw determination; a fortitude born of having nothing left to lose. In the background, guiac wood, white sandalwood, and myrrh forms the dust of long-forgotten aspirations and hope on the verge of being forever relinquished.

    Out of Stock
  • allegory-of-winter-by-abraham-bloemaert

    Allegory of Winter

    Abraham Blowmaert

    Soft brown leather and glowing embers of amber tinged with blood orange and crimson musk, and flecks of night-black coal dust.

    Out of Stock
  • Antony

    Antony

    3.33 out of 5

    The embodiment of Classic masculinity. A warrior’s scent: the green hills and grasses of the battlefields, the resinous incense from the prayers to his Gods, and a touch of the musky leather of his armor. Ambergris and frankincense with sage, and basil.

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  • Beanman and Beanwoman climb genital mountains

    Beanman and Beanwoman Climb Genital Mountains

    Hazelnut smoke and leather with dark musk, white cognac, caramelized vetiver, and a drop of honeyed whiskey.

    Out of Stock
  • Bensiabel

    Bensiabel

    5 out of 5

    As the years passed Prunella grew up into a very beautiful girl. Now her beauty and goodness, instead of softening the witch’s heart, aroused her hatred and jealousy.

    One day she called Prunella to her, and said: ‘Take this basket, go to the well, and bring it back to me filled with water. If you don’t I will kill you.’

    The girl took the basket, went and let it down into the well again and again. But her work was lost labour. Each time, as she drew up the basket, the water streamed out of it. At last, in despair, she gave it up, and leaning against the well she began to cry bitterly, when suddenly she heard a voice at her side saying ‘Prunella, why are you crying?’

    Turning round she beheld a handsome youth, who looked kindly at her, as if he were sorry for her trouble.

    ‘Who are you,’ she asked, ‘and how do you know my name?’

    ‘I am the son of the witch,’ he replied, ‘and my name is Bensiabel. I know that she is determined that you shall die, but I promise you that she shall not carry out her wicked plan. Will you give me a kiss, if I fill your basket?’

    ‘No,’ said Prunella, ‘I will not give you a kiss, because you are the son of a witch.’

    ‘Very well,’ replied the youth sadly. ‘Give me your basket and I will fill it for you.’ And he dipped it into the well, and the water stayed in it. Then the girl returned to the house, carrying the basket filled with water. When the witch saw it, she became white with rage, and exclaimed ‘Bensiabel must have helped you.’ And Prunella looked down, and said nothing.

    Plum juice, lilac, leather, and a smattering of herbs.

    Out of Stock
  • Bjúgnakrækir

    Bjúgnakrækir

    Favorite pastime: hiding in the rafters, ogling your smoked sausage. Eyes up here, mister!

    Sweaty pear and honey with leather, coconut meat, tonka bean, and castoreum accord.

    Out of Stock
  • AGWEB-black hats

    Black Hats

    “So who were the guys that grabbed me in the parking lot? Mister Wood and Mister Stone? Who were they?” The lights of the car illuminated the winter landscape. Wednesday had announced that they were not to take freeways because he didn’t know whose side the freeways were on, so Shadow was sticking to back roads. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t even sure that Wednesday was crazy.

    Wednesday grunted. “Just spooks. Members of the opposition. Black hats.”

    “I think,” said Shadow, “that they think they’re the white hats.”

    “Of course they do. There’s never been a true war that wasn’t fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe that they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous.”

    “And you?” asked Shadow. “Why are you doing what you’re doing?”

    “Because I want to,” said Wednesday. And then he grinned. “So that’s all right.”

     

    Gunpowder residue, patent leather, pomade, and aftershave.

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  • Blood and Judgment so Well Commeddled

    Blood and Judgment So Well Commedled

    This year, Lilith started cultivating a love of Shakespeare, especially Hamlet. Man, this kid loves that play. I assumed, when we started talking about Shakespeare’s works, that she’d love the comedies, particularly Midsummer Night’s Dream and all its attendant fairies. Nope; it’s all about the mopey Prince of Denmark and his teen angst.

    When she started at her Shakespeare summer camp this year, one of her teachers asked which characters she liked best. She replied, “Horatio.”

    “Horatio? But he doesn’t have many lines, does he? Why do you like him so much?”

    “He’s Hamlet’s best friend, he’s always there for Hamlet, and he’s the only one that doesn’t die.”

    Wise words, kiddo!

    This is a photo that I took of her watching Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet with her trusty sidekick, Wednesday. The dog, for her part, is a huge fan of the Two Gentlemen of Verona.

    A little kid’s interpretation of Hamlet’s BFF. A scent of kindness and devotion, friendship and loyalty: soft brown leather and brushed suede with bourbon vanilla, toasted almond, tonka bean, and amber.

    Out of Stock
  • Boticelli's Unicorn

    Boticelli’s Unicorn

    Alessandro Boticelli

    White leather, opal musk, and amber-limned rose.

    Out of Stock
  • Bright Red Dildo

    Bright Red Dildo

    METRO
    I beg you, don't lie, dear Coritto: Who was the Man who stitched for you this bright red dildo?

    CORITTO
    I don't know if Cerdon is from Chios or Erythrae; bald, small – you'd call him a right 'Mr. Tradesman'. You'll think you're seeing the handiwork of Athena herself not Cerdon's.
    I – for he arrived bringing two, Metro – at the sight of them – well my eyes bulged; men can't make their rods as rigid as this – we are alone and can be frank – and not only that, these are as soft as sleep; and the little leather straps are as soft as wool, not like leather straps at all. A kinder cobbler to a woman you'll not find – even by putting-out.

    METRO
    Why then did you not take the other one as well?

    CORITTO
    What didn't I do, Metro? What sort of means of persuasion did I not apply him? Kissing him, stroking his bald head, pouring out a sweet drink for him, calling him by a pet name, giving him all by my body to enjoy.

    METRO
    If he asked even that you ought to have given him it.

    Red leather and honey.

    Out of Stock
  • Captain Cully

    Captain Cully

    5 out of 5

    “I’m merry twenty-four hours a day, Dick Fancy,” Cully said coldly. “That is a fact.”

    A cocky light musk with leather, tonka, a dusting of dry woods, and a splash of porter

    Out of Stock
  • ct2015-animalic

    Chaos Theory VII: Animalic

    Accords of castoreum, ambergris, and civet! Leathers and musks ahoy!

    Out of Stock
  • Creeper Dragon

    Creeper Dragon

    5 out of 5

    This bit of artwork is one of my favorite miniatures simply because it makes me laugh. It is a detail from Roman d’Alexandre, showing Nectanebus all dragon’d up and ready to get busy.

    All this is well and good, medieval Alexander romances are fascinating, but this image will always simply be Creeper Dragon to me.

    Creeper Dragon Musk: daemonorops, green leather, and red musk with dribbles of honey and white cream.

    Out of Stock
  • Crowley

    Crowley

    5 out of 5

    Nothing about him looked particularly demonic, at least by classical standards. No horns, no wings. Admittedly he was listening to a Best of Queen tape, but no conclusions should be drawn from this because all tapes left in a car for more than a fortnights metamorphose into Best of Queen albums. No particularly demonic thoughts were going through his head. In fact, he was wondering vaguely who Moey and Chandon were.

    Crowley had dark hair, and good cheekbones, and he was wearing snakeskin shoes, or at least presumably he was wearing shoes, and he could do really weird things with his tongue. And, whenever he forgot himself, he had a tendency to hiss.

    Infernal musk, red patchouli, lilac cologne, mahogany, lemon rind, oakmoss, leather, and vanilla husk.

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  • Cyborg

    Cyborg

    Inspired by the character GRENDEL-PRIME.
    A heavy-metal cyborg, created by the Grendel-Khan to act as a paladin protector for his only son and heir, an unstoppable killing machine.

    Gleaming metal and black leather over a khus-darkened bay rum.

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  • rops17WEB-Dans les coulisses

    Dans Les Coulisses

    Red musk, orris root, and bergamot with blackcurrant, pink pepper, and red leather accord.

    Out of Stock
  • dead-leaves-raw-leather-bourbon-vanilla-and-clove
  • Patrick Gleason

    Det. Patrick Gleason

    A classic men’s cologne splashed over a leather trenchcoat and a hint of gunshot residue.

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  • Doc Constantine

    Doc Constantine

    5 out of 5

    As you pass the tiny stage, you come across a large canvas tent, illuminated within, the exterior dotted with odd splatters. In front of the tent stands a scorched wooden cart covered in a jumble of bottles, jars, vials and twisted steel implements, and an elaborate, gold-gilded sign reads:

    “Doc Constantine Cures What Ails Ye!
    Liniments, salves, potions and elixirs for every malady of the body and spirit!”

    A scream splits the air, jarring you. You see shadows move jaggedly within the tent, there is another scream, and all is suddenly still and silent. After a long heartbeat, the door flap opens. A man steps out wearing a crystal-eyed schnabel mask in the style of medieval plague doctors, carmine streaking his sleeves, vest, and the blonde hair that crowns him. He pulls off the mask, and you see a handsome figure, almost beatific. He rolls a cigarette, lights it, takes a deep pull, and winks at you slyly as he gestures at the multitude of concoctions he has for sale. A bent crone, her body as bowed and knotty as an ancient oak, shuffles up to the wagon with rosy-cheeked, tow-headed maiden following her at a small distance. As she approaches the doctor, the crone gestures at herself, running a gnarled hand down her body in a sweeping movement, and casting a sideways glance at her grandchild. Smiling an angel’s smile, Doc Constantine hands the old woman a potion the color of cold, congealed blood. She drinks it quickly, gasping. Before your eyes her body shimmers and blurs, and a shower of dark sparks seems to engulf her. Where the crone stood, there is now a voluptuous, raven-haired vixen, vibrant, sensual, at the prime of her life and sexual vitality. Her shriek of joy is interrupted by another’s scream of shock: the rigors of age have not vanished; they have moved aside, and the young woman has aged horribly, taking on the crone’s burden.

    Sheer musk, cedar smoke, fir needle, chaparral, black amber and leather.

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  • dragon_hideweb

    Dragon’s Hide

    4 out of 5

    Flame-kissed, warm, smooth, and highly protective. Dragon’s blood, leather and a hint of smoke.

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  • Dwarf

    Dwarf

    4 out of 5

    Iron filings and chips of stone, Styrian Golding hops, and soot-covered leather.

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  • Eau de Ghoul

    Eau de Ghoul

    They all started telling stories, then, of how fine and wonderful a thing it was to be a ghoul, of all the things they had crunched up and swallowed down with their powerful teeth. Impervious they were to disease or illness, said one of them. Why, it didn't matter what their dinner had died of, they could just chomp it down. They told of the places they had been, which mostly seemed to be catacombs and plague-pits (“Plague Pits is good eatin',” said the Emperor of China, and everyone agreed.) They told Bod how they had got their names and how he, in his turn, once he had become a nameless ghoul, would be named, as they had been.

    “But I don't want to become one of you,” said Bod.

    “One way or another,” said the Bishop of Bath and Wells, cheerily, “you'll become one of us. The other way is messier, involves being digested, and you're not really around very long to enjoy it.”

    “But that's not a good thing to talk about,” said the Emperor of China.”Best to be a Ghoul. We're afraid of nuffink!”

    And all the ghouls around the coffin-wood fire howled at this statement, and growled and sang and exclaimed at how wise they were, and how mighty, and how fine it was to be scared of nothing.

    Dessicated skin coated in blackened ginger, cinnamon, and mold-flecked dirt, with cumin, bitter clove, leather, and dried blood.

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  • Embracing Komachi

    Embracing Komachi

    Iris blossom, violet leaf, grey amber, soft white leather, a drop of coconut and a sliver of angelica seed.

    Out of Stock
  • Fighter

    Fighter

    3.56 out of 5

    Leather, musk, blood, and steel.

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  • Funnel of Love

    Funnel of Love

    4.75 out of 5

    17-year aged black patchouli, champaca flower, cardamom bud, green coriander, Haitian vetiver, red vegetal musk, black pepper, night-blooming jasmine, and leather.

    Out of Stock
  • Gluggagægir

    Gluggagægir

    5 out of 5

    Favorite pastime: peeping in yer windows. What a creeper!  

    Spiced rum leather, frankincense, black cedar, sweet tobacco, and honey-gold sandalwood.

    Out of Stock
  • Hans Trapp

    Hans Trapp

    Schoi, do kummt d’r Hans Trapp.
    Ar het a scheni Zepfelkapp’
    Un a Bart wiss wie a Schimmel.
    Ar kummt vum schena Starnehimmel
    Un bringt da Kinder a Ruada,
    Wu net dien singe un bata.
    Schoi, Hans Trapp, mir sin so klein
    Un brav un folje d’heim.
    Müesch net kumme mit dim Stacka,
    Denn mir kenne singe un oi bata.
     

    A legend born of the life of Hans von Trotha and his wars with the Papacy, this restless spirit terrorizes the disobedient children of France and Germany at Christmastime. This cannibalistic demon lives in a hut high up in the mountains of Bavaria disguised as a scarecrow, gnashing his teeth as he plots his Yuletide punishments.

    Tattered leather, dry straw, matted hair, sharpened sticks, and a bundle of switches.

    Out of Stock
  • Havana

    Havana

    Date palm, dried tobacco, snakeroot, and leather.

    Out of Stock
  • Hellfire

    Hellfire

    4.75 out of 5

    A scent celebrating Sir Francis Dashwood’s Order of the Knights of St. Francis of Wycombe, also known as the Hellfire Club. A swirl of pipe tobacco, hot leather, ambergris, dark musk and the lingering incense smoke from their Black Mass.

    New formulation.

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  • Heroin

    Heroine

    5 out of 5

    Heroine is the first scent created specifically for The Hero Initiative, and the label art is by the fabulous Adam Hughes!

    Nepalese amber, East African patchouli, dark musk, apple blossom, petitgrain, aged leather, skin musk, and rhubarb.

    Out of Stock
  • Highwayman

    Highwayman

    4.17 out of 5

    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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  • pleasures of the imagination WEB-1

    I

    5 out of 5

    Black amber, leather, and myrrh.

    Out of Stock
  • Iago

    Iago

    4 out of 5

    Malevolent, dark and shadowy: sinuous black musk, wet leather and vetiver.

    Out of Stock
  • Ian

    Ian

    5 out of 5

    Y’know, for a zombie, you’re alright. A flicker of hero worship, tempered by naivety and an innately kind nature: shaggy leather, sweet rum absolute, and patchouli.

    Out of Stock
  • pleasures of the imagination WEB-2

    II

    White tobacco, leather, and white sandalwood.

    Out of Stock
  • pleasures of the imagination WEB-3

    III

    Turkish tobacco, black leather, cinnamon, benzoin, and smoked honey.

    Out of Stock
  • Leather

    Imp Pack: Leather

    —The Black Rider
    —Bow and Crown of Conquest
    —Fighter
    —Iago
    —Rogue
    —Whip

    Out of Stock
  • pleasures of the imagination WEB-4

    IV

    White tea blossom, jasmine sambac, white musk, and leather.

    Out of Stock
  • Jareth

    Jareth

    4.88 out of 5

    “I ask for so little.
    Just let me rule you…
    and you can have everything that you want.

    Just fear me…
    …love me…
    …do as I say and I will be your slave.”

    Ethereal lilac fougere and gleaming leather with ti leaf, tonka absolute, white musk, and oudh.

    Out of Stock
  • Jolly Roger

    Jolly Roger

    4 out of 5

    Sea spray with an undercurrent of leather, Bay Rum, and salty, dry woods.

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  • Joyful Dalliances in the Underworld

    Joyful Dalliances in the Underworld

    Black leather aflame with a cherry-infused cognac that has been spiced with brown sugar, vetiver, black pepper, and dried apricot.

    Out of Stock
  • SHUNGA WEB2017-Keichu nyoetsu warai dogu

    Keichu Nyoetsu Warai Dogu

    4 out of 5

    Proceeds from this blend will be donated to Planned Parenthood. Golden sandalwood, soft leather, champaca resin, and coconut.

    Out of Stock
  • krampus

    Krampus

    Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa’s wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away.

    Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black and rust-brown leathers, dusty rags, and wooden switches.

    Out of Stock
  • Krampus

    Krampus

    5 out of 5

    Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa’s wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away.

    Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black and rust-brown leathers, dusty rags, and wooden switches.

    Out of Stock
  • Krampus

    Krampus

    Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa’s wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away.

    Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black leather, dusty rags, and wooden switches.

    Out of Stock
  • kroenen

    Kroenen

    Shining black leather, gleaming metal, labdanum, and myrrh.

    Out of Stock
  • Kubla Khan

    Kubla Khan

    4 out of 5

    In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
    A stately pleasure-dome decree:
    Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
    Through caverns measureless to man
    Down to a sunless sea.

    So twice five miles of fertile ground
    With walls and towers were girdled round:
    And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
    Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
    And here were forests ancient as the hills,
    Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
    But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
    Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
    A savage place! as holy and enchanted
    As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
    By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
    And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
    As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
    A mighty fountain momently was forced:
    Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
    Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
    Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
    And ‘mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
    It flung up momently the sacred river.
    Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
    Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
    Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
    And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
    And ‘mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
    Ancestral voices prophesying war!

    The shadow of the dome of pleasure
    Floated midway on the waves;
    Where was heard the mingled measure
    From the fountain and the caves.
    It was a miracle of rare device,
    A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

    A damsel with a dulcimer
    In a vision once I saw:
    It was an Abyssinian maid,
    And on her dulcimer she played,
    Singing of Mount Abora.
    Could I revive within me
    Her symphony and song,
    To such a deep delight ‘twould win me
    That with music loud and long
    I would build that dome in air,
    That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
    And all who heard should see them there,
    And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
    His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
    Weave a circle round him thrice,
    And close your eyes with holy dread,
    For he on honey-dew hath fed
    And drunk the milk of Paradise.

    Through sunlit caves of ice, roses unfurl amidst dancing waves of serpentine opium smoke and amber tobacco, golden sandalwood, champaca, tea leaf, sugared lily, ginger, rich hay absolute, leather, dark vanilla, mandarin, peru balsam, and Moroccan jasmine.

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  • rops17WEB-Les Sataniques de Ontvoering

    L’Enlèvement

    Mandrake root, broom straw, leather, cinnamon, fig, dark musk, and tonka.

    Out of Stock
  • rops17WEB-L’Idole

    L’Idole

    3 out of 5

    Golden amber, juniper berry, white sage, leather, cardamom, and black pepper.

    Out of Stock
  • La Femme de Satan

    La Femme de Satan

    Nikolai Kalmakoff
    Red musk and cacao with clove, caramelized tobacco, aged patchouli, red currant, black leather, and vanilla-infused amber.

    Out of Stock
  • le-pere-fouttard

    Le Père Fouettard

    Once upon a time, there lived a stone-hearted, evil butcher and his grasping, covetous wife. Their shop was located near a parochial boarding school in a small village in eastern France. One day, three little boys passed the butcher’s shop. Their clothes were neat and starched, and the wicked couple fancied that they could see gold stitching on the little boys’ shirtcuffs. The butcher’s eyes gleamed with avarice, and he hatched an evil plan to rob the children. His wife enticed the little boys into the shop and fed them poisoned sweets. Her husband then slit their throats, chopped their little bodies into pieces, and put the pieces into barrels. Good Saint Nicholas discovered the monstrous crime, and, through God’s grace, resurrected the little boys. He confronted the vile butcher and forced him to atone for his crime. The butcher became Le Père Fouettard, Saint Nicholas’ partner on his Christmas travels. Dressed in a soot-covered black suit that mirrors Father Christmas’ suit of red and white, he travels with Saint Nick and dispenses coal and floggings to naughty children.

    Whip leather, coal dust, gaufrette, and black licorice.

    Out of Stock
  • Le Pere Fouettard

    Le Père Fouettard 2013

    Once upon a time, there lived a stone-hearted, evil butcher and his grasping, covetous wife. Their shop was located near a parochial boarding school in a small village in eastern France. One day, three little boys passed the butcher’s shop. Their clothes were neat and starched, and the wicked couple fancied that they could see gold stitching on the little boys’ shirtcuffs. The butcher’s eyes gleamed with avarice, and he hatched an evil plan to rob the children. His wife enticed the little boys into the shop and fed them poisoned sweets. Her husband then slit their throats, chopped their little bodies into pieces, and put the pieces into barrels. Good Saint Nicholas discovered the monstrous crime, and, through God’s grace, resurrected the little boys. He confronted the vile butcher and forced him to atone for his crime. The butcher became Le Père Fouettard, Saint Nicholas’ partner on his Christmas travels. Dressed in a soot-covered black suit that mirrors Father Christmas’ suit of red and white, he travels with Saint Nick and dispenses coal and floggings to naughty children.

    Whip leather, coal dust, gaufrette, and black licorice.

    Out of Stock
  • rops17WEB-Le Rideau Cramoisi

    Le Rideau Cramoisi

    Honeyed leather and tonka with clove, champaca musk, and opium tar.

    Out of Stock
  • rops17WEB-LE VICE SUPRÊME

    Le Vice Suprême

    Leather and a splash of gin, whiskey swirled tobacco, rose petals, and bourbon vanilla.

    Out of Stock
  • Les Infortunes de la Vertu

    Les Infortunes de la Vertu

    3 out of 5

    A pain-tinged, pleasure-soaked blend of leather, oakmoss, orange blossom, amber, and rose with a breath of virginal French florals and a hint of austere monastic penitential incense.

    Out of Stock
  • Lily Witch

    Lily Witch

    Lilith named this scent, and said this perfume should smell like witches. Her interpretation is swathed in anise, lime, almond, and witchin’ herbs, and holds a bouquet of pale, graceful lilies. The end result is a sweet, nutty absinthe’d lime with a hint of spice and leather.

    Out of Stock
  • Liz

    Liz

    4.33 out of 5

    A light, feminine vanilla floral perfume and a swirl of smoke and leather.

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  • Looming Spectre of Inutterable Horror

    Looming Spectre of Inutterable Horror

    4.5 out of 5

    Arizona vs United States

    We are not talking here about a federal law prohibiting the States from regulating bubble-gum advertising, or even the construction of nuclear plants. We are talking about a federal law going to the core of state sovereignty: the power to exclude.

    The Court opinion’s looming specter of inutterable horror—“[i]f §3 of the Arizona statute were valid, every State could give itself independent authority to prosecute federal registration violations”—seems to me not so horrible and even less looming.

    If securing its territory in this fashion is not within the power of Arizona, we should cease referring to it as a sovereign State.

    Wherein Scalia channels Lovecraft: raw frankincense and tobacco absolute with Russian leather, blackened champaca, bitter clove, red patchouli, bourbon vanilla and petitgrain.

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  • luperSNweb-riding crop
  • Mage

    Mage

    4.29 out of 5

    All mystique and thrumming power: gurjum balsam, Sumatran dragon's blood resin, olibanum, galangal, oleo gum resin, and frankincense.

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  • Manhattan

    Manhattan

    3.8 out of 5

    Sexuality, power, confidence. A meeting of modern, sleek elegance and rich, passionate history: sheer amber, black leather, white mint, lemon peel, white tea, grapefruit, kush, teakwood and orchid.

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  • Mars Corotiacus

    Mars Corotiacus

    Mars of the Cavalry

    A dark leather chypre with white sage and juniper berry.

    Out of Stock
  • Mary Read

    Mary Read

    4.67 out of 5

    Salt air, ocean mist, aged patchouli, sarsaparilla, watered-down rum, leather-tinged musk, and a spray of gunpowder.

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  • Mythological Scene, with a Warrior Addressing a Lady outside a Classical Mansion, Two Maidens Riding Unicorns behind

    Mythological Scene, with a Warrior Addressing a Lady Outside a Classical Mansion, Two Maidens Riding Unicorns Behind

    4 out of 5

    Suzanna Duncombe

    Florentine orris butter, red sandalwood, white patchouli, leather accord, and ambrette musk with a drifting eddy of King mandarin, wild bergamot, bourbon vanilla, and gold-limned saffron.

    Out of Stock
  • Nanny Ashtoreth

    Nanny Ashtoreth

    4 out of 5

    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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  • Olisbos

    Olisbos

    As for old flames and lovers-they’re none left.
    And since Milesians went against us,
    I’ve not seen a decent eight-fingered dildo.
    Yes, it’s just leather, but it helps us out.

    The ancient Greeks sure weren’t shy about taking care of business. The port city of Miletus was once famed throughout the Mediterranean as a source of excellent stone, wood, and padded leather dildos. This scent is the celebration of an age-old pastime: polished wood, well-loved leather, and olive oil.

    Out of Stock
  • Olisbos

    Olisbos

    As for old flames and lovers-they're none left.
    And since Milesians went against us,
    I've not seen a decent eight-fingered dildo.
    Yes, it's just leather, but it helps us out.

    The ancient Greeks sure weren't shy about taking care of business. The port city of Miletus was once famed throughout the Mediterranean as a source of excellent stone, wood, and padded leather dildos. This scent is the celebration of an age-old pastime: polished wood, well-loved leather, and olive oil.

    Out of Stock
  • Orc

    Orc

    3.75 out of 5

    Field grey courgette musk, roughly cured leather, and vetiver.

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  • lilweb-outlaw

    Outlaw

    5 out of 5

    Last year, we spent a little time running around ghost towns in California. There was one that wasn’t quite a ghost town, but was… it was an Old West movie set that was abandoned. A ghost town of a ghost town? It was so peculiar, and so very California. The three of us made mini movies together in that odd ghost town until it got too cold to hold a camera. This photo isn’t from that trip, but it reminds me so strongly of our silly little films.

    This one is for my little bandit: sarsaparilla, leather, and vanilla cream.

    Out of Stock
  • Paladin

    Paladin

    4.67 out of 5

    Immaculate white musk, sweet frankincense, bourbon vanilla, white leather, and shining armor.

    Out of Stock
  • Palmyra

    Palmyra

    5 out of 5

    White as hot steel the broad sun mounts the skies,
    The burning vapors quivering as they rise.
    No beast, no wandering bird, doth hither come,
    Not e’en an insect wakes her drowsy hum.
    But lo! the hills on which some dark curse rests,
    Barren their sides, all rocks their dreary crests,
    Approach with frowns, and form a savage dell,
    Where snakes retreat, and vultures love to dwell.
    Silent and strange along this craggy way,
    Rise countless towers that brave thy hand, Decay!
    Did busy men once live, and flourish here,
    Their palaces yon piles so old and drear?
    Draw nearer,—scan each building’s dark recess;
    What mean those crumbling bones, that mouldered dress?
    Yes, these are tombs, as many a mummy shows,
    Where man in distant ages found repose;
    The street of graves! where kings laid down their pride,
    And many a restless phantom yet may glide:
    Murdered Longinus here may wander still,
    And she whose dust was laid by Tibur’s hill,
    Far-famed Zenobia, for her kingdom wail,
    Sweeping with viewless form the desert gale.

    Deserted Tadmor! queen of Syria’s wild!
    Well mayst thou fill with rapture Fancy’s child;
    Yet not by day—too garish, harsh, and rude—
    The eye should scan thy fairy solitude;
    But when the still moon pours her hallowing beam,
    And crumbling shrine and palace whitely gleam,
    Then pause beneath the lofty arch, and there
    Survey the mouldings rich and sculptures fair;
    See how like spectral giants columns stand,
    And cast long shadows o’er the yellow sand;
    How the soft light on marble tracery plays,
    And busts look life-like through that silvery haze!
    Tread the long colonnade, where Traffic’s throng,
    And chief and sage were wont to sweep along;
    Ruin on ruin mouldering, still and lone,
    Arch following arch, fane, massy wall o’erthrown,
    And still beyond, some line of columns gray,
    In long perspective stretching far away,—
    These will the stars in desolation show,
    Shedding o’er all a soft ethereal glow,
    Till beauty scarce of earth around us beams,
    And like the home of spirits, Tadmor seems.

    And are no dwellers here?—no beings found
    Within Palmyra’s wide and haunted bound?
    Yes, come and see—where Beauty, in old days,
    Touched her sweet harp, and blushed at her own praise;
    There rears the desert-bird her callow brood,
    And shrieks along the untrodden solitude.
    Yes, come and see—where kings in council sate
    On ivory thrones, mid all the pomp of state;
    There mopes the owl with shining sleepless eye,
    And growls the hyena, stealing slowly by.
    Commerce in Tadmor fixed her gorgeous seat;
    Her voice was heard through every busy street:
    The caravan brought gems from Persia’s shore,
    Tyre sent her cloths, and Ind her golden store;
    And this long ages saw, till Syria’s mart
    Drew and poured forth wealth’s streams,—a mighty heart!
    Now come and see—within yon pillared walls,
    Mid tottering shafts and broken capitals,
    Squalid and lorn, cut off from all mankind,
    In tattered garbs, to wretchedness consigned,
    A few poor Arabs crouch,—with senseless stare
    They view the pomp and beauty lingering there,
    Tend their lean goats, to Mecca idly bow,
    The only merchants, only princes now!

    City of Solomon! whose fame and power,
    And wondrous wealth, began in earth’s young hour;
    How, mid her fallen pomp, thought wanders back
    O’er vanished days,—a sad yet dazzling track.
    Arabia’s fierce and desolating horde,
    Rome’s conquering eagle, Babylonia’s sword,
    All we behold, but chief one form appears,
    Rising all radiant from the gulf of years:
    Proud is her step, her dark eye varying oft,
    Now flashing fire, now languishingly soft;
    The jewelled crown well suits that brow serene,—
    ’T is great Zenobia, Tadmor’s glorious queen.
    Beauty hath oft put War’s dread helmet on,
    Since her who ruled earth-conquering Babylon;
    Yet not Semiramis, who boasts her bays,
    Nor Gaul’s bold maid, who graced these later days,
    Swayed the rough hearts of men with wilder power,
    Or met more bravely battle’s dreadful hour,
    Than she on whom pleased fame and fortune smiled,
    The dark-haired mistress of the Syrian wild.

    But now the conqueror’s brighter hour has passed,
    And fair Zenobia’s star goes down at last.
    The Roman comes,—his legions file around
    Doomed Tadmor’s walls, to deafening trumpets’ sound.
    Aurelian bids the desert princess yield,
    But hark! her answer—clashing sword and shield!
    Girt by her chiefs, her proud plumed head she rears,
    Defies the foe, and each faint spirit cheers;
    Her milk-white courser prances round the wall,
    Her gestures, looks, and words inspiring all.
    Through opened gates her troops are sallying now,
    Still in their front appears that dauntless brow;
    Where’er her silver wand is seen to wave,
    There rush the boldest, and there fall the brave,
    And when borne back by Rome’s immense array,
    She fights retreating, pauses still to slay.

    But ceaseless war, and famine’s tortures slow,
    Wear bravery out, and bring Palmyra low.
    ’T was then the Queen, to crush the despot’s might,
    Passed from the gates beneath the veil of night,
    Hers still the hope from Persia aid to call,
    Save her loved land, and stay Palmyra’s fall.
    With fluttering heart, but calm and fearless eye,
    Across the trackless desert see her fly!
    On swept the camel with unflagging speed,
    As though he knew that hour of deadly need;
    Her Syrian guards o’er Arab steeds might lean,
    But not keep pace with her, their flying Queen.
    What recked she drifting sand or scorching sun?
    What recked she pain or toil, that mission done?
    Come hunger, thirst,—on, on her course must be,
    Each swift-winged hour brought, Tadmor, doom to thee!

    Lo! on their track, through clouds of rising sand,
    Bright helms were seen, now glittered spear and brand;
    Then horsemen forward dashed,—a long-drawn row,—
    ’T was Rome’s dread troops, the fierce pursuing foe!
    They saw, and hailed,—across the waste was borne
    The hoarse, deep note of many a trumpet-horn;
    And on they came, like winds careering fast,
    Not half so fearful sweeps the simoom blast;
    They brought for her who scoured those desert plains,
    Woe and disgrace, captivity and chains.

    But still Zenobia flew; the steeds that bore
    Her guards had sunk,—those chiefs could aid no more;
    And now that camel shaped his course alone,—
    He reared his head as louder blasts were blown,
    And strained each nerve, his soft black drooping eye
    Telling of suffering, fear, and agony;
    Unhappy, faithful thing! that still would brave
    Toil, peril, death, his royal charge to save.

    ’T was vain: as hounds at length chase down the deer,
    The Roman horsemen drew more near and near;
    Though some fell back, or sank upon the way,
    Yet others, slowly gaining, reached the prey.
    They halted, wheeled,—their armor’s dazzling sheen
    Formed a dread wall round Syria’s fated queen;
    Hope fled her breast,—she yielded,—ruined now,
    But still majestic shone that high-born brow.
    Ah! as they led their prisoner o’er the plain,
    No more to rule, but grace a tyrant’s train,
    And, exiled, pine where wooded Anio sweeps,
    Far from her desert home and palmy steeps,
    The sun of Syria’s power went down in night,
    On Freedom’s tree there rained a withering blight,
    Glory to proud Palmyra sighed adieu,
    And o’er her shrines Destruction’s angel flew.

    – Nicholas Michell

    Golden amber and galbanum with frankincense, myrrh, Balm of Gilead, vanilla-infused sandalwood, sand-smoothed leather, and Ceylon cinnamon.

    All proceeds after cost of manufacture benefit the UNHCR’s efforts to aid refugees and meet humanitarian needs.

    Out of Stock
  • PENINSULA DELIRIORUM

    Palus Putridinis

    The Marsh of Corruption: murky patchouli and dank oakmoss drowning in a mire of leathery bourbon vanilla, bitter clove, bog cypress, cumin, and vetiver.

    Out of Stock
  • Pan Twardowski and the Devil

    Pan Twardowski and the Devil

    Michał Elwiro Andriolli
    Brown leather, bay leaf, tobacco leaf, lavender, and oudh.

    Out of Stock
  • Perversion

    Perversion

    4.5 out of 5

    The perfect scent to wear to your next bondage ball, dungeon adventure or sojourn to your favorite pleasure dome. Smoky rum and black tobacco with a whisper of steamy leather with a splash of crystalline chardonnay, layered over a sensual, sweet, and deceptively magnetic base of tonka.

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  • Phallus Parade

    Phallus Parade

    Leather and black tea with champa blossom, incense, ambrette seed, and black truffle accord.

    Out of Stock
  • Picture Books in Winter

    Picture Books in Winter

    Summer fading, winter comes
    Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
    Window robins, winter rooks,
    And the picture story-books.

    Water now is turned to stone
    Nurse and I can walk upon;
    Still we find the flowing brooks
    In the picture story-books.

    All the pretty things put by,
    Wait upon the children’s eye,
    Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
    In the picture story-books.

    We may see how all things are
    Seas and cities, near and far,
    And the flying fairies’ looks,
    In the picture story-books.

    How am I to sing your praise,
    Happy chimney-corner days,
    Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
    Reading picture story-books?
    – Robert Louis Stevenson

    The wild joy of story time on a frosty winter morning: the well-loved, well-worn leather of old fairy tale books, the sweet mustiness of antique paper, fae glimmers of twinkling crystalline flowers, and a chunk of Scottish Tablet.

    Out of Stock
  • Pottaskefill

    Pottaskefill

    Favorite pastime: eating the scrapings from unwashed pots. Waste not, want not? 

    Salt licorice, birch tar, black pepper, and leather.

    Out of Stock
  • Quintessence of Dust

    Quintessence of Dust

    4.33 out of 5

    “What a piece of work is a man!”
    “What is this quintessence of dust?”

    The passing: beeswax and smoke, yellowed paper and well-worn leather books, droplets of spilled ink, faded incense, blood-tinged salty tears, and the metal of the knife that skewers that illiterate zombie philistine’s portrait.

    Out of Stock
  • Rogue

    Rogue

    4.5 out of 5

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

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  • Sara Pezzini

    Sara Pezzini

    5 out of 5

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

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  • Satan Summoning His Legions

    Satan Summoning His Legions

    5 out of 5

    Thomas Stothard
    White leather and cypress-tinged white musk with cardamom, smouldering incense, Ceylon cinnamon and white sandalwood.

    Out of Stock
  • Sherlock

    Sherlock Holmes

    3.67 out of 5

    My name is Sherlock Holmes.  It is my business to know what other people don’t know.

    A fastidiously clean scent, with a dash of pipe and cigarette tobacco. Faintly beneath, you catch the fragrance of a smear of greasepaint, a stray horsehair, and a whisper of Moroccan leather and rosin.

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  • skekNa the Slave Master

    skekNa the Slave Master

    3 out of 5

    SkekNa the Slave Master remains silent most of the time, except for occasional sneers and hisses. His action is dominated by kicking, whipping, and herding little Podling slaves. Between meals, the Skeksis sought out skekNa the Slave Master for scraps to appease the raging hunger they always felt. SkekNa was purely and openly evil from the beginning, and without him the work of the Castle would never have been done.

    The essence of vile gluttony: an abundance of spices, sweet cakes, thick creams, and opulent liqueurs mixed with the scent of whip leather and rusted padlocks.

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  • Speak! Speak! 1895 Sir John Everett Millais, Bt 1829-1896 Presented by the Trustees of the Chantrey Bequest 1895 https://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N01584

    Speak! Speak!

    J.E. Millais

    Brown leather, tonka bean, guiac wood, and brown musk chilled by white frankincense, eucalyptus, and calla lily.

    Out of Stock
  • lil2016web-spider-witch

    Spider Witch

    My little witch, my little lilt of laughter: this scent is for the sorceress you are and the sorceress you will grow to be. 7-year aged patchouli, red musk, and bourbon vanilla with sweet oudh, hazelnut, amber chypre, leather.

    Out of Stock
  • Sagittarius

    Starstruck: Sagittarius 2016

    Mutable fire: the essence of optimism. This is a perfume of energetic positivity, freedom, exploration, tolerant idealism, and spontaneity. This is the scent of the wandering philosopher, the fearless adventurer, and the outspoken activist. Rugged cedar and white pine, wise rowan and California white sage, soft mosses, well-worn leather, peppery tomato leaf, and fiery saffron.

    Out of Stock
  • lil2016web-stonehenge-at-dusk-1

    Stonehenge at Dusk

    5 out of 5

    Several years ago, I went to Stonehenge for the very first time. Walking through the center of the stones was transformative, and watching the sun set behind the stones stole my breath like a cold dagger of joy plunged into my heart. Teddy and I wanted to share that moment – the feel of the place, the enigmatic majesty of the stones, the mist-shrouded history – with Lilith, so we took her there last March.

    I cannot put into words what it felt like to watch her run and laugh through the standing stones, to watch her skip and laugh and dance through the shadows and sunsets of thousands upon thousands of years.

    Wiltshire’s burnt-tip orchids, a scattering of dandelions, crushed grass, wild daffodil, and chips of fog-wet bluestone.

    Out of Stock
  • Tezcatlipoca

    Tezcatlipoca

    4 out of 5

    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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  • Black Tower

    The Black Tower

    5 out of 5

    Say that the men of the old black tower,
    Though they but feed as the goatherd feeds,
    Their money spent, their wine gone sour,
    Lack nothing that a soldier needs,
    That all are oath-bound men:
    Those banners come not in.

    There in the tomb stand the dead upright,
    But winds come up from the shore:
    They shake when the winds roar,
    Old bones upon the mountain shake.

    Those banners come to bribe or threaten,
    Or whisper that a man's a fool
    Who, when his own right king's forgotten,
    Cares what king sets up his rule.
    If he died long ago
    Why do you dread us so?

    There in the tomb drops the faint moonlight,
    But wind comes up from the shore:
    They shake when the winds roar,
    Old bones upon the mountain shake.

    The tower's old cook that must climb and clamber
    Catching small birds in the dew of the morn
    When we hale men lie stretched in slumber
    Swears that he hears the king's great horn.
    But he's a lying hound:
    Stand we on guard oath-bound!

    There in the tomb the dark grows blacker,
    But wind comes up from the shore:
    They shake when the winds roar,
    Old bones upon the mountain shake.

    A sepulchral, desolate scent. Long-dead soldiers, oath-bound; the perfume of their armor, the chill wind that surges through their tower, white bone and blackened steel: white sandalwood, ambergris, wet ozone, galbanum and leather with ebony, teak, burnt grasses, English ivy and a hint of red wine.

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  • Purple Snails 11

    The Book

    Brown leather, tonka, vanilla bourbon tar, and a thin whiff of rose.

    Out of Stock
  • Book

    The Book

    5 out of 5

    Old, yellowed parchment paper, tattered leather bindings. There’s a distinct warmth to the scent, though it is ancient and brittle.

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  • The Bow & Crown of Conquest

    The Bow & Crown of Conquest

    4.3 out of 5

    And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.

    Nobility and haughtiness befitting the Antichrist: sage, carnation and cedar with lavender, vanilla, white musk and leather.

    And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.

    Out of Stock
  • The Buggre Alle This Bible

    The Buggre Alle This Bible

    The book was commonly known as the Buggre Alle This Bible. The lengthy compositor’s error, if such it may be called, occurs in the book of Ezekiel, chapter 48, verse five:

    2. And bye the border of Dan, fromme the east side to the west side, a portion for Afher.
    3. And bye the border of Afhter, fromme the east side even untoe the west side, a portion for Naphtali.
    4. And bye the border of Naphtali, from the east side untoe the west side, a portion for Manaffeh.
    5. Buggre all this for a Larke. I amme sick to mye Hart of typefettinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges noe more than a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne a daye laike thif Ennywone half an oz. of Sense should bee oute in the Sunneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the liuelong daie inn thif mowldey olde By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe.
    6 And bye the border of Ephraim, from the east fide even untoe the west fide, a portion for Reuben.

    [The Buggre Alle This Bible was also noteworthy for having twenty seven verses in the third chapter of Genesis, instead of the more usual twenty four.

    They followed verse 24, which in the King James version reads:

    “So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life,” and read:

    25 And the Lord spake unto the Angel that guarded the eastern gate, saying Where is the flaming sword which was given unto thee?
    26 And the Angel said, I had it here only a moment ago, I must have put it down some where, forget my own head next.
    27 And the Lord did not ask him again.

    It appears that these verses were inserted during the proof stage. In those days it was common practice for printers to hang proof sheets to the wooden beams outside their shops, for the edification of the populace and some free proofreading, and since the whole print run was subsequently burned anyway, no one bothered to take up this matter with the nice Mr. A. Ziraphale, who ran the bookshop two doors along and was always so helpful with the translations, and whose handwriting was instantly recognizable.]

    Crumbling paper and ancient cracked leather with a touch of tobacco leaf and incense.

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  • Gatekeeper

    The Gatekeeper

    A dry perfume, solemn and riddled with ancient, whispered secrets: brittle bones, the well-worn leather spines of forgotten books, crumbling papyrus, and the warm, strange scent of yellowed, crumbling manuscripts.

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  • the-ghosts-high-noon

    The Ghosts’ High Noon

    Sir William Schwenck Gilbert

    A swank affair: moss and dead leaves – amber-gilded, wrapped in balsam and cracked leather – crowned with mums, with a shard of gleaming, bone-white orris root.

    Out of Stock
  • lil2016web-the-library-of-john-dee

    The Library of John Dee

    4 out of 5

    Last March, we took Lilith to the John Dee exhibit at the Royal College of Physicians in London.  She loved it, especially the bits about his cryptography and the video presentation of his life and works.

    I loved her loving it.

    Truly, there’s little that warms an old occultist’s heart quite like holding her daughter’s hand while gazing at books salvaged from John Dee’s own library, or looking at our reflections – together – in Dee’s scrying mirror. Worn leather bindings, the dry crackle of ancient paper, styrax and onycha, frankincense, a drop of candle wax, and the barest fleck of dried Tudor roses.

    Out of Stock
  • Magdalena

    The Magdalena

    Frankincense, myrrh, leather, ti leaf, saint wood, benzoin, and labdanum absolute.

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  • The Manuscript

    The Manuscript

    5 out of 5

    A ghost story – Your father didn’t tell me it was a ghost story…

    It’s not, Sir, it’s – more like a story… with a ghost in it.

    A leather-bound manuscript, ink barely dry. A Gothic ghost tale, personified. The pages are permeated with a preternatural, otherworldly quality – but only slightly, as the ghost is a counterpoint; leather and paper and splotches of ink, with a hint of ghostly chill.

    Out of Stock
  • Purple Snails 4

    The Mark

    White sandalwood and white leather, bourbon vanilla and bourbon vetiver.

    Out of Stock
  • Marquis de Carabas

    The Marquis De Carabas

    3.5 out of 5

    He wore a huge dandyish black coat that was not quite a frock coat nor exactly a trench coat, and high black boots, and, beneath his coat, raggedy clothes. His eyes burned white in an extremely dark face. And he grinned whie teeth, momentarily, as if at a private joke of his own, and bowed to Richard, and said, “De Carabas, at your service, and you are…?”

    A splash of bay rum, leather, dusty black wool, massoia bark, and opium residue.

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  • Rat Speakers

    The Rat Speakers

    4 out of 5

    For a moment, Richard was blinded by the sudden light. He was standing in a huge, vaulted room, and underground hall, filled with firelight and smoke. Small fires burned around the room. Shadowy people stood by the flames, roasting small animals on spits. People scurried from fire to fire. It reminded him of hell—or rather, the way that he had thought of Hell as a schoolboy. The smoke irritated his lungs, and he coughed. A hundred eyes turned, then, and stared at him; a hundred eyes, unblinking and unfriendly.

    A snuffling, brown scent: earthy patchouli, sage, russet sandalwood, grimy leather, fig leaf, and lemongrass.

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  • The Robotic Scarab

    The Robotic Scarab

    3.6 out of 5

    Pinpoints of red light beaming from its eyes scan the room, and in a flutter of leather wings, it scuttles across the wooden floorboards.

    Polished metallic notes, glossy leather, frankincense, star anise, and thin lubricating oils.

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  • Purple Snails 5

    The Two Old Men

    Sweet brown leather, cacao absolute, coffee bean absolute, and teakwood.

    Out of Stock
  • The Witch and the Mandrake

    The Witch and the Mandrake

    Henry Fuseli
    Mandrake root, apple blossom, dusty brown sandalwood, coconut milk, woodmusk, and soft leather.

    Out of Stock
  • to-kindle-a-flame-in-our-frozen-veins

    To Kindle a Flame in Our Frozen Veins

    5 out of 5

    Till they say, as they hear us — poor dead, poor dead! —
    “Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed —
    Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
    To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
    Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
    As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart —
    For it’s turn of the year and All Souls’ night,
    When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.”

    The dead’s cold black flame: opoponax, elemi, juniper, black musk, leather, and wilted mint.

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  • Unicorn and Ram

    Unicorn and Ram

    Wooly musk, soft leather, cashmere, cardamom, and leather oudh.

    Out of Stock
  • pleasures of the imagination WEB-5

    V

    Black leather, red sandalwood, orris root, tobacco absolute, oakmoss, and sweet patchouli.

    Out of Stock
  • Devil's Pet Baits

    V. The Devil’s Pet Baits

    “It’s a bonny thing,” said he. “Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil’s pet baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone is not yet twenty years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and is remarkable in having every characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallised charcoal. Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the gallows and the prison? I’ll lock it up in my strong box now and drop a line to the Countess to say that we have it.”

    The madness of avarice: rich patchouli-infused golden amber, leather, black oudh, and almond.

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  • Sachs

    Violens

    5 out of 5

    Rugged and understated: five sandalwoods, dusty leather, and light musk.

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  • Volt

    Volt

    A living electrical battery, Volt plays the wiseass clown for his teammates, using humor to mask his awkwardness and his need for acceptance.

    Leather with a shock of eucalyptus, green mint, elemi, ravintsara and lime.

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  • Wanda

    Wanda

    3.83 out of 5

    “And yet a restless, always unsatisfied craving for the nudity of paganism,” she interrupted, “but that love, which is the highest joy, which is divine simplicity itself, is not for you moderns, you children of reflection. It works only evil in you. As soon as you wish to be natural, you become common. To you nature seems something hostile; you have made devils out of the smiling gods of Greece, and out of me a demon. You can only exorcise and curse me, or slay yourselves in bacchantic madness before my altar. And if ever one of you has had the courage to kiss my red mouth, he makes a barefoot pilgrimage to Rome in penitential robes and expects flowers to grow from his withered staff, while under my feet roses, violets, and myrtles spring up every hour, but their fragrance does not agree with you. Stay among your northern fogs and Christian incense; let us pagans remain under the debris, beneath the lava; do not disinter us. Pompeii was not built for you, nor our villas, our baths, our temples. You do not require gods. We are chilled in your world.”

    Along with Loviatar, she has become something of a Patron Goddess of all Dominatrixes, Wanda is the breathtakingly beautiful sable-wrapped marble queen of Sacher-Masoch’s fantasies. Her scent is a deep red merlot with a faint hint of leather, sexual musk and body heat over crushed roses, violets and myrtle.

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  • Western Diamondback

    Western Diamondback

    5 out of 5

    Snake Oil with leather, tonka bean, red sandalwood, and sage.

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  • Whip

    Whip

    4.13 out of 5

    Agony and ecstasy: black leather and damp red rose.

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  • Whispers of Monstrous Things

    Whispers of Monstrous Things

    Pointing to a chair, table, and pile of books, the old man now left the room; and when I sat down to read I saw that the books were hoary and mouldy, and that they included old Morryster’s wild Marvells of Science, the terrible Saducismus Triumphatus of Joseph Glanvill, published in 1681, the shocking Daemonolatreia of Remigius, printed in 1595 at Lyons, and worst of all, the unmentionable Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, in Olaus Wormius’ forbidden Latin translation; a book which I had never seen, but of which I had heard monstrous things whispered.

    Yellowed fragments of vellum and parchment scrawled with unnamable horrors invoking ghastly abominations: decaying papers and moldering leather with sickly-sweet tonka, inky musk, black sandalwood, black fig, sugandh kokila, and pimento leaf.

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  • Witchcraft Scene

    Witchcraft Scene

    Attributed to Luis Paret y Alcaza
    Black lily and black pepper with narcissus, white musk, and white sandalwood.

    Out of Stock