Cypress, Patchouli, and Mud Perfume OilOut of Stock
JK Men Are Very Good LOL Perfume OilOut of Stock
What a piece of worke is a man! how Noble in
Reason? how infinite in faculty? in forme and mouing
how expresse and admirable? in Action, how like an Angel?
in apprehension, how like a God?
The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet,
to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me-
nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
Due to the way Facebook’s hate-speech algorithms work, casual observations such as “Men are trash” or “Men are scum” end up being treated with the same gravity as words meant to attack and harass marginalized communities.Vanity Fair has covered exactly how this came to pass, and why they won’t be changing them anytime soon.
As a small business that has always drawn inspiration from the historical, the erotic, the political, the esoteric, we have frequently run afoul of Facebook’s policies. Iironic, isn’t it, considering the horrifying abuses that still pass muster by the site’s standards – which larger companies, foreign countries, and yes, certain MEN seem to effortlessly circumvent?
And we’re not alone: our nightlife friends The Nobodies’ event page for their upcoming showcase of drag king talent, playfully entitled “Men Are Trash,” was deleted almost immediately, eliciting a warning from the website.
Their solution was to create a new event entitled “JK MEN ARE VERY GOOD LOL.” But this too ended up being deleted, and as a consequence of back-to-back “hate speech” violations, the group’s entire Facebook presence was removed.
So… what is a man, exactly? And what is it possible to say about him? We really, honestly couldn’t tell you. Would Hamlet’s comment “Man delights not me” end up getting deleted? Will our posts promoting this scent?
At least we’ll all be in great company in Facebook jail.
Pipe tobacco, leather, mid-century aftershave, a belt of bourbon and a grassy smear of mud from a fairway divot.
Proceeds from this scent will be donated to NYC’s Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Community Center.
Move On, Please Perfume OilOut of Stock
The people of Buckingham and neighbourhood are troubled at the appearance of a ghost, the truth of which is vouched for by a well-known farmer living in the neighbourhood. About six miles from the outskirts of the town there stands a weather-beaten handpost at the corner of four cross-roads, and also a small plantation of young oak saplings at the terminus. Near to this spot some few nights ago the farmer referred to, accompanied by a friend, was driving his horse and trap along the roadway. The night was well advanced and dark, when suddenly the farmer saw standing a few yards in front of him a black object. “What’s that?” he said to his friend, and aloud to the figure, “Hullo! there; move on, please.” There was no answer, and the figure remained almost motionless. It was completely enveloped in a long black sheet, and had the ghastly appearance of a headless woman. Simultaneously the horse saw it, and trembled like a leaf, as if paralysed with fear. Again the farmer cried, “What do you do there? Move on, please.” But there was no response, and the apparition remained still. The horse became restive, and commenced backing into a ditch. At this stage the driver’s companion got down, took the reins, and endeavoured to back by the spot. Then for a minute or so their queer visitant disappeared. As the trap again faced the roadway the occupants were greatly alarmed at the further appearance of the black, sombre figure a few yards ahead of them, in the same motionless position as before. Their situation was now getting positively serious. The farmer, whose presence of mind had stood him in good stead, now finding his nerve on the point of giving way, asked the apparition in the name of God to speak. Then it was that the spectre slowly glided away, and appeared to float through the thick-set bordered hedge. The animal at once galloped off at a rattling pace towards the village they were bound for. Other people in the district have related their experiences, and the belief now prevails that there is a ghost to be seen, and not a little surprising, the spot referred to has been less frequented of late.
– Luton Reporter, 31 December 1897
Mud-spattered wagon wheels, crushed grasses, thick tufts of moss, and thorny branches creeping over a wild, overgrown and gnarled ash hedge.
Peasants Fleeing (Witchcraft) Perfume OilOut of Stock
Adriaen Pietersz van de Venne
Yellow balsam, well-worn leather, dark musk, and mud-spattered wool.