Blue Moon Perfume OilAdd to cart
The spirit of the full moon is capricious, intense and passionate, yet still distant, aloof and cold. Luna herself governs glamours, bewitchments and dream-work, innocent wonder, transient pleasure and delight, the Moment, impulse, mystery and veils. The Blue Moon is one of her rarest manifestations, and this scent is formulated to encapsulate her most complex and profound nature:
Mugwort and bay, for psychic sensitivity…
Juniper, for divination through dreams…
Lavender and almond oil for clarity and relaxation…
Orchid and purple sage for complexity, wisdom and noscere…
…with a potent lunar-charged blend of exquisite woods, moonflower, Madagascan ylang ylang, Florentine iris, starry bergamot, elemi, green tea absolute, palmarosa, cucumber, Clary sage, lettuce leaf, melilot trefoils, and wood aloes.
Art by Drew Rausch!
Druids Cutting Mistletoe on the Sixth Day of the Moon Perfume OilOut of Stock
Henri Paul Motte
Burdock root, mugwort, birch sap, oak bark, watermint, ash leaves, wych elm, hazel nuts, juniper boughs, black poplar, yew, and dew-laden mistletoe berries.
Glass Eye Perfume OilAdd to cart
“How’d you lose your eye?”
Wednesday shoveled half a dozen pieces of bacon into his mouth, chewed, wiped the fat from his lips with the back of his hand. “Didn’t lose it,” he said. “I still know exactly where it is.”
The depths of Mímisbrunnr: mugwort and frankincense, grey amber and ash.
The Norns’ Farmhouse Perfume OilAdd to cart
The farmhouse was dark and shut up. The meadows were overgrown and seemed abandoned. The farm roof was crumbling at the back; it was covered in black plastic sheeting. They jolted over a ridge and Shadow saw it there.
It was silver-gray and it was higher than the farm-house. It was the most beautiful tree Shadow had ever seen: spectral and yet utterly real and almost perfectly symmetrical. It also looked instantly familiar: he wondered if he had dreamed it, then he realized that no, he had seen it before, or a representation of it man, many times. It was Wednesday’s silver tie pin.
The VW bus jolted and bumped across the meadow, and it came to a stop about twenty feet from the trunk of the tree.
There were three women standing by the tree. At first glance Shadow thought they were the Zorya, but no, they were three women he did not know. They looked tired and bored, as if they had been standing there a long time. Each of them held a wooden ladder. The biggest also carried a brown sack. They looked like a set of Russian dolls: a tall one – she was Shadow’s height, or even taller – a middle-sized one, and a woman so short and hunched that at first glance Shadow wrongly supposed her to be a child. They looked so much alike that Shadow was certain the women must be sisters.
The smallest of the women dropped to a curtsey when the bus drew up. The other two just stared. They were sharing a cigarette, and they smoked it down to the filter before one of them stubbed it out against a root.
Dusty, ancient wood, horehound, and sage, with viper’s bugloss, mugwort, chamomile, nettle, apple blossom, chervil, and ashes.