Musk

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    ‘Tis the Voice of the Lobster Perfume Oil

    ‘Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare
    ‘You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.’
    As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
    Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.
    When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,
    And will talk in contemptuous tones of the shark;
    But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,
    His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.

    I passed by his garden and marked, with one eye,
    How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie:
    The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,
    While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.
    When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,
    Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon:
    While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,
    And concluded the banquet by —

    A woody, musky-weird base glooping over with blackberry preserves, a twist of mandarin, strawberry juice, pulverized watermelon, and a handful of smushed gardenia petals.

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  • A Humorous Jest Perfume Oil

    A sheer blueberry musk with neroli, gardenia blossoms, and coconut.

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    A Silhouette Perfume Oil

    Yellowing parchment and lampblack, a drop of lilac, a smear of labdanum, and a splash of white musk.

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    A View of Cascading Cherry Blossoms Perfume Oil

    A tumble of cherry blossoms falling into a pool of white musk and crushed strawberries.

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    A World of One Color Perfume Oil

    Winter solitude
    In a world of one color
    The sound of wind

    – Matsuo Basho

    A blur of grey-white: ambergris accord, ice musk, black tea, Himalayan cedar, coconut husk, and frost.

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    Abe Sapien Perfume Oil

    A soft aquatic musk with kelp and juniper.

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    Aeval – Resurrected Perfume Oil

    A raven-haired Fairy Queen of Ireland.

    One of her eternal duties dictates that she must hold a midnight court every season and hear the pleas of married Irishwomen. The court serves only to determine whether or not husbands are adequately serving their wife's sexual needs. A judicious yet powerfully sensual blend, a mingling of justice and sexuality: sage, sweet pea, bold pale musk and warm tonka.

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    Aglaea Perfume Oil

    Splendour

    Three golden ambers, bright musk, peach wine and myrtle.

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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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    All-Father Perfume Oil

    Wednesday guided his wolf—now a huge and charcoal-gray beast with green eyes—over to Shadow. Shadow’s mount caracoled away from it, and Shadow stroked its neck and told it not to be afraid. Its tiger tail swished, aggressively. It occurred to Shadow that there was another wolf, a twin to the one that Wednesday was riding, keeping pace with them in the sand dunes, just a moment out of sight.

    “Do you know me, Shadow?” said Wednesday. He rode his wolf with his head high. His right eye glittered and flashed, his left eye was dull. He wore a cloak with a deep, monklike cowl, and his face stared out from the shadows. “I told you I would tell you my names. This is what they call me. I am called Glad-of-War, Grim, Raider, and Third. I am One-Eyed. I am called Highest, and True-Guesser. I am Grimnir, and I am the Hooded One. I am All-Father, and I am Gondlir Wand-Bearer. I have as many names as there are winds, as many titles as there are ways to die. My ravens are Huginn and Muninn, Thought and Memory; my wolves are Freki and Geri; my horse is the gallows.” Two ghostly-gray ravens, like transparent skins of birds, landed on Wednesday’s shoulders, pushed their beaks into the side of Wednesday’s head as if tasting his mind, and flapped out into the world once more.

    Oak leaves and ash, honey mead, wolf musk, a flutter of black feathers, and bronze fennel.

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    Alleviate the Frenzy Perfume Oil

    Nor should you wonder at all these things which are natural to women, and are particularly expected of the condition of virgins; because of retention of the sexual fluid, the heart and surrounding areas are enveloped in a morbid and moist exudation: this is especially true of the more lascivious females, inclined to venery, passionate women who are most eager to experience physical pleasure; if she is of this type she cannot ever be relieved by any aid except that of her parents who are advised to find her a husband. Having done so the man’s strong and vigorous intercourse alleviated the frenzy. She married an energetic young man, who, having discharged his marital responsibilities with vigor, she took to this with enthusiasm; under this appropriate treatment she flourished, revived, bloomed with the rosy shade of well-being, and was entirely restored to health.
    – Zacutus Lusitanus, Praxis Medica Admiranda, 1637

    Lascivious females! Are you suffering from morbid, moist exudations? Restore your health and the rosy glow of well-being! Heady peach musk aglow with sugared amber.

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    An Oiran of the Yoshiwara and Her Customer Perfume Oil

    Kadu leaf, white lavender, plum and ume blossom, a drop of pale cedar and crystal musk.

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    Andradite Phoenix Perfume Oil

    A species of garnet. The scent is a swirl of deep red, brown-black, bronze, and green: red and black vegetal musk, sunset amber, oakmoss, mahogany, and champaca.

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    Antony Perfume Oil

    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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    Are You Digging on my Grave? Perfume Oil

    Ah, are you digging on my grave
    My loved one?–planting rue?”
    –“No; yesterday he went to wed
    One of the brightest wealth has bred.
    ‘It cannot hurt her now,’ he said,
    That I ‘should not be true.'”

    Then who is digging on my grave?
    My nearest dearest kin?”
    –“Ah, no; they sit and think, ‘What use!
    What good will planting flowers produce?
    No tendance of her mound can loose
    Her spirit from Death’s gin.'”

    But someone digs upon my grave?
    My enemy? — prodding sly?”
    –“Nay; when she heard you had passed the Gate
    That shuts on all flesh soon or late,
    She thought you no more worth her hate,
    And cares not where you lie.”

    Then, who is digging on my grave?
    Say — since I have not guessed!”
    — “O it is I, my mistress dear,
    Your little dog, who still lives near,
    And much I hope my movements here
    Have not disturbed your rest?”

    Ah, yes! You dig upon my grave …
    Why flashed it not on me
    That one true heart was left behind!
    What feeling do we ever find
    To equal among humankind
    A dog’s fidelity!”

    Mistress, I dug upon your grave
    To bury a bone, in case
    I should be hungry near this spot
    When passing on my daily trot.
    I am sorry, but I quite forgot
    It was your resting-place.”

    – Thomas Hardy

    Snuggly musk, milky puppy breath, upturned earth, and a gently-gnawed bone.

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    Ashlultum Perfume Oil

    Babylonian musk, vanilla tea, tonka, tobacco, coconut, hyssop, and lilac.

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    Ava Perfume Oil

    It’s always a bit weird with family. A scant two-hundred years old, there doesn’t seem to be anything that roots Ava to her past. Her scent is utterly contemporary, and, like her personality, it is impulsive, capricious, and dangerous. Voluptuous and brittle, lovely and toxic:  sheer vanilla musk with tuberose, red mandarin, and the sweet poison of white almond.

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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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    Aziraphale Perfume Oil

    Many people, meeting Aziraphale for the first time, formed three impressions: that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Two of these were wrong; Heaven is not England, whatever certain poets may have thought, and angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort.

    Ethereal musk, blonde woods, and dusty Bible accord.

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    Baghdad – Resurrected Perfume Oil

    Amber, saffron and bergamot with mandarin, nutmeg, Bulgar rose, musk and sandalwood.

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    Bawd Perfume Oil

    Pray you, without any more virginal fencing, will
    You use him kindly? He will line your apron with
    Gold.

    Raucous red velvet musk, sweet patchouli, billowing peony, bourbon vanilla, and a cascade of red rose petals.

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    Becoming Thunder Perfume Oil

    “You got to understand the god thing. It’s not magic. It’s about being you, but the you that people believe in. It’s about being the concentrated, magnified, essence of you. It’s about becoming thunder, or the power of a running horse, or wisdom. You take all the belief and become bigger, cooler, more than human. You crystallize.”

    This is the scent of the absolute: this is the perfected manifestation of the absolute essence of not who you are, but what you represent to others. This is You as Symbol, your spirit separated and combined, distilled and condensed into one archetype. Skin musk and 20-year aged frankincense, a sprig of asphodel, a splash of soma, a lightning-streak of sharp ozone, and a stream of ambrosia.

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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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    Benitoite Phoenix Perfume Oil

    California’s state gem! Precious and rare, formed under pressure in liminal spaces: a deep, clear musk as blue as the night sky cascading over the Pacific.

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  • Bewitched Perfume Oil

    Deep, luscious green and berry scents that evoke images of woodland witchcraft and the raw power of nature: blackberry, sage, green tea, wild berries and dark musk.

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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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  • Black Phoenix Academy for Wayward Ghouls Perfume Oil

    Lilith had to endure distance learning for all of 7th grade, but because we were working throughout the lockdown, Lilith ended up going to school a few days a week from home and a few days a week from the Lab. (A million thanks to Chrissy for letting Lilith turn her office into a makeshift classroom for months on end!) This photo is a pretty good example of what Lilith’s lunch breaks at BPAL looked like.

    A haze of strawberry musk and coconut-fluff fur.

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    Black Rose Perfume Oil

    Exquisitely melancholy. The background scent to an ancient exequies. Heavy, dark and floral: a blend of roses, with a touch of amber and musk.

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  • Blacklight Reactive Wolf Poster Perfume Oil

    Eyes blazing, muzzle foaming, stomach growling — just as nature intended! A hot, feral blast of musk and weed smoke plunging through a mist-dappled twilit forest.

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  • Blood Kiss Perfume Oil

    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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    Blue Blankie Perfume Oil

    Lilith has several blankies that mean the world to her, and this is one of them. She’s had it since she was a baby, and she still sleeps with it every night. This blankie has been all over the US, has been to innumerable conventions, and has visited Paris, London, Stratford-Upon-Avon, Salzburg, and Berlin. This blankie has been a comfort in sorrow and a companion in joy. It has been clutched in laughter and has been succor in illness. This blanket has seen thousands upon thousands of dreams.

    May it always keep you warm, safe, and happy, Lilith.

    French lavender, skin musk, and a drop of rose water.

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  • Bobbing for Smut Perfume Oil

    Three booze soaked apples soaked in smutty musks and sugar.

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  • Bouquet With Skull and Coins Perfume Oil

    Adriaen van Utrecht
    A cluster of blossoms and sheer glassy musk tinkling with gold and silver.

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  • Brown Jenkin Perfume Oil

    The yellowed country records containing her testimony and that of her accusers were so damnably suggestive of things beyond human experience – and the descriptions of the darting little furry object which served as her familiar were so painfully realistic despite their incredible details.

    That object – no larger than a good-sized rat and quaintly called by the townspeople “Brown Jenkin – seemed to have been the fruit of a remarkable case of sympathetic herd-delusion, for in 1692 no less than eleven persons had testified to glimpsing it. There were recent rumours, too, with a baffling and disconcerting amount of agreement. Witnesses said it had long hair and the shape of a rat, but that its sharp-toothed, bearded face was evilly human while its paws were like tiny human hands. It took messages betwixt old Keziah and the devil, and was nursed on the witch’s blood, which it sucked like a vampire. Its voice was a kind of loathsome titter, and it could speak all languages. Of all the bizarre monstrosities in Gilman’s dreams, nothing filled him with greater panic and nausea than this blasphemous and diminutive hybrid, whose image flitted across his vision in a form a thousandfold more hateful than anything his waking mind had deduced from the ancient records and the modern whispers.

    A small, furry, sharp-toothed scent that will nuzzle you curiously in the black hours before dawn: dusty white sandalwood and orris root, dry coconut husk, creeping musk, and the residue of ceremonial incense.

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    Bubbles and Unicorns Perfume Oil

    My baby, please never stop singing whatever goddamn song you want to sing, and never stop singing it at the top of your lungs. Never stop doing silly dances, never stop making jokes. Never stop talking about unicorns, never stop howling like a werewolf, never stop making wishes on dandelions.

    Never stop playing, never stop laughing.

    Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you’re too old to be joyful, or that the things you love are foolish or childish. Lilith, never stop blowing bubbles.

    Dandelion sap and blackcurrant bud with opalescent, shimmering white musk.

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    Buck Moon 2019 Perfume Oil

    This Full Moon marks the time of the year when the new antlers of buck deer emerge from their foreheads, coated in soft velvet. This is a time of vigor, thunder, balmy nights, glorious sunlight and hot winds.

    Buck Moon is an animalistic, deep scent: an amplification of one’s natural musk coupled with forest herbs, pine pitch, cedar berries, dew-kissed juniper, deer fur, a hint of clear, warm evening air and a crystalline spark of lunar oil.

    The accompanying Buck Moon Tee can be found here!

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  • By Day She Made Herself into a Cat Perfume Oil

    Arthur Rackham

    A feral eyeshine of amber gleaming through a pool of ink-black musk.

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  • Calico Jack Perfume Oil

    Sea air, driftwood, waterlogged kelp, and the memory of plundered spices sprayed over worn leathers, rough musk, and the salty wooden floorboards of the Revenge.

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    Californite Phoenix Perfume Oil

    A variety of Vesuvianite, also known as California Jade. A scent that is moss-green and crystalline, with a hint of fern.

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  • Cameo Chaperone Perfume Oil

    No one living recalls
    the significance of this thimble
    or marble, whether
    they came to rest here idly
    or were held aside just so,
    separately or as a pair,
    in service to memory or an
    experience she sought
    to prolong, faceless tokens of
    something or perhaps nothing,
    interred under a domed lid
    and overseen by this stern,
    restless figure, glued to its seat

    In the absence of these details
    her descendants keep turning
    the small crank underneath
    and listening to the same
    blurry notes from Be My Love
    (picked out through clockwork teeth
    when the dome is raised, silenced
    mid-thought when it lowers) thinking
    about the contents (thimble, marble)
    rolling around together, coming
    to rest in the concave dish
    like two strangers pawing
    at each other in the darkness

    Tulips scattered over silvery musk, ambrette seed, black orchid, and red benzoin.

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  • Candy Corn Smut Perfume Oil

    I dunno – someone out there is going to dig this one.

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  • Captain Cully Perfume Oil

    “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

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    Cat Chasing Butterflies Perfume Oil

    Peach blossom and amber with almond cream and sweet musk.

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  • Chaotic Perfume Oil

    A whirling mélange of multicolored musks with wasabi, rooibos, heliotrope, and mastic.

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  • Chocolate Smooch Smut Perfume Oil

    A little melted, but fine if you pick out the foil remnants.

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    Clinochlore Phoenix Perfume Oil

    Valued not just for itself, but for the myriad treasures that it contains: deep green moss and black currant with a soft pink rosebud musk, abalone, orris root, sugar cane, and almond husk.

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    Come, Sister Perfume Oil

    Then they began to materialise till-if God have not take away my reason, for I saw it through my eyes-there were before me in actual flesh the same three women that Jonathan saw in the room, when they would have kissed his throat. I knew the swaying round forms, the bright hard eyes, the white teeth, the ruddy colour, the voluptuous lips. They smiled ever at poor dear Madam Mina; and as their laugh came through the silence of the night, they twined their arms and pointed to her, and said in those so sweet tingling tones that Jonathan said were of the intolerable sweetness of the water-glasses:-

    “Come, sister. Come to us. Come! Come!”

    Icy musk draped in osmanthus and white gardenia, a whisper of ti leaf and orchid, crystalline amber, and incense smoke.

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    Conjunction of Mars and Saturn Perfume Oil

    Daemonorops, star thistle, wild tobacco, and asafoetida intensified by hemlock accord, black musk seed, mortuary cypress, and black gum leaf.

    [Label illustration: Adolf Vogel]

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    Countess Willie Perfume Oil

    Sophisticated, dramatic, well-traveled, glamorous, and worldly, Countess Willie V. Piazza, owner of the French Studio, was a trendsetter in style and fashion. Countess Willie was an educated woman, a patron of the arts, and possessed an impressive library of rare volumes. She featured many historic jazz musicians in her House, including Tony Jackson and Jelly Roll Morton. Unlike many of her counterparts, she was known for having a kind heart and a generous, loving nature. She was fiercely protective: when a patron of her establishment, the nephew of a prominent New Orleans cleric, committed a heinous act of sadism against one of her ladies, Countess Willie shot him dead.

    Chocolate plum musk, red musk, amaretto, candied fruits, and red ginger.

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    Courtesan with a Secret Lover Perfume Oil

    Green tea, plum blossom, white musk, jasmine blossom honey, and lemon peel.

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  • Coyote Perfume Oil

    The Native American Creator / Trickster God of Chaos and Change.

    The warmth of doeskin, dry plains grasses and soft, dusty woods warmed by amber and a downy, gentle coat of deep musk.

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    Croquet Perfume Oil

    ‘Get to your places!’ shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game began. Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches.

    The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a blow with its head, it would twist itself round and look up in her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was going to begin again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog had unrolled itself, and was in the act of crawling away: besides all this, there was generally a ridge or furrow in the way wherever she wanted to send the hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up and walking off to other parts of the ground, Alice soon came to the conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed.

    We have some trouble managing our flamingos, too. Pink lime, pink grapefruit, white nectarine, wild rose, sage, woody patchouli, bergamot, and ornery hedgehog musk.

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    Crowley Perfume Oil

    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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  • Czernobog Perfume Oil

    Created in honor of the Slavic Black God of the Dead. A nighttime god of grief, evil, chaos and woe, he is paralleled by his twin brother Bylebog, god of light, joy, order, and good fortune.

    A combination of three musks, with splashes of dark myrrh, vetiver and mullein.

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    Daiyu Perfume Oil

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

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    Diana Perfume Oil

    My temple stands in Ephesus: hie thee thither,
    And do upon mine altar sacrifice.
    There, when my maiden priests are met together,
    before the people all,
    Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife:
    To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter’s, call
    And give them repetition to the life.
    Or perform my bidding, or thou livest in woe;
    Do it, and happy; by my silver bow!

    Artemis, standing in her golden chariot… driving off with her fast-trotting deer over the hills and far away to some rich-scented sacrifice: leather, gleaming golden amber, red amaranth, cypress, asphodel accord, a gleam of silver, and soft brown musk.

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    Doc Constantine Perfume Oil

    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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    Dorian

    The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.

    Inspired by and created for my beloved Tedwin: my eternal, beautiful, wicked Dorian Gray. Refined, elegant, and lovely, with a noble bearing and seemingly gentle air. This blend is an artful deception: a sweet gilded blossom lying over a twisted and corrupted core. A Victorian fougere with three pale musks and dark, sugared vanilla tea.

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    Dorian Beard Oil

    The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.

    Inspired by and created for my beloved Tedwin: my eternal, beautiful, wicked Dorian Gray. Refined, elegant, and lovely, with a noble bearing and seemingly gentle air. This blend is an artful deception: a sweet gilded blossom lying over a twisted and corrupted core. A Victorian fougere with three pale musks and dark, sugared vanilla tea.

    Out of Stock
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    Dreams Shape the World Perfume Oil

    Amorphous streams and sparks of lavender fancies drifting through a moonlit musk, given form on this plane by fossilized amber and sweet agarwood.

    Words by Neil Gaiman, art by David Mack.

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    Edible G-String Perfume Oil

    Snap! Snap! Sugar crystals and tart candies with a splash of red musk.

    (DO NOT EAT)

    Out of Stock
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    Een Satyr Perfume Oil

    Jacob Jordaens

    A heavy, animalic musk with cognac, fir balsam, grapevine, black cypress, patchouli, honey, and copaiba balsam.

    Out of Stock
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    Exhausted Sailors Perfume Oil

    Salt-splashed silk, spiced cedar, hinoki wood, sea musk, a strand of kelp and a squeeze of lime.

    Out of Stock
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    Faiza, The Lady of Serpents Perfume Oil

    Upon the next stage, a primitive cage has been erected. It is made of heavy, dark sticks bound with strips of deep brown leather. The stage is as dark as pitch, and from the shadows, you hear soft hissing, spitting, and an ominous chorus of weird rattling sounds. You approach with some trepidation, and peer between the bars. Your attention is seized by writhing forms on the straw bottom of the cage. As your eyes adjust to the gloom, you realize that the floor is seething with serpents, dark and colorful, languid and large, swift and small. You hear a sultry chuckle, and you see bright, unblinking emerald eyes staring at you from the corner of the cage. A woman crawls through the snakes, her scaled body as sinuous and lissome as the creatures that share her home. She reaches towards you languorously with her sharp-clawed hands and sighs.

    A sensual blend of twisting, exotic, serpentine oils: black amber, oakmoss, green sandalwood, bergamot, jasmine sambac, gardenia, orange pulp, black cardamom, vanilla, blackberry, black musk, blackened vanilla husk, white honey, ti leaf, and ginger.

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    Fall, Leaves, Fall Perfume Oil

    Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
    Lengthen night and shorten day;
    Every leaf speaks bliss to me
    Fluttering from the autumn tree.
    I shall smile when wreaths of snow
    Blossom where the rose should grow;
    I shall sing when night’s decay
    Ushers in a drearier day.

    – Emily Bronte

    Night’s decay: starry musk melting into blackcurrant, black oudh, black roses, and blood-red maple leaves.

    Out of Stock
  • Fighter Perfume Oil

    Leather, musk, blood, and steel.

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    First Morning in Paris Perfume Oil

    We were exhausted, hungry, and batty from travel, but Lilith made herself right at home. She’s a born traveler, and takes just about everything that happens on a trip in stride; she’s as comfortable in a hotel, hostel, or airport floor as she is at home. Just before dawn on our first morning in Paris, I tried to talk Lilith into putting on a coat and watching the sun rise with me, but she’s didn’t bite.

    Burgundy oudh and crushed velvet musk with a misting of lavender.

    Out of Stock
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    Flesh of My Flesh Perfume Oil

    “‘Silence! If you make a sound I shall take him and dash his brains out before your very eyes.’ I was appalled and was too bewildered to do or say anything. With a mocking smile, he placed one hand upon my shoulder and, holding me tight, bared my throat with the other, saying as he did so, ‘First, a little refreshment to reward my exertions. You may as well be quiet. It is not the first time, or the second, that your veins have appeased my thirst!’ I was bewildered, and strangely enough, I did not want to hinder him. I suppose it is a part of the horrible curse that such is, when his touch is on his victim. And oh, my God, my God, pity me! He placed his reeking lips upon my throat!” Her husband groaned again. She clasped his hand harder, and looked at him pityingly, as if he were the injured one, and went on.

    “I felt my strength fading away, and I was in a half swoon. How long this horrible thing lasted I know not, but it seemed that a long time must have passed before he took his foul, awful, sneering mouth away. I saw it drip with the fresh blood!” The remembrance seemed for a while to overpower her, and she drooped and would have sunk down but for her husband’s sustaining arm. With a great effort she recovered herself and went on.

    “Then he spoke to me mockingly, ‘And so you, like the others, would play your brains against mine. You would help these men to hunt me and frustrate me in my design! You know now, and they know in part already, and will know in full before long, what it is to cross my path. They should have kept their energies for use closer to home. Whilst they played wits against me, against me who commanded nations, and intrigued for them, and fought for them, hundreds of years before they were born, I was countermining them. And you, their best beloved one, are now to me, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my kin, my bountiful wine-press for a while, and shall be later on my companion and my helper. You shall be avenged in turn, for not one of them but shall minister to your needs. But as yet you are to be punished for what you have done. You have aided in thwarting me. Now you shall come to my call. When my brain says “Come!” to you, you shall cross land or sea to do my bidding. And to that end this!’

    With that he pulled open his shirt, and with his long sharp nails opened a vein in his breast. When the blood began to spurt out, he took my hands in one of his, holding them tight, and with the other seized my neck and pressed my mouth to the wound, so that I must either suffocate or swallow some to the… Oh, my God! My God! What have I done? What have I done to deserve such a fate, I who have tried to walk in meekness and righteousness all my days. God pity me! Look down on a poor soul in worse than mortal peril. And in mercy pity those to whom she is dear!” Then she began to rub her lips as though to cleanse them from pollution.

    Blood of my blood: a deep crimson musk threaded with mesmerizing Tunisian amber, voluptuous champaca blossom, vanilla absolute, labdanum, bitter almond, and black orchid.

    Out of Stock
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    Fortuna Barbata Perfume Oil

    The Fortunes of Adolescents

    A hymn to blossoming in wisdom and strength as you come of age: King mandarin and warm vegetal musk.

    Out of Stock
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    Fortuna Belli Perfume Oil

    The Fortunes of War

    A hymn for triumph for those who do battle, whether it be with fists, ideas, or words: frankincense and dragon’s blood resin, saffron-threaded red musk, tomato leaf, tobacco absolute and tobacco leaf, and leather accord.

    Out of Stock
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    Fortuna Obsequens Perfume Oil

    The Fortunes of Love and Beauty

    A hymn to romance and glamour, passion and virility, seduction and delight: red roses and blood musk enveloped in a haze of blackcurrant, red patchouli, leather accord, and black oudh.

    Out of Stock
  • Good Perfume Oil

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

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    Gwyneth Perfume Oil

    Rose otto, tonka, orchid, Calla lily, skin musk, coconut, and Spanish sage.

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    Gynotize! Perfume Oil

    A crash course in gynotism: cherry-slapped rose musk.

    Patented 3-D Gyno-Coin not included.

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  • Half-Elf Perfume Oil

    White sandalwood, beeswax, white tea leaf, oud, and a hint of sophisticated urban musk.

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    Harper Perfume Oil

    Pale bergamot, labdanum, white incense, vanilla-tinged musk, Burmese oudh and tea rose.

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  • Hecate Perfume Oil

    Magnificent three-faced Goddess of Magic, the Dark Moon and the Crossroads. She is the Mother of Witches, and the midnight baying of hounds is her paean. Her compassion is evidenced in her role as Psychopomp for Persephone, and her wrath manifests as Medea’s revenge.

    Deep, buttery almond layered over myrrh and dark musk.

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  • Hell’s Belle Perfume Oil

    Sweet, smokey and sensually wicked. A thick, steamy scent, truly sinister in its voluptuous sexuality. The perfume of a demon’s favored consort, or of the devil herself. Oleander with wet, sweet mandarin, lush magnolia, a rush of deep musk and a touch of spice.

    Out of Stock
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    Hexennacht Perfume Oil

    The Night of the Witches. In the Teutonic calendar, April 30, not October 31, was the night that the witches congregated to celebrate their Work through ecstatic dance, wild music and revelry. The witches fêted with spirits, fairies, and a bevy of otherworldly creatures atop Brockenberg peak in the Harz region of Germany, where they lit an enormous bonfire and cavorted naked until midnight… at which point they donned their robes, boarded their brooms, flying rams and sacred goats, scooped up their cat familiars, and sped off into the night. In later days, it was believed that on this night the witches conjured the devil, who would then select one of them for his bride.

    This perfume is the scent of the witches’ revel: German fir and forest herbs, incense and bonfire smoke, broom straw, and the wet, glimmering scent of skin warmed by dance.

    Illustration by Stefan Eggeler, 1922.

    Out of Stock
  • Honey Taffy Smut Perfume Oil

    Easily my favorite of the bunch.

    Out of Stock
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    Hyakki Yagyō Perfume Oil

    Demonic black musk, inky myrrh, black coconut, champaca blossom, and smoky clove bud.

    Out of Stock
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    Ice Perfume Oil

    Devoted ruthlessness. This is the scent of razors, cold metal, icicles, and her diamond-tipped claws: eucalyptus blossom, crystalline musk, white ginger, mint, and elemi.

    Out of Stock
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    Imp Pack: Musk Perfume Oil

    Bien Loin D’Ici
    Red musk, benzoin, caramel accord, golden honey, and spiced Moroccan unguents.

    Czernobog
    A combination of three musks, with splashes of dark myrrh, vetiver and mullein.

    Horreur Sympathique
    Blood musk, golden honey, thick black wine, champagne grapes, tobacco flower, plum blossom, tonka bean, oakmoss, carnation, benzoin, opoponax, and sugar cane.

    Lust
    Uncontrollable passion and insatiable sexual desire: red musk, patchouli, ylang ylang and myrrh.

    Sed Non Satiata
    Myrrh, red patchouli, cognac, honey, and tuberose and geranium in a breathy, panting veil over the darkest body musk.

    Haunted
    A mournful, poignant scent, thick with foreboding. Soft golden amber darkened with a touch of murky black musk.

    Out of Stock
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    Inesite Phoenix Perfume Oil

    A spray of rose-tinted blades: rose otto, razor-sharp white musk, white sandalwood, sugar musk, red currant, vanilla, green cognac, and guava.

    Out of Stock
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    Inez Perfume Oil

    Golden amber, vanilla musk, myrrh, cedar, carnation, and red sandalwood.

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    Jiaolong Perfume Oil

    Sugared coffee bean, black musk, and sugar cane.

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    Judgmental Longhorn Perfume Oil

    He knows what you’ve been up to. Sweet tonka, smoked vanilla, benzoin, labdanum, amber, hay absolute, cacao absolute, and soft brown musk.

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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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    Kinoko Perfume Oil

    Mushroom musk, oakmoss, and rooibos leaf.

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    Knucklebones Perfume Oil

    You hear a clatter on the ground behind you, and a small bleached bone smacks against your foot. Cloaked in shadows between the tents, three men crouch playing knucklebones. Distress clouds the face of one of the men, while another bursts into a wicked smile and the last one sighs in relief. Scooping up his winnings and shaking his head, the victor makes a soft ‘tsk’ noise as he reaches towards the loser’s chest, positioning his hand over the man’s heart. Pressing forward, his hand moves through cloth, flesh, muscle, and bone to extract the beating organ. Tossing the heart onto the ground, he says to you, “Mind handing me those bones, buddy? I’ve got a game to run here.”

    Black musk, bay rum, lime fougere, orange blossom water, gin, and tobacco.

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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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    Lajos Perfume Oil

    A tribute to Lajos Pap, a spiritualist medium whose specialty was apporting snakes, lizards, rats, and frogs – live and dead – during séance.

    A pattering of night-creatures: indigo musk and patchouli croaking with oakmoss and a skittering of gleaming black olibanum.

    Out of Stock
  • Lampades Perfume Oil

    The Lampades are the darkly beautiful nymphs of the underworld, also called the Lethe Nymphae Avernales. They are the daughters of the Gods that govern the many rivers of Hades. The Lampades are Hecate’s torch-bearers and accompany the Goddess on her hunts, quests and revels. Their scent is the crisp, inviting bittersweet tang of cranberry with smoky dark lilies, heady, sensual musk, a tingle of ginger and a brush of Mediterranean 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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    Leukophobia Perfume Oil

    Fear of the Color White

    A blank and seering void, a blinding nothingness. Emptiness, emptiness eternally.

    Dry white tea leaf and a hollow, sharp musk.

    Out of Stock
  • Lurid Perfume Oil

    Shocking, horrific, fierce, savage, sensationalized, luminous and hazy: black currant, Bulgarian lavender and white musk with a dollop of thick resin and a voltaic charge of ozone notes.

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    Lyonesse Perfume Oil

    Then rose the King and moved his host by night
    And ever pushed Sir Mordred, league by league,
    Back to the sunset bound of Lyonesse —
    A land of old upheaven from the abyss
    By fire, to sink into the abyss again;
    Where fragments of forgotten peoples dwelt,
    And the long mountains ended in a coast
    Of ever-shifting sand, and far away
    The phantom circle of a moaning sea.

    Golden vanilla and gilded musk, stargazer lily, white sandalwood, grey amber, elemi, orris root, ambergris and sea moss.

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  • Mage Perfume Oil

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

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    Marcilla Perfume Oil

    Blue lilac, lily of the valley, golden musk, beeswax, white ginger, bergamot, green tea, and nectarine.

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    Marian Perfume Oil

    I don’t belong here.

    A respectable, virtuous vintage musk smeared with blood and spiked with the coppery scent of fear.

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    Marianne Perfume Oil

    Red musk, bergamot, black currant, mimosa, orchid, patchouli, and lotus root.

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    Marina Perfume Oil

    When I was born:
    Never was waves nor wind more violent.

    A waving wet haze of blue and green: blackberry wine and soft oudh, cashmere woods, iris pallida, sea salt, and turquoise musk.

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  • Mary Read Perfume Oil

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

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    Memorials of Friendship Perfume Oil

    Peach-tinted pale musk with neroli, ambergris accord, and champaca absolute.

    Out of Stock
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    Miss Forcible Perfume Oil

    Miss Spink and Miss Forcible lived in the flat below Coraline’s, on the ground floor. They were both old and round, and they lived in their flat with a number of ageing Highland terriers who had names like Hamish and Andrew and Jock. Once upon a time Miss Spink and Miss Forcible had been actresses, as Miss Spink told Coraline the first time she met her.

    “You see, Caroline,” Miss Spink said, getting Coraline’s name wrong, “both myself and Miss Forcible were famous actresses, in our time. We trod the boards, luvvy. Oh, don’t let Hamish eat the fruitcake, or he’ll be up all night with his tummy.”

    A classic vintage musk.

    Both Miss Spink and Miss Forcible scents have a bit of tea splash and biscuit crumbs.

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    Miss Lupescu Perfume Oil

    “Bod,” said Silas. “This is Miss Lupescu.”

    Miss Lupescu was not pretty. Her face was pinched and her expression was disapproving. Her hair was grey, although her face seemed too young for grey hair. Her front teeth were slightly crooked. She wore a bulky mackintosh, and a man’s tie around her neck.

    “How do you do, Miss Lupescu?” said Bod.

    Miss Lupescu said nothing. She sniffed. Then she looked at Silas and said, “So. This is the boy.” She got up from her seat and walked all around Bod, nostrils flared, as if she were sniffing him. When she had made a complete circuit, she said, “You will report to me on waking, and before you go to sleep. I have rented a room in a house over there.” She pointed to a roof just visible from where they stood. “However, I shall spend my time in this graveyard. I am here as a historian, researching the history of old graves. You understand, boy? Da?”

    “Bod,” said Bod. “It’s Bod. Not boy.”

    “Short for Nobody,” she said. “A foolish name. Also, Bod is a pet name. A nickname. I do not approve. I will call you ‘boy’. You will call me ‘Miss Lupescu’.”

    Bod looked up at Silas, pleadingly, but there was no sympathy on Silas’s face. He picked up his bag and said, “You will be in good hands with Miss Lupescu, Bod. I am sure that the two of you will get on.”

    “We won’t!” said Bod. “She’s horrible!”

    “That,” said Silas, “Was a very rude thing to say. I think you should apologise, don’t you?”

    Bod didn’t, but Silas was looking at him and he was carrying his black bag, and about to leave for no-one knew how long, so he said, “I’m sorry Miss Lupescu.”

    At first she said nothing in reply. She merely sniffed. Then she said, “I have come a long way to look after you, boy. I hope you are worth it.”

    Animalic musk, with amber, patchouli, ho wood, cypress, almond blossom, golden sandalwood, and strange spices.

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    Monk and Actor Perfume Oil

    Soft auburn musk, clove bud, honeyed patchouli, oakmoss absolute, cashmere labdanum, cedar, and mimosa blossom.

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  • Morocco

    The intoxicating perfume of heady incenses wafting on warm desert breezes. Arabian spices wind through a blend of warm musk, carnation, red sandalwood and cassia.

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    Morocco Bath Oil

    The intoxicating perfume of heady incenses wafting on warm desert breezes. Arabian spices wind through a blend of warm musk, carnation, red sandalwood and cassia.

    4oz Bottle

    Out of Stock
  • 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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    My Country Perfume Oil

    I love a sunburnt country,
    A land of sweeping plains,
    Of ragged mountain ranges,
    Of droughts and flooding rains.
    I love her far horizons,
    I love her jewel-sea,
    Her beauty and her terror
    The wide brown land for me!

    – Dorothea Mackellar

    Her far horizons, her jewel-sea: a rose-tinted sunset of amber salt spray azure musk.

    Out of Stock
  • Night Perfume Oil

    Where we’re going, or what we’re leaving behind: raw cacao, bourbon vetiver, red benzoin, opoponax, tobacco absolute, queen of the night, tuberose, and inky musk.

    Out of Stock
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    Night Thoughts Perfume Oil

    Stars, you are unfortunate, I pity you,
    Beautiful as you are, shining in your glory,
    Who guide seafaring men through stress and peril
    And have no recompense from gods or mortals,
    Love you do not, nor do you know what love is.
    Hours that are aeons urgently conducting
    Your figures in a dance through the vast heaven,
    What journey have you ended in this moment,
    Since lingering in the arms of my beloved
    I lost all memory of you and midnight.
    —Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

    Lilac, blue musk, dianthus, cedar, neroli, ozone, and luminous Eastern herbs.

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  • Odin Perfume Oil

    Odin is highest and eldest of the Æsir: he rules all things, and mighty as are the other gods, they all serve him as children obey a father.

    The All-Father, Lord of Wisdom and War. Odin’s name itself translates to “fury”, “excitation” and “poetry” and that is the core of His essence. He is the God of Victory, and holds sway over hunting, verse, war-lust and berserkers, magic, illumination, foresight, death, plots and machinations, and He dispenses the Mead of Inspiration to poets from his sacred vessel, Óõ-rœri. He gifted mankind with runes, both sacred and mundane, and the ability to use them for both communication and magical work. He grants glory and madness, inspiration and courage, power and wisdom. He commands the einheriar of his Hall, Valhalla, and the Valkyries that claim the souls of valiant warriors. Lord Odin’s favored weapon is the spear Gugnir, which he uses to claim those chosen to die in battle. He is accompanied by his ravens, Hugin and Munin [thought and memory], and his wolves, Geri and Freki [the Greedy], and rides an eight-legged horse, Sleipner, that is, in itself, symbolic of death. His scent is dry elm bark, amaranth, warrior’s musk, and Odin’s Nine Herbs of Power.

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  • Orc Perfume Oil

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

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    Paris Gargoyles Perfume Oil

    Ted: “Trust me when I say it would be embarrassing to tell you how long we posed in this position while we waiting for Brian, Jade and Beth to come downstairs, but sometimes the joke is THAT IMPORTANT!”

    Sweet russet musk, auburn oudh, teakwood, and cement.

    Out of Stock
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    Parthenope Perfume Oil

    Honeysuckle, orris, moss, musk, benzoin, oakmoss, and star jasmine.

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  • Portrait of Magdaleine Pinceloup de la Grange née de Parseval Perfume Oil

    Jean-Baptiste Perronneau

    An aristocratic 18th century French perfume dabbed on lilac velvet, gently purring with soft grey amber and feline musk, and tinkling with tiny golden bells. Grasse jasmine and rose otto nestled in ambergris accord, frankincense, white sandalwood, bourbon vanilla, cardamom, amber, coriander, and galbanum.

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  • Pumpkin Smut Perfume Oil

    Oddly, this one is the filthiest of them all.

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    Pumpkin Spice Blood Kiss Perfume Oil

    Lush, creamy vanilla and the honey of the sweetest kiss smeared with the vital throb of husky clove and 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. Plus pumpkin. Just a weird, spicy jolt of pumpkin.

    Out of Stock
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    Queen Butterfly Perfume Oil

    Lady Butterfly
    perfumes her wings
    by floating over this orchid

    Russet amber and orange blossom honey, red labdanum and wild plum, golden musk and a rustle of patchouli root.

    Out of Stock
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    Ring of Wolves Hair Gloss

    “But just then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair.”

    Ochre fur bristling, a whiff of obsidian musk on a moonlit night, crushed pine needles, claws tearing through snow-dusted soil.

    Out of Stock
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    Saddypants Lion Alchemy Lab Perfume Oil

    We simply didn’t have enough cumulative Leo energy to pull this one off.

    Golden amber and sweet almond with tonka bean, peach juice, and honey musk.

    Out of Stock
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    Sanctus Perfume Oil

    The Sanctus are considered by some pious vampires to be the saints of their kind, and from what we have gleaned, they are very likely the stuff of myth. These vampires are paragons that possess impossible, phenomenal powers that defy known physics, including the ability to shift shape, turn into a gaseous form, and command other vampires through will alone. The mythological Sanctus are venerated by some, but we have no evidence whatsoever that they truly exist.

    Diabolically otherworldly: golden osmanthus, lily of the valley, celestial musk, and frankincense.

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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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    Screeching Revenant Hair Gloss

    Icy blue musk, eucalyptus, white pine, and opoponax.

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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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  • Shoggoth Perfume Oil

    It was a terrible, indescribable thing vaster than any subway train – a shapeless congerie of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and un-forming as pustules of greenish light all over the tunnel-filling front that bore down upon us, crushing the frantic penguins and slithering over the glistening floor that it and its kind had swept so evilly free of all litter.

    An amorphous, radiant, incandescent scent. Ever changing, protoplasmic and primordial: white amber, green coconut meat, iris, palmarosa, Chinese peony, lime, water lily, snowdrop, muguet, lemongrass, osmanthus, wisteria, glassy musk, and hinoki.

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  • Smut 2022 Perfume Oil

    Three smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

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    Smut Hair Gloss

    Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

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    Smut Hair Gloss

    Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

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    Smut Perfume Oil

    We are the smuttiest, fifteen years runnin’. Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

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    Smut Perfume Oil

    Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

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    Smut Perfume Oil

    Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

    The good good.
    – Doc Constantine

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  • Smut Perfume Oil

    We are the smuttiest, eighteen years runnin’. Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

    I like the Smut.

    – Doc Constantine

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    Snow Moon 2019 Perfume Oil

    The cold earth slept below;

    Above the cold sky shone…

     

    Some consider December’s full moon to be Snow Moon, but the cold, bleak white silence of February also bears the name. Snowfall is at its heaviest, food is scarce, the past year’s harvest has been exhausted, and driving winds, sleet, and bitter cold make hunting near-impossible. It is a desolate time, a solitary time, a time of conservation and introspection; in February, we are confronted with loneliness and want, and are challenged to find strength in the darkness.

    Snow, endless snow, and a glimmer of hope illuminated by the reflection of Brigid’s flame. Snowdrops pushing through a pale white blanket of crystalline musk, pale white frozen apples, white tea leaf, yuzu, and angelica root.

    To purchase a Snow Moon t-shirt, scoot on over here!

    Artwork by Caldecott-winning illustrator and author and all-around amazing human being and bestest of friends, Dan Santat.

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    Sturgeon Moon 2019 Perfume Oil

    A month of bounty, when the fish are plentiful and the corn grows high. This is the scent of breezes passing over the Great Lakes, mingling gently with traditional lunar herbs.

    Sandy shores and sweet fresh water, lichen, green algae, and whitestem pondweed, with benzoin, moonlit musk, cucumber, lettuce, violet poppy, and agave.

    The accompanying Sturgeon Moon Tee can be found here!

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    Take the Moon Perfume Oil

    She held his hand, with a hand that was icy cold. “You were given protection once. You were given the sun itself. But you lost it already. You gave it away. All I can give you is much weaker protection. The daughter, not the father. But all helps. Yes?” Her white hair blew about her face in the chilly wind.

    “Do I have to fight you? Or play checkers?” he asked.

    “You do not even have to kiss me,” she told him. “Just take the moon from me.”

    “How?”

    “Take the moon.”

    “I don’t understand.”

    “Watch,” said Zorya Polunochnaya. She raised her left hand and held it in front of the moon, so that her forefinger and thumb seemed to be grasping it. Then, in one smooth movement, she plucked at it. For a moment, it looked like she had taken the moon from the sky, but then Shadow saw that the moon shone still, and Zorya Polunochnaya opened her hand to display a silver Liberty-head dollar resting between finger and thumb.

    “That was beautifully done,” said Shadow. “I didn’t see you palm it. And I don’t know how you did that last bit.”

    “I did not palm it,” she said. “I took it. And now I give it you, to keep safe. Here. Don’t give this one away.”

    Silvered musk and lemon peel, white fir needle, frosted apple blossom, and mugwort.

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    Thanatopsis Perfume Oil

    A meditation upon death. Inspired by William Cullen Bryant’s poem.

    A deep, solomn earthen scent containing pine, juniper and musk.

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    The Bird of Prey Perfume Oil

    Feathery brown musk and hay absolute with orris and leather.

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    The Buffalo Man Perfume Oil

    Darkness; a sensation of falling—as if he were tumbling down a great hole, like Alice. He fell for a hundred years into darkness. Faces passed him, swimming out of the black, then each face was ripped up and away before he could touch it . . .

    Abruptly, and without transition, he was not falling. Now he was in a cave, and he was no longer alone. Shadow stared into familiar eyes: huge, liquid black eyes. They blinked.

    Under the earth: yes. He remembered this place. The stink of wet cow. Firelight flickered on the wet cave walls, illuminating the buffalo head, the man’s body, skin the color of brick clay.

    “Can’t you people leave me be?” asked Shadow. “I just want to sleep.”

    The buffalo man nodded, slowly. His lips did not move, but a voice in Shadow’s head said, “Where are you going, Shadow?”

    “Cairo.”

    “Why?”

    “Where else have I got to go? It’s where Wednesday wants me to go. I drank his mead.” In Shadow’s dream, with the power of dream logic behind it, the obligation seemed unarguable: he drank Wednesday’s mead three times, and sealed the pact—what other choice of action did he have?

    The buffalo-headed man reached a hand into the fire, stirring the embers and the broken branches into a blaze. “The storm is coming,” he said. Now there was ash on his hands, and he wiped it onto his hairless chest, leaving soot-black streaks.

    “So you people keep telling me. Can I ask you a question?”

    There was a pause. A fly settled on the furry forehead. The buffalo man flicked it away. “Ask.”

    “Is this true? Are these people really gods? It’s all so . . .” He paused. Then he said, “impossible,” which was not exactly the word he had been going for but seemed to be the best he could do.

    “What are gods?” asked the buffalo man.

    “I don’t know,” said Shadow.

    Warm dark brown musk, woodsmoke, and deep pools of labdanum.

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    The Emperor’s Beard Perfume Oil

    Fucking hipsters.
    Sweet tobacco and raw patchouli with Italian bergamot, pine needle, vintage dime store musk, and red sandalwood.

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    The Emperor’s Rams Perfume Oil

    Twin symbols of Aries, signifying courage and aggression: dragon’s blood resin, red peppercorn, red poppy, red musk, and red amber.

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    The Fool’s Dog Perfume Oil

    Sometimes playfully walking with the Fool, sometimes tugging on his stockings, sometimes attacking in a pack, sometimes tearing the ass out of his pants, sometimes chomping him right on the nuts: feral and tame, guardian and hunter, loyalty and opposition. Sometimes guiding the Fool off the cliff and other times warning him of dangers ahead.

    A warm canine musk, trampled grass, a gleam of ivory-white fang, cardamom pod, and crushed yew.

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    The Grindhouse Perfume Oil

    Throaty laughter captures your attention. Across the lane you see a buxom Venetian woman standing before a huge black and red striped tent. Her head is inclined towards a dapper, leering man, and they appear to be sharing a private joke. He reaches into his waistcoat and produces a gold coin. The woman plucks it from his fingers. He bows, and walks into the tent with a swagger. A sign flashes above the tent flap in letters that seem to be aflame: The Grindhouse, Dead or Live Girls.

    The Madam turns towards you and smiles. As she approaches, someone within the tent strikes a few keys on a tuneless piano, and begins to play Jelly Roll Morton’s ‘the Crave’. The light within the tent illuminates the interior, shining behind the silhouettes of naked women gyrating lewdly upon raised stages, writhing in time with the music.

    In the distance, behind the tent, you hear a whip crack, and a man’s scream. Tittering laughter follows, and the screams continue.

    “Voulez-vous un morceau de la boîte de bonbon?” she asks, gesturing gracefully towards the tent.

    The Madam’s perfume envelops you.

    Florentine iris, red musk, mimosa, magnolia, Damascus rose, clove, and vanilla bean.

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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 Lady of Shalott Perfume Oil

    Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
    Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
    Till her blood was frozen slowly,
    And her eyes were darkened wholly,
    Turn’d to tower’d Camelot.
    For ere she reach’d upon the tide
    The first house by the water-side,
    Singing in her song she died,
    The Lady of Shalott.

    The scent of calm waters just before a raging storm, limned with achingly-beautiful blooms, an icy scent, but somehow warm, and mirror-bright: bold gardenia, crystalline musk, muguet, water blossoms, clear, slightly tart aquatic notes and a crush of white ginger.

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    The Legerdemain Perfume Oil

    The twilight in between the stage performer and the Magus; the sleight of hand trick transforms into true sorcerous skill: black silken musk, dark clove, guiac wood, black pepper, frankincense, and cardamom.

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    The Lurid Library’s Pumpkin Patch Perfume Oil

    The incense-tinged scent of forbidden tomes and the musk-laden remnants of infernal servants slithering through an overgrown, neglected pumpkin patch.

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    The Night is Waning Away Perfume Oil

    But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments. But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life.

    Night-blooming jasmine and cereus reflected through ruddy musk and crimson amber.

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    The Perfumed Garden Perfume Oil

    Under her neck my right hand
    Has served her for a cushion,
    And to draw her to me
    I have sent out my left hand,
    Which bore her up as a bed.

    The Perfumed Garden for the Soul’s Recreation. This scent is based on a venerable Tunisian perfume that was used to excite the senses, inspire sensuality and inflame passion. Myrrh and Moroccan jasmine with apple peel, Indian sandalwood, myrtle, quince, citron, and thyme poured over soft musk.

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    The Queen of Hel Perfume Oil

    “I am Hel,” she said simply. “The dead come to me, and they do not return to the lands above. Why should I let Balder go?”
    – Norse Mythology, Neil Gaiman

    Lilith loves cosplaying, and while she has done many characters, none has suited her quite as well as Hela has. She debuted this look at C2E2 this year, complete with tiny plush Fenris.

    Tiny mistress of the underworld: gleaming black leather, luminescent green amber, and gargantuan hellhound musk.

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  • The Raven Perfume Oil

    Sleek, dark, and ominous. Violet and neroli mingled with iris, white sandalwood and dark musk.

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    The Red Robes Perfume Oil

    Absolute power in the temporal world: red musk and leather streaked with tomato leaf and tobacco.

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    The Silver Dollar Perfume Oil

    His fingers closed around the Liberty dollar in his pocket, and he remembered Zorya Polunochnaya, and the way she had looked at him in the moonlight. Did you ask her what she wanted? It is the wisest thing to ask the dead. Sometimes they will tell you.

    Gilded iris and Siamese benzoin, silvery-white musk, white tea leaf, and bergamot.

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    The Squishy Cushions Perfume Oil

    The glory of Venus as the apex of luxury and sensuality: velvet red rose petal attar, sweet red oudh, Mysore sandalwood, red benzoin, elemi, silken musk, and jasmine sambac.

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  • The Terrible Door Perfume Oil

    Too long outside your door I have shivered.
    You open it? I will not stay.
    I’m haunted by your ashen beauty.
    Take back your hand. I have gone away.

    Don’t talk, but move to that near corner.
    I loathe the long cold shadow here.
    We will stand a moment in the lamplight,
    Until I watch you hard and near.

    Happy release! Good-bye for ever!
    Here at the corner we say good-bye.
    But if you want me, if you do need me,
    Who waits, at the terrible door, but I?

    – Harold Monro

    Pale frankincense, white pear, chilled musk, and cognac.

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    The Torture Queen Perfume Oil

    White amber, vanilla musk, white tea, ambergris, gardenia, and chrome.

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    The Velvets Perfume Oil

    Five almost identically dressed, pale young women walked past him. They wore long dresses made of velvet, each dress as dark as night, one each of dark green, dark chocolate, royal blue, dark blood, and pure black. Each woman had black hair and wore silver jewelry; each was perfectly coifed, perfectly made up. They moved silently: Richard was only aware of a swish of heavy velvet as they went past, a swish that sounded almost like a sigh.

    Smooth inky musk, cathedral incense, ylang ylang, violet leaf, rose-infused amber, red sandalwood, and iris.

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    Three Rounds, One Fall, No Submission Perfume Oil

    Crowley thumped the wheel. Everything had been going so well, he’d had it really under his thumb these few centuries. That’s how it goes, you think you’re on top of the world, and suddenly they spring Armageddon on you. The Great War, the Last Battle. Heaven versus Hell, three rounds, one Fall, no submission. And that’d be that. No more world. That’s what the end of the world meant. No more world. Just endless Heaven or, depending who won, endless Hell. Crowley didn’t know which was worse.

    Well, Hell was worse, of course, by definition. But Crowley remembered what Heaven was like, and it had quite a few things in common with Hell. You couldn’t get a decent drink in either of them, for a start. And the boredom you got in Heaven was almost as bad as the excitement you got in Hell.

    Beatific gardenia, virtuous lemon flower, and sacred frankincense clashing with infernal musk, a burst of sulphur, and a little bit of hellfire.

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    Thutmose’s Nefertiti Perfume Oil

    While we were at the Ägyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, I desperately wanted to see the Nefertiti bust and share the moment with Lilith. There’s a story behind why the bust is so important to me, but that’s for another time. Suffice to say, I was overwhelmed with awe and joy, and a kind docent told me that we could take a photograph from the doorway as long as we didn’t use flash. This blurry mess is my best attempt!

    Myrrh steeped with cardamom, cinnamon, and sweet wine, streaked with lines of labdanum kohl, and gilded with crushed ambrette seed, a copper oxide musk, and accords of lime spar and iron oxide.

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  • Troll Perfume Oil

    They call me Troll;
    Gnawer of the Moon,
    Giant of the Gale-blasts,
    Curse of the rain-hall,
    Companion of the Sibyl,
    Nightroaming hag,
    Swallower of the loaf of heaven.
    What is a Troll but that?

    A lurching, hateful, bitter scent. This is a gruesome blend of ghastly greens and blacks: vetiver, pine pitch, troll musk, black basil, clove smoke, and scorched cumin.

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    Vasilissa Perfume Oil

    “Take it, then,” the Tsar said, “and bid her do it for me.” The old woman brought the linen home and told Vasilissa the Tsar’s command: “Well I knew that the work would needs be done by my own hands,” said Vasilissa, and, locking herself in her own room, began to make the shirts. So fast and well did she work that soon a dozen were ready. Then the old woman carried them to the Tsar, while Vasilissa washed her face, dressed her hair, put on her best gown and sat down at the window to see what would happen. And presently a servant in the livery of the Palace came to the house and entering, said: “The Tsar, our lord, desires himself to see the clever needlewoman who has made his shirts and to reward her with his own hands.”

    Vasilissa rose and went at once to the Palace, and as soon as the Tsar saw her, he fell in love with her with all his soul. He took her by her white hand and made her sit beside him. “Beautiful maiden,” he said, “never will I part from thee and thou shalt be my wife.”

    So the Tsar and Vasilissa the Beautiful were married, and her father returned from the far-distant Tsardom, and he and the old woman lived always with her in the splendid Palace, in all joy and contentment. And as for the little wooden doll, she carried it about with her in her pocket all her life long.

    She herself had cheeks like blood and milk and grew every day more and more beautiful.

    Creamy skin musk and blushing pink musk with soft sandalwood, white amber, dutiful myrrh, and star jasmine.

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    Victoria Perfume Oil

    Every boy in the village was in love with Victoria Forester. And many a sedate gentleman, quietly married with grey in his beard, would stare at her as she walked down the street, becoming, for a few moments, a boy once more, in the spring of his years with a spring in his step.

    Graceful vanilla musk, tea rose, and stargazer lily.

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    Villain Beard Oil

    A classic Victorian cologne: lavender fougere, with hints of lilac, lime, and citrus musk.

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    Villain Perfume Oil

    A classic Victorian men’s cologne: a lavender fougere, with hints of lilac, lime, and citrus musk.

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    Violens Perfume Oil

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

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    Visiting the Sumida River with a Geisha Perfume Oil

    Crystalline azure musk, orange blossom, water lily, hinoki wood, Texas cedar, and night-blooming jasmine.

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    Voluptuous Wantonness Perfume Oil

    “The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness.”

    Preternatural hedonism: silken billows of scarlet musk and red oudh with sugared fig, opoponax, wild plum, Siamese benzoin, vanilla husk, tobacco, and mimosa.

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  • Wanda Perfume Oil

    “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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    We Cared About Such Different Things Perfume Oil

    “I have a brother. They say, you put us together, we are like one person, you know? When we are young, his hair, it is very blond, very light, his eyes are blue, and people say, he is the good one. And my hair it is very dark, darker than yours even, and people say I am the rogue, you know? I am the bad one. And now time passes, and my hair is gray. His hair, too, I think, is gray. And you look at us, you would not know who was light, who was dark.”

    “Were you close?” asked Shadow.

    “Close?” asked Czernobog. “No. How could we be? We cared about such different things.”

    You would not know who was light, who was dark: iron and amber, gold-limned white musk and ink-gloomed dark musk.

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    Wulric, The Wolfman Perfume Oil

    A lively tune is being played nearby; it is syncopated, a disjointed song, but perky and upbeat. As you turn to the next stage, you see the broad back and shaggy hair of the next performer. He is seated on a stool in front of a battered upright piano. Wire pokes out from holes in the back of the decrepit beechwood, and broken pinblocks are scattered on the floor. A bowl of glistening viscera has been plopped on a small end table next to the pianist. You can see that the ivory keys of the piano are smeared with blood. He pounds and tinkles the keys merrily, and laughs to himself. The man turns to the audience, and his unkempt russet hair, feral yellow eyes, wild balbo, and chin curtain beard betray his lycanthropic nature. He smiles widely, innocently, and waves his red-stained, black-clawed paw in a genial welcome. He bellows cheerfully, “Hi there! Make yourself comfortable! Don’t you look absolutely necrolishious! HA! HAHA! I just made that word up!” He laughs again, turns, and resumes playing the piano. The rambling tune picks up pace, and he plays with a showman’s flourish. The song slows as he chats with the audience from over his shoulder. “You know, my ex-girlfriend was a real handful, but really… I’ve never known a woman that was as tender as she was. She was all gushy, and well… to be honest, she just fell to pieces for me. Eventually, things ran their course… three courses, really… and, as they say, nothing lasts forever. But I’ll always have a piece of her, here… close to my heart.” He chuckles, and pats the chest of his patchwork overcoat.

    In the distance, possibly from Meskhenet’s stage, you hear one of the phantom musicians give Wulric a gratuitous rim shot.

    Friendly, charming, and cuddly, but possessing one hell of a mean streak: cocoa absolute, French vanilla, birch tar, lavender, bourbon vetiver, wild musk, cardamom husk, clary sage, and cistus.

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    Yule Cat Perfume Oil

    The Yule Cat is a gargantuan Icelandic feline that feasts on indolent people who shirk their community responsibilities. Don’t be lazy! – idle hands make for a very unpleasant Yule!

    Malevolent musk, a drop of infernal civet, vetiver, club moss, birch, goosefoot, and rowan.

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  • Yule Cat Perfume Oil

    The Yule Cat is a gargantuan Icelandic feline that feasts on indolent people who shirk their community responsibilities. Don’t be lazy! – idle hands make for a very unpleasant Yule!

    Malevolent musk, a drop of infernal civet, vetiver, club moss, birch, goosefoot, and rowan.

    Out of Stock