Oakmoss

  • alcie

    Alcie

    Sassy. Impetuous. Loyal. Alcestis Artemisia Medusa, with her red hair and brown-green eyes, is prettier than most and is having a much easier time with all the “maiden stuff.” Alcie’s father, a wealthy man, buys all the latest toga clasps, hair irons and ankle bracelets for his daughter, so she’s always rather lovely. However, Alcie is also a distant niece of the great Gorgon Medusa, a creature so hideous that anyone who looked into its eyes would immediately turn to stone. A young hero, Perseus, had cut off Medusa’s head some years earlier, so at least all the relatives didn’t have to worry about Medusa showing up for feast days, but Alcie was still embarrassed by the blot on the family name.

    Just a hint of gorgon blood: bright nectarine, honey, sandalwood, green musk, sea buckthorn berry, and oakmoss.

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  • SHUNGA WEB2017-an interlude after sake

    An Interlude After Sake

    Fir needle and white tea with crushed fresh ginger, white amber, apricot, and oakmoss.

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  • Beauty

    Beauty, The Aggrieved

    4 out of 5

    A white rose draped by a delicate, pale, sheer veil of vanilla, the depth and darkness of her black lace embodied by tobacco absolute, Indonesian patchouli, Bulgarian oakmoss, frankincense, white sandalwood, and myrrh.

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  • Carp and Octopus

    Carp and Octopus

    Sea buckthorn berry, salt musk, white nectarine, kelp, oakmoss, green musk, and elemi.

    Out of Stock
  • Cathode

    Cathode

    4.5 out of 5

    A negatively charged scent. Ambergris, Spanish Moss, oakmoss and three electric mints.

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  • ct2015-fougere

    Chaos Theory VII: Fougere

    Sharply fernlike lavenders and lilacs with a herbaceous, oakmoss-tinted touch.

    Out of Stock
  • Chionophobia

    Chionophobia

    Fear of Snow

    A suffocating, oppressive white shroud: a fragrance heavy with ice, strangled by damp oakmoss, artemisia, and muguet.

    Out of Stock
  • SHUNGA WEB2017-Consoling Pussy of Horse Face Mountain

    Consoling Pussy of Horse Face Mountain

    Tuberose incense, blue wisteria, and oakmoss.

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  • Crowley

    Crowley

    5 out of 5

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

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

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

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  • Danse Macabre

    Danse Macabre

    3 out of 5

    An allegorical expression of the ineffable, indisputable triumph of death, generally expressed in medieval artwork as a violin or flute-wielding skeleton leading a procession of dancers to their graves. Black cypress with oakmoss, frankincense, oude, and a sliver of toasted hazelnut.

    Out of Stock
  • Dark Rosaleen

    Dark Rosaleen

    O my dark Rosaleen,
    Do not sigh, do not weep!
    The priests are on the ocean green,
    They march along the deep.
    There’s wine from the royal Pope,
    Upon the ocean green;
    And Spanish ale shall give you hope,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My own Rosaleen!

    Shall glad your heart, shall give you hope,
    Shall give you health, and help, and hope,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    Over hills, and thro’ dales,
    Have I roam’d for your sake;
    All yesterday I sail’d with sails
    On river and on lake.
    The Erne, at its highest flood,
    I dash’d across unseen,
    For there was lightning in my blood,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    My own Rosaleen!
    O, there was lightning in my blood,
    Red lighten’d thro’ my blood.
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    All day long, in unrest,
    To and fro, do I move.
    The very soul within my breast
    Is wasted for you, love!
    The heart in my bosom faints
    To think of you, my Queen,
    My life of life, my saint of saints,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My own Rosaleen!
    To hear your sweet and sad complaints,
    My life, my love, my saint of saints,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    Woe and pain, pain and woe,
    Are my lot, night and noon,
    To see your bright face clouded so,
    Like to the mournful moon.
    But yet will I rear your throne
    Again in golden sheen;

    ‘Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My own Rosaleen!
    ‘Tis you shall have the golden throne,
    ‘Tis you shall reign, and reign alone,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    Over dews, over sands,
    Will I fly, for your weal:
    Your holy delicate white hands
    Shall girdle me with steel.
    At home, in your emerald bowers,
    From morning’s dawn till e’en,
    You’ll pray for me, my flower of flowers,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My fond Rosaleen!
    You’ll think of me through daylight hours
    My virgin flower, my flower of flowers,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    I could scale the blue air,
    I could plough the high hills,
    Oh, I could kneel all night in prayer,
    To heal your many ills!
    And one beamy smile from you
    Would float like light between
    My toils and me, my own, my true,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My fond Rosaleen!
    Would give me life and soul anew,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    O, the Erne shall run red,
    With redundance of blood,
    The earth shall rock beneath our tread,
    And flames wrap hill and wood,

    And gun-peal and slogan-cry
    Wake many a glen serene,
    Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die,
    My Dark Rosaleen!
    My own Rosaleen!
    The Judgement Hour must first be nigh,
    Ere you can fade, ere you can die,
    My Dark Rosaleen!

    —James Clarence Mangan

    Impassioned patriotism cloaked in the guise of a love song: golden frankincense gilding pine pitch, sun-touched amber, and oakmoss resinoid.

    Out of Stock
  • Fae

    Fae

    4.33 out of 5

    A brilliant, ethereal scent: white musk, bergamot, heliotrope, peach and oakmoss.

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  • Faiza, The Lady of Serpents

    Faiza, The Lady of Serpents

    4.5 out of 5

    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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  • Gingerbread Zombi

    Gingerbread Zombi

    I’m all gone!

    Gingerbread with dried roses, rose leaf, Spanish moss, oakmoss and deep brown earth.

    Out of Stock
  • Greed

    Greed

    3.4 out of 5

    Base and earthy, yet glittering with golden notes: patchouli, heliotrope, copal and oakmoss.

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  • Horreur-Sympathique

    Horreur Sympathique

    3.67 out of 5

    From livid skies that, without end,
    As stormy as your future roll,
    What thoughts into your empty soul
    (Answer me, libertine!) descend?

    – Insatiable yet for all
    That turns on darkness, doom, or dice,
    I'll not, like Ovid, mourn my fall,
    Chased from the Latin paradise.

    Skies, torn like seacoasts by the storm!
    In you I see my pride take form,
    And the huge clouds that rush in streams

    Are the black hearses of my dreams,
    And your red rays reflect the hell,
    In which my heart is pleased to dwell.

    The perfume of a hellbound soul, gleefully lost to iniquity: blood musk, golden honey, thick black wine, champagne grapes, tobacco flower, plum blossom, tonka bean, oakmoss, carnation, benzoin, opoponax, and sugar cane.

    Out of Stock
  • Horror Unthinkable and Unexpected

    Horror Unthinkable and Unexpected

    The man who had brought me now squirmed to a point directly beside the hideous flame, and made stiff ceremonial motions to the semicircle he faced. At certain stages of the ritual they did grovelling obeisance, especially when he held above his head that abhorrent Necronomicon he had taken with him; and I shared all the obeisances because I had been summoned to this festival by the writings of my forefathers. Then the old man made a signal to the half-seen flute-player in the darkness, which player thereupon changed its feeble drone to a scarce louder drone in another key; precipitating as it did so a horror unthinkable and unexpected. At this horror I sank nearly to the lichened earth, transfixed with a dread not of this nor any world, but only of the mad spaces between the stars.

    The mad spaces between the stars: oakmoss, myrrh, vetiver, rectified cade, ravinsara, wild verbena, and neroli.

    Out of Stock
  • hunger-moon-2017-web

    Hunger Moon

    When Hunger Moon hangs high in the sky, the fields are frozen, and game is piteously scarce. Sleet covers the ground, and biting winds chill to the bone. This is a quiet, cold perfume: desolate and despairing. It is a clear night sky that and bracing chill wind that bears the promise of snow, sharpened by the pain of hunger, and the sharp, rasping stab of thirst. Ozone, white sandalwood, crystallized white amber, verbena, oakmoss, clary sage, black pine pitch, and a hint of white citrus rind.

    Out of Stock
  • Hunger Moon 2014

    Hunger Moon 2014

    When Hunger Moon hangs high in the sky, the fields are frozen, and game is piteously scarce. Sleet covers the ground, and biting winds chill to the bone. This is a quiet, cold perfume: desolate and despairing. It is a clear night sky that and bracing chill wind that bears the promise of snow, sharpened by the pain of hunger, and the sharp, rasping stab of thirst.

    Ozone, white sandalwood, Gum Arabic, crystallized white amber, verbena, oakmoss, clary sage, davana, and a hint of white citrus rind.

    Art by Tanya Bjork! The Hunger Moon tee is available here at the Trading Post!

    Out of Stock
  • PENINSULA DELIRIORUM

    Lacus Mortis

    The Lake of Death: narcotic indole, pale asphodel, and bone-white sandalwood plunged into in an impenetrable sea of black patchouli, labdanum, castoreum accord, and oakmoss.

    Out of Stock
  • Les Infortunes de la Vertu

    Les Infortunes de la Vertu

    3 out of 5

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

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  • Lily

    Lily, The Prostitute

    Heady blossoms of jasmine, white gardenia, and magnolia sharpened by neroli, given a voluptuous depth by red patchouli, oakmoss, and cedar.

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  • Antique Medical Illustration | Human heart

    Luperci

    Piss off, Saint Valentine! Lupercalia is an ancient Roman celebration, held on February 15th, that kicked in the advent of Spring with a very, very festive purification, fertility and sexuality ritual. The ritual began near the cave of Lupercal on the Palatine, an area sacred to Faunus, as well as Ruminia, Romulus and Remus. During Lupercalia, Vestal Virgins first made offerings of sacred cakes to the fig tree under which the she-wolf suckled the Sacred Twins. A dog and two goats were then offered in sacrifice to Faunus. The blood of the sacrifice was smeared onto two naked patrician youths, who were assisted by the Virgins, and the blood was wiped clean with sacred wool dipped in milk. The youths donned the skins of the sacrificial goats, wielding whips made from the goat skins, and then led the priests and the Virgins around the pomarium, and around the base hills of Rome. This was a ceremony of great happiness and merriment, and was of particular interest to young women: being touched by the goat-whips young men that led the procession ensured their fertility in the coming year. It is believed that, after the initial rite, male participants would draw the name of an available maiden, with whom he spent the rest of the night. This scent is for the Luperci, the Chosen of Faunus, the Brothers of the Wolf: raw, down and dirty patchouli, Gurjam balsam, and essence of Sampson Root sweetened with the heightened sexuality of beeswax, virile juniper, oakmoss, ambrette seed over honey and East African musk.

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  • Luperci 2014

    Luperci 2014

    Piss off, Saint Valentine! Lupercalia is an ancient Roman celebration, held on February 15th, that kicked in the advent of Spring with a very, very festive purification, fertility and sexuality ritual. The ritual began near the cave of Lupercal on the Palatine, an area sacred to Faunus, as well as Ruminia, Romulus and Remus. During Lupercalia, Vestal Virgins first made offerings of sacred cakes to the fig tree under which the she-wolf suckled the Sacred Twins. A dog and two goats were then offered in sacrifice to Faunus. The blood of the sacrifice was smeared onto two naked patrician youths, who were assisted by the Virgins, and the blood was wiped clean with sacred wool dipped in milk. The youths donned the skins of the sacrificial goats, wielding whips made from the goat skins, and then led the priests and the Virgins around the pomarium, and around the base hills of Rome. This was a ceremony of great happiness and merriment, and was of particular interest to young women: being touched by the goat-whips young men that led the procession ensured their fertility in the coming year. It is believed that, after the initial rite, male participants would draw the name of an available maiden, with whom he spent the rest of the night. This scent is for the Luperci, the Chosen of Faunus, the Brothers of the Wolf: raw, down and dirty patchouli, Gurjam balsam, and essence of Sampson Root sweetened with the heightened sexuality of beeswax, virile juniper, oakmoss, ambrette seed over honey and East African musk.

    Out of Stock
  • Moons of Jupiter

    Moons of Jupiter: Metis

    One of the Inner Moons, Metis is tidally locked to Jupiter. A scent of prudence, skill, and wise counsel, she is the perfect Moon to kick off a new year with a grounded, steady, firm foundation. Clary sage, oakmoss, white pine, and terebinth.

    Out of Stock
  • Mount Fuji Reflected in Lake Misaica

    Mount Fuji Reflected in Lake Misaica

    An oakmoss chypre with black cypress, wild mint, labdanum, pine needles, white sandalwood, and white cedar.

    Out of Stock
  • Nephilim

    Nephilim

    3 out of 5

    Dark children conceived from the union of Fallen Angels and the Daughters of Men. According to lore, the angel Shemhazai led a group of his angels to earth to instruct mankind in the ways of piety and righteousness. After a time, the angels became prey to earthly desires and began to lust after the daughters of man, and thus they fell. They instructed their mortal mates in the arts of conjuration, summoning, necromancy and other magickal arts. The fruits of their union are the Nephilim: possessed of superhuman strength, cunning, and infinite capacity, and hunger for, sin. Venerated as heroes by some, vilified by most, the Nephilim eventually annihilated one another in a cataclysmic civil war instigated by the angel Gabriel as punishment for their transgressions.

    Holy frankincense and hyssop in union with earthy fig, defiled by black patchouli and vetiver, with a chaotic infusion of lavender, cardamom, tamarind, rosemary, oakmoss and cypress.

    Out of Stock
  • Omen

    Omen

    3 out of 5

    Deep, mysterious, and full of dark portents: oakmoss, juniper berry, myrrh and patchouli.

    Out of Stock
  • PENINSULA DELIRIORUM

    Palus Putridinis

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

    Out of Stock
  • Portrait of an Unidentified Man As Mephistopheles

    Portrait of an Unidentified Man as Mephistopheles

    Paul Mathey
    A debonair lavender fougere cloaked in smoky red musk, red mandarin, and oakmoss.

    Out of Stock
  • Pumpkin II

    Pumpkin II

    3.5 out of 5

    Pumpkin artwork by Asenath Waite!

    Blackened pumpkin with clove, tobacco absolute, aged patchouli, and oakmoss.

    Out of Stock
  • Salome

    Salomé

    3.75 out of 5

    And when a convenient day was come, that Herod on his birthday made a supper to his lords, high captains, and chief estates of Galilee; And when the daughter of the said Herodias came in, and danced, and pleased Herod and them that sat with him, the king said unto the damsel, Ask of me whatsoever thou wilt, and I will give it thee. And he sware unto her, Whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I will give it thee, unto the half of my kingdom. And she went forth, and said unto her mother, What shall I ask? And she said, The head of John the Baptist.

    And she came in straightway with haste unto the king, and asked, saying, I will that thou give me by and by in a charger the head of John the Baptist. And the king was exceeding sorry; yet for his oath’s sake, and for their sakes which sat with him, he would not reject her. And immediately the king sent an executioner, and commanded his head to be brought: and he went and beheaded him in the prison, and brought his head in a charger, and gave it to the damsel: and the damsel gave it to her mother. And when his disciples heard of it, they came and took up his corpse, and laid it in a tomb.

    A scent that is both coquettish and sinister. Exotic and lush, brimming with grace and viciousness: almond with star jasmine, oakmoss, red sandalwood and Egyptian musk.

    Out of Stock
  • Samhainophobia

    Samhainophobia 2013

    Fear of Halloween. Menacing Haitian vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.

    Out of Stock
  • samhainophobia

    Samhnainophobia 2016

    The fear of Halloween. Menacing Haitian vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.

    Out of Stock
  • Schrodinger's Cat

    Schrodinger’s Cat

    4.5 out of 5

    One can even set up quite ridiculous cases. A cat is penned up in a steel chamber, along with the following diabolical device (which must be secured against direct interference by the cat): in a Geiger counter there is a tiny bit of radioactive substance, so small that perhaps in the course of one hour one of the atoms decays, but also, with equal probability, perhaps none; if it happens, the counter tube discharges and through a relay releases a hammer which shatters a small flask of hydrocyanic acid. If one has left this entire system to itself for an hour, one would say that the cat still lives if meanwhile no atom has decayed. The first atomic decay would have poisoned it. The Psi function for the entire system would express this by having in it the living and the dead cat (pardon the expression) mixed or smeared out in equal parts. It is typical of these cases that an indeterminacy originally restricted to the atomic domain becomes transformed into macroscopic indeterminacy, which can then be resolved by direct observation. That prevents us from so naively accepting as valid a “blurred model” for representing reality. In itself it would not embody anything unclear or contradictory. There is a difference between a shaky or out-of-focus photograph and a snapshot of clouds and fog banks.

    A paradoxical scent experiment! – tangerine, sugared lime, pink grapefruit, oakmoss, lavender, zdravetz, and chocolate peppermint.

    No cats were mistreated during the formulation of this paradox, or in the process of creating this perfume.

    Out of Stock
  • Southern Cloudywing

    Southern Cloudywing

    5 out of 5

    Cardamom tea, orange peel, mate, oakmoss, tonka bean, sweet cedar, and costus.

    Out of Stock
  • The Day Burned White

    The Day Burned White

    5 out of 5

    Using the door, which was centrally placed in the wall like a mouth, the artists had sprayed a single, vast head onto the stripped plaster. The painting was more adroit than most she had seen, rife with detail that lent the image an unsettling veracity. The cheekbones jutting through skin the color of buttermilk; the teeth, sharpened to irregular points, all converging on the door. The sitter’s eyes were, owing to the room’s low ceiling, set mere inches above the upper lip, but this physical adjustment only lent force to the image, giving the impression that he had thrown his head back. Knotted strands of his hair snaked from his scalp across the ceiling. Was it a portrait? There was something naggingly specific in the details of the brows and the lines around the wide mouth; in the careful picturing of those vicious teeth. A nightmare certainly: a facsimile, perhaps, of something from a heroin fugue. Whatever its origins, it was potent. Even the illusion of door-as-mouth worked. The short passageway between living room and bedroom offered a passable throat, with a tattered lamp in lieu of tonsils. Beyond the gullet, the day burned white in the nightmare’s belly. The whole effect brought to mind a ghost train painting. The same heroic deformity, the same unashamed intention to scare. And it worked; she stood in the bedroom almost stupefied by the picture, its red-rimmed eyes fixing her mercilessly.

    Plaster and spraypaint, mottled with buttermilk – sweet, chalky, and edging on sickly. White and golden amber beams of daylight pour through the belly of the scent, while oakmoss and Spanish moss add a touch of decay.

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  • Grave-Pig

    The Grave-Pig

    5 out of 5

    We must have all the old demons of the first class, with tails, and the hobgoblins and imps; and then I think we ought not to leave out the death-horse, or the grave-pig, or even the church dwarf, although they do belong to the clergy, and are not reckoned among our people; but that is merely their office, they are nearly related to us, and visit us very frequently. 

    Fig, oakmoss, mushroom caps, and patchouli.

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  • HARLOT'S HOUSE

    The Harlot’s House

    We caught the tread of dancing feet,
    We loitered down the moonlit street,
    And stopped beneath the harlot's house.

    Inside, above the din and fray,
    We heard the loud musicians play
    The “Treues Liebes Herz” of Strauss.

    Like strange mechanical grotesques,
    Making fantastic arabesques,
    The shadows raced across the blind.

    We watched the ghostly dancers spin
    To sound of horn and violin,
    Like black leaves wheeling in the wind.

    Like wire-pulled automatons,
    Slim silhouetted skeletons
    Went sidling through the slow quadrille.

    The took each other by the hand,
    And danced a stately saraband;
    Their laughter echoed thin and shrill.

    Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed
    A phantom lover to her breast,
    Sometimes they seemed to try to sing.

    Sometimes a horrible marionette
    Came out, and smoked its cigarette
    Upon the steps like a live thing.

    Then, turning to my love, I said,
    “The dead are dancing with the dead,
    The dust is whirling with the dust.”

    But she–she heard the violin,
    And left my side, and entered in:
    Love passed into the house of lust.

    Then suddenly the tune went false,
    The dancers wearied of the waltz,
    The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl.

    And down the long and silent street,
    The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet,
    Crept like a frightened girl.

    The dead are dancing with the dead, the dust is whirling with the dust: angel’s trumpet, violet, white sandalwood, oude, copaiba balsam, angelica, white tea, olibanum, and oakmoss.

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  • The King's Daughter

    The King’s Daughter

    4.5 out of 5

    There were a prince and a princess sitting by a stream in a wooded valley. Their seven servants had set up a scarlet canopy beneath a tree, and the royal young couple ate a box lunch to the accompaniment of lutes and theorbos. They hardly spoke a word to one another until they had finished the meal, and then the princess sighed and said, “Well, I suppose I’d best get the silly business over with.” The prince began to read a magazine.

    “You might at least –” said the princess, but the prince kept on reading. The princess made a sign to two of the servants, who began to play an older music on their lutes. Then she took a few steps on the grass, held up a bridle bright as butter, and called, “Here, unicorn, here! Here, my pretty, here to me! Comecomecomecomecome!”

    The prince snickered. “It’s not your chickens you’re calling, you know,” he remarked without looking up. “Why don’t you sing something, instead of clucking like that?”

    “Well, I’m doing the best I can,” the princess cried. “I’ve never called one of these things before.” But after a little silence, she began to sing.

    I am a king’s daughter,
    And if I cared to care,
    The moon that has no mistress
    Would flutter in my hair.
    No one dares to cherish
    What I choose to crave.
    Never have I hungered,
    That I did not have.

    I am a king’s daughter,
    And I grow old within
    The prison of my person,
    The shackles of my skin.
    And I would run away
    And beg from door to door,
    Just to see your shadow
    Once, and never more.

    So she sang, and sang again, and then she called, “Nice unicorn, pretty, pretty, pretty,” for a little longer, and then she said angrily, “Well, I’ve done as much as I’ll do. I’m going home.”

    The prince yawned and folded his magazine. “You satisfied custom well enough,” he told her, “and no one expected more than that. It was just a formality. Now we can be married.”

    “Yes,” the princess said, “now we can be married.” The servants began to pack everything away again, while the two with the lutes played joyous wedding music. The princess’s voice was a little sad and defiant as she said, “If there really were such things as unicorns, one would have come to me. I called as sweetly as anyone could, and I had the golden bridle. And of course I am pure and untouched.”

    “For all of me, you are,” the prince answered indifferently. “As I say, you satisfy custom. You don’t satisfy my father, but then neither do I. That would take a unicorn.” He was tall, and his face was as soft and pleasant as a marshmallow.

    When they and their retinue were gone, the unicorn came out of the wood, followed by Molly and the magician, and took up her journey again. A long time later, wandering in another country where there were no streams and nothing green, Molly asked her why she had not gone to the princess’s song. Schmendrick drew near to listen to the answer, though he stayed on his side of the unicorn. He never walked on Molly’s side.

    The unicorn said, “That king’s daughter would never have run away to see my shadow. If I had shown myself, and she had known me, she would have been more frightened than if she had seen a dragon, for no one makes promises to a dragon. I remember that once it never mattered to me whether or not princesses meant what they sang. I went to them all and laid my head in their laps, and a few of them rode on my back, though most were afraid. But I have no time for them now, princesses or kitchenmaids. I have no time.”

    A matter of formality: lilac musk, sandalwood, sweet pea, watermelon accord, pale woods, elemi, and oakmoss.

    Out of Stock
  • Last Unicorn

    The Last Unicorn

    4.2 out of 5

    The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam, but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea.

    Frosty lilac petals, iris pallida root, orris, violet leaf, white chocolate, coconut, wild lettuce, white sandalwood, and oakmoss.

    Out of Stock
  • pleasures of the imagination WEB-5

    V

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

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  • Visions of Autumn VI

    Visions of Autumn VI

    Oakmoss, lavender absolute, petitgrain, rockrose, white patchouli, and sage.

    Out of Stock
  • winter-de-tuin-van-de-vicaris-onder-sneeuw-by-vincent-van-gogh

    Winter (de Tuin Van de Vicaris Onder Sneeuw)

    Vincent Van Gogh

    Cypress and black juniper, fir balsam, oakmoss, benzoin-laced snow, and the last remaining leaves of autumn.

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  • Zombi

    Zombi

    4.31 out of 5

    Dried roses, rose leaf, Spanish moss, oakmoss and deep brown earth.

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