Oud - White
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Blizzard Perfume Oil
Out of StockSnow:
years of anger following
hours that float idly down —
the blizzard
drifts its weight
deeper and deeper for three days
or sixty years, eh? Then
the sun! a clutter of
yellow and blue flakes —
Hairy looking trees stand out
in long alleys
over a wild solitude.
The man turns and there —
his solitary track stretched out
upon the world.
– William Carlos Williams
A solitary track stretched out upon the world: grey amber and white oud, ti leaf, vanilla ash and white sandalwood. -
ImPEACHment Perfume Oil
Out of StockA beam of hope for a happier, safer, kinder future for us all: peach and honeyed amber with frankincense, honeyed rose, white oud, apricot, and sweet musk.
Proceeds benfit the ACLU.
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To a Wreath of Snow Perfume Oil
Out of StockO transient voyager of heaven!
O silent sign of winter skies!
What adverse wind thy sail has driven
To dungeons where a prisoner lies?
Methinks the hands that shut the sun
So sternly from this mourning brow
Might still their rebel task have done
And checked a thing so frail as thou
They would have done it had they known
The talisman that dwelt in thee,
For all the suns that ever shone
Have never been so kind to me!
For many a week, and many a day
My heart was weighed with sinking gloom
When morning rose in mourning grey
And faintly lit my prison room
But angel like, when I awoke,
Thy silvery form so soft and fair
Shining through darkness, sweetly spoke
Of cloudy skies and mountains bare
The dearest to a mountaineer
Who, all life long has loved the snow
That crowned her native summits drear,
Better, than greenest plains below –
And voiceless, soulless messenger
Thy presence waked a thrilling tone
That comforts me while thou art here
And will sustain when thou art gone
– Emily Brontë
Morning rising in mourning grey: tobacco flower, white oud, lavender bud, and ambergris accord.
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Touched Twice Perfume Oil
Add to cartIt was long that the unicorn stood by Prince Lír before she touched him with her horn. For all that her quest had ended joyously, there was weariness in the way she held herself, and a sadness in her beauty that Molly had never seen. It suddenly seemed to her that the unicorn’s sorrow was not for Lír but for the lost girl who could not be brought back; for the Lady Amalthea, who might have lived happily ever after with the prince. The unicorn bowed her head, and her horn glanced across Lír’s chin as clumsily as a first kiss.
He sat up blinking, smiling at something long ago. “Father,” he said in a quick, wondering voice. “Father, I had a dream.” Then he saw the unicorn, and he rose to his feet as the blood on his face began to shine and move again. He said, “I was dead.”
The unicorn touched him a second time, over the heart, letting her horn rest there for a little space. They were both trembling. Prince Lír put his hands out to her like words. She said, “I remember you. I remember.”
As delicate as life, as gentle as death, and as powerful as love: sheer, luminescent vanilla musk with frangipani, red sandalwood, frankincense, champaca flower, coconut, rose absolute, white cyclamen, Himalayan mogra, angelica, and white oud.