Oud - White

  • blizzard

    Blizzard Perfume Oil

    Snow:

    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.

    Out of Stock
  • This image is decorative

    ImPEACHment Perfume Oil

    A 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.

    Out of Stock
  • to a wreath of snow -

    To a Wreath of Snow Hair Gloss

    O 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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  • to a wreath of snow

    To a Wreath of Snow Perfume Oil

    O 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.

    Out of Stock
  • TOUCHED TWICE

    Touched Twice Perfume Oil

    It 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.

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