Musk - Red

  • A Commentary

    Ripe apricots and neroli-tinged red musk with bergamot, bitter clove, and vetiver.

  • A Rosy Colour Paints Her Claws with Honor

    Scales cover her thighs spangled with yellow metal, but a rosy colour paints her claws with honour.

    Scales of gold, rose-tinted with red musk, bourbon geranium, and vanilla absolute.

  • A Very Grievous Murraine

    Behold, the hand of the Lord is vpon thy cattell which is in the field, vpon the horses, vpon the asses, vpon the camels, vpon the oxen, and vpon the sheepe: there shall be a very grieuous murraine. And the Lord shall seuer betweene the cattell of Israel, and the cattell of Egypt, and there shall nothing die of all that is the childrens of Israel. And the Lord appointed a set time, saying, To morrow the Lord shall doe this thing in the land.

    Brown musk, myrrh, and sun-baked leather afflicted by splotches of saffron and red musk.

  • Anteros

    When he is with the lover, both cease from their pain, but when he is away then he longs as he is longed for, and has love’s image, Anteros lodging in his breast, which he calls and believes to be not love but friendship only, and his desire is as the desire of the other, but weaker; he wants to see him, touch him, kiss him, embrace him, and probably not long afterwards his desire is accomplished.

    The God of Love Returned and avenger of unrequited love, Anteros is Eros’ brother – one of the Twin Cupids – and was given to Eros by his mother, for without reciprocal affection, love will wither. He wields lead arrows and a hammer of gold, and he wields his weapons to inspire mutual ardor and smite those who spurn love. His scent pierces the heart with glimmering shards of rapture and the sweet ache of passion: throbbing red musk and shimmering chypre with saffron, sweet patchouli, Italian bergamot, red currant, and vanilla bean.

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  • Apple X

    Red apple and patchouli with vanilla cream, white musk, red musk, and teakwood.

  • Arachnina, The Spider Girl

    You move towards the first stage on your right, and as you walk, you feel something brush across your cheek. Something about the softness of the phantom caress makes your skin crawl, and you flinch involuntarily. At that moment, the Spider Girl strides haughtily onto the platform, her stiletto heels clicking a strange staccato as she walks. Her body is wrapped in skin-tight strips of black PVC, and the gleaming vinyl glistens in stark contrast to the alabaster skin on her six pale, white arms. She gestures to the rafters above with a graceful flick of her blood-red nails. In dread, your eyes are drawn skyward: above her, in a gossamer snare, web-shrouded bodies twist and struggle.

    A swirling, hypnotic perfume of black currant, poppy, red and black musk, lilies, nicotiana, tobacco tar, and patchouli.

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  • Behind the Veils

    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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  • Bien Loin D’Ici

    This is the house, the sacred box,
    Where, always draped in languorous frocks,
    And always at home if someone knocks,

    One elbow into the pillow pressed,
    She lies, and lazily fans her breast,
    While fountains weep their soulfullest:

    This is the chamber of Dorothy.
    Fountain and breeze for her alone
    Sob in that soothing undertone.
    Was ever so spoiled a harlot known?

    With odorous oils and rosemary,
    Benzoin and every unguent grown,
    Her skin is rubbed most delicately.
    The flowers are faint with ecstasy.

    The Scarlet Woman, aglow with sensual indolence: red musk, benzoin, caramel accord, golden honey, and spiced Moroccan unguents.

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  • Blood Moon Full Lunar Eclipse

    September 27th brings us a Supermoon Blood Moon Full Lunar Eclipse in Aries. This is the scent of domination and belligerence, passivity and compliance – revenge clashing against reconciliation – and the internal struggle to balance it all. Soul-rending hatred gnawing at the impulse of compassion, the struggle for safety at all costs, and the blood and tears that cleanse it all in the end. 

    May the Gods show mercy to any who stand in the way.

    Impenetrable, blood-spattered, Martial red musk, fiery pomegranate and black pepper, the splintered woods of uncountable wooden arrow shafts and shields, sharp frankincense and morose myrrh, all smothering the gentler impulses of the moon.

    Only 300 bottles crafted. $27 per little bottle of rage.

  • Bloodlust

    A fiery Martial blend that embodies primal rage, lust for conquest, and all-encompassing desire. Dragon’s blood essence, heavy red musk, Indonesian patchouli and swarthy vetiver with a drop of cinnamon.

    Out of Stock
  • Bloodlust Bonbon

    Smoked cacao with dragon’s blood resin, red musk, red patchouli and vetiver with a drop of cinnamon.

  • Blue, Bloody Supermoon: Lunar Eclipse

    This month, an extraordinarily rare Blue Supermoon will rise and pass through the Earth’s shadow. During the full lunar eclipse, Luna will take on a blood red veil. This is the first time in 150 years that this triumvirate of Lunar phenomena will be visible in the Americas, and those in North America’s northern West Coast will have the best seats in the house for this show.

    Crystalline blue musk, juniper berry, white tea leaf, and mugwort veiled by wild plum, shadow-dark vegetal musk, black sage, tobacco absolute, and a shroud of blood musk.

    Out of Stock
  • Countess Willie

    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.

    Out of Stock
  • Creeper Dragon

    This bit of artwork is one of my favorite miniatures simply because it makes me laugh. It is a detail from Roman d’Alexandre, showing Nectanebus all dragon’d up and ready to get busy.

    All this is well and good, medieval Alexander romances are fascinating, but this image will always simply be Creeper Dragon to me.

    Creeper Dragon Musk: daemonorops, green leather, and red musk with dribbles of honey and white cream.

  • Csárdás Macabre

    Red musk, myrrh, peru balsam, Chinese geranium, and tobacco absolute.

  • Dans Les Coulisses

    Red musk, orris root, and bergamot with blackcurrant, pink pepper, and red leather accord.

  • Daruma Doll

    Red musk and almond husk with sweet fig, Bulgarian rose absolute, blood orange rind, and green cognac.

  • Debauchery

    A sinful, licentious scent: self-indulgent and luxurious. Mingled heady civet and red Egyptian musk, thickened with opium.

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  • Delight in Disorder

    A sweet disorder in the dress
    Kindles in clothes a wantonness;
    A lawn about the shoulders thrown
    Into a fine distraction;
    An erring lace, which here and there
    Enthrals the crimson stomacher;
    A cuff neglectful, and thereby
    Ribands to flow confusedly;
    A winning wave, deserving note,
    In the tempestuous petticoat;
    A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
    I see a wild civility:
    Do more bewitch me, than when art
    Is too precise in every part.
    – Robert Herrick

    A sweet disorder in the dress: crimson musk and wild cherry.

  • Diable en Boîte

    The crickets sing, and man’s o’er-labour’d sense
    Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus
    Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken’d
    The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,
    How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily,
    And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
    But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon’d,
    How dearly they do’t! ‘Tis her breathing that
    Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o’ the taper
    Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,
    To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
    Under these windows, white and azure laced
    With blue of heaven’s own tinct. But my design,
    To note the chamber: I will write all down:
    Such and such pictures; there the window; such
    The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures,
    Why, such and such; and the contents o’ the story.
    Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
    Above ten thousand meaner moveables
    Would testify, to enrich mine inventory.
    O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
    And be her sense but as a monument,
    Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off:
    As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard!
    ‘Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
    As strongly as the conscience does within,
    To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
    A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
    I’ the bottom of a cowslip: here’s a voucher,
    Stronger than ever law could make: this secret
    Will force him think I have pick’d the lock and ta’en
    The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end?
    Why should I write this down, that’s riveted,
    Screw’d to my memory? She hath been reading late
    The tale of Tereus; here the leaf’s turn’d down
    Where Philomel gave up. I have enough:
    To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
    Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning
    May bare the raven’s eye! I lodge in fear;
    Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
    One, two, three: time, time!

    – Iachimo, Cymbeline Act II, Scene 2

    There are few things more disturbing than a Jack in the Box. A strangely sinister, unnerving holiday scent: redwood, bitter clove, tonka, hemp accord, and tobacco with peach blossom, black currant, and red musk.

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  • Diable en Boîte

    The crickets sing, and man’s o’er-labour’d sense
    Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus
    Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken’d
    The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,
    How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily,
    And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
    But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon’d,
    How dearly they do’t! ‘Tis her breathing that
    Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o’ the taper
    Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,
    To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
    Under these windows, white and azure laced
    With blue of heaven’s own tinct. But my design,
    To note the chamber: I will write all down:
    Such and such pictures; there the window; such
    The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures,
    Why, such and such; and the contents o’ the story.
    Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
    Above ten thousand meaner moveables
    Would testify, to enrich mine inventory.
    O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
    And be her sense but as a monument,
    Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off:
    As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard!
    ‘Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
    As strongly as the conscience does within,
    To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
    A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
    I’ the bottom of a cowslip: here’s a voucher,
    Stronger than ever law could make: this secret
    Will force him think I have pick’d the lock and ta’en
    The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end?
    Why should I write this down, that’s riveted,
    Screw’d to my memory? She hath been reading late
    The tale of Tereus; here the leaf’s turn’d down
    Where Philomel gave up. I have enough:
    To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
    Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning
    May bare the raven’s eye! I lodge in fear;
    Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
    One, two, three: time, time!
    – Iachimo, Cymbeline Act II, Scene 2

    There are few things more disturbing than a Jack in the Box. A strangely sinister, unnerving holiday scent: redwood, bitter clove, tonka, hemp accord, and tobacco with peach blossom, black currant, and red musk.

  • Dodo

    ‘In that case,’ said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, ‘I move that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies –’

    ‘Speak English!’ said the Eaglet. ‘I don’t know the meaning of half those long words, and, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!’ And the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds tittered audibly.

    ‘What I was going to say,’ said the Dodo in an offended tone, ‘was, that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.’

    ‘What is a Caucus-race?’ said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that somebody ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything.

    ‘Why,’ said the Dodo, ‘the best way to explain it is to do it.’ (And, as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell you how the Dodo managed it.)

    First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (‘the exact shape doesn’t matter,’ it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no ‘One, two, three, and away,’ but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out ‘The race is over!’ and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking, ‘But who has won?’

    This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, ‘everybody has won, and all must have prizes.’

    Red musk, lemon peel, sugar cane, cassia, white sandalwood, mango, and agarwood.

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  • Dragon’s Heart

    A scent pulsing with vitality, warmth and insurmountable strength: dragon’s blood resin, red and black musks, a throb of fig and a sliver of black currant.

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  • Edible G-String

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

    (DO NOT EAT)

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  • Fenris Wolf

    The raw, untamable power of chaos. Rosewood, amber, red musk and a dribble of red sandalwood.

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  • Fortuna Belli

    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.

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  • Funnel of Love

    17-year aged black patchouli, champaca flower, cardamom bud, green coriander, Haitian vetiver, red vegetal musk, black pepper, night-blooming jasmine, and leather.

    Out of Stock
  • Gingerbread Dodo

    Oh dear! I’m a quarter gone!

    Gingerbread with red musk, lemon peel, sugar cane, cassia, white sandalwood, mango, and agarwood.

  • Gingerbread Goblin

    Oh, I’m half gone!

    Gingerbread with black coconut, patchouli, and sweet benzoin.

  • Gingerbread Lust

    I’m three-quarters gone!

    Gingerbread with red musk, patchouli, ylang ylang and myrrh.

  • Gingerbread Satyr

    I’ve run away from a little old woman,
    A little old man,
    A barn full of threshers,
    A field full of mowers,
    A cow and a pig,
    And I can run away from you, I can!

    Gingerbread with red musk, brown musk, civet and ambergris accord, Ceylon cinnamon, black cedar, black moss, and pine tar.

  • Himerus

    The God of Sexual Desire, Longing and Yearning; an attendant of Eros and Aphrodite. A passion-rousing blend of juniper, sandalwood, rosewood, red musk, orchid, bergamot and lilac.

    Out of Stock
  • Hollywood Babylon

    The essence of innocence shattered: glittering Egyptian amber and heliotrope, infused with the sweetness of strawberry and vanilla – dragged into debauch by lusty red musk and a dribble of black cherry.

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  • Ill Omen

    Shortly before his death, as he was told, the herds of horses which he had dedicated to the river Rubico  when he crossed it, and had let loose without a keeper, stubbornly refused to graze and wept copiously. Again, when he was offering sacrifice, the soothsayer Spurinna warned him to beware of danger, which would come not later than the ides of March. On the day before the ides of that month a little bird called the king-bird flew into the Hall of Pompey with a sprig of laurel, pursued by others of various kinds from the grove hard by, which tore it to pieces in the hall. In fact the very night before his murder he dreamt now that he was flying above the clouds, and now that he was clasping the hand of Jupiter; and his wife Calpurnia thought that the pediment of their house fell, and that her husband was stabbed in her arms; and on a sudden the door of the room flew open of its own accord.

    – Suetonius

    Dark portents writhing in a cloud of incense and a tangle of entrails: blood, red musk, black frankincense, and wet ropes of gleaming labdanum.

  • Kabuki

    Compelling, complex, and utterly enigmatic: a luxuriant, exotic blend of cherry, red musk, and star anise.

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  • King of Hearts

    ‘How do you like the Queen?’ said the Cat in a low voice. 

    ‘Not at all,’ said Alice: ‘she’s so extremely–‘ Just then she noticed that the Queen was close behind her, listening: so she went on, ‘–likely to win, that it’s hardly worth while finishing the game.’ 

    The Queen smiled and passed on. 

    ‘Who ARE you talking to?’ said the King, going up to Alice, and looking at the Cat’s head with great curiosity.

    ‘It’s a friend of mine–a Cheshire Cat,’ said Alice: ‘allow me to introduce it.’ 

    ‘I don’t like the look of it at all,’ said the King: ‘however, it may kiss my hand if it likes.’ 

    ‘I’d rather not,’ the Cat remarked. 

    ‘Don’t be impertinent,’ said the King, ‘and don’t look at me like that!’ He got behind Alice as he spoke.

    ‘A cat may look at a king,’ said Alice. ‘I’ve read that in some book, but I don’t remember where.’ 

    ‘Well, it must be removed,’ said the King very decidedly, and he called the Queen, who was passing at the moment, ‘My dear! I wish you would have this cat removed!’ 

    The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. 

    ‘-Off with his head!’ she said, without even looking round. 

    ‘I’ll fetch the executioner myself,’ said the King eagerly, and he hurried off. 

    Rosewood and black cherry with white musk, red rose, red musk and a spark of lavender.

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  • Krampus

    Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa’s wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away.

    Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black and rust-brown leathers, dusty rags, and wooden switches.

  • Krampus

    Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa’s wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away.

    Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black leather, dusty rags, and wooden switches.

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  • Krampus

    Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa’s wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away.

    Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black and rust-brown leathers, dusty rags, and wooden switches.

  • Krampus

    Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa’s wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away.

    Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black leather, dusty rags, and wooden switches.

  • Krampus 2013

    Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa’s wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away.

    Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black leather, dusty rags, and wooden switches.

  • La Femme de Satan

    Nikolai Kalmakoff
    Red musk and cacao with clove, caramelized tobacco, aged patchouli, red currant, black leather, and vanilla-infused amber.

  • Le Lèthè

    Viens sur mon coeur, âme cruelle et sourde,
    Tigre adoré, monstre aux airs indolents;
    Je veux longtemps plonger mes doigts tremblants
    Dans l’épaisseur de ta crinière lourde;

    Dans tes jupons remplis de ton parfum
    Ensevelir ma tête endolorie,
    Et respirer, comme une fleur flétrie,
    Le doux relent de mon amour défunt.

    Je veux dormir! dormir plutôt que vivre!
    Dans un sommeil aussi doux que la mort,
    J’étalerai mes baisers sans remords
    Sur ton beau corps poli comme le cuivre.

    Pour engloutir mes sanglots apaisés
    Rien ne me vaut l’abîme de ta couche;
    L’oubli puissant habite sur ta bouche,
    Et le Léthé coule dans tes baisers.

    À mon destin, désormais mon délice,
    J’obéirai comme un prédestiné;
    Martyr docile, innocent condamné,
    Dont la ferveur attise le supplice,

    Je sucerai, pour noyer ma rancoeur,
    Le népenthès et la bonne ciguë
    Aux bouts charmants de cette gorge aiguë
    Qui n’a jamais emprisonné de coeur.

    – – –

    Come, lie upon my breast, cruel, insensitive soul,
    Adored tigress, monster with the indolent air;
    I want to plunge trembling fingers for a long time
    In the thickness of your heavy mane,

    To bury my head, full of pain
    In your skirts redolent of your perfume,
    To inhale, as from a withered flower,
    The moldy sweetness of my defunct love.

    I wish to sleep! to sleep rather than live!
    In a slumber doubtful as death,
    I shall remorselessly cover with my kisses
    Your lovely body polished like copper.

    To bury my subdued sobbing
    Nothing equals the abyss of your bed,
    Potent oblivion dwells upon your lips
    And Lethe flows in your kisses.

    My fate, hereafter my delight,
    I’ll obey like one predestined;
    Docile martyr, innocent man condemned,
    Whose fervor aggravates the punishment.

    I shall suck, to drown my rancor,
    Nepenthe and the good hemlock
    From the charming tips of those pointed breasts
    That have never guarded a heart.

    Red musk and sweat-damp golden skin musk with labdanum, golden amber, nutmeg, tobacco absolute, black orchid, and hemlock accord.

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  • Luna Sanguinem

    A scent of dreams and portents, strange omens, and palpable mystery. The blood moon passing through the earth’s shadow: mugwort, moonwort, and black lotus reddened by pimento, smoked carnation, red musk, and red rose petals, all shadowed by tobacco absolute, bourbon vanilla, Peru balsam, leather accord, and myrrh.

    Psst! Luna Sanguinem bath oil is available at the Post!

  • Lust

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

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  • Lust Bonbon

    Uncontrollable passion and insatiable sexual desire: red musk, patchouli, ylang ylang and myrrh, surrounded by smoky cinnamon-dusted cacao.

  • Mania

    The personification of insanity, Mother of Manes, Goddess of Night Spirits, Mistress of Undeath, She Who Gives Life to the Dead. With Mantus, she rules the Etruscan underworld, and her scent is roiling chaos and churning madness, but because she is the mother of the Lares, benevolent household spirits, her perfume also bears an underlying gentleness, and, like madness, a strange sweetness. Screeching white musk collides with a howl of red musk, with sharp white grapefruit and pale strawberry leaf.

    Out of Stock
  • Marianne

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

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  • Mme. Moriarty, Misfortune Teller

    A colorless woman bursts from an elaborate gold and ruby tent and faints dead at your feet. Soft laughter emits from the dark entrance to the tent, and the scent of musk, black fruits and incense touches your senses. Looking up, you see that the sign hovering above the unconscious woman is adorned with images of the Major Arcana’s Tower and reads:

    “Mme. Moriarty, Misfortune Teller.
    No fate too grim, no future too bleak.”

    A tiny woman with floor-length black dreadlocks walks out of the tent, stepping over the prone body. She is clothed in deep red wrappings, and is bedecked in golden ornaments bearing alchemical symbols and charms representing eternity, chance, and wisdom. She pauses, looks you over slowly, and then flicks a tarot card at your feet.

    Red musk, vanilla bean, pomegranate, black currant, patchouli leaf and wild plum.

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  • Moons of Jupiter: Io

    A volcanic swirl of colors: yellow jasmine, green mint, black patchouli, white sandalwood, and red poppy with rivulets of volcanic red pepper musk and a blast of sulphur.

  • Moons of Jupiter: Thebe

    Irregular and reddish, porous and cold: a rocky red musk, with lumps of frankincense and opoponax, crusted with ice.

  • Now Winter Nights Enlarge

    Now winter nights enlarge
    The number of their hours,
    And clouds their storms discharge
    Upon the airy towers.
    Let now the chimneys blaze,
    And cups o’erflow with wine;
    Let well-tuned words amaze
    With harmony divine.
    Now yellow waxen lights
    Shall wait on honey love,
    While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights
    Sleep’s leaden spells remove.

    This time doth well dispense
    With lovers’ long discourse;
    Much speech hath some defence,
    Though beauty no remorse.
    All do not all things well;
    Some measures comely tread,
    Some knotted riddles tell,
    Some poems smoothly read.
    The summer hath his joys
    And winter his delights;
    Though love and all his pleasures are but toys,
    They shorten tedious nights.

    Shorten those tedious nights with a surge of body heat: vanilla-infused red musk, champaca, petitgrain, ylang ylang, patchouli, nutmeg, honey, galbanum, and traces of caramel.

  • O Love and Time and Sin

    O Love’s lute heard about the lands of death,
    Left hanged upon the trees that were therein;
    O Love and Time and Sin,
    Three singing mouths that mourn now underbreath,
    Three lovers, each one evil spoken of;
    O smitten lips wherethrough this voice of mine
    Came softer with her praise;
    Abide a little for our lady’s love.
    The kisses of her mouth were more than wine,
    And more than peace the passage of her days.

    Love and Time and Sin: red rose, Saturnian opoponax, and red musk.

  • Poke!

    On December 30th, Lilith went with a gaggle of her Grownups, her plush alligator, Crocky (there’s a story there), and one of her besties, Camilla, to get their ears pierced by the wonderful people at Studio City Tattoo. When the needle went through, she didn’t scream and she didn’t cry… she growled “FFFFFFFFFffFFfffFfffFffffffffffaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh” in an attempt to repress the impulse to yell FUCK in the middle of the tattoo shop. Tom and I got new piercings in solidarity, but Crocky, Teddy, and Brian all declined.

    Coconut and red currant, red musk, and a pop of surgical steel.

  • Portrait of an Unidentified Man as Mephistopheles

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

  • Psychodynamic Discharge

    In certain cases, emotionally charged complexes of representation, which have become autonomous and dissociated, seem to automatically and compulsively press for discharge and realisation through haunting phenomena…. Hence, the so-called haunting occurs in place of a neurosis.

    —Albert von Schrenck-Notzing

    Repressed rage, terror, and subjugated sexuality erupting through fierce bursts of uncontrollable psychic phenomena: black leather and red musk with aged black patchouli, Chinese rose, black pepper, coconut meat, Haitian vetiver, and igneous red ginger.

  • Psychodynamic Discharge

    In certain cases, emotionally charged complexes of representation, which have become autonomous and dissociated, seem to automatically and compulsively press for discharge and realisation through haunting phenomena…. Hence, the so-called haunting occurs in place of a neurosis.

    —Albert von Schrenck-Notzing

    Repressed rage, terror, and subjugated sexuality erupting through fierce bursts of uncontrollable psychic phenomena: black leather and red musk with aged black patchouli, Chinese rose, black pepper, coconut meat, Haitian vetiver, and igneous red ginger.

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  • Satan Starting from the Touch of Ithuriel’s Spear

    Henry Fuseli
    Golden amber, carnation, blackcurrant, aged black patchouli, red musk, and vetiver.

  • Scherezade

    A master storyteller who possessed unfailing courage and compassion, a sharp, quick wit, and a true understanding of human nature. Saffron and Middle Eastern spices swirled through sensual red musk.

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  • Sic Erit

    Esse quid hoc dicam, quod tam mihi dura videntur
    strata, neque in lecto pallia nostra sedent,
    vacuus somno noctem, quam longa, peregi,
    lassaque versati corporis ossa dolent?
    nam, puto, sentirem, siquo temptarer amore.
    an subit et tecta callidus arte nocet?
    sic erit; haeserunt tenues in corde sagittae,
    et possessa ferus pectora versat Amor.
    Cedimus, an subitum luctando accendimus ignem?
    cedamus! leve fit, quod bene fertur, onus.
    vidi ego iactatas mota face crescere flammas
    et rursus nullo concutiente mori.
    verbera plura ferunt, quam quos iuvat usus aratri,
    detractant prensi dum iuga prima boves.
    asper equus duris contunditur ora lupatis,
    frena minus sentit, quisquis ad arma facit.
    acrius invitos multoque ferocius urget
    quam qui servitium ferre fatentur Amor.
    En ego confiteor! tua sum nova praeda, Cupido;
    porrigimus victas ad tua iura manus.
    nil opus est bello–veniam pacemque rogamus;
    nec tibi laus armis victus inermis ero.
    necte comam myrto, maternas iunge columbas;
    qui deceat, currum vitricus ipse dabit,
    inque dato curru, populo clamante triumphum,
    stabis et adiunctas arte movebis aves.
    ducentur capti iuvenes captaeque puellae;
    haec tibi magnificus pompa triumphus erit.
    ipse ego, praeda recens, factum modo vulnus habebo
    et nova captiva vincula mente feram.
    Mens Bona ducetur manibus post terga retortis,
    et Pudor, et castris quidquid Amoris obest.
    omnia te metuent; ad te sua bracchia tendens
    vulgus ‘io’ magna voce ‘triumphe!’ canet.
    blanditiae comites tibi erunt Errorque Furorque,
    adsidue partes turba secuta tuas.
    his tu militibus superas hominesque deosque;
    haec tibi si demas commoda, nudus eris.
    Laeta triumphanti de summo mater Olympo
    plaudet et adpositas sparget in ora rosas.
    tu pinnas gemma, gemma variante capillos
    ibis in auratis aureus ipse rotis.
    tunc quoque non paucos, si te bene novimus, ures;
    tunc quoque praeteriens vulnera multa dabis.
    non possunt, licet ipse velis, cessare sagittae;
    fervida vicino flamma vapore nocet.
    talis erat domita Bacchus Gangetide terra;
    tu gravis alitibus, tigribus ille fuit.
    Ergo cum possim sacri pars esse triumphi,
    parce tuas in me perdere, victor, opes!
    adspice cognati felicia Caesaris arma–
    qua vicit, victos protegit ille manu.

    WHO is it that can tell me why my bed seems so is hard and why the bedclothes will not stay upon it? Wherefore has this night–and oh, how long it was!–dragged on, bringing no sleep to my eyes? Why are my weary limbs visited with restlessness and pain? If it were Love that had come to make me suffer, surely I should know it. Or stay, what if he slips in like a thief, what if he comes, without a word of warning, to wound me with his cruel arts? Yes, ’tis he! His slender arrows have pierced my heart, and fell Love holds it like a conquered land. Shall I yield me to him? Or shall I strive against him, and so add fuel to this sudden flame? Well, I will yield; burdens willingly borne do lighter weigh. I know that the flames will leap from the shaken torch and die away in the one you leave alone. The young oxen which rebel against the yoke are more often beaten than those which willingly submit. And if a horse be fiery, harsh is the bit that tames him. When he takes to -the fray with a will, he feels the curb less galling. And so it is with Love; for hearts that struggle and rebel against him, he is more implacable and stern than for such as willingly confess his sway.

    Ah well, be it so, Cupid; thy prey am I. I am a poor captive kneeling with suppliant hands before my conqueror. What is the use of fighting? Pardon and peace is what I ask. And little, I trow, would it redound to your glory, armed as you are, to strike down a defenceless man. Crown thy brows with myrtle and thy mother’s doves yoke to thy car. Thy step-father will give thee the chariot that befits thee, and upon that chariot, amid the acclamations of the throng, thou shalt stand a conqueror, guiding with skill thy harnessed birds. Captives in thy train, youths and maidens shall follow, and splendid shall be thy triumph. And I, thy latest victim, shall be there with my fresh wound, and with submissive mien I will bear my new-wrought fetters. Prudence shall be led captive with hands bound behind her back, and Modesty, and whatsoever else is an obstacle to Love. All things shall be in awe of thee, and stretching forth their arms towards thee the throng with mighty voice shall thunder “Io Triumphe!” Caresses shall be thy escort, and Illusion and Madness, a troop that ever follows in thy train. With these fighting on thy side, nor men nor gods shall stand against thee; but if their aid be lacking, naked shalt thou be. Proud to behold thy triumph, thy mother will applaud thee from High Olympus and scatter roses on thy upturned face. Thy wings and thy locks shall be adorned with precious stones, and all with gold resplendent shalt thou drive thy golden car. Then too, if I know thee well, thou wilt set countless other hearts on fire, and many a wound shalt deal as thou passest on thy way. Repose, even when thou art fain to rest, cometh not to thine arrows. Thy ardent flame turns water itself to vapour. Such was Bacchus when he triumphed over the land of the Ganges. Thou art drawn along by doves; his car was drawn by tigers. Since, then, I am to have a part in thy godlike triumph, lose not the rights which thy victory gives thee over me. Bethink thee of the victories of thy kinsman Cæsar; he shields the conquered with the very hand that conquers them.

    – – –

    Thus it will be; slender arrows are lodged in my heart,
    and Love vexes the chest that it has seized.
    Should I surrender or stir up the sudden flame by battling it?
    I will surrender; a burden becomes light when it is carried willingly.
    – Ovid, translation by J. Lewis May

    Slender arrows lodged in my heart: red amber, benzoin, red musk, bourbon geranium, oak bark, Atlas cedar, and 13-year aged Sumatran patchouli.

  • Sissy, The Ascendant

    Sassafras and smoke for black vulture feathers, and King mandarin and red musk for the deep red-orange of the vulture’s face. Blue lilac and chamomile / opoponax and vetiver for the blue and black of her eyes. Vanilla bean and fig represent her innate goodness and instinctive kindness.

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  • Spellbound

    Perfectly enchanting! An irresistibly sexual, utterly rapturous blend of three roses, radiant amber, and sensual red musk.

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  • Spider Witch

    My little witch, my little lilt of laughter: this scent is for the sorceress you are and the sorceress you will grow to be. 7-year aged patchouli, red musk, and bourbon vanilla with sweet oudh, hazelnut, amber chypre, leather.

  • Starstruck: Aries 2016

    Cardinal fire: the essence of identity. An energizing blend that fosters willpower and helps bolster your spirit when your enthusiasm for life is on the wane. Perfect for initiating new projects, increasing momentum, and forcing yourself to explore your own boundaries.

    Dragon’s blood resin, wild gingergrass, black pepper, red musk, red sandalwood, rue, and basil.

  • Starstruck: Pisces 2016

    Mutable Water: the essence of faith. This is the scent of belief, be it in oneself, mankind, the gods, our myths, or our potential. This is the willingness to explore the darkness, the push towards the edges of fantasy or delirium. This is the perfume of the Psychopomp and the Mystic, the Saint and the Madman; this is the scent of the lifegiving salt of blood and ocean, and the darkest depths of the sea. Red musk and brine, ships’ planks of thorny acacia, an indescribable abyssophelagic musk, soporific lavender, and a strange, sweet waft of benzoin.

  • Stonehenge at Dusk

    Several years ago, I went to Stonehenge for the very first time. Walking through the center of the stones was transformative, and watching the sun set behind the stones stole my breath like a cold dagger of joy plunged into my heart. Teddy and I wanted to share that moment – the feel of the place, the enigmatic majesty of the stones, the mist-shrouded history – with Lilith, so we took her there last March.

    I cannot put into words what it felt like to watch her run and laugh through the standing stones, to watch her skip and laugh and dance through the shadows and sunsets of thousands upon thousands of years.

    Wiltshire’s burnt-tip orchids, a scattering of dandelions, crushed grass, wild daffodil, and chips of fog-wet bluestone.

  • Terra Caloris

    The Land of Heat: red musk flickering with hot red amber, red pepper, scorched thyme, frankincense, green cardamom, and Ceylon cinnamon.

    Caution: this oil contains cinnamon, and is not suitable for those with sensitive skin.

  • The Deluge of Blood

    Then said Gangleri: “What covenant was between them, or which was the stronger?” And Hárr answered: “The sons of Borr slew Ymir the giant; lo, where he fell there gushed forth so much blood out of his wounds that with it they drowned all the race of the Rime-Giants, save that one, whom giants call Bergelmir, escaped with his household; he went upon his ship, and his wife with him, and they were safe there. And from them are come the races of the Rime-Giants, as is said here:

    Untold ages | ere earth was shapen,
    Then was Bergelmir born;

    That first I recall, | how the famous wise giant
    On the deck of the ship was laid down.”

    A torrent of red musk, Dracaena draco, red pepper, black patchouli, nagarmotha, and red ginger.

  • The Elephant’s Leash

    Peach blossoms and cherry blossoms with red musk, Oaxacan amber, copal, lilac, and white sandalwood.

  • The Great Sword of War

    And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.

    Mandarin, tonka, saffron, black tea, cocoa, tobacco leaf, sanguine red musk and five classical herbs of conflict.

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  • The Grindhouse

    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 Ifrit

    The taxi driver comes out of the shower, wet, with a towel wrapped around his midsection. He is not wearing his sunglasses, and in the dim room his eyes burn with scarlet flames.

    Salim blinks back tears. “I wish you could see what I see,” he says.

    “I do not grant wishes,” whispers the ifrit, dropping his towel and pushing Salim gently, but irresistibly, down onto the bed.

    Desert sand, red musk, blackened ginger, dragon’s blood resin, black pepper, cinnamon, and tobacco.

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  • The Instructional Manual

    Cherry blossoms falling into folds of red musk, bourbon vanilla, and strawberry cream.

  • The Monstrous

    And the stories she’d been told, were they confessions of uncommitted crimes, accounts of the worst imaginable, imagined to keep fiction from becoming fact? The thought chased its own tail: these terrible stories still needed a first cause, a well-spring from which they leaped. As she walked home through the busy streets she wondered how many of her fellow citizens knew such stories. Were these inventions common currency, as Purcell had claimed? Was there a place, however small, reserved in every heart for the monstrous?

    The shadow self – the monstrous self – buried within everyone’s soul: black, thick, dark oils – opoponax, myrrh, vetiver, blackened patchouli, and jaundiced turmeric – within a pulse of red musk.

  • The Sun in Anger Swore

    And the moon in haste eclipsed her,
    and the Sun in anger swore
    He would curl his wick within him
    and give light to you no more.
    – Aristophanese, Chorus of Clouds

    A withdrawn, seething red amber spiked with dragon’s blood resin, black pepper, red musk, and red oudh.

  • The Temptation

    The Demon, in my chamber high,
    This morning came to visit me,
    And, thinking he would find some fault,
    He whispered: “I would know of thee

    Among the many lovely things
    That make the magic of her face,
    Among the beauties, black and rose,
    That make her body’s charm and grace,

    Which is most fair?” Thou didst reply
    To the Abhorred, O soul of mine:
    “No single beauty is the best
    When she is all one flower divine.

    When all things charm me I ignore
    Which one alone brings most delight;
    She shines before me like the dawn,
    And she consoles me like the night.

    The harmony is far too great,
    That governs all her body fair,
    For impotence to analyse
    And say which note is sweetest there.

    O mystic metamorphosis!
    My senses into one sense flow —
    Her voice makes perfume when she speaks,
    Her breath is music faint and low!”

    An expression of love, adoration, and desire, of beauty that transcends mortal desire and piques the interest of hell itself: attar of rose, calla lily, palmarosa, peach blossom, wisteria, rice flower, and black musk.

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  • The Three Cocks

    A cock crew; far down in the bowels of the earth he was and beside Hela’s habitation: the rusty-red cock of Hel crew, and his crowing made a stir in the lower worlds. In Jötunheim a cock crew, Fialar, the crimson cock, and at his crowing the Giants aroused themselves. High up in Asgard a cock crew, the golden cock Gullinkambir, and at his crowing the Champions in Valhalla bestirred themselves.

    Red musk and belladonna blossom for Hel’s red rooster, amber and copal for Gullinkambir, and pimento-soaked red clove for Fialar.

  • The Tumultuous Vultures of Stern Passion

    Of all the women whom I have ever known, she, the outwardly calm, the ever-placid Ligeia, was the most violently a prey to the tumultuous vultures of stern passion. And of such passion I could form no estimate, save by the miraculous expansion of those eyes which at once so delighted and appalled me –by the almost magical melody, modulation, distinctness and placidity of her very low voice –and by the fierce energy (rendered doubly effective by contrast with her manner of utterance) of the wild words which she habitually uttered.

    Of such passion, I could form no estimate: sanguine red musk, red benzoin, wild plum, vetiver tar, and Indonesian patchouli beneath a still pool of sheer white musk and vanilla-gilded lily.

  • The Vampire Bride

    “I am come-I am come! once again from the tomb,
    In return for the ring which you gave;
    That I am thine, and that thou art mine,
    This nuptial pledge receive.”
    He lay like a corse ‘neath the Demon’s force,
    And she wrapp’d him in a shroud;
    And she fixed her teeth his heart beneath,
    And she drank of the warm life-blood!
    And ever and anon murmur’d the lips of stone,
    “Soft and warm is this couch of thine,
    Thou’lt to-morrow be laid on a colder bed-
    Albert! that bed will be mine!”
    – Henry Thomas Liddell

    Icy skin touched by a perfume of violet leaf, white tea, olibanum, elemi, myrrh, wormwood, crypt dust, and saffron with a dribble of blood red musk.

  • The Visionary

    Silent is the house: all are laid asleep:
    One alone looks out o’er the snow-wreaths deep,
    Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze
    That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees.

    Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor;
    Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door;
    The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong and far:
    I trim it well, to be the wanderer’s guiding-star.

    Frown, my haughty sire! chide, my angry dame!
    Set your slaves to spy; threaten me with shame:
    But neither sire nor dame nor prying serf shall know,
    What angel nightly tracks that waste of frozen snow.

    What I love shall come like visitant of air,
    Safe in secret power from lurking human snare;
    What loves me, no word of mine shall e’er betray,
    Though for faith unstained my life must forfeit pay.

    Burn, then, little lamp; glimmer straight and clear—
    Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air:
    He for whom I wait, thus ever comes to me;
    Strange Power! I trust thy might; trust thou my constancy.
    – Emily Brontë

    What I love shall come like a visitant of air. The wild freedom of the snow-gleaming heath thrusting through the dull safety of the hearth and the doldrums of the bleak, rolling moors. Lush, honeyed red musk twined with heart-thrilling white musk on passion-warmed skin against a backdrop of raw, iced peat, common heather, and hearth wood.

  • The White Witch

    O brothers mine, take care! Take care!
    The great white witch rides out to-night.
    Trust not your prowess nor your strength,
    Your only safety lies in flight;
    For in her glance there is a snare,
    And in her smile there is a blight.

    The great white witch you have not seen?
    Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth,
    Like nursery children you have looked
    For ancient hag and snaggle-tooth;
    But no, not so; the witch appears
    In all the glowing charms of youth.

    Her lips are like carnations, red,
    Her face like new-born lilies, fair,
    Her eyes like ocean waters, blue,
    She moves with subtle grace and air,
    And all about her head there floats
    The golden glory of her hair.

    But though she always thus appears
    In form of youth and mood of mirth,
    Unnumbered centuries are hers,
    The infant planets saw her birth;
    The child of throbbing Life is she,
    Twin sister to the greedy earth.

    And back behind those smiling lips,
    And down within those laughing eyes,
    And underneath the soft caress
    Of hand and voice and purring sighs,
    The shadow of the panther lurks,
    The spirit of the vampire lies.

    For I have seen the great white witch,
    And she has led me to her lair,
    And I have kissed her red, red lips
    And cruel face so white and fair;
    Around me she has twined her arms,
    And bound me with her yellow hair.

    I felt those red lips burn and sear
    My body like a living coal;
    Obeyed the power of those eyes
    As the needle trembles to the pole;
    And did not care although I felt
    The strength go ebbing from my soul.

    Oh! she has seen your strong young limbs,
    And heard your laughter loud and gay,
    And in your voices she has caught
    The echo of a far-off day,
    When man was closer to the earth;
    And she has marked you for her prey.

    She feels the old Antaean strength
    In you, the great dynamic beat
    Of primal passions, and she sees
    In you the last besieged retreat
    Of love relentless, lusty, fierce,
    Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet.

    O, brothers mine, take care! Take care!
    The great white witch rides out to-night.
    O, younger brothers mine, beware!
    Look not upon her beauty bright;
    For in her glance there is a snare,
    And in her smile there is a blight.

    Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet: gold-flecked honey amber pulsating with red musk, patchouli coeur, bourbon vanilla, inky vetiver, pomegranate rind, myrrh, blackened violet leaf, and blood red rose petals.

  • The White Witch 2015

    O brothers mine, take care! Take care!
    The great white witch rides out to-night.
    Trust not your prowess nor your strength,
    Your only safety lies in flight;
    For in her glance there is a snare,
    And in her smile there is a blight.

    The great white witch you have not seen?
    Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth,
    Like nursery children you have looked
    For ancient hag and snaggle-tooth;
    But no, not so; the witch appears
    In all the glowing charms of youth.

    Her lips are like carnations, red,
    Her face like new-born lilies, fair,
    Her eyes like ocean waters, blue,
    She moves with subtle grace and air,
    And all about her head there floats
    The golden glory of her hair.

    But though she always thus appears
    In form of youth and mood of mirth,
    Unnumbered centuries are hers,
    The infant planets saw her birth;
    The child of throbbing Life is she,
    Twin sister to the greedy earth.

    And back behind those smiling lips,
    And down within those laughing eyes,
    And underneath the soft caress
    Of hand and voice and purring sighs,
    The shadow of the panther lurks,
    The spirit of the vampire lies.

    For I have seen the great white witch,
    And she has led me to her lair,
    And I have kissed her red, red lips
    And cruel face so white and fair;
    Around me she has twined her arms,
    And bound me with her yellow hair.

    I felt those red lips burn and sear
    My body like a living coal;
    Obeyed the power of those eyes
    As the needle trembles to the pole;
    And did not care although I felt
    The strength go ebbing from my soul.

    Oh! she has seen your strong young limbs,
    And heard your laughter loud and gay,
    And in your voices she has caught
    The echo of a far-off day,
    When man was closer to the earth;
    And she has marked you for her prey.

    She feels the old Antaean strength
    In you, the great dynamic beat
    Of primal passions, and she sees
    In you the last besieged retreat
    Of love relentless, lusty, fierce,
    Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet.

    O, brothers mine, take care! Take care!
    The great white witch rides out to-night.
    O, younger brothers mine, beware!
    Look not upon her beauty bright;
    For in her glance there is a snare,
    And in her smile there is a blight.

    Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet: gold-flecked honey amber pulsating with red musk, patchouli coeur, bourbon vanilla, inky vetiver, pomegranate rind, myrrh, blackened violet leaf, and blood red rose petals.

  • The Witch Queen

    On a rocky mountain pass, on the southernmost slopes of Mount Belly, the witch-queen reined in her goat-drawn chariot and stopped and sniffed the chilly air.

    The myriad stars hung cold in the sky above her.

    Her red, red lips curved up into a smile of such beauty, such brilliance, such pure and perfect happiness that it would have frozen your blood in your veins to have seen it. “There,” she said. “She is coming to me.”

    And the wind of the mountain pass howled about her triumphantly, as if in answer.

    Wild plum, red musk, tuberose, calla lily, heliotrope, pimento, ylang ylang and beeswax beneath a dark haze of sinister purple-hued incense smoke.

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  • Third Charm 2016

    The owl is abroad, the bat, and the toad,
    And so is the cat-a-mountain,
    The ant and the mole sit both in a hole,
    And the frog peeps out o’ the fountain;
    The dogs they do bay, and the timbrels play,
    The spindle is now a turning;
    The moon it is red, and the stars are fled,
    But all the sky is a-burning:

    The ditch is made, and our nails the spade,
    With pictures full, of wax and of wool;
    Their livers I stick, with needles quick;
    There lacks but the blood, to make up the flood.
    Quickly, Dame, then bring your part in,
    Spur, spur upon little Martin,
    Merrily, merrily, make him fail,
    A worm in his mouth, and a thorn in his tail,
    Fire above, and fire below,
    With a whip in your hand, to make him go.

    There’s magic afoot: fiery red musk, luminous elemi, East Indian patchouli, champaca flower, cedar incense, ho wood, and hemlock accord sweetened with a peculiar sweet honey.

  • Two Turtle Doves

    and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

    Pulsating globs of red musk, viscera-thick black vegetal musk and opoponax, with white pepper, tuberose, white lavender, orris butter, and ambergris accord.

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  • Venus Victrix

    Venus the Victorious

    Peru balsam and aged patchouli with white sandalwood, red musk, red roses, and wood moss.

  • VILF

    Because isn't that what this book is really about? Vampire smut: patchouli-infused honey, red musk, red sandalwood, red ginger, pink pepper, Peru balsam, dark Eastern florals, Himalayan cedar, smoky vanilla, bitter clove, and leather.

  • War

    She finished the drink, hefted the sword over one shoulder, and looked around at the puzzled factions, who now encircled her completely. ‘Sorry to run out on you, chaps,’ she said. ‘Would love to stay and get to know you better.’

    The men in the room suddenly realized they didn’t want to know her better. She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, but not up close.

    And she held her sword, and she smiled like a knife.

    Red ginger, black spices, patchouli, honeysuckle, and three blood-soaked red musks.

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  • Witch Dance 2016

    As in the Sabatt’s ancient round
    With strange and subtle steps you went:
    And toward the heaven and toward the ground
    Your steeple shapen hat was bent
    As in the sabbat’s ancient round.

    Between the windy, swirling fire
    And all the stillness of Ihe moon.
    Sweet witch, you danced at my desire,
    Turning some weird and lovely tune
    To paces like the swirling fire.
    Your supple youth and loveliness

    A glamor left upon the air:
    Whether to curse, whether to bless,
    You wove a stronger magic there
    With your lithe youth and loveliness.
    Upon the earth your paces wrought

    A circle such as magicians made…
    And still some hidden thing you sought
    With hands desirous, half afraid,
    Beyond the ring your paces wrought.

    Your fingers, on the smoke and flame,
    Moved in mysterious conjuring,
    You seemed to call a silent Name,
    And lifted like an outstretched wing
    Your somber gown against the flame.

    What darkling and demonian Lord,
    In fear or triumph, did you call?
    Ah! was it then that you implored,
    With secret signs equivocal,
    The coming of the covens’ Lord?

    Sweet witch, you conjured forth my heart
    To answer always at your will!
    Like Merlin, in some place apart,
    It lies enthralled and captive still:
    Sweet witch, you conjured thus my heart!
    – Clark Ashton Smith

    Bonfire smoke rising through a cloud of ceremonial incense, encircled by swirling autumn leaves and a dribble of blood red musk.

  • Witchblade

    Antediluvian, sacred metal, glowing red musk, blessed frankincense, and antiqued amber.

    The Witchblade perfume was created to layer seamlessly with Sara Pezzini’s scent, and is made to be worn with all of the future Black Phoenix scents inspired by Witchblade wielders.

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  • Zorya Vechernyaya

    “You see, I am the only one of us who brings in any money. The other two cannot make money fortune-telling. This is because they only tell the truth, and the truth is not what people want to hear. It is a bad thing, and it troubles people, so they do not come back. But I can lie to them, tell them what they want to hear. So I bring home the bread.”

    Red musk and wild plum, orange blossom and jasmine, juniper berries, sweet incense and vetiver-laced sandalwood.

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