Smoke
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Agnes Nutter Perfume Oil
Add to cartThe mind of Agnes Nutter was so far adrift in Time that she was considered pretty mad even by the standards of seventeenth-century Lancashire, where mad prophetesses were a growth industry.
Gunpowder, charred wood, smoke, and rusty nails.
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Black Ice Perfume Oil
Out of StockLovely, dangerous, slick, and bitterly cold: chilly white sleet-like notes with a hint of vetiver, a breath of smoky asphalt, and winter wind.
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Caligari A-Go-Go Perfume Oil
Add to cartA fragrance inspired by the atmosphere and art direction of the film — its layers of grit and ooze, pop-art colors standing out against a starless void, clumps of debris, fake flowers, vials of mystery fluid, rumpled straitjackets and crisp lab coats.
Green amber, jasmine bud, cotton blossom, eucalyptus, secondhand smoke, dirt, and petitgrain.
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Cicuta Perfume Oil
Add to cartThe Cicuta, also called the Rictus, are least likely to be accepted by human society, and are, sadly, also the least likely to be accepted by other vampires in general. Some vampires have a peculiar adverse reaction to the transference of the vampiric pathogen whereby their physical appearance is drastically altered: They lose their hair, their features become elongated, their eyes protrude, and a permanent and irreversible inflammation of their joints causes stiff movement and a clawlike rigidity in the hands and feet. Cicuta minds function as any other vampire’s, but their appearance is so startlingly different that they find it almost impossible to find any acceptance whatsoever among humans or vampires. Usually these afflicted vampires choose to live in isolation, either on secluded estates or literally underground. Occasionally, small groups of Cicutas can be found cohabitating, finding comfort and companionship with those that share their condition. The Cicuta were parodied somewhat in F. W. Murnau’s 1922 film Nosferatu.
Dry, dusty rose petals, candle smoke, frankincense, and saffron.
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Come, Sister Perfume Oil
Out of StockThen they began to materialise till-if God have not take away my reason, for I saw it through my eyes-there were before me in actual flesh the same three women that Jonathan saw in the room, when they would have kissed his throat. I knew the swaying round forms, the bright hard eyes, the white teeth, the ruddy colour, the voluptuous lips. They smiled ever at poor dear Madam Mina; and as their laugh came through the silence of the night, they twined their arms and pointed to her, and said in those so sweet tingling tones that Jonathan said were of the intolerable sweetness of the water-glasses:-
“Come, sister. Come to us. Come! Come!”
Icy musk draped in osmanthus and white gardenia, a whisper of ti leaf and orchid, crystalline amber, and incense smoke.
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Defututa Perfume Oil
Select OptionsGood Gods, what a night that was,
The bed was so soft, and how we clung,
Burning together, lying this way and that,
Our uncontrollable passions
Flowing through our mouths.
If I could only die that way,
I’d say goodbye to the business of living.Olive blossom, honey, smoky vanilla, cinnamon, jasmine, sandalwood, and champaca flower.
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Die Flamme Reinigt Sich Vom Rauch Perfume Oil
Out of StockDie Flamme reinigt sich vom Rauch:
So reinge unsern Glauben!
Und raubt man uns den alten Brauch,
Dein Licht, wer kann es rauben!As from the smoke is freed the blaze,
So let our faith burn bright!
And if they crush our olden ways,
Whoe’er can crush Thy light?The Old Ways preserved, defended, and renewed: bonfire smoke, chestnuts, sweet roasted acorns, amber resin, cedarwood, oakmoss, labdanum, vanilla bean, and frankincense.
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Djinn Perfume Oil
Select OptionsAn ancient, free-willed race created from the essence of Fire, much as man was created from Earth. They prowled the land at night, vanishing with the first rays of dawn. Myths surrounding the Djinn paint them as many things: benevolent champions of mankind and slaves to mad sorcerers, malicious incubi / succubi and energy vampires, or malevolent harbingers of madness and disease. The Djinn are ruled by Iblis, the Prince of Darkness, who bears unspeakable contempt for man.
The scent of black smoke, of crackling flames, and smoldering ashes.
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Dragon’s Hide Perfume Oil
Out of StockFlame-kissed, warm, smooth, and highly protective. Dragon’s blood, leather and a hint of smoke.
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Dragon’s Musk Perfume Oil
Out of StockDominant, passionate, devastating. Dragon’s blood and five deep musks.
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Escape From the Autumn Carnival Perfume Oil
Add to cartThe scent of a burning Jack o’ Lantern up on a hill. The fog in a spider web coated hall of mirrors. The ghosts have jumped he track and The Halloween Cowboy is all around. Follow him to a special place – an Autumn Carnival. You’ll never want to leave.
Boot leather, flaming pumpkins, hay bales, and smoke.
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Ghûlheim Perfume Oil
Add to cartGhouls do not build. They are parasites and scavengers, eaters of carrion. The city they call Ghûlheim is something they found, long ago, but did not make. No one they call knows (if anyone human ever knew) what kind of creatures it was that made those buildings, who honeycombed the rock with tunnels and towers, but it is certain that no-one but the ghoul-folk could have wanted to stay there, or even to approach that place.
Even from the path below Ghûlheim, even from miles away, Bod could see that all of the angles were wrong — that the walls sloped crazily, that it was every nightmare he had ever endured made into a place, like a huge mouth of jutting teeth. It was a city that had been built just to be abandoned, in which all the fears and madnesses and revulsions of the creatures who built it were made into stone. The ghoul folk had found it and delighted in it and called it home.
A dark and disjointed scent: smoke and black musk, bladderwrack, opopponax, galangal, and pepper.
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Ginny, The Reaper of Vengeance Perfume Oil
Add to cartSharp tobacco flower and white cognac, a thin layer of smoke, and dusty black pepper pierced by the amber of her eyes.
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Gnome Perfume Oil
Select OptionsAn explosive blend of effervescent golden ginger and black peppercorn with sarsaparilla, gurjum balsam, nutmeg, gear lubricant, and smoke.
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Half Queen of Cigarettes Perfume Oil
Add to cartA snapped tiara of glittering amber, wild yellow tobacco flower, and smoke.
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Hearth Perfume Oil
Out of StockSweet pipe tobacco, cherry wood, the warm, worn leather of an easy chair and a pleasant, subtle waft of fireplace smoke.
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Heavy as Honeyed Pulses Beat Perfume Oil
Out of StockWho are you now, — we cried to her —
Spirit so strange, so sinister?
We felt dead winds above us stir;
And in the darkness heard
A voice fall, singing, cloying sweet,
Heavily dropping, though that heat,
Heavy as honeyed pulses beat,
Slow word by anguished word.Opoponax and vetiver throbbing with thick globs of smoked honey.
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Hexennacht 2020 Perfume Oil
Out of StockThe Night of the Witches. In the Teutonic calendar, April 30, not October 31, was the night that the witches congregated to celebrate their Work through ecstatic dance, wild music and revelry. The witches fêted with spirits, fairies, and a bevy of otherworldly creatures atop Brockenberg peak in the Harz region of Germany, where they lit an enormous bonfire and cavorted naked until midnight… at which point they donned their robes, boarded their brooms, flying rams and sacred goats, scooped up their cat familiars, and sped off into the night. In later days, it was believed that on this night the witches conjured the devil, who would then select one of them for his bride.
This perfume is the scent of the witches’ revel: German fir and forest herbs, incense and bonfire smoke, broom straw, and the wet, glimmering scent of skin warmed by dance.
Illustration: the Dance of the Witches, Isaac Levitan
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Hexennacht Perfume Oil
Out of StockThe Night of the Witches. In the Teutonic calendar, April 30, not October 31, was the night that the witches congregated to celebrate their Work through ecstatic dance, wild music and revelry. The witches fêted with spirits, fairies, and a bevy of otherworldly creatures atop Brockenberg peak in the Harz region of Germany, where they lit an enormous bonfire and cavorted naked until midnight… at which point they donned their robes, boarded their brooms, flying rams and sacred goats, scooped up their cat familiars, and sped off into the night. In later days, it was believed that on this night the witches conjured the devil, who would then select one of them for his bride.
This perfume is the scent of the witches’ revel: German fir and forest herbs, incense and bonfire smoke, broom straw, and the wet, glimmering scent of skin warmed by dance.
Illustration by Stefan Eggeler, 1922.
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Hippie Ghost Perfume Oil
Add to cartA faded snapshot of patchouli-stained peasant blouses, soft suede boots, and smoke.
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I Die of Love Perfume Oil
Out of StockI die of love for him, perfect in every way,
Lost in the strains of wafting music.
My eyes are fixed upon his delightful body
And I do not wonder at his beauty.
His waist is a sapling, his face a moon,
And loveliness rolls off his rosy cheek
I die of love for you, but keep this secret:
The tie that binds us is an unbreakable rope.
How much time did your creation take, O angel?
So what! All I want is to sing your praises.
– Abu NuwasBalsam-dusted leather, crushed lilac, bay rum, soft black musk, cubeb berry, and smoke.
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Jólabókaflóðið Perfume Oil
Out of StockA dribble of candle wax, distant hearth-smoke, a fleck of chocolate Yule log on a thick wool sweater, and aged, yellowing paper bound by well-loved leather that has passed through many gentle hands.
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Leaden Fog Perfume Oil
Out of StockSmoke and cinders floating thickly in a soup of orris and blackened sandalwood.
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Liz Perfume Oil
Out of StockA light, feminine vanilla floral perfume and a swirl of smoke and leather.
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Malinconia Perfume Oil
Add to cartDomenico Fetti
The thief of joy: Oman frankincense, fossilized amber, white patchouli, champaca orchid, ambergris accord, myrrh resin, violet leaf, orris root, age-stained paper, chrysanthemum, and pale tendrils of smoke.
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Mr. Morse’s Seances Perfume Oil
Out of StockInquiries into the Philosophy and Phenomena of Spiritualism should procure admission to Mr. Morse’s Seances at 15, Southampton Road Holborn, London on Friday Evenings at Eight O’Clock.
Don’t be late: polished teakwood, pipe smoke, sugar-clouded absinthe, vetiver, and rum musk.
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October Perfume Oil
Out of StockAy, thou art welcome, heaven’s delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to a good old age released from care,
Journeying, in long serenity, away.
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Might wear out life like thee, ‘mid bowers and brooks
And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And music of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.
– William Cullen BryantDry, cold autumn wind. A rustle of red leaves, a touch of smoke and sap in the air.
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Perversion Perfume Oil
Select OptionsThe perfect scent to wear to your next bondage ball, dungeon adventure or sojourn to your favorite pleasure dome. Smoky rum and black tobacco with a whisper of steamy leather with a splash of crystalline chardonnay, layered over a sensual, sweet, and deceptively magnetic base of tonka.
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Second Sight Perfume Oil 2021
Out of StockIn second sight the percipient beholds events occurring at a distance, sees people whom he never saw with the bodily eye, and who afterwards arrive in his neighbourhood; or foresees events approaching but still remote in time. The chief peculiarity of second sight is, that the visions often, though not always, are of a symbolical character. A shroud is observed around the living man who is doomed; boding animals, mostly black dogs, vex the seer; funerals are witnessed before they occur, and ‘corpse-candles’ (some sort of light) are watched flitting above the road whereby a burial procession is to take its way. Though we most frequently hear the term ‘second sight’ applied as a phrase of Scotch superstition, the belief in this kind of ominous illusion is obviously universal. Theoclymenus, in the Odyssey, a prophet by descent, and of the same clan as the soothsayer Melampus, beholds the bodies and faces of the doomed wooers, ‘shrouded in night’. The Pythia at Delphi announced a similar symbolic vision of blood-dripping walls to the Athenians, during the Persian War. Again, symbolic visions, especially of blood-dripping walls, are so common in the Icelandic sagas that the reader need only be referred to the prodigies before the burning of Njal, in the Saga of Burnt Njal. Second sight was as popular a belief among the Vikings as among the Highlanders who retain a large share of their blood. It may be argued by students who believe in the borrowing rather than in the independent evolution of ideas, that the Gaelic second sight is a direct inheritance from the Northmen, who have left so many Scandinavian local names in the isles and along the coasts.
– Cock Lane and Common Sense, Andrew Lang
A whiff of lilac-dappled beeswax, champaca smoke, and agarwood. -
Seven Word Story: Lust Perfume Oil
Add to cartQuoth one of the wordiest humans who ever lived: “Brevity is the soul of wit.”
This spring we challenged friends and fans to answer that call, baring their souls (and more) in our steamy, Lust-themed #BPAL7wordstory contest
“Seduce us in seven!” we demanded, promising the winning story would be enshrined in a Limited Edition fragrance. The response was overwhelming — and downright filthy. Over eight hundred entries later, Lust found its new champion. The winning story, submitted via Twitter by @GeekDame, took flight in our perfumer’s imagination and resulted in the following myth-tinged tryst.
Congrats to the winner, and keep your quills sharp! #BPAL7wordstory is only getting started.
He breathed smoke across her pomegranate-stained lips.
Chthonic incense and blood-red pomegranate.
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Shadows and Light Perfume Oil
Out of StockThis photo was taken on Mother’s Day, 2020. This photo really struck me: she looks like a child still, but you can see the woman beneath. She looks serious and a little sad, but the set of her chin and and mouth are fixed with a peculiar determination. She has a bit of monster makeup on, but she’s still lovely. To me, the photo holds so much of the ambiguity and conflict that has marked these past few months for us. The plague is terrible and the quarantine can be a very lonely road, but Lilith and I are closer than ever. She’s my child, but she is also now truly my friend. We’ve lost touch with so much of the outside world, but we’re understanding each other so well.
This photo is a snapshot taken on Mother’s Day during a year I could not have imagined; we are living through a collective worldwide crisis on the precipice of unbelievable chaos and upheaval, but at least we’re together. Together in shadow and light.
This scent is white musk, lavender-tinged cognac, and smoke.
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Sissy, The Ascendant Perfume Oil
Add to cartSassafras 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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skekUng the Garthim Master Perfume Oil
Add to cartStrongest of all for brute force – after the Emperor – was skekUng the Garthim Master. Torment was his pleasure, though his urSkeks originally had been a healer and continued so in his urRu form. Hidden in that tall, shining urSkek was one who, ages later, could find pleasure in tearing apart the gentle Gelfling. The urSkeks knew this evil was in them and tried hard to burn it out.
Brute force and destruction: vetiver, smoke, steel, and dragon’s blood resin.
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Smokestack Perfume Oil
Select OptionsGrey-brown flue gasses belch from colossal steel and concrete monoliths, forming bloated clouds in the dusk-dark sky.
Creosote, coal, and industrial waste.
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Spectral Armies Perfume Oil
Out of StockThe following marvellous narrative, communicated by the Ghost Seers, has produced a good deal of conversation in a part of this county, and may serve to astonish the credulous, amuse the sceptical, and occupy the speculative: On Sunday evening the 28th ult. between seven and eight o’clock, Anthony Jackson, farmer, aged 45 years, and Martin Turner, the bon of William Turner, farmer, aged 15 years, while engaged in inspecting their cattle, grazing an Havarah Park, near Ripley, part of the estate of Sir John Ingleby, Bart. were suddenly surprized by a most extraordinary appearance in the Park. Turner, whose attention was first drawn to this spectacle, said, “Look, Anthony, what a quantity of beast!” – “Beas’,” cried Anthony, “Lord bless us! they ire not beast, they are men!” By this time the body was in motion, and the spectators discovered that it was an army of soldiers, dressed in a white military uniform, and that in the centre stood a Personage of commanding aspect, clothed in scarlet. After performing a number of evolutions, the body began to march in perfect order to the summit of a hill, passing the spectators at a distance of about 100 yards. No sooner had the first body, which seemed to consist of several hundreds, and extended four deep, over an inclosure of thirty acres, attained the hill, than another assemblage of men, far more numerous than the former, dressed in dark-coloured clothes, arose and marched, without tiny apparent hostility, after the military spectres; at the top of the hill both the parties formed what the spectators called a L, and passing down the opposite side of the bill, disappeared. At this moment a volume of smoke, apparently like that vomited by a park of artillery, spread over the plain, and was so impervious, as for nearly two minutes to hide the cattle from the view of Jackson and Turner, who hurried home with all possible expedition, and the effect upon their minds, even at this distance of time, is so strong, that they cannot mention the circumstances without visible emotion.
We have had the curiosity, and an idle curiosity perhaps it was, to collate the accounts of this strange vision, as given by the two spectators, and find them to agree in every part, with these exceptions: – The young man says, that as far as he could mark the progress of time while a scene so novel and alarming was passing before him, he thinks that from the appearance of the first body to the disappearance of the smoke, might be about five minutes; Jackson says it could not be less than a quarter of as hour, and that during all this time they were making to each other such observations as arose out of the spectacle. The junior spectator says he observed amongst the first body, arms glistning in the sun; the senior says it might be so; but that did not strike him, nor can he in thinking of it since, recall any such appearance to his recollection.
On this strange story we shall only observe, that the ground forming the scene of action is perfectly sound, and not likely to emit any of those exhalations which might arise from a swamp – that the narrators are both persons of character – that those who know them best, believe them most, and that they themselves are unquestionably convinced of the truth of their own narrative – that tradition records a scene somewhat similar, exhibited on Stockton Forest, about the breaking out of the present war-and that we shall be glad to receive any satisfactory education of this Phantasmagoria.
– Leeds Mercury, 18 July 1812
Phantasmic blasts of ghostly gunpowder and ephemeral, iridescent smoke. -
Tengu Demon Using His Nose as a Phallus Perfume Oil
Out of StockRed musk, black pepper, Mysore sandalwood, ambrette seed, and smoke.
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The Cracked Bell 2022 Perfume Oil
Add to cartHow bittersweet it is, on winter’s night,
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire,
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
Rise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.Lucky the bell — still full and deep of throat,
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent —
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
Like an old soldier, wakeful, in his tent!My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,
Pealing, it tries to fill the cold night air
With its lament, it often sounds, instead,Like some poor wounded wretch — long left for dead
Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed
By bloody pool — rattling, gasping his last.A winter’s horror: smoke and stillness, faded incense and the metallic tang of blood.
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The Elephant is Slow to Mate Perfume Oil
Out of StockThe elephant, the huge old beast,
is slow to mate;
he finds a female, they show no haste
they waitfor the sympathy in their vast shy hearts
slowly, slowly to rouse
as they loiter along the river-beds
and drink and browseand dash in panic through the brake
of forest with the herd,
and sleep in massive silence, and wake
together, without a word.So slowly the great hot elephant hearts
grow full of desire,
and the great beasts mate in secret at last,
hiding their fire.Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts
so they know at last
how to wait for the loneliest of feasts
for the full repast.They do not snatch, they do not tear;
their massive blood
moves as the moon-tides, near, more near
till they touch in flood.
– DH LawrenceA rolling, unhurried, volcanic passion sustained by a love that is slow, shy, patient, and wise – and expressed through a scent as warm, languorous, luxuriant, and comforting as a cloak of heavy, soft red velvet: deep burgundy musk, red labdanum, smoked rose petals, opoponax, 17-year aged patchouli, blackened vanilla bean, dried black cherries, blackberries, and tobacco absolute.
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The Eternal King Perfume Oil
Out of StockThe Old King is sacrificed, dismembered, and returned to the earth so the land may be renewed and nourished.
The death knell of the Old Order so life may begin anew: juniper and yew berry, black pine, white sage, soil, and pyre smoke.
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The Forest Reverie Perfume Oil
Select Options‘Tis said that when
The hands of men
Tamed this primeval wood,
And hoary trees with groans of woe,
Like warriors by an unknown foe,
Were in their strength subdued,
The virgin Earth Gave instant birth
To springs that ne’er did flow
That in the sun Did rivulets run,
And all around rare flowers did blow
The wild rose pale Perfumed the gale
And the queenly lily adown the dale
(Whom the sun and the dew
And the winds did woo),
With the gourd and the grape luxuriant grew.So when in tears
The love of years
Is wasted like the snow,
And the fine fibrils of its life
By the rude wrong of instant strife
Are broken at a blow
Within the heart
Do springs upstart
Of which it doth now know,
And strange, sweet dreams,
Like silent streams
That from new fountains overflow,
With the earlier tide
Of rivers glide
Deep in the heart whose hope has died —
Quenching the fires its ashes hide, —
Its ashes, whence will spring and grow
Sweet flowers, ere long,
The rare and radiant flowers of song!A sunlit ancient forest, dotted with wild roses, grape vine, and queenly lilies, clothed in swirls of opium smoke.
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The Huntsman Perfume Oil
Out of StockLeading a host of spectral hounds, he scours the earth in search of errant souls: black pine and vetiver, leather and clove.
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The Illustrated Woman Perfume Oil
Add to cartSkin musk, smoky vanilla, pine pitch, patchouli, Indian resins, golden honey, and tobacco.
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The Lights of Men’s Lives Perfume Oil
Select OptionsWhen Death saw that for a second time he was defrauded of his own property, he walked up to the physician with long strides, and said, “All is over with thee, and now the lot falls on thee,” and seized him so firmly with his ice-cold hand, that he could not resist, and led him into a cave below the earth. There he saw how thousands and thousands of candles were burning in countless rows, some large, others half-sized, others small. Every instant some were extinguished, and others again burnt up, so that the flames seemed to leap hither and thither in perpetual change. “See,” said Death, “these are the lights of men’s lives. The large ones belong to children, the half-sized ones to married people in their prime, the little ones belong to old people; but children and young folks likewise have often only a tiny candle.” “Show me the light of my life,” said the physician, and he thought that it would be still very tall. Death pointed to a little end which was just threatening to go out, and said, “Behold, it is there.”
The wax and smoke of millions upon millions of candles illuminating the walls of Death’s shadowy cave: some tall, straight, and strong, blazing with the fire of life, others dim and guttering.
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The Storyteller Perfume Oil
Out of StockThe Raconteur, the Town Gossip, and the first character to appear on the stage in the first act. He is the Minstrel of the Heavens, the Devil’s Messenger, spinning morality tales, singing songs of loss, laughter, and triumph, and murmuring prophecies to all.
Beeswax, leather, hearth wood, and campfire smoke.
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These Shabby Days Perfume Oil
Add to cart“…Our kind of people, we are…” He waved the cigarillo about, as if using it to hunt for a word, then stabbing forward with it. “…exclusive. We’re not social. Not even me. Not even Bacchus. Not for long. We walk by ourselves or we stay in our own little groups. We do not play well with others. We like to be adored and respected and worshiped—me, I like them to be tellin’ tales about me, tales showing my cleverness. It’s a fault, I know, but it’s the way I am. We like to be big. Now, in these shabby days, we are small. The new gods rise and fall and rise again. But this is not a country that tolerates gods for long. Brahma creates, Vishnu preserves, Shiva destroys, and the ground is clear for Brahma to create once more.”
Memories of myrrh and gold, and the dying smoke of a snuffed cigarillo.
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V. The Pope Perfume Oil
Add to cartThis is my body, he said, two thousand years ago. This is my blood.
It was the only religion that delivered exactly what it promised: life eternal, for its adherents.
There are some of us alive today who remember him. And some of us claim that he was a messiah, and some think that he was just a man with very special powers. But that misses the point. Whatever he was, he changed the world.
Life everlasting: clove-smoke, benzoin, rose maroc, Jerusalem cedar, cistus, and frankincense.
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Venus Pandemos Perfume Oil
Out of StockVenus Pandemos
Hay, rose otto, red benzoin, torch smoke, and pink carnation.
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We Must Love One Another or Die Perfume Oil
Out of StockFor the past several years, it has been increasingly challenging crafting Lupercalia. How difficult it is to think of love or lust or beauty when we are slowly suffocating in the grip of an increasingly authoritarian regime! Objectively and intellectually, I know that we all need joyful release and rest from care, and that a series like Lupercalia is traditionally a balm for grief and sorrow, but emotionally… it’s sometimes hard to shift gears towards romance and passion when you’re being confronted daily with so much grief and suffering. I want to craft a series filled with laughter, silliness, and joy, but sometimes it’s so hard.
I’m reminded of a snippet of a poem of WH Auden’s: September 1, 1939 –
All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages;
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Belaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.I offer you some smut and a few lines of love and longing in the hopes that we can keep our affirming flames burning during these dark and tumultuous times: white rose, muguet, white sandalwood, ambrette seed, vetiver, and smoke.
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What You Want and Being Happy Are Two Quite Different Things Perfume Oil
Add to cartThe knife’s blade of temptation: sweet pomegranate and fig, carnal tuberose, tobacco leaf, and a trail of smoke.
Words by Neil Gaiman, art by David Mack.
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With My Sythe My Mede I Mawe Perfume Oil
Out of StockThe shearing of the sheep, the scything of the wheat: a time of prosperity, abundance, security, and joy.
The scent of fresh-cut grains, warm wool, baked bread, honey cakes, custards, and crushed fennel suffused with the life-affirming smoke of cooking fires.
Proceeds from the sale of this scent benefit World Central Kitchen, who provides chef-prepared meals to communities impacted by humanitarian crises and natural disasters.