Snow
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A Snowy Bench Perfume Oil
Out of StockSnow-covered bamboo reeds, white pear, plum blossoms, honeyed green tea, and Japanese narcissus.
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A Winter’s Scene with Skaters Near a Castle Perfume Oil
Out of StockHendrick Avercamp
Snow-covered stroopwafels, ice-rimed brown leaves, and a swish of boot leather.
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Black Julbocken Alchemy Perfume Oil
Add to cartOur winter mascot! A musky, snow-touched, forest-deep Yuletide blend: shaggy black wool and a slushy tangle of juniper, mistletoe, winter sage, spikenard, white moss, and terebinth.
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Drops of Melting Snow Perfume Oil
Out of StockSnow-laden cherry trees, winter peonies, white rose petals, and black plum juice.
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Frau Holle Perfume Oil
Add to cartFrau Holle, or Holda, is the personification of the changes wrought when winter seizes the land: she rides the chill winds in her chariot, shaking out her featherbeds in order to precipitate snowfall. The rolling fog is the smoke from her hearth fire, and thunder claps when she reels her flax. Holda is a goddess of matrons, who governs spinning, domestic chores, witchcraft and witches, and the Wild Hunt. She presides over the transition of souls, both to and from this world. Though she is childless, she watches over children, and the spirits of newborns spring forth from her sacred pool. Her festival falls during midwinter, when the dead roam free. She holds court in Hörselberg, from which the Wild Hunt is issued, and all the beasts in the land heed her call.
Snow-covered pines, witches herbs, bestial musk, flax, and ethereal flowers that represent both birth and death.
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Monastery Garden in the Snow Perfume Oil
Out of StockCarl Friedrich Lessing
Curls of monastic incense, moss-stained stone, snow-laden cypress, medicinal herbs buried deep in winter soil, and glittering icicles splintering from a gargoyle’s frozen scream. -
Night Gaunt Perfume Oil
Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product pageNo one ever found what the night-gaunts took, though those beasts themselves were so uncertain as to be almost fabulous. Carter asked them if night-gaunts sucked blood and liked shiny things and left webbed footprints, but they all shook their heads negatively and seemed frightened at his making such an inquiry. When he saw how taciturn they had become he asked them no more, but went to sleep in his blanket.
Their scent of their slick, rubbery hides is bittersweet, ticklish, and skin-creeping: something akin to yuzu, white grapefruit, and kumquat mixed with the snow-dusted flowers of Mount Ngranek.
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Snow Snake 2023 Perfume Oil
Out of StockA chilly interpretation of BPAL’s Snake Oil: sweet, spiced musk with a crunch of snow and frost-hardened patchouli.
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Snow White Perfume Oil
Out of StockA chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers.
Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith. -
Snowbound Perfume Oil
Out of StockBlack Phoenix’s rapturous blend of three roses, radiant amber, and sensual red musk strapped in leather and covered in snow.
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The Snowglobe Perfume Oil
Out of StockShe looked around the room. It was so familiar-that was what made it feel so truly strange. Everything was exactly the same as she remembered: there was all her grandmother’s strange-smelling furniture, there was the painting of the bowl of fruit (a bunch of grapes, two plums, a peach and an apple) hanging on the wall, there was the low wooden table with the lion’s feet, and the empty fireplace which seemed to suck heat from the room.
But there was something else, something she did not remember seeing before. A ball of glass, up on the mantelpiece.
She went over to the fireplace, went up on tiptoes, and lifted it down. It was a snow globe, with two little people in it. Coraline shook it and set the snow flying, white snow that glittered as it tumbled through the water.
Then she put the snow globe back on the mantelpiece, and carried on looking for her true parents and for a way out.
Cold leaded glass, bone chip snow, and glycerin.
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Think Snow for Me Home & Linen Spray
Out of Stock“What we need,” said Wednesday, suddenly, “is snow. A good, driving, irritating snow. Think ‘snow’ for me, will you?”
“Huh?”
“Concentrate on making those clouds-the ones over there, in the west-making them bigger and darker. Think gray skies and driving winds coming down from the arctic. Think snow.”
“I don’t think it will do any good.”
“Nonsense. If nothing else, it will keep your mind occupied,” said Wednesday, unlocking the car. “Kinko’s next. Hurry up.”
Snow, thought Shadow, in the passenger seat, sipping his hot chocolate. Huge, dizzying clumps and clusters of snow falling through the air, patches of white against an iron-gray sky, snow that touches your tongue with cold and winter, that kisses your face with its hesitant touch before freezing you to death. Twelve cotton-candy inches of snow, creating a fairy-tale world, making everything unrecognizably beautiful . . .
Snow, thought Shadow. High in the atmosphere, perfect, tiny crystals that form about a minute piece of dust, each a lacelike work of fractal art. And the snow crystals clump together into flakes as they fall, covering Chicago in their white plenty, inch upon inch . . .
Snow upon snow upon snow.