Sweet

  • Alice, The Reaper of Cruelty

    Bourbon geranium emboldened by the rich scent of aged patchouli, the sweetness of peach, raspberry leaf, and bourbon vanilla, surrounded by a butterfly swarm of spicy carnation and Italian bergamot.

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  • Athens

    A reformulation and modernization of a true Classical Greek perfume, myrrhine: voluptuous myrrh, golden honey, red wine, and sweet flowers.

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  • Ava

    It’s always a bit weird with family. A scant two-hundred years old, there doesn’t seem to be anything that roots Ava to her past. Her scent is utterly contemporary, and, like her personality, it is impulsive, capricious, and dangerous. Voluptuous and brittle, lovely and toxic:  sheer vanilla musk with tuberose, red mandarin, and the sweet poison of white almond.

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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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  • Bon Vivant

    An effervescent blend of crystalline champagne notes and sweet strawberry.

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  • Courtney

    A sweet and over-the-top girly teenybopper perfume mixed with a little tanning lotion and a healthy dollop of pink (very, very pink) bubblegum.

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  • Hell’s Belle

    Sweet, smokey and sensually wicked. A thick, steamy scent, truly sinister in its voluptuous sexuality. The perfume of a demon’s favored consort, or of the devil herself. Oleander with wet, sweet mandarin, lush magnolia, a rush of deep musk and a touch of spice.

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  • Hetairae

    The sublimely beautiful, fiercely independent, impeccably cultured, fascinatingly worldly and witty courtesans of ancient Greece. A seductive and dazzling blend of golden honey, fiery patchouli, sweet fig and clove, and a blushing touch of ylang ylang.

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  • 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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  • Ian

    Y’know, for a zombie, you’re alright. A flicker of hero worship, tempered by naivety and an innately kind nature: shaggy leather, sweet rum absolute, and patchouli.

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  • La Bella Donna Della Mia Mente

    My limbs are wasted with a flame,
    My feet are sore with traveling,
    For, calling on my Lady’s name,
    My lips have now forgot to sing.

    O Linnet in the wild-rose brake
    Strain for my Love thy melody,
    O Lark sing louder for love’s sake,
    My gentle Lady passeth by.

    She is too fair for any man
    To see or hold his heart’s delight,
    Fairer than Queen or courtesan
    Or moonlit water in the night.

    Her hair is bound with myrtle leaves,
    (Green leaves upon her golden hair!)
    Green grasses through the yellow sheaves
    Of autumn corn are not more fair.

    Her little lips, more made to kiss
    Than to cry bitterly for pain,
    Are tremulous as brook-water is,
    Or roses after evening rain.

    Her neck is like white melilote
    Flushing for pleasure of the sun,
    The throbbing of the linnet’s throat
    Is not so sweet to look upon.

    As a pomegranate, cut in twain,
    White-seeded, is her crimson mouth,
    Her cheeks are as the fading stain
    Where the peach reddens to the south.

    O twining hands! O delicate
    White body made for love and pain!
    O House of love! O desolate
    Pale flower beaten by the rain!

    Soft, lush myrtle and dry, sweet melilot with wild rose, pomegranate juice and peach blossom against a background of deep aquatic notes and a twirl of melancholy autumn breezes.

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  • Machu Picchu

    Sweet tropical fruits burst through deep, wet rainforest boughs, enormous steamy blossoms, over thin mountaintop breezes, mingled with the soft, rich golden scent of Peruvian amber.

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  • Maenad

    Orgiastic mayhem in the extreme: sweet strawberry and orange blossom distorted by carnation, black poppy and hibiscus.

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  • New Orleans

    Reminiscent of hothouse blooms on a humid night, ripe, but touched with decay. Sweet honeysuckle and jasmine with a hint of lemon and spice.

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  • Pandy

    Every girl you’d ever want to be or know. Although she doesn’t quite know it…yet. Ever since she had turned thirteen and had officially become a maiden, Pandora Atheneus Andromaeche Helena, only daughter of the titan Prometheus, was bored to tears. Well…not bored exactly…but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what she was feeling. She looked skyward and saw Bellerophon, now a tiny speck, rocketing about on his magnificent winged horse. Gods, how exciting that must be! And there were other heroes, men and women, all over Greece doing wonderful, brave, death-defying things right at that very moment. Her curiosity rose inside her like steam. What would it feel like to have a sword in her hand or fly on the back of a magical animal? How she wished she could have some kind, any kind, of adventure.

    Fresh white musk, honeycomb, sweet apricot, elemi, orange blossom, and mischievous pink pepper.

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  • Perversion

    The 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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  • Poisoned Apple

    The queen stepped before her mirror:

    Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
    Who in this land is fairest of all?

    The mirror answered:

    You, my queen, are fair; it is true.
    But Little Snow-White with the seven dwarfs
    Is a thousand times fairer than you.

    When the queen heard this, she shook and trembled with anger, “Snow-White will die, if it costs me my life!” Then she went into her most secret room — no one else was allowed inside — and she made a poisoned, poisoned apple. From the outside it was red and beautiful, and anyone who saw it would want it. Then she disguised herself as a peasant woman, went to the dwarfs’ house and knocked on the door.

    Snow-White peeped out and said, “I’m not allowed to let anyone in. The dwarfs have forbidden it most severely.”

    “If you don’t want to, I can’t force you,” said the peasant woman. “I am selling these apples, and I will give you one to taste.”

    “No, I can’t accept anything. The dwarfs don’t want me to.”

    “If you are afraid, then I will cut the apple in two and eat half of it. Here, you eat the half with the beautiful red cheek!” Now the apple had been so artfully made that only the red half was poisoned. When Snow-White saw that the peasant woman was eating part of the apple, her desire for it grew stronger, so she finally let the woman hand her the other half through the window. She bit into it, but she barely had the bite in her mouth when she fell to the ground dead.

    The queen was happy, went home, and asked her mirror:

    Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
    Who in this land is fairest of all?

    And it answered:

    You, my queen, are fairest of all.

    A perfect, lovely, gleaming red apple whose sweetness masks a swirl of narcotic opium, oleander, and hemlock.

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  • Red Queen

    Deep mahogany and rich, velvety woods lacquered with sweet, black-red cherries and currant.

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  • Sarah, The Mother Bear

    Practical scents – warm, nurturing, wise, and strong: tonka bean, soft brown leather, myrrh, white sage, gurjum balsam, Ceylon cinnamon bark, red sandalwood, sweet tobacco, and a touch of gunsmoke.

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  • Schmendrick

    Wonder and love and great sorrow shook Schmendrick the Magician then, and came together inside him, and filled him, filled him until he felt himself brimming and flowing with something that was none of these. He did not believe it, but it came to him anyway, as it had touched him twice before and left him more barren than he had been. This time, there was too much of it for him to hold: it spilled through his skin, sprang from his fingers and toes, welled up equally in his eyes and his hair and the hollows of his shoulders. There was too much to hold, too much ever to use; and still he found himself weeping with the pain of his impossible greed. He thought, or said, or sang, 'I did not know that I was so empty, to be so full'.

    Unexplored potential: sweet, raw tobacco leaves, chamomile, clary sage, Mysore sandalwood, sultana raisins, and caramel.

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  • Shadwell

    Shadwell had turned out to be about five feet high and wore clothes which, no matter what they actually were, always turned up in your short-term memory as an old mackintosh. The old man may have all his own teeth, but only because no-one else could possibly have wanted them; just one of them, placed under the pillow, would have made the Tooth Fairy hand in its wand.

    He appeared to live entirely on sweet tea, condensed milk, hand-rolled cigarettes, and a sort of sullen internal energy. Shadwell had a Cause, while he followed with the full resources of his soul and his Pensioner’s Concessionary Travel Pass. He believed in it. It powered him like a turbine.

    Roll-ups, mildewed raincoat, sweet tea, and condensed milk.

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  • skekNa the Slave Master

    SkekNa the Slave Master remains silent most of the time, except for occasional sneers and hisses. His action is dominated by kicking, whipping, and herding little Podling slaves. Between meals, the Skeksis sought out skekNa the Slave Master for scraps to appease the raging hunger they always felt. SkekNa was purely and openly evil from the beginning, and without him the work of the Castle would never have been done.

    The essence of vile gluttony: an abundance of spices, sweet cakes, thick creams, and opulent liqueurs mixed with the scent of whip leather and rusted padlocks.

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  • The Day Burned White

    Using the door, which was centrally placed in the wall like a mouth, the artists had sprayed a single, vast head onto the stripped plaster. The painting was more adroit than most she had seen, rife with detail that lent the image an unsettling veracity. The cheekbones jutting through skin the color of buttermilk; the teeth, sharpened to irregular points, all converging on the door. The sitter’s eyes were, owing to the room’s low ceiling, set mere inches above the upper lip, but this physical adjustment only lent force to the image, giving the impression that he had thrown his head back. Knotted strands of his hair snaked from his scalp across the ceiling. Was it a portrait? There was something naggingly specific in the details of the brows and the lines around the wide mouth; in the careful picturing of those vicious teeth. A nightmare certainly: a facsimile, perhaps, of something from a heroin fugue. Whatever its origins, it was potent. Even the illusion of door-as-mouth worked. The short passageway between living room and bedroom offered a passable throat, with a tattered lamp in lieu of tonsils. Beyond the gullet, the day burned white in the nightmare’s belly. The whole effect brought to mind a ghost train painting. The same heroic deformity, the same unashamed intention to scare. And it worked; she stood in the bedroom almost stupefied by the picture, its red-rimmed eyes fixing her mercilessly.

    Plaster and spraypaint, mottled with buttermilk – sweet, chalky, and edging on sickly. White and golden amber beams of daylight pour through the belly of the scent, while oakmoss and Spanish moss add a touch of decay.

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  • The Phantom Calliope

    Ghostly, glowing, sweet and dark: black cherry, patchouli, cassis, cardamom and verbena.

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