Rose - Tea

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    Dawn: Maiden Perfume Oil

    Tea roses, honeysuckle, heliotrope, olive blossom, milk, and honey.

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  • Dead Blonde Perfume Oil

    “Of course young women enjoy slashers. Adolescent girls have spent their lives absorbing our cultural disgust for womanhood, only to find themselves thrust into the middle of it, suddenly the butt of every joke. Their underlying anxieties are hit with a toxic sludge of predatory attention, sexual objectification, and impossible standards, growing to fifty times their natural size. It is not easy to become a monster. It is not fun to slip – suddenly and for the rest of your life – out of humanity and into womanhood. Girls are left reckoning with the fact that their social status, their human value, even their basic survival, are all suddenly contingent on men. Thus, at the exact moment they’re beginning to have sex and enter romantic relationships, girls watch stories in which a moment’s lapse in judgment, or a single instance of giving in to temptation, results and agony and annihilation – not because that’s what they want, but because it’s already happening, and they have precious few other ways to process it.”

    A wilting corsage of tea roses and white roses, bearing forensic traces of honeyed lip gloss and coconut oil suntan lotion.

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  • frederic

    Frederic 2024 Perfume Oil

    For some ridiculous reason, to which, however, I’ve no desire to be disloyal,
    Some person in authority, I don’t know who, very likely the Astronomer Royal,
    Has decided that, although for such a beastly month as February, twenty-eight days as a rule are plenty,
    One year in every four his days shall be reckoned as nine and twenty.
    Through some singular coincidence – I shouldn’t be surprised if it were owing to the agency of an ill-natured fairy –
    You are the victim of this clumsy arrangement, having been born in leap-year, on the twenty-ninth of February;
    And so, by a simple arithmetical process, you’ll easily discover,
    That though you’ve lived twenty-one years, yet, if we go by birthdays, you’re only five and a little bit over!

    Alas, poor Frederic the Leapling! — bound to the merry Pirates of Penzance until his twenty-first birthday.

    As his birthday comes around only every four years, so does his scent!

    Victorian whimsy and piratical romance: a reluctant seaman’s chypre sloshed with a mix of bay rum, patchouli, amber musk, dark woods, tea rose, and red currant.

     

     

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    Harper Perfume Oil

    Pale bergamot, labdanum, white incense, vanilla-tinged musk, Burmese oudh and tea rose.

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  • London Perfume Oil

    Venerable Victorian Tea Rose… twisted, blackened and emboldened with wickedness.

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  • Love Let Her Perfume Oil

    The act of creating Ephemera gives us the ability to stop time.

     

    Velvet-pink carnations with tea roses, peonies, and rose sandalwood with a whiff of candlesmoke

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    Madame Tracy Perfume Oil

    Newt had been amazed to find that Madam Tracy was a middle-aged, motherly soul, whose gentleman callers called as much for a cup of tea and a nice chat as for what little discipline she was still able to exact.

    A coquettish blend of tea rose, ume blossom, geranium, lily of the valley, violet, and heliotrope.

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  • Marie Perfume Oil

    A blend of sinuous violet and elegant tea rose: the chosen scent of France’s Demigoddess of Debauch: Marie Antoinette.

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    Norman’s Grandma Perfume Oil

    A soft, ethereal scent suffused with gentle comfort. A remembrance of tea roses, lilacs, and soothing hugs.

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  • Ouija Perfume Oil

    Lush parlor rooms draped in thick velvets and gilded in gold, unearthly whispering in the distance, fleeting flashes of wraithlike figures rushing just outside your vision, the chill of a phantom presence brushing by your cheek, the inscrutable knowledge that disembodied eyes are peering at you from darkened corners… this is the essence of Victorian-era spiritualism: rosewood, oak and teak notes with wispy blue lilac, tea rose, dried white rose and ethereal osmanthus.

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    Victoria Perfume Oil

    Every boy in the village was in love with Victoria Forester. And many a sedate gentleman, quietly married with grey in his beard, would stare at her as she walked down the street, becoming, for a few moments, a boy once more, in the spring of his years with a spring in his step.

    Graceful vanilla musk, tea rose, and stargazer lily.

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