Teak

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    Agrat-Bat-Mahlaht Perfume Oil

    Amber, cream accord, white honey, apple blossom, skin musk, caramel, and teak.

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  • CARVED WOODEN BAWDY HOUSE

    Carved Wooden Bawdy House Perfume Oil

    Let your fingers wander along this ornately carved teak banister, polished to a high gloss by the rough hands of countless miniature clients being led upstairs to taste trickles of sugar maple sap, illuminated by a cherry-red light and suffused with decadent, lustrous perfumes.

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  • Desire Perfume Oil

    The overwhelming agony of passion crystallized into a singularly dark and magnetic blend: bittersweet neroli, black patchouli and black musk, gilded by apple, bergamot, blood red rose, teak, and vanilla.

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  • GLOWING VULVA AT RYOGOKU BRIDGE

    Glowing Vulva at Ryogoku Bridge 2024 Perfume Oil

    Cream accord, amber, teak, and lotus blossom.

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    Our Hearts Condemn Us Perfume Oil

    Keralan teakwood, Bulgarian rose otto, Himalayan cedar, and oudh.

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    Pulcinella & Teresina Perfume Oil

    Your eyes are drawn to a gilded miniature stage whose sign reads: “All Praises to the Lord of Misrule!” Upon the platform, a sneering wooden jester waltzes with a hollow-eyed and bleeding wooden maiden, while a wooden devil floats above them.

    Labdanum, cedar, teak and red rose.

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  • The Antikythera Mechanism

    Bronze gears spin inside a polished wooden case, and an entire universe dances within.

    Teakwood, oak, black vanilla, and tobacco.

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  • The Black Tower Perfume Oil

    Say that the men of the old black tower,
    Though they but feed as the goatherd feeds,
    Their money spent, their wine gone sour,
    Lack nothing that a soldier needs,
    That all are oath-bound men:
    Those banners come not in.

    There in the tomb stand the dead upright,
    But winds come up from the shore:
    They shake when the winds roar,
    Old bones upon the mountain shake.

    Those banners come to bribe or threaten,
    Or whisper that a man’s a fool
    Who, when his own right king’s forgotten,
    Cares what king sets up his rule.
    If he died long ago
    Why do you dread us so?

    There in the tomb drops the faint moonlight,
    But wind comes up from the shore:
    They shake when the winds roar,
    Old bones upon the mountain shake.

    The tower’s old cook that must climb and clamber
    Catching small birds in the dew of the morn
    When we hale men lie stretched in slumber
    Swears that he hears the king’s great horn.
    But he’s a lying hound:
    Stand we on guard oath-bound!

    There in the tomb the dark grows blacker,
    But wind comes up from the shore:
    They shake when the winds roar,
    Old bones upon the mountain shake.

    A sepulchral, desolate scent. Long-dead soldiers, oath-bound; the perfume of their armor, the chill wind that surges through their tower, white bone and blackened steel: white sandalwood, ambergris, wet ozone, galbanum and leather with ebony, teak, burnt grasses, English ivy and a hint of red wine.

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  • The Midnight Carnival Perfume Oil

    There were nine wagons, each draped in black, each drawn by a lean black horse, and each baring barred sides like teeth when the wind blew through the black hangings. The lead wagon was driven by a squat old woman, and it bore signs on its shrouded sides that said in big letters: MOMMY FORTUNA’S MIDNIGHT CARNIVAL. And below, in smaller print: Creatures of night, brought to light.

    Cruelty and confinement, small magics and penny illusions: galbanum, teak, myrrh, narcissus, mandrake root, patchouli, cacao, labdanum, agarwood, lavender, neroli, and black moss.

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