Vanilla Bourbon
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Alice, The Reaper of Cruelty Perfume Oil
Add to cartBourbon 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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Anathema Device Perfume Oil
Out of StockShe was a bright child, with a pale face, and black eyes and hair. As a rule she tended to make people feel uncomfortable, a family trait she had inherited, along with being more psychic than was good for her, from her great-great-great-great-great grandmother.
She was precocious, and self-possessed. The only thing about Anathema her teachers ever had the nerve to upbraid her for was her spelling, which was not so much appalling as 300 years too late.
White sandalwood, blackcurrant, bourbon vanilla, and warm amber.
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Bast Perfume Oil
Out of StockThere was a girl. He had met her somewhere, and now they were walking across a bridge. It spanned a small lake, in the middle of a town. The wind was ruffling the surface of the lake, making waves tipped with whitecaps, which seemed to Shadow to be tiny hands reaching for him.
— Down there, said the woman. She was wearing a leopard-print skirt, which flapped and tossed in the wind, and the flesh between the top of her stockings and her skirt was creamy and soft and in his dream, on the bridge, before God and the world, Shadow went down to his knees in front of her, burying his head in her crotch, drinking in the intoxicating jungle female scent of her. He became aware, in his dream, of his erection in real life, a rigid, pounding, monstrous thing as painful in its hardness as the erections he’d had as a boy, when he was crashing into puberty.
He pulled away and looked upward, and still he could not see her face. But his mouth was seeking hers and her lips were soft against his, and his hands were cupping her breasts, and then they were running across the satin smoothness of her skin, pushing into and parting the furs that hid her waist, sliding into the wonderful cleft of her, which warmed and wetted and parted for him, opening to his hand like a flower.
The woman purred against him ecstatically, her hand moving down to the hardness of him and squeezing it. He pushed the bedsheets away and rolled on top of her, his hand parting her thighs, her hand guiding him between her legs, where one thrust, one magical push . . .
Now he was back in his old prison cell with her, and he was kissing her deeply. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, clamped her legs about his legs to hold him tight, so he could not pull out, not even if he wanted to.
Never had he kissed lips so soft. He had not known that there were lips so soft in the whole world. Her tongue, though, was sandpaper-rough as it slipped against his.
—Who are you? he asked.
She made no answer, just pushed him onto his back and, in one lithe movement, straddled him and began to ride him. No, not to ride him: to insinuate herself against him in series of silken-smooth waves, each more powerful than the one before, strokes and beats and rhythms that crashed against his mind and his body just as the wind-waves on the lake splashed against the shore. Her nails were needle-sharp and they pierced his sides, raking them, but he felt no pain, only pleasure, everything was transmuted by some alchemy into moments of utter pleasure.
He struggled to find himself, struggled to talk, his head now filled with sand dunes and desert winds.
—Who are you? he asked again, gasping for the words.
She stared at him with eyes the color of dark amber, then lowered her mouth to his and kissed him with a passion, kissed him so completely and so deeply that there, on the bridge over the lake, in his prison cell, in the bed in the Cairo funeral home, he almost came. He rode the sensation like a kite riding a hurricane, willing it not to crest, not to explode, wanting it never to end.
A desert wind alight with myrrh and golden amber, cardamom and honey, bourbon vanilla and cacao.
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Batty Hunger Perfume Oil
Out of StockBlack narcissus, orange blossoms, vanilla bourbon, red leather, and red musk.
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Cathouse Home & Linen Spray
Add to cartA nineteenth century Southern bordello: magnolia, jasmine, honey musk, tobacco, vanilla bean, bourbon vanilla, and Spanish moss.
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Cytherea Perfume Oil
Add to cartWhite sandalwood, patchouli, white amber, orris, bourbon vanilla, champaca flower, and kush.
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Flowering Plum Twig Perfume Oil
Out of StockPlum blossoms and fruit drenched in brandy with a touch of vetiver, nutmeg, tabac, and bourbon vanilla.
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Hal Perfume Oil
Add to cartSaffron-infused bourbon vanilla, blackened honey, Kashmir wood, Atlas cedar, ambrette seed, hay, and Egyptian jasmine absolute.
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Is He, You Know Perfume Oil
Out of StockFellas, is it gay to have a skeletal system? Short answer: YES! Because the human wrist was undeniably made to flap and go “enh.”
There are many theories about the historical origin of the so-called “limp wrist” gesture, which has bedeviled arbiters of masculine presentation since at least the ancient Roman times. So when we defiantly flop our phalanges, we’re reclaiming a time-honored tradition! And letting our skeletons do what they do most naturally: camp it up.
Did you know the human wrist is made up of eight small bones, plus the forearm’s radius and ulna? Factor in the four small ones that comprise that lightly extended pinkie finger, and the number of bones required to execute this delicate maneuver add up to FOURTEEN. No wonder we’re always so tired.
So defy nature if you truly must, but never forget: when bones are all that’s left of you, the wrists will be extra floppy. And we think that’s worth celebrating while you’re still alive!
Sweet 13-year aged patchouli, peru balsam, white oakmoss, French lavender, spikenard, bourbon vanilla, and sugar cane.Art by Drew Rausch
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June 23, 1868 Perfume Oil
Add to cartTrue love renewed by night in an English garden: moonflower, Nottingham catchfly, Casablanca lily, evening primrose, night-blooming cereus, Queen of the Night, muted by the sepia tones of tonka, tobacco absolute, bourbon vanilla, and costus.
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Les Passades Perfume Oil
Out of StockAubrey Beardsley
A heady swish of black velvet patchouli, ambre noir, silken musk, and bourbon vanilla.
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Looming Spectre of Inutterable Horror Perfume Oil
Add to cartArizona vs United States
We are not talking here about a federal law prohibiting the States from regulating bubble-gum advertising, or even the construction of nuclear plants. We are talking about a federal law going to the core of state sovereignty: the power to exclude.
The Court opinion’s looming specter of inutterable horror-“[i]f §3 of the Arizona statute were valid, every State could give itself independent authority to prosecute federal registration violations:-seems to me not so horrible and even less looming.
If securing its territory in this fashion is not within the power of Arizona, we should cease referring to it as a sovereign State.
Wherein Scalia channels Lovecraft: raw frankincense and tobacco absolute with Russian leather, blackened champaca, bitter clove, red patchouli, bourbon vanilla and petitgrain.
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Lovers Among Lilacs Perfume Oil
Out of StockMarc Chagall
Soft, sweet bourbon vanilla and sensuous benzoin nestled in a haven of lilac blooms. -
Mastermind Perfume Oil
Add to cartInspired by the character HUNTER ROSE.
The first of the Grendel legacy, a stylish, best-selling author who leads a double life as a relentless assassin and all-powerful mob overlord.An elegant cologne of olibanum, opoponax, leather accord, black amber, bois de jasmine, cade wood, pale balsam, orange blossom, oudh, black plum, bourbon vanilla, and sandalwood.
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Morning Follows Night Perfume Oil
Out of StockNicolaes Berchem
Bourbon vanilla, tonka bean, raw cacao, and patchouli root illuminated by yellow bergamot, lemon rind, and white amber.
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Nasty Woman Perfume Oil
Add to cartAs you have no doubt heard, during the third presidential debate, Hillary described her plan to raise taxes on the rich in order to fund Social Security. She took a swing at him over him being a tax dodger (which he is).
“My Social Security payroll contribution will go up, as will Donald’s – if he can’t figure out how to get out of it.”
Trump interrupted her and said, “Such a nasty woman.”
These are two things uttered by the same man within the same hour:
“Such a nasty woman.”
“No one has more respect for women than me.”
Amazing.
Let’s put this pussy-grabbing, racist, predatory, misogynistic, hateful, irresponsible, ignorant, immature grotesquerie out of politics for good, and do what we can to ensure that he and his ilk never cast their miserable shadows over our political process again.
Nasty Woman: black fig and patchouli, filthy bourbon vanilla, honeyed amber oud, and loukhoum.
Proceeds will be split between Planned Parenthood and EMILY’s list.
plannedparenthood.org
emilyslist.org
Photo: Women marching in national suffrage demonstration in Washington, D.C., May 9, 1914.
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Nightingale Perfume Oil
Add to cartThe national bird of Ukraine. A lovely and powerful song translated into scent: toasted bourbon vanilla, sweet oats and honey, cardamom, and cream.
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No Man is an Island Perfume Oil
Add to cartNo man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.
– John DonneWarm, dark patchouli, hazelnut cream, coffee bean, cassis, tonka bean, purple sage, and bourbon vanilla.
Proceeds from the sale of this oil will be donated to the Los Angeles Food Bank so we can do our part to prevent and ameliorate food scarcity in the community.
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Obergefell V. Hodges Perfume Oil
Add to cartIn celebration of the 9th anniversary of the Supreme Court case that brought “equal dignity in the eye of the law” to same-sex marriages, we present our latest fundraiser scent, Obergefell v. Hodges. With this landmark 2015 decision, SCOTUS upheld that the fundamental right to marry is guaranteed to same-sex couples by both the Due Process Clause and the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution. This decision meant that all states had to allow same-sex marriages, and recognize those performed in other states.
No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.
Love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family: sun-warmed purple fig, wildflower honey, almond cream, jasmine absolute, mimosa, and bourbon vanilla.The proceeds from OvH benefit Lambda Legal, whose team of pro-bono lawyers fight for LGBTQIA+ civil rights cases including issues of marriage equality, healthcare and employment discrimination, and gender identity.
Stained glass design by RivenBarrow Glass (Etsy, Instagram)
Also available: Mummeries and Straining-to-be Memorable Passages, a scent inspired by Scalia’s predictably lyrical shitty dissent. Proceeds from the sale of scents in the Collected Poetic Works of Antonin Scalia benefit the Southern Poverty Law Center, the Trevor Project, and the National Center for Transgender Equality.
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Paysage 2024 Perfume Oil
Add to cartJe veux, pour composer chastement mes églogues,
Coucher auprès du ciel, comme les astrologues,
Et, voisin des clochers écouter en rêvant
Leurs hymnes solennels emportés par le vent.
Les deux mains au menton, du haut de ma mansarde,
Je verrai l’atelier qui chante et qui bavarde;
Les tuyaux, les clochers, ces mâts de la cité,
Et les grands ciels qui font rêver d’éternité.
II est doux, à travers les brumes, de voir naître
L’étoile dans l’azur, la lampe à la fenêtre
Les fleuves de charbon monter au firmament
Et la lune verser son pâle enchantement.
Je verrai les printemps, les étés, les automnes;
Et quand viendra l’hiver aux neiges monotones,
Je fermerai partout portières et volets
Pour bâtir dans la nuit mes féeriques palais.
Alors je rêverai des horizons bleuâtres,
Des jardins, des jets d’eau pleurant dans les albâtres,
Des baisers, des oiseaux chantant soir et matin,
Et tout ce que l’Idylle a de plus enfantin.
L’Emeute, tempêtant vainement à ma vitre,
Ne fera pas lever mon front de mon pupitre;
Car je serai plongé dans cette volupté
D’évoquer le Printemps avec ma volonté,
De tirer un soleil de mon coeur, et de faire
De mes pensers brûlants une tiède atmosphère.
– – –More chasteness to my eclogues it would give,
Sky-high, like old astrologers to live,
A neighbour of the belfries: and to hear
Their solemn hymns along the winds career.
High in my attic, chin in hand, I’d swing
And watch the workshops as they roar and sing,
The city’s masts — each steeple, tower, and flue —
And skies that bring eternity to view.
Sweet, through the mist, to see illumed again
Stars through the azure, lamps behind the pane,
Rivers of carbon irrigate the sky,
And the pale moon pour magic from on high.
I’d watch three seasons passing by, and then
When winter came with dreary snows, I’d pen
Myself between closed shutters, bolts, and doors,
And build my fairy palaces indoors.
A dream of blue horizons I would garble
With thoughts of fountains weeping on to marble,
Of gardens, kisses, birds that ceaseless sing,
And all the Idyll holds of childhood’s spring.
The riots, brawling past my window-pane,
From off my desk would not divert my brain.
Because I would be plunged in pleasure still,
Conjuring up the Springtime with my will,
And forcing sunshine from my heart to form,
Of burning thoughts, an atmosphere that’s warm.
— Charles Baudelaire, translation by Roy Campbell
The pale moon pouring magic: Tunisian opium and mugwort with blackened bourbon vanilla, tuberose, glittering white musk, datura accord, wild plum, and tobacco absolute.
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Pleasing Two Women Perfume Oil
Out of StockOakmoss-infused vanilla bourbon, smoked lilac petals, and orris butter.
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Poet’s Hearts Break So Perfume Oil
Out of StockWell, if my heart must break,
Dear love, for your sake,
It will break in music, I know;
Poets’ hearts break so.
But strange that I was not told,
That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory cell
God’s Heaven and Hell.
– Oscar Wilde
The shuddering beat of a poet’s heart ― filigree-fair, diaphanous: bourbon vanilla fougere, violet leaf, iris root, Italian bergamot, porcelain accord, and a trickle of red musk. -
Poor Monkey 2024 Perfume Oil
Add to cartcold first winter rain
poor monkey, you too could use
a woven straw cape
Compassion: pink lotus root and fig milk with ylang ylang, bourbon vanilla, soft myrrh, fir, khus, and sandalwood incense.
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Portrait of Magdaleine Pinceloup de la Grange née de Parseval Perfume Oil
Add to cartJean-Baptiste Perronneau
An aristocratic 18th century French perfume dabbed on lilac velvet, gently purring with soft grey amber and feline musk, and tinkling with tiny golden bells. Grasse jasmine and rose otto nestled in ambergris accord, frankincense, white sandalwood, bourbon vanilla, cardamom, amber, coriander, and galbanum.
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Psalm 146:9 Perfume Oil
Add to cartThe Lord watches over the strangers; he upholds the orphan and the widow, but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.
Cacao, labdanum, vetiver, and bourbon vanilla.
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Resistance Perfume Oil
Add to cartThe Midterms are on November 6th.
We have mere weeks before the election, and the stakes are really fucking high. I am an optimistic person by nature, but the truth of the matter is that if the Democrats don’t win back the majority, we are well and truly fucked. You have to vote like your life depends on it, BECAUSE IT DOES. YOUR LIFE and the lives of those in your community are at stake. The lives of your LGBTQ friends, loved ones, and neighbors. The lives of women. The lives of black Americans. The lives of refugees. The lives of people with disabilities. The lives of the homeless and the poor.
And LITERALLY EVERYONE’S LIFE, as the dismantling of environmental laws will be the death of us all.
It is NOT hyperbole to say that the result of this midterm election will impact the civil rights, the health, the safety, and the liberties of EVERYONE AROUND YOU, and you must act. The horrors of the Trump Administration MUST be held in check.
November 6th. That’s the deadline. Commit all you can to the hard work it’s going to take to wrest back control of Congress. I know you’re tired. I am, too. I know you’re exhausted by the unending onslaught of horrors that the GOP has assailed us with. I am, too. I know that it is getting harder and harder to keep despair at bay.
In order to have a participatory democracy, you have to participate. There is SO MUCH that you can do to push back, to resist, and to make a change for the better. But you HAVE to act. You have to vote. You have to encourage others to vote. You have to invest your time, your voice, and your resources into actually working towards making this country a safe, sane, prosperous place for all of us.
But you have two weeks. Two weeks within which YOU can make a difference. YOU can stem the tide.
HERE’S WHAT YOU CAN DO TO HELP THE BLUE WAVE MANIFEST:
Hey, extroverts! Sign up to phone bank for Democratic candidates!
Phonebank With Indivisible
Phonebank With SwingleftAlso for extroverts! Reach out to a local campaign and see if they need help canvassing, handing out literature, or making calls. You can also search for candidates who are in close races in vulnerable districts. Check out swingleft.org; it will help you find the nearest House district that could swing to the Democrats.
Extroverts! Go door to door!
Hey, introverts! Postcards to Voters is the answer for you! If you can commit to writing ten postcards a day, that’s one hundred and forty votes you might be securing for Dem candidates! If you can manage twenty postcards every day, that’s almost THREE-HUNDRED people you’re encouraging to hit the polls before November 6. If you can get your friends to help, that number increases exponentially. Even if you can’t meet that twenty postcard per day goal, every single postcard matters because every single vote matters.
Tools for working locally:
Resources for How to Take the House Back from the GOP
Find Your Local Indivisible Chapter
Swing LeftIf you’ve got some cash to spare, donate it directly to blue candidates fighting for vulnerable seats, or donate it to PACs and organizations that will distribute the funds to boost blue candidates. Some options:
EMILY’s List
Senate Majority PAC
House Majority PAC
The Flippable FundShare information on voter ID and residency requirement laws in your state and help people make sure that their right to vote is enforced.
Voter Registration Rules by State
ACLU: Voting Rights
Rock the Vote: Knowing Your Voting Rights
Residency Requirements for VotingFIGHT VOTER SUPPRESSION:
ACLU: Fighting Voter Suppression
Fighting Voter SuppressionMAKE SURE YOU ARE REGISTERED TO VOTE, and encourage everyone in your network to confirm their voter registration, too.
AND MOST IMPORTANT: VOTE. Vote, encourage others to vote. Overwhelm the polls.
We all have A LOT going on in our lives right now. I get it. I’m trying to run a business and raise a kid on top of all this, but it is now or never. You must find the strength, the will, and the courage to act. You have to keep fighting. I believe in you. I believe in us. I believe with all my heart that we can do this. We just need to do it TOGETHER, and do all we can to encourage others to put in the work, too.
It is hard work. It is an uphill climb. But you can DO this. Do it for your family, do it for your community, do it for your LGBTQ friends and family, do it for the marginalized racial, ethnic, and religious communities that are suffering under the depredations of the GOP.
WE CAN DO THIS.
RESISTANCE
I created this scent as a symbol of solidarity. It is an autumn scent, swirled with fall leaves, huddled against the cold winds of November.We’re together in this fight. You’re not alone.
Bourbon vanilla and vintage champaca absolute with sweet patchouli, dried red fruits, leather accord, pumpkin rind, and a splash of bourbon.
We have been wrestling with how to disburse funds for this scent for over a week, and decided that the best impact we can make is by helping the ACLU fight voter suppression.
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Sachs Perfume Oil
Add to cartA sensual scent, compelling and passionate, that stays close to the skin: Roman chamomile, bourbon vanilla, and smoky vanilla bean.
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Swarmageddon Perfume Oil
Out of StockThe cry of the cicada
Gives us no sign
That presently they will die
– Matsuo Bashō, translated by William George Aston
This year, the forests of the eastern United States will be abuzz (pun intended) with the concurrent emergence of two separate broods, the 17-year-old Brood XIII and 13-year-old Brood XIX. A cicada extravaganza like this one hasn’t been seen since 1803!
A scent fit for a Swarmageddon: soft, dark soil, black pepper, tonka bean, decaying leaves, licorice root, ambrette seed, sweet vetiver, bourbon vanilla, oakmoss, brown labdanum, elm bark, vegetable leather, clary sage, 13-year aged patchouli, 17-year aged patchouli, and two bright red specs of dragon’s blood resin.
Art: Kingfisher, Cicada, and Willow Tree, Qing Dynasty, China
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Teasing Perfume Oil
Add to cartAlbert Ranney Chewett
In which the fate of one’s entire garment rests on a stray flick of a feather: mallow flower, peppermint cream, blue lilac, bourbon vanilla, benzoin, English roses, teakwood, and nutmeg.
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The Contemplator Perfume Oil
Out of StockEugène Carrière
A soft, warm, meditative blend of balsam tolu, tonka absolute, vetiver, bourbon vanilla, palo santo, sandalwood, and Indonesian teak.
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The Fox Sisters 2024 Perfume Oil
Add to cartFor the sake of continuity the subsequent history of the Fox sisters will now be given after the events at Hydesville. It is a remarkable, and to Spiritualists a painful, story, but it bears its own lesson and should be faithfully recorded. When men have an honest and whole-hearted aspiration for truth there is no development which can ever leave them abashed or find no place in their scheme.
For some years the two younger sisters, Kate and Margaret, gave séances at New York and other places, successfully meeting every test which was applied to them. Horace Greeley, afterwards a candidate for the United States presidency, was, as already shown, deeply interested in them and convinced of their entire honesty. He is said to have furnished the funds by which the younger girl completed her very imperfect education.
During these years of public mediumship, when the girls were all the rage among those who had no conception of the religious significance of this new revelation, and who concerned themselves with it purely in the hope of worldly advantage, the sisters exposed themselves to the enervating influences of promiscuous séances in a way which no earnest Spiritualist could justify. The dangers of such practices were not then so clearly realized as now, nor had it occurred to people that it is unlikely that high spirits would descend to earth in order to advise as to the state of railway stocks or the issue of love affairs. The ignorance was universal, and there was no wise mentor at the elbow of these poor pioneers to point the higher and the safer path. Worst of all, their jaded energies were renewed by the offer of wine at a time when one at least of them was hardly more than a child. It is said that there was some family predisposition towards alcoholism, but even without such a taint their whole procedure and mode of life were rash to the last degree. Against their moral character there has never been a breath of suspicion, but they had taken a road which leads to degeneration of mind and character, though it was many years before the more serious effects were manifest.Some idea of the pressure upon the Fox girls at this time may be gathered from Mrs. Hardinge Britten’s* description from her own observation. She talks of “pausing on the first floor to hear poor patient Kate Fox, in the midst of a captious, grumbling crowd of investigators, repeating hour after hour the letters of the alphabet, while the no less poor, patient spirits rapped out names, ages and dates to suit all comers.” Can one wonder that the girls, with vitality sapped, the beautiful, watchful influence of the mother removed, and harassed by enemies, succumbed to a gradually increasing temptation in the direction of stimulants?
—Arthur Conan Doyle
Deception and despair: rose geranium and tea roses with mahogany wood, bourbon vanilla, and apple peel. -
The Rights of Women Perfume Oil
Add to cartYes, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right!
Woman! too long degraded, scorned, opprest;
O born to rule in partial Law’s despite,
Resume thy native empire o’er the breast!Go forth arrayed in panoply divine;
That angel pureness which admits no stain;
Go, bid proud Man his boasted rule resign,
And kiss the golden sceptre of thy reign.Go, gird thyself with grace; collect thy store
Of bright artillery glancing from afar;
Soft melting tones thy thundering cannon’s roar,
Blushes and fears thy magazine of war.Thy rights are empire: urge no meaner claim, –
Felt, not defined, and if debated, lost;
Like sacred mysteries, which withheld from fame,
Shunning discussion, are revered the most.Try all that wit and art suggest to bend
Of thy imperial foe the stubborn knee;
Make treacherous Man thy subject, not thy friend;
Thou mayst command, but never canst be free.Awe the licentious, and restrain the rude;
Soften the sullen, clear the cloudy brow:
Be, more than princes’ gifts, thy favours sued; –
She hazards all, who will the least allow.But hope not, courted idol of mankind,
On this proud eminence secure to stay;
Subduing and subdued, thou soon shalt find
Thy coldness soften, and thy pride give way.Then, then, abandon each ambitious thought,
Conquest or rule thy heart shall feebly move,
In Nature’s school, by her soft maxims taught,
That separate rights are lost in mutual love.
– Anna Lætitia BarbauldToo long degraded, scorned, opprest: a bold, strident red chypre with sweet wild patchouli, bourbon vanilla, Tunisian neroli, tuberose, warm red currant, strawberry, and red labdanum.
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The Small Brown Cat Perfume Oil
Out of StockThe small brown cat opened her eyes and stretched to her feet. She padded across the kitchen floor and pushed at Shadow’s boot with her head. He put down his left hand and scratched her forehead and the back of her ears and the scruff of her neck. She arched, ecstatically, then sprang into his lap, pushed herself up against his chest, and touched her cold nose to his. Then she curled up in his lap and went back to sleep. He put his hand down to stroke her: her fur was soft, and she was warm and pleasant in his lap; she acted like she was in the safest place in the world, and Shadow felt comforted.
Warm brown fur, cardamom-infused bourbon vanilla, and a touch of cedarwood.
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They Shut Me Up in Prose Perfume Oil
Add to cartThey shut me up in Prose –
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet –
Because they liked me “still” –Still! Could themself have peeped –
And seen my Brain – go round –
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason – in the Pound –Himself has but to will
And easy as a Star
Look down upon Captivity –
And laugh – No more have I –
– Emily DickinsonLoosed from the satin-pale corset, emerging from a gilded cage, that prison of silence: sweet bourbon vanilla, pale sandalwood, mallow flower, osmanthus, and shards of frankincense.
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White Cat Perfume Oil
Add to cartClement Burlison
A portrait of feline dignity painted in bourbon vanilla cream, mallow flower, golden musk, with eyes of lemon amber.
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You May House Their Bodies But Not Their Souls Perfume Oil
Add to cartYou may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.A woody, deep patchouli with bourbon vanilla, rich amber, and soft golden skin musk.