Wheat

  • Art for Ceres by Antoine Watteau

    Ceres Perfume Oil

    Antoine Watteau

    Billowing clouds of mallow flower, cream, and peonies, soft blushing amber, corn kernels, budding wheat, and spun sugar.

    Out of Stock
  • This image is decorative

    Frumenty Perfume Oil

    ‘To make frumente. Tak clene whete & braye yt wel in a morter tyl the holes gon of; seethe it til it breste in water. Nym it up & lat it cole. Tak good broth & swete mylk of kyn or of almand & tempere it therwith. Nym yelkes of eyren rawe & saffroun & cast therto; salt it: lat it naught boyle after the etren ben cast therinne. Messe it forth.’

    In parts of rural England, the last sheaf of grain from autumn’s harvest were added to a sweet porridge that was eaten on Christmas morning to ensure good health and strength during the dark of the year.

    Cracked wheat cooked in cream and ale with currants, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger.

    Out of Stock
  • Frumenty Perfume Oil 2021

    ‘To make frumente. Tak clene whete & braye yt wel in a morter tyl the holes gon of; seethe it til it breste in water. Nym it up & lat it cole. Tak good broth & swete mylk of kyn or of almand & tempere it therwith. Nym yelkes of eyren rawe & saffroun & cast therto; salt it: lat it naught boyle after the etren ben cast therinne. Messe it forth.’

    In parts of rural England, the last sheaf of grain from autumn’s harvest were added to a sweet porridge that was eaten on Christmas morning to ensure good health and strength during the dark of the year.

    Cracked wheat cooked in cream and ale with currants, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger.

    Out of Stock
  • Hay Moon 2020 Perfume Oil

    The moon was but a chin of gold
    A night or two ago,
    And now she turns her perfect face
    Upon the world below.

    Her forehead is of amplest blond;
    Her cheek like beryl stone;
    Her eye unto the summer dew
    The likest I have known.

    Her lips of amber never part;
    But what must be the smile
    Upon her friend she could bestow
    Were such her silver will!

    And what a privilege to be
    But the remotest star!
    For certainly her way might pass
    Beside your twinkling door.

    Her bonnet is the firmament,
    The universe her shoe,
    The stars the trinkets at her belt,
    Her dimities of blue.

    Hay absolute, tall grasses, dry honey, mallow, cardamom, amber, oat cakes, and wheat.

    The accompanying Lunacy Tee can be found here!

    Out of Stock