Baobhan Sith Perfume OilSelect Options
The ghostly White Women of the Scottish highlands. They seduce unwary travelers by night with their unearthly beauty and mesmerizing dancing. They engage their victims in a wild, hypnotic dance, and once they reach exhaustion, exsanguinate their partners with their vampiric kiss. Grapefruit, white tea, apple blossom and ginger.
Caressing the Gilded Lily Perfume OilAdd to cart
Ginger lily, bergamot, white tea, lily of the valley, osmanthus, and melon blossom.
Caressing the Wild Rabbit Perfume OilOut of Stock
White tea, honeycomb, vanilla orchid, and a drop of soft sandalwood.
Dawn: Mourning Victory Perfume OilAdd to cart
Red sandalwood, night-blooming jasmine, white tea, hyacinth, rosehips, and tuberose.
Eusapia Perfume OilAdd to cart
“The case I allude to is that of an invalid woman who belongs to the humblest class of society. She is nearly thirty years old and very ignorant; her look is neither fascinating nor endowed with the power which modern criminologists call irresistible; but when she wishes, be it by day or by night, she can divert a curious group for an hour or so with the most surprising phenomena. Either bound to a seat or firmly held by the hands of the curious, she attracts to her the articles of furniture which surround her, lifts them up, holds them suspended in the air like Mahomet’s coffin, and makes them come down again with undulatory movements, as if they were obeying her will. She increases their weight or lessens it according to her pleasure. She raps or taps upon the walls, the ceiling, the floor, with fine rhythm and cadence. In response to the requests of the spectators, something like flashes of electricity shoot forth from her body, and envelop her or enwrap the spectators of these marvellous scenes. She draws upon cards that you hold out, everything that you want – figures, signatures, numbers, sentences – by just stretching out her hand toward the indicated place.
“If you place in the corner of the room a vessel containing a layer of soft clay, you find after some moments the imprint in it of a small or a large hand, the image of a face (front view or profile) from which a plaster cast can be taken. In this way portraits of a face taken at different angles have been preserved, and those who desire so to do can thus make serious and important studies.
“This woman rises in the air, no matter what bands tie her down. She seems to lie upon the empty air, as on a couch, contrary to all the laws of gravity; she plays on musical instruments – organs, bells, tambourines – as if they had been touched by her hands or moved by the breath of invisible gnomes… This woman at times can increase her stature by more than four inches.
—Chiaia, in a letter to Lombroso
Pale lilacs, white tea, and candle wax.
Fortuna Muliebris Perfume OilOut of Stock
The Fortunes of Women
A hymn for stability, health, strength, and fecundity: French lavender, white pear, and patchouli with clary sage, white tea, and sandalwood.
Hojōjutsu Perfume OilOut of Stock
Red currant and rice milk with almond blossom and white tea.
Humorous Copulation Perfume OilAdd to cart
Amber cream, white tea, lemon peel, and lotus root.
Iulia, L’Artiste du Diable Perfume OilAdd to cart
A chittering buzz rises from a small crowd that has gathered around an opulent velvet-draped tent. Some are fidgeting impatiently; others try in vain to peep within the tent. Within moments, a slim, stunningly handsome man emerges from the entryway to the sound of gasps and scattered applause. His face is lit with fierce joy, and he bows almost smugly to the assemblage. Grabbing a flirtatious blonde from the mob, he kisses her in a rush of mad passion, his arm encircles her waist, and he leads her directly to a nearby opium den. The crowd disperses, and curiosity pulls you forward. You push open the fringed, beaded tent-flap and enter the dimly-lit room. A lovely, voluptuous redhead stands before an ornate antique easel. Her luminous alabaster skin and the phosphorescence emanating from her paintbrush seem to be the only source of light. As you adjust to the gloom, you see that the walls are covered with atrocities: an exhibit of dissolution. The myriad canvases show men and women in various stages of rot and decay, a panoply of indulgence, teeth set in fury, mouths leering in lust, hands grasping greedily.
The scarlet woman turns her gleaming sightless eyes towards you and, in a husky, compelling voice, she speaks:
“Why let the years tear at your youthful splendor? Why let the mark of your sins stain your fine features? Will you let the cold, creeping grasp of time and the toil of temptation mar your visage? Why should the pleasures of our flesh wreak such havoc?”
She leans in close to you and whispers, “Let me capture your soul on this canvas in oil and blood, and you will be beautiful forever.”
White tea, sugar cane, orange blossom, rockrose, lemon balm, white mint, and honey.
Kumiho Perfume OilSelect Options
Nine-tailed fox demon of Korean lore who transforms into the visage of an irresistible beauty in order to seduce men and lead them to their doom.
A sharp, biting blend of crisp white tea and ginger.
Maiden Perfume OilSelect Options
A gentle vision of purity, goodness and virtue: white tea, carnation and Damask Rose.
Manhattan Perfume OilSelect Options
Sexuality, power, confidence. A meeting of modern, sleek elegance and rich, passionate history: sheer amber, black leather, white mint, lemon peel, white tea, grapefruit, kush, teakwood and orchid.
Morning at Fuschlsee Perfume OilAdd to cart
Salzburg is so goddamn beautiful.
Chilled white tea, freesia, and bergamot blanketing skeletal branches. Winter wind brushing across still waters.
Pegasus Junk Perfume OilAdd to cart
White tea, Mysore sandalwood, orris concrete, rice absolute, hinoki wood, and amber.
Right Atrium Perfume OilAdd to cart
Receiving and holding deoxygenated blood: luminous amber and white tea, cherry blossom and cashmere wood.
Snow Moon 2019 Perfume OilAdd to cart
The cold earth slept below;
Above the cold sky shone…
Some consider December’s full moon to be Snow Moon, but the cold, bleak white silence of February also bears the name. Snowfall is at its heaviest, food is scarce, the past year’s harvest has been exhausted, and driving winds, sleet, and bitter cold make hunting near-impossible. It is a desolate time, a solitary time, a time of conservation and introspection; in February, we are confronted with loneliness and want, and are challenged to find strength in the darkness.
Snow, endless snow, and a glimmer of hope illuminated by the reflection of Brigid’s flame. Snowdrops pushing through a pale white blanket of crystalline musk, pale white frozen apples, white tea leaf, yuzu, and angelica root.
Artwork by Caldecott-winning illustrator and author and all-around amazing human being and bestest of friends, Dan Santat.
Snowflake-Shaped Snowflakes Perfume OilAdd to cart
We’re such ridiculous LA rubes. We were standing outside our hotel laughing, oohing and ahhhing, and taking photos of snowflake-shaped snowflakes, when an Austrian fellow walks up to us and says, “Snow.” I told him that we’re from Los Angeles, so snow is super exotic to us.
He nodded and walked away.
The awe and wonder of a couple of Angelinos marveling at the snowy snowness of the snowflakiest of snowflakes: golden amber, California sage, white tea, and sunny Matilija poppy speckled with snow.
The Harlot’s House Perfume OilSelect Options
We caught the tread of dancing feet,
We loitered down the moonlit street,
And stopped beneath the harlot’s house.
Inside, above the din and fray,
We heard the loud musicians play
The “Treues Liebes Herz” of Strauss.
Like strange mechanical grotesques,
Making fantastic arabesques,
The shadows raced across the blind.
We watched the ghostly dancers spin
To sound of horn and violin,
Like black leaves wheeling in the wind.
Like wire-pulled automatons,
Slim silhouetted skeletons
Went sidling through the slow quadrille.
The took each other by the hand,
And danced a stately saraband;
Their laughter echoed thin and shrill.
Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed
A phantom lover to her breast,
Sometimes they seemed to try to sing.
Sometimes a horrible marionette
Came out, and smoked its cigarette
Upon the steps like a live thing.
Then, turning to my love, I said,
“The dead are dancing with the dead,
The dust is whirling with the dust.”
But she–she heard the violin,
And left my side, and entered in:
Love passed into the house of lust.
Then suddenly the tune went false,
The dancers wearied of the waltz,
The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl.
And down the long and silent street,
The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet,
Crept like a frightened girl.
The dead are dancing with the dead, the dust is whirling with the dust: angelâ€™s trumpet, violet, white sandalwood, oude, copaiba balsam, angelica, white tea, olibanum, and oakmoss.
The Silver Dollar Perfume OilAdd to cart
His fingers closed around the Liberty dollar in his pocket, and he remembered Zorya Polunochnaya, and the way she had looked at him in the moonlight. Did you ask her what she wanted? It is the wisest thing to ask the dead. Sometimes they will tell you.
Gilded iris and Siamese benzoin, silvery-white musk, white tea leaf, and bergamot.
The Torture Queen Perfume OilAdd to cart
White amber, vanilla musk, white tea, ambergris, gardenia, and chrome.
Tweedledee Perfume OilSelect Options
Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle!
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
As black as a tar-barrel!
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.’
Ridiculous! Kumquat, white pepper, white tea and orange blossom.
Virgo Snowball Fight Perfume OilAdd to cart
Brian: “Our first morning in Salzburg, I wake up to the sound of something thudding against the window. I look outside, and Lilith is out in the snow throwing snowballs at our door. So, I put on all my snow gear – mittens, hat, boots, overcoat, the whole pile of stuff – as fast as I can, and I go outside and I realize this kid is in her just in her long johns and her mom’s snow boots, standing in the snow laughing. Beth comes out yelling for her to put her snow clothes on and to get out of Beth’s boots because she was getting snow in them. She gets changed, and we run around snowball fighting.
“There’s another story – an inside joke – that if my feet get cold wherever we are, we have to go home. But I’ll save that for another time.”
Lilith: “You can’t tell in the picture, but I’m in my jammies here under my coat and stuff. Me and Unkie had a snowball fight. We tried to build a snowman, but it very much failed. Unkie got me a lot with the snow, but I got him back!”
A scent the color of the sun rising over Lake Fuschl: a joyful lemon ginger cologne with a touch of bay leaf and white tea.
Yurei Perfume OilAdd to cart
The most fearsome of Kaidan’s conjured warriors, his sword can shear through anything — or anyone.
White tea, hibiscus, Arabian sandalwood, white amber, ho leaf, pale Japanese flowers, and vetiver.