Jasmine Cottage Perfume OilOut of Stock
She’d rented the cottage furnished, which meant that the actual furniture was the special sort you find in these circumstances and had probably been left out for the dustmen by the local War on Want shop. It didn’t matter. She didn’t expect to be here long.
If Agnes was right, she wouldn’t be anywhere long. Nor would anyone else.
Camellia, jasmine, heather, orange blossom, osmanthus, wisteria, thyme, angelica, freesia, granny’s nightcap, and English wildflowers.
Lady Amalthea Perfume OilAdd to cart
Molly Grue had taken the white girl’s head onto her lap, and was whispering over and over, “What have you done?” The girl’s face, quiet in sleep and close to smiling, was the most beautiful that Schmendrick had ever seen. It hurt him and warmed him at the same time. Molly smoothed the strange hair, and Schmendrick noticed on the forehead, above and between the closed eyes, a small, raised mark, darker than the rest of the skin. It was neither a scar nor a bruise. It looked like a flower.
A luminous white winter musk with lilac, wisteria, white chocolate, white mint, and tuberose
Les Fleurs du Mal Perfume OilSelect Options
The scents of the blossoms of darkness, condensed into one perfume. Features a rose base, softened with lilac and wisteria.
Seraphim Perfume OilSelect Options
A perfume sacred to the highest of the angelic hosts: calla lily, wisteria, white sandalwood, Damascus rose and frankincense.
Shoggoth Perfume OilSelect Options
It was a terrible, indescribable thing vaster than any subway train – a shapeless congerie of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and un-forming as pustules of greenish light all over the tunnel-filling front that bore down upon us, crushing the frantic penguins and slithering over the glistening floor that it and its kind had swept so evilly free of all litter.
An amorphous, radiant, incandescent scent. Ever changing, protoplasmic and primordial: white amber, green coconut meat, iris, palmarosa, Chinese peony, lime, water lily, snowdrop, muguet, lemongrass, osmanthus, wisteria, glassy musk, and hinoki.
Silenti Perfume OilAdd to cart
The Silenti reject human society completely, and are, quite literally, the living dead. Either due to trauma, sociopathic psychological conditions they possessed while human, or through a desire to embrace this peculiar aesthetic, they adopt many of the stereotypes and trappings of the vampire-as-undead. Some act as monstrous killers, akin to the murderous ways of Interfectors, while others are more peaceable, but no less strange. Most of these vampires choose to live in crypts, haunting graveyards like proverbial ghouls. Many vampire death cults have sprung from the philosophies and writings of Silenti, including the House of Azrael, whose members venerate death itself as the supreme deity and oblivion as heaven.
Grave beauty: Spanish moss, lilac, wisteria, myrrh, and olibanum.
Solanine, the Flower Girl Perfume OilAdd to cart
In the distance, you hear the discordant tolling of churchbells, uneven and strangely triumphant. As you turn towards the beckoning clang, you feel something brush across your neck: a gentle caress before a hundred pricking trichomes tear at your skin. There is a sudden whipping sensation and a clench of movement, and your throat is clamped in a rigid green noose.
A raspy voice whispers, “Pardon,” and the grip on you loosens.
A woman stands behind you. She holds a basket overflowing with creeping vines and flowers: razor-thorned roses, vibrant bursts of oleander, drooping cascades of wisteria, sprays of white hemlock and lily of the valley, bruise-blue pillows of aconite, purple-veined henbane, and the snapping jaws of monstrously large flytraps, glistening wet with mucilage. Her clothes smell faintly of manchineel smoke, and her fingertips are stained green. She smiles and shudders as the green tendrils that surround her writhe and contract. She plucks a red-spotted mushroom from her basket and places it gently in your palm before turning away.
The Shepherd’s Dream Perfume OilOut of Stock
Ambergris accord, lilac mist, grey silk ambrette, wisteria, white frankincense, champa magnolia, and pink tea roses.
We Wear the Mask Perfume OilAdd to cart
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, –
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
– Paul Laurence Dunbar
This poem – this song – is one that has moved me since my childhood, and it’s so incredibly difficult to translate it into scent. I don’t know if I am capable of doing honor to Dunbar’s words; all I can do is craft something that is akin to how much this makes my heart clench. The scent I have chosen is a soft lavender with dry woods, carrot seed and iris, sandalwood smoke, and wisteria.