May Lunacy and Other Updates

++ BPTP

ANTIQUE LACE HAIR GLOSS (100 unit limit)
Nostalgia encapsulated. A soft, wistful blend of dry flowers, aged linens, and the faint breath of long-faded perfumes.

We were able to make a limited run of Antique Lace: five-hundred bottles have been released from the attic, and another one-hundred hair glosses for Black Phoenix Trading Post. We don’t know when or if we will be able to make more.

$40

  • antique lace LABEL 2017

    Antique Lace

    Nostalgia encapsulated. A soft, wistful blend of dry flowers, aged linens, and the faint breath of long-faded perfumes.

    We were able to make a limited run of Antique Lace: five-hundred bottles have been released from the attic, and another one-hundred hair glosses for Black Phoenix Trading Post. We don’t know when or if we will be able to make more.

    Out of Stock
  • strawberry moon 2017 WEB

    Strawberry Moon

    Strawberries that in gardens grow
    Are plump and juicy fine,
    But sweeter far as wise men know
    Spring from the woodland vine.

    No need for bowl or silver spoon,
    Sugar or spice or cream,
    Has the wild berry plucked in June
    Beside the trickling stream.

    One such to melt at the tongue’s root,
    Confounding taste with scent,
    Beats a full peck of garden fruit:
    Which points my argument.

    May sudden justice overtake
    And snap the froward pen,
    That old and palsied poets shake
    Against the minds of men.

    Blasphemers trusting to hold caught
    In far-flung webs of ink,
    The utmost ends of human thought
    Till nothing’s left to think.

    But may the gift of heavenly peace
    And glory for all time
    Keep the boy Tom who tending geese
    First made the nursery rhyme.

    – Robert Graves

    Wild strawberries, strawberry flower, vanilla-infused sugar, early summer grasses, purple coneflower, white sage, and milky dandelion sap.

    Out of Stock
  • A SONG WHEN JUNE IS PAST THE FADING ROSE- web

    A Song: When June is Past, the Fading Rose

    5 out of 5

    Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
    When June is past, the fading rose;
    For in your beauty’s orient deep
    These flowers as in their causes, sleep.

    Ask me no more whither doth stray
    The golden atoms of the day;
    For in pure love heaven did prepare
    Those powders to enrich your hair.

    Ask me no more whither doth haste
    The nightingale when May is past;
    For in your sweet dividing throat
    She winters and keeps warm her note.

    Ask me no more where those stars light
    That downwards fall in dead of night;
    For in your eyes they sit, and there,
    Fixed become as in their sphere.

    Ask me no more if east or west
    The phoenix builds her spicy nest;
    For unto you at last she flies,
    And in your fragrant bosom dies.

    – Thomas Carew

    Amber-gilded summer roses fading; sandalwood dust, cassia and sweet myrrh, and threads of lavender.

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American Gods

AG MAIN IMAGE FOR CATEGORYWe are marking the ten-year anniversary of our American Gods collaboration with Neil Gaiman by introducing the next installment of scents inspired by his beautiful, harrowing, heart-shredding novel. It is one of my favorite books and Neil is one of my favorite humans, so this project is extremely dear to my heart. In the first installment, we are introducing sixteen new scents: Believe, Black Hats, Coin Trick, Eostre of the Dawn, For the Joy of It, Glass Eye, Laura, Low-Key Lyesmith, Media, Mister Wednesday, Mr. Czernobog, Shadow, Technical Boy, and the Zoryas. 

Our sister shop, Black Phoenix Trading Post, has launched an American Gods atmosphere spray line, so you can invoke the spilled beer and fries of the Crocodile Bar, the horrors of the Bone Orchard, the Hall of Forgotten Gods’ long-dead incenses, or the biting cold of a Lakeside winter. Nail lacquers will be coming to the Post in future installments!

Your purchase from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post will help our friends at the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund promote and defend First Amendment rights.

The paradigms were shifting. He could feel it. The old world, a world of infinite vastness and illimitable resources and future, was being confronted by something else—a web of energy, of opinions, of gulfs.

People believe, thought Shadow. It’s what people do. They believe. And then they will not take responsibility for their beliefs; they conjure things, and do not trust the conjurations. People populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with tales. People imagine, and people believe: and it is that belief, that rock-solid belief, that makes things happen.

The mountaintop was an arena; he saw that immediately. And on each side of the arena he could see them arrayed.

They were too big. Everything was too big in that place.

There were old gods in that place: gods with skins the brown of old mushrooms, the pink of chicken flesh, the yellow of autumn leaves. Some were crazy and some were sane. Shadow recognized the old gods. He’d met them already, or he’d met others like them. There were ifrits and piskies, giants and dwarfs. He saw the woman he had met in the darkened bedroom in Rhode Island, saw the writhing green snake-coils of her hair. He saw Mama-ji, from the carousel, and there was blood on her hands and a smile on her face. He knew them all.

He recognized the new ones, too.

Neil Gaiman is the winner of numerous literary honors and is the New York Times bestselling author of The Ocean at the End of the Lane, American Gods, Neverwhere, Stardust and Anansi Boys; the Sandman series of graphic novels; three short story collections and one book of essays, The View From the Cheap Seats.

Neil is the first author to win both the Carnegie Medal and the Newbery Medal for one work, The Graveyard Book. He also writes books for readers of all ages including the novels Fortunately, the Milk and Odd and the Frost Giants and picture books including The Sleeper and the Spindle and the Chu’s Day series. Neil’s most recent publication, Norse Mythology has topped bestseller lists worldwide.

Originally from England, he now lives in the USA. He is listed in the Dictionary of Literary Biography as one of the top ten living post-modern writers, and he says he owes it all to reading the Writers’ & Artists’ Yearbook as a young man.

This series based on Neil Gaiman’s American Gods, winner of the Hugo, Nebula, Locus, SFX Magazine and Bram Stoker Awards for Best Novel, and now a Starz television series.

Visit Neil’s official site, American Gods at Starz, and NeverWear.

This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture: proceeds from every single bottle go to the CBLDF, which works to preserve and protect the First Amendment rights of the comics community.

Original American Gods art by Hugo-winner Julie Dillon.

PERFUME OIL BLENDS
$26.00 per 5ml bottle.
Presented in an amber apothecary glass vial.
Because of the nature of this project, imps are not available for any American Gods scents.

  • AGWEB-believe

    Believe

    Shadow was in a dark place, and the thing staring at him wore a buffalo’s head, rank and furry with huge wet eyes. Its body was a man’s body, oiled and slick.

    “Changes are coming,” said the buffalo without moving its lips. “There are certain decisions that will have to be made.”

     Firelight flickered from wet cave walls.

    “Where am I?” Shadow asked.

    “In the earth and under the earth,” said the buffalo man. “You are where the forgotten wait.” His eyes were liquid black marbles, and his voice was a rumble from beneath the world. He smelled like wet cow. “Believe,” said the rumbling voice. “If you are to survive, you must believe.”

    “Believe what?” asked Shadow. “What should I believe?”

    He stared at Shadow, the buffalo man, and he drew himself up huge, and his eyes filled with fire. He opened his spit-flecked buffalo mouth and it was red inside with the flames that burned inside him, under the earth.

    “Everything,” roared the buffalo man.

     

    A scent of compression and release, of heat and faith, of plunging through the jet-shadowed darkness of uncertainty. The heart of the land: roots plunging ever deeper into thrumming black soil through the graves of faith, disillusion, and skepticism.

     

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  • AGWEB-black hats

    Black Hats

    “So who were the guys that grabbed me in the parking lot? Mister Wood and Mister Stone? Who were they?” The lights of the car illuminated the winter landscape. Wednesday had announced that they were not to take freeways because he didn’t know whose side the freeways were on, so Shadow was sticking to back roads. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t even sure that Wednesday was crazy.

    Wednesday grunted. “Just spooks. Members of the opposition. Black hats.”

    “I think,” said Shadow, “that they think they’re the white hats.”

    “Of course they do. There’s never been a true war that wasn’t fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe that they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous.”

    “And you?” asked Shadow. “Why are you doing what you’re doing?”

    “Because I want to,” said Wednesday. And then he grinned. “So that’s all right.”

     

    Gunpowder residue, patent leather, pomade, and aftershave.

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  • AGWEB-coin trick

    Coin Trick

    Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough and looked don’t-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife.

    The best thing—in Shadow’s opinion, perhaps the only good thing—about being in prison was a feeling of relief. The feeling that he’d plunged as low as he could plunge and he’d hit bottom. He didn’t worry that the man was going to get him, because the man had got him. He was no longer scared of what tomorrow might bring, because yesterday had brought it.

     

    Glittering gold and silver, rolling over knuckles – concealed in palms – and pulled from the sun, the moon, and the stars.

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  • AGWEB-eostre

    Eostre of the Dawn

    5 out of 5

    There was a woman sitting on the grass, under a tree, with a paper tablecloth spread in front of her, and a variety of Tupperware dishes on the cloth.

    She was—not fat, no, far from fat: what she was, a word that Shadow had never had cause to use until now, was curvaceous. Her hair was so fair that it was white, the kind of platinum-blonde tresses that should have belonged to a long-dead movie starlet, her lips were painted crimson, and she looked to be somewhere between twenty-five and fifty.

    As they reached her she was selecting from a plate of deviled eggs. She looked up as Wednesday approached her, put down the egg she had chosen, and wiped her hand. “Hello, you old fraud,” she said, but she smiled as she said it, and Wednesday bowed low, took her hand, and raised it to his lips.

    He said, “You look divine.”

    “How the hell else should I look?” she demanded, sweetly. “Anyway, you’re a liar. New Orleans was such a mistake—I put on, what, thirty pounds there? I swear. I knew I had to leave when I started to waddle. The tops of my thighs rub together when I walk now, can you believe that?” This last was addressed to Shadow. He had no idea what to say in reply, and felt a hot flush suffuse his face. The woman laughed delightedly. “He’s blushing! Wednesday, my sweet, you brought me a blusher. How perfectly wonderful of you. What’s he called?”

    “This is Shadow,” said Wednesday. He seemed to be enjoying Shadow’s discomfort. “Shadow, say hello to Easter.”

     

    Jasmine and honeysuckle, sweet milk and female skin.

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  • AGWEB-for the joy of it

    For the Joy of It

    In prison Shadow had learned there were two kinds of fights: don’t fuck with me fights, where you made it as showy and impressive as you could, and private fights, real fights, which were fast and hard and nasty, and always over in seconds.

    “Hey, Sweeney,” said Shadow, breathless, “why are we fighting?”

    “For the joy of it,” said Sweeney, sober now, or at least, no longer visibly drunk. “For the sheer unholy fucken delight of it. Can’t you feel the joy in your own veins, rising like the sap in the springtime?” His lip was bleeding. So was Shadow’s knuckle.

    Whiskey, mead, honey, gold, sweat, and blood.

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  • AGWEB-glass eye

    Glass Eye

    “How’d you lose your eye?”

    Wednesday shoveled half a dozen pieces of bacon into his mouth, chewed, wiped the fat from his lips with the back of his hand. “Didn’t lose it,” he said. “I still know exactly where it is.”

     

    The depths of Mímisbrunnr: mugwort and frankincense, grey amber and ash.

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  • AGWEB-laura

    Laura

    There was something he wanted to say to Laura, and he was prepared to wait until he knew what it was. The world slowly began to lose light and color. Shadow’s feet were going numb, while his hands and face hurt from the cold. He burrowed his hands into his pockets for warmth, and his fingers closed about the gold coin.

    He walked over to the grave.

    “This is for you,” he said.

    Several shovels of earth had been emptied onto the casket, but the hole was far from full. He threw the gold coin into the grave with Laura, then he pushed more earth into the hole, to hide the coin from acquisitive grave diggers. He brushed the earth from his hands and said, “Good night, Laura.” Then he said, “I’m sorry.”

    Violets, upturned earth, mothballs, formaldehyde (mixed with glycerin and lanolin), and the memory of the taste of strawberry daiquiris suspended in twilight.

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  • AGWEB-low key lyesmith

    Low Key Lyesmith

    “Cigarette, sir?”

    “No, thank you.”

    “You don’t mind if I do?”

    “Go right ahead.”

    The driver used a Bic disposable lighter, and it was in the yellow light of the flame that Shadow saw the man’s face, actually saw it for the first time, and recognized him, and began to understand.

    Shadow knew that thin face. He knew that there would be close-cropped orange hair beneath the black driver’s cap, cut close to the scalp. He knew that when the man’s lips smiled they would crease into a network of rough scars.

    “You’re looking good, big guy,” said the driver.

    “Low Key?” Shadow stared at his old cellmate warily.

    Prison friendships are good things: they get you through bad places and through dark times. But a prison friendship ends at the prison gates, and a prison friend who reappears in your life is at best a mixed blessing.

    “Jesus. Low Key Lyesmith,” said Shadow, and then he heard what he was saying and he understood. “Loki,” he said. “Loki Lie-Smith.”

    “You’re slow,” said Loki, “but you get there in the end.” And his lips twisted into a scarred smile and embers danced in the shadows of his eyes.

     

    Black clove and cassia flung onto glowing cinders and mingled with slow-dripping poisons.

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  • AGWEB-media

    Media

    5 out of 5

    Waiting for them in front of the motel was a woman Shadow did not recognize. She was perfectly made-up, perfectly coiffed. She reminded him of every newscaster he’d ever seen on morning television sitting in a studio that didn’t really resemble a living room.

    “Lovely to see you,” she said. “Now, you must be Czernobog. I’ve heard a lot about you. And you’re Anansi, always up to mischief, eh? You jolly old man. And you, you must be Shadow. You’ve certainly led us a merry chase, haven’t you?” A hand took his, pressed it firmly, looked him straight in the eye. “I’m Media. Good to meet you. I hope we can get this evening’s business done as pleasantly as possible.”

     

    A news anchor’s cologne, a soap star’s perfume: perfect, pixelated, and glamorous; aglow with cathodes and anodes, coated with phosphor. “I offered you the world,” she said. “When you’re dying in a gutter, you remember that.”

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  • AGWEB-mister wednesday

    Mister Wednesday

    His hair was a reddish gray; his beard, little more than stubble, was grayish red. A craggy, square face with pale gray eyes. The suit looked expensive, and was the color of melted vanilla ice cream. His tie was dark gray silk, and the tie pin was a tree, worked in silver: trunk, branches, and deep roots.

    He held his glass of Jack Daniel’s as they took off, and did not spill a drop.

     

    Sleek cologne, the memory of a Nine Herbs Charm, gallows wood, and a splash of whiskey.

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  • AGWEB-mr czernobog

    Mr. Czernobog

    5 out of 5

    Shadow saw a gray-haired old Eastern-European immigrant, with a shabby raincoat and one iron-colored tooth, true. But he also saw a squat black thing, darker than the darkness that surrounded them, its eyes two burning coals; and he saw a prince, with long flowing black hair and a long black mustache, blood on his hands and his face, riding, naked but for a bear skin over his shoulder, on a creature half-man, half-beast, his face and torso blue-tattooed with swirls and spirals.


    Unfiltered cigarettes, the leather and metal of sledgehammers, aortal blood slowly drying, and black incense.

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  • AGWEB-shadow

    Shadow

    “How the hell did you find me here?” he asked his dead wife.

    She shook her head slowly, amused. “You shine like a beacon in a dark world,” she told him. “It wasn’t that hard…”

    Grey oudh and bay rum luminous with amber.

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  • AGWEB-technical boy

    Technical Boy

    The fat young man at the other end of the stretch limo took a can of diet Coke from the cocktail bar and popped it open. He wore a long black coat, made of some silky material, and he appeared barely out of his teens: a spattering of acne glistened on one cheek. He smiled when he saw that Shadow was awake.

    “Hello, Shadow,” he said. “Don’t fuck with me.”

     

    It’s all about the dominant fucking paradigm, Shadow. Nothing else is important: vape smoke and burning electrical parts.

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  • AGWEB-zorya polunochnaya

    Zorya Polunochnaya

    Her hair was pale and colorless in the moon’s thin light. She wore a white cotton nightgown, with a high lace neck and a hem that swept the ground. Shadow sat up, entirely awake. “You are Zorya Polu . . . ,” he hesitated. “The sister who was asleep.”

    “I am Zorya Polunochnaya, yes. And you are called Shadow, yes? That was what Zorya Vechernyaya told me, when I woke.”

    “Yes. What were you looking at, out there?”

    She looked at him, then she beckoned him to join her by the window. She turned her back while he pulled on his jeans. He walked over to her. It seemed a long walk, for such a small room.

    He could not tell her age. Her skin was unlined, her eyes were dark, her lashes were long, her hair was to her waist and white. The moonlight drained colors into ghosts of themselves. She was taller than either of her sisters.

    She pointed up into the night sky. “I was looking at that,” she said, pointing to the Big Dipper. “See?”

    “Ursa Major,” he said. “The Great Bear.”

    “That is one way of looking at it,” she said. “But it is not the way from where I come from. I am going to sit on the roof. Would you like to come with me?”

     

    Pale amber and ambergris, gossamer vanilla, moonflower, and white tobacco petals.

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  • AGWEB-zorya utrennyaya

    Zorya Utrennyaya

    “Why you are standing at the door?” asked a woman’s voice. Shadow looked over Czernobog’s shoulder, at the old woman standing behind him. She was smaller and frailer than her sister, but her hair was long and still golden. “I am Zorya Utrennyaya,” she said. “You must not stand there in the hall. You must go in, sit down. I will bring you coffee.”

     

    Sweet black coffee and a touch of ambrette seed.

     

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  • AGWEB-zorya vercernyaya

    Zorya Vechernyaya

    4 out of 5

    “You see, I am the only one of us who brings in any money. The other two cannot make money fortune-telling. This is because they only tell the truth, and the truth is not what people want to hear. It is a bad thing, and it troubles people, so they do not come back. But I can lie to them, tell them what they want to hear. So I bring home the bread.”

    Red musk and wild plum, orange blossom and jasmine, juniper berries, sweet incense and vetiver-laced sandalwood.

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Lupercalia and February Updates

It is our tremulous pleasure to present you with the first part of BPAL’s annual Lupercalia update (Trading Post will be on the way soon). So many heady experiences await you! If we weren’t the ones with the keys to the room where the bottles are stored, we’d be jealous.

++ BOX OF CHOCOLATES 2017
We’re not always all about death, sex, and debauchery. We like chocolate, too!

+ THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION

How delightful are the pleasures of the imagination! In those delectable moments, the whole world is ours; not a single creature resists us, we devastate the world, we repopulate it with new objects which, in turn, we immolate. The means to every crime is ours, and we employ them all, we multiply the horror a hundredfold.

  • pleasures of the imagination WEB-3

    III

    Turkish tobacco, black leather, cinnamon, benzoin, and smoked honey.

    Out of Stock
  • pleasures of the imagination WEB-4

    IV

    White tea blossom, jasmine sambac, white musk, and leather.

    Out of Stock
  • pleasures of the imagination WEB-5

    V

    Black leather, red sandalwood, orris root, tobacco absolute, oakmoss, and sweet patchouli.

    Out of Stock

++ LUPERCALIA 2017

Lust, forgetful of future suffering, hurries us along the forbidden path.

  • Antique Medical Illustration | Human heart

    Delight in Disorder

    A sweet disorder in the dress
    Kindles in clothes a wantonness;
    A lawn about the shoulders thrown
    Into a fine distraction;
    An erring lace, which here and there
    Enthrals the crimson stomacher;
    A cuff neglectful, and thereby
    Ribands to flow confusedly;
    A winning wave, deserving note,
    In the tempestuous petticoat;
    A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
    I see a wild civility:
    Do more bewitch me, than when art
    Is too precise in every part.
    – Robert Herrick

    A sweet disorder in the dress: crimson musk and wild cherry.

    Out of Stock
  • Antique Medical Illustration | Human heart

    I Too Beneath Your Moon

    I too beneath your moon, almighty Sex,
    Go forth at nightfall crying like a cat,
    Leaving the lofty tower I laboured at
    For birds to foul and boys and girls to vex
    – Edna St. Vincent Millay

    Vanilla cream, white patchouli, French lavender, bergamot, and apple.

    Out of Stock
  • Antique Medical Illustration | Human heart

    Importune Me No More

    5 out of 5

    You dainty dame, for that you be so coy,
    I will so pluck your plumes as you shall say no more:
    Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.
    – Queen Elizabeth I

    Red roses, red carnation, and grandiflorum jasmine grounded by regal amber and sweet, dark patchouli.

    Out of Stock
  • Antique Medical Illustration | Human heart

    Luperci

    Piss off, Saint Valentine! Lupercalia is an ancient Roman celebration, held on February 15th, that kicked in the advent of Spring with a very, very festive purification, fertility and sexuality ritual. The ritual began near the cave of Lupercal on the Palatine, an area sacred to Faunus, as well as Ruminia, Romulus and Remus. During Lupercalia, Vestal Virgins first made offerings of sacred cakes to the fig tree under which the she-wolf suckled the Sacred Twins. A dog and two goats were then offered in sacrifice to Faunus. The blood of the sacrifice was smeared onto two naked patrician youths, who were assisted by the Virgins, and the blood was wiped clean with sacred wool dipped in milk. The youths donned the skins of the sacrificial goats, wielding whips made from the goat skins, and then led the priests and the Virgins around the pomarium, and around the base hills of Rome. This was a ceremony of great happiness and merriment, and was of particular interest to young women: being touched by the goat-whips young men that led the procession ensured their fertility in the coming year. It is believed that, after the initial rite, male participants would draw the name of an available maiden, with whom he spent the rest of the night. This scent is for the Luperci, the Chosen of Faunus, the Brothers of the Wolf: raw, down and dirty patchouli, Gurjam balsam, and essence of Sampson Root sweetened with the heightened sexuality of beeswax, virile juniper, oakmoss, ambrette seed over honey and East African musk.

    Out of Stock
  • Antique Medical Illustration | Human heart

    Smut

    Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

    Out of Stock
  • Antique Medical Illustration | Human heart

    Snake Skin

    For he seemed to me again like a king,
    Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
    Now due to be crowned again.

    A sinuous leather variant of BPAL’s Snake Oil.

    Out of Stock
  • Antique Medical Illustration | Human heart

    Womb Furie

    In the middle of the flanks of women lies the womb, a female viscus, closely resembling an animal; for it is moved of itself hither and thither in the flanks, also upwards in a direct line to below the cartilage of the thorax and also obliquely to the right or to the left, either to the liver or spleen; and it likewise is subject to falling downwards, and, in a word, it is altogether erratic. It delights, also, in fragrant smells, and advances towards them; and it has an aversion to fetid smells, and flees from them; and on the whole the womb is like an animal within an animal.
    — Aretaeus the Cappadocian

    Oh, that wily womb! Hippocrates and his followers considered the womb a mobile creature, causing mayhem as it writhed its way through a woman’s body. Sometimes this ornery organ, due to lack of sexual activity, would create conflicts within a woman’s system or would become blocked itself, causing anxiety, nervousness, water retention, and sleeplessness. With the assistance of doctors, nursemaids, hand tools, or, occasionally, self-manipulation, this vexing condition could be alleviated through hysterical paroxysms.

    Or, as we call it nowadays: orgasm.

    An itch that needs to be scratched: Snake Oil and three types of honey.

    Out of Stock

 

Novel Ideas For Secret Amusements is a Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab Salon Limited Edition series, running from 9 February 2017 until 13 April 2017.

Historic Japanese erotica is presented within, and thus, this exhibit contains explicit depictions of sexual acts and nudity.

Viewer discretion is advised.

Click on the image above to enter, or return to the main Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab site.

By clicking on the above image, you are stating that you are eighteen years of age, or older, and that you are choosing to view adult content.

++ NOVEL IDEAS FOR SECRET AMUSEMENTS 2017
A limited edition Salon series celebrating the joy, humor, playfulness, and thrill of sexual intercourse through scent interpretations of Japanese erotic art.

We have listed the notes for your edification and convenience. However, as with all of our visual art sets, we prefer not to offer any descriptive passages for these scents in order to maximize the visual / olfactory experience.

 

  • SHUNGA WEB2017-Hoīru

    Hoîru

    4 out of 5

    Bourbon vanilla and suede leather, tonka and patchouli, pale amber and blackened tea leaf, coconut husk and cashmere.

    Out of Stock
  • SHUNGA WEB2017-Karikkotsu

    Karikkotsu

    5 out of 5

    White oud and white sandalwood, iris pallida, blonde woods, and pink pepper.

    Out of Stock

 

 

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

DIABOLICAL BEAUTY COMES TO DOWNTOWN ARKHAM
The Devil’s Lovers: the Erotic Art of Félicien Rops
on view at the Pickman Gallery from February 8 to April 13, 2017

Arkham, MA (Feb 1, 2017)— On view from February 8 through April 13, 2017, at Pickman Gallery, Arkham, MA, The Devil’s Lovers: the Erotic Art of Félicien Rops showcases the work of the renowned Belgian illustrator, engraver, and printmaker, exploring the themes of death and eroticism, and the defiance inherent to Satanic symbolism that is essential to his work. The Devil’s Lovers was generously lent to Pickman Gallery from Abbess Madgalena Eva of Łódź‘s private collection, which was previously housed by Le Couvent des Sœurs du Plaisir du Diable in Brussels.
Rops spent two years in Belgium evading creditors, where he fell under the spell of the poet Charles Baudelaire. Their friendship profoundly affected Rops’ aesthetic, and he began to express his own tortured misanthropy through macabre erotic illustrations and his social observations through sex-charged grotesqueries and Baudelarian phantasmagoria. This collection of Rops’ artwork is a celebration of death, sex, and political and social rebellion, all reflected through a distinctly Mephistophelean lens.

A private reception and Black Mass will be held at Pickman Gallery during the lunar eclipse on February 11, 2017, from midnight until 3am. RSVP required. Refreshments provided by Dagon Hollow Vineyard, Zadok’s Sushi Barn, and the Old Arkham Cheese Shoppe. The reception will be preceded by an open-air lecture in the galley veranda, “Power and Sexuality Among Society’s Disinherited”.

Sponsorship
The Devil’s Lovers was made possible by the charitable support of Elizabeth Barrial, director of the Black Phoenix Foundation for the Arts, and TJ Barrial, Visual Arts Professor and Department Chair at the Dunwich Academy of Arts, and a grant generously provided by the Arkham Women’s Knitting Club and Social. The exhibition was organized for the Celephaïs Athenæum by Brian Constantine, Curator of Sculpture for the Clark Ashton Smith Memorial Gallery,.

About the Pickman Gallery
The Pickman Gallery is the Miskatonic Valley’s premier privately-owned art gallery. Founded in 1923 by interdimensionally renowned portrait artist Richard Upton Pickman, the Gallery offers the Miskatonic Valley community a dynamic roster of stimulating, dread-provoking exhibitions and enriching public programs. Though the Pickman generally focuses on Aestheticism and Decadence, nearly all artistic movements have been represented throughout the years. Exhibitions organized by the Pickman have featured the works of both local and international artists, and have encompassed all of the visual arts, including printmaking, photography, sculpture, video, film, and performance.

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  • rops17WEB-faun

    Faun

    3.5 out of 5

    Scattered leaves, fir needle, and thick honey musk.

    Out of Stock
  • rops17WEB-Humanite

    Humanite

    4 out of 5

    Tuberose, white peach, orange blossom, lemon peel, and caramelized vanilla.

    Out of Stock
  • rops17WEB-L'AGONIE

    L’Agonie

    Apricot and blood orange with dragon’s blood absolute, golden vanilla, chamomile, white honey, and oudh.

    Out of Stock
  • rops17WEB-L’Idole

    L’Idole

    3 out of 5

    Golden amber, juniper berry, white sage, leather, cardamom, and black pepper.

    Out of Stock
  • neverthelessWEB

    Nevertheless, She Persisted

    3.67 out of 5

    She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted.

    A rallying call: golden oudh, frankincense, iris, and steel. Proceeds from this scent benefit EMILY’s List, an organization that supports electing pro-choice Democratic women to office.

    Jeanne d’Arc, Albert Lynch

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  • BPAL7wordsWEB-gluttony (1)

    Seven Word Story: Gluttony

    The subject of our latest #BPAL7wordstory contest was Gluttony. The winning entry was submitted by Crystal Rose-Thompson:

    The Sirens Eagerly Beckoned the Approaching Ship

    Sea splash on murky labdanum and gleaming olibanum, veiled in lavender, diaphanous osmanthus, gilded saffron, and honey incense.

    Add to cart
  • 28345535 - two men reading newspaper

    Alternative Facts

    5 out of 5

    The truth hurts — so why tell it? Muffle the blow with Alternative Facts.

    For example:

    FACT: Following White House advisor Kellyanne Conway’s January 22 appearance on “Meet The Press,” sales of George Orwell’s 1984 skyrocketed, making it the fifth-best selling book on Amazon.com.

    ALTERNATIVE FACT: In under a week, President Trump’s administration has already managed to improve literacy, reflecting the public’s renewed interest in privatized education, as well as its rejection of the mainstream media in favor of more “traditional” forms of information-gathering.

    See how easy that is? With the help of Alternative Facts, even the most unpalatable among us can preside over a gallery of glittering, candy-coated delusions — one in which reality itself conforms to our beliefs, sincerely-held or otherwise.

    ALTERNATIVE FACTS: If you truly want to obfuscate what you really smell like, this is the scent for you! Sugar-crusted vanilla, a firecracker-blast of cherry and sour lemon, a hint of scuttling spiders, encroaching fog, and trumpets of bombast, bluff, and bluster.

    Like its companion scent Fake News, proceeds from Alternative Facts will benefit the ACLU.

    Add to cart
  • NPSfundraiserWEB01

    Theoi Nomioi

    4.5 out of 5

    In response to the National Park Service retweeting a New York Times piece on Trump’s Inauguration numbers, Trump’s fragile ego demanded that his administration order the NPS to stop all tweets.

    The National Park Service refuses to be muzzled. On January 24th, South Dakota’s Badlands National Park social media team defiantly posted a series of climate change facts from the National Wildlife Federation before being shut down. Since then, anonymous employees from the National Park Service started a rogue twitter account:

    https://twitter.com/AltNatParkSer

    These courageous federal employees are risking their careers to ensure that the public is kept informed on issues of climate change. They are fighting for transparency, truth, and science, and they deserve every ounce of support we can offer them. Tweet, email, FB, and phone in your support. Visit your local National Parks and thank the employees there in person. Donate to the National Parks Conservation Association and the National Park Foundation.

    For them, for us, for the sake of the First Amendment, the environment, our state parks, and our future, we honor the bravery and chutzpah of these NPS employees with a scent that benefits the National Parks Conservation Association and the National Park Foundation.

    THEOI NOMIOI
    The Theoi Nomioi are the gods and spirits of the wild: the countryside, the pastures, the forests. Under their auspices, untamed nature thrives, the beasts of the wild feast and multiply, the mountains reach to the heavens with their stony, snow-capped fingers, and the forests grow thick and dark with mystery.

    The National Parks Conservation Association
    “Since 1919, the National Parks Conservation Association has been the leading voice of the American people in the fight to safeguard the scenic beauty, wildlife, and historic and cultural treasures of the largest and most diverse park system in the world. Help us assure the future of our beloved national parks.”

    The National Park Foundation
    “The National Park Foundation protects America’s special places, connects people to nature and inspires the next generation of park stewards.”

    Add to cart

January Updates

  • webstarstruck2016-aquarius

    Starstruck: Aquarius 2016

    Fixed Air: the essence of knowledge. Not the possession of knowledge, per se, but the desire for knowledge, the path itself, and the drive to seek truth, both personal and universal. This is a scent of progressiveness, modernism and intellectual curiosity, and of unpredictability and independence. This is the perfume of the humanist and inventor, electric with caprice: clove, mastic, and spikenard with benzoin, tonka, sweet vetiver, frankincense, and white pepper.

    Out of Stock
  • fakenewsWEB

    Fake News

    4.83 out of 5

    2016 turned out to be the year of the NASTY WOMAN — and thanks to your purchases, BPAL was able to donate thousands of dollars to Planned Parenthood and Emily’s List!

    Unfortunately, 2017 is already shaping up to be the year of FAKE NEWS. In anticipation of the upcoming inaugural proceedings — and the months, nay years of high-volume dishonesty that are to follow — we offer the following blend to help penetrate the dense fog of of misinformation that’s already begun settling around Truth, Justice, and other historically celebrated American ideals.

    Wear it in vigilance as you sift through the memes, trolls, clickbait, hate-speech, and outright propaganda that continually threaten to overwhelm all the world’s kindness, wisdom, and informed expertise. Wear it in courage as you refute ignorance and insincerity at every turn — even from our nation’s highest-ranking figures — with indisputable facts from well-researched sources.

    And try not to lose your sense of humor as you fight back, or your own essential humanity. As Anne Lamott once wrote: “You don’t always have to chop with the sword of truth. You can point with it too.” 

    FAKE NEWS: A scent of misdirection, of 140 frantic characters typed out in spite at 3am, and paranoia-clouded churlish accusations hurled at perceived enemies: crushed pink pepper pod, bitter white tobacco, gnarled patchouli, all covered in glinting, garish slashes of gold.

    Proceeds from FAKE NEWS will go to the American Civil Liberties Union, non-partisan defender of the rights and liberties guaranteed by the Constitution and laws of the United States.

    When purchasing, be sure to include your twitter handle in the Notes section of our order form — for every bottle you buy, we will tweet one fake news headline about you from our Twitter account (@BPAL).

    Add to cart
  • 28345535 - two men reading newspaper

    Alternative Facts

    5 out of 5

    The truth hurts — so why tell it? Muffle the blow with Alternative Facts.

    For example:

    FACT: Following White House advisor Kellyanne Conway’s January 22 appearance on “Meet The Press,” sales of George Orwell’s 1984 skyrocketed, making it the fifth-best selling book on Amazon.com.

    ALTERNATIVE FACT: In under a week, President Trump’s administration has already managed to improve literacy, reflecting the public’s renewed interest in privatized education, as well as its rejection of the mainstream media in favor of more “traditional” forms of information-gathering.

    See how easy that is? With the help of Alternative Facts, even the most unpalatable among us can preside over a gallery of glittering, candy-coated delusions — one in which reality itself conforms to our beliefs, sincerely-held or otherwise.

    ALTERNATIVE FACTS: If you truly want to obfuscate what you really smell like, this is the scent for you! Sugar-crusted vanilla, a firecracker-blast of cherry and sour lemon, a hint of scuttling spiders, encroaching fog, and trumpets of bombast, bluff, and bluster.

    Like its companion scent Fake News, proceeds from Alternative Facts will benefit the ACLU.

    Add to cart
  • fire cock WEB

    Fire Cock

    4 out of 5

    A new year’s blessing! Peony, China’s national flower, with bamboo for flexibility, plum blossom for perseverance, courage, and hope, tangerine for wealth, orange for happiness, lychee for household peace, pine resin for constancy, golden kumquat for prosperity, King mandarin for good fortune, cypress for longevity, sticky rice cakes for abundance and hopes for a rich, sweet life, and a splash of blazing red of dragon’s blood to help you scare away the rampaging Nian.

    Artwork by Aristotle Pramagioulis!

    Out of Stock
  • NPSfundraiserWEB01

    Theoi Nomioi

    4.5 out of 5

    In response to the National Park Service retweeting a New York Times piece on Trump’s Inauguration numbers, Trump’s fragile ego demanded that his administration order the NPS to stop all tweets.

    The National Park Service refuses to be muzzled. On January 24th, South Dakota’s Badlands National Park social media team defiantly posted a series of climate change facts from the National Wildlife Federation before being shut down. Since then, anonymous employees from the National Park Service started a rogue twitter account:

    https://twitter.com/AltNatParkSer

    These courageous federal employees are risking their careers to ensure that the public is kept informed on issues of climate change. They are fighting for transparency, truth, and science, and they deserve every ounce of support we can offer them. Tweet, email, FB, and phone in your support. Visit your local National Parks and thank the employees there in person. Donate to the National Parks Conservation Association and the National Park Foundation.

    For them, for us, for the sake of the First Amendment, the environment, our state parks, and our future, we honor the bravery and chutzpah of these NPS employees with a scent that benefits the National Parks Conservation Association and the National Park Foundation.

    THEOI NOMIOI
    The Theoi Nomioi are the gods and spirits of the wild: the countryside, the pastures, the forests. Under their auspices, untamed nature thrives, the beasts of the wild feast and multiply, the mountains reach to the heavens with their stony, snow-capped fingers, and the forests grow thick and dark with mystery.

    The National Parks Conservation Association
    “Since 1919, the National Parks Conservation Association has been the leading voice of the American people in the fight to safeguard the scenic beauty, wildlife, and historic and cultural treasures of the largest and most diverse park system in the world. Help us assure the future of our beloved national parks.”

    The National Park Foundation
    “The National Park Foundation protects America’s special places, connects people to nature and inspires the next generation of park stewards.”

    Add to cart