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  Monastery Garden in the Snow Perfume Oil

  Carl Friedrich Lessing
  Curls of monastic incense, moss-stained stone, snow-laden cypress, medicinal herbs buried deep in winter soil, and glittering icicles splintering from a gargoyle’s frozen scream.

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  Circe Individiosa Perfume Oil

  Circe Invidiosa, John William Waterhouse. 1892
  “The colors in this painting are so lush and beautiful that they defy description. I have always thought that tipping dish of poison, the shade of crushed emeralds and mantis wings, must be the precise color of our heart’s blood when we are in the venomous throes of enraged, envious desire.”

  Salt-spray dotting an azure cove, its waters swirling with noxious poisons and venom drawn from dreadful roots: a cascade of blackcurrant and crystalline blue-green waters infused with theriac accord, bruised henbane accord, white gardenia, pear, cedarwood, emerald mosses, tuberose, and bitter almond.

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  Cold Moon 2024 Perfume Oil

  The mists that slept on the river’s brim.
  Went up like the wings of the cherubim.

  The water-lilies so cold and fair
  Were tangled with tresses of bright brown hair.

  The osiers bent with a quiet grace
  over a form with a still, white face.

  The river flow’d with a desolate moan,
  And dead leaves fell on the cold grey stone.
  – Sarah T. Bolton

  
  A mist-shrouded river, laden with sorrow: water lilies, wild plum, carrot seed, jasmine petals, and yellow bergamot pouring over moss-covered stones.

   

  Art by Drew Rausch!

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  Robin Goodfellow Perfume Oil

  Now the hungry lion roars,
  And the wolf behowls the moon;
  Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
  All with weary task fordone.
  Now the wasted brands do glow,
  Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
  Puts the wretch that lies in woe
  In remembrance of a shroud.
  Now it is the time of night
  That the graves all gaping wide,
  Every one lets forth his sprite,
  In the church-way paths to glide:
  And we fairies, that do run
  By the triple Hecate’s team,
  From the presence of the sun,
  Following darkness like a dream,
  Now are frolic: not a mouse
  Shall disturb this hallow’d house:
  I am sent with broom before,
  To sweep the dust behind the door.

  Dark musk, moss-covered wood, ragwort, heather, and sage.

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