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  Medea Perfume Oil

  Granddaughter of Helios, Hecate’s chosen: Medea was one of the greatest sorceresses of the ancient world. She is the embodiment of ruthless power, indomitable will and furious vengeance. Night-blooming cereus, black orchid, black currant and myrtle leaf enshrouded in the incense of Hecate’s cypress and myrrh, and the dark rage of magickal labdanum and intoxicating poppy.

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  Patientia Bath Oil

  Please note all bath oils are 4oz

  Sandalwood, benzoin, cardamom, calamus, palmarosa, and sage.

  Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish. — John Quincy Adams

  4oz Bottle

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  Paysage 2024 Perfume Oil

  Je veux, pour composer chastement mes églogues,

  Coucher auprès du ciel, comme les astrologues,

  Et, voisin des clochers écouter en rêvant

  Leurs hymnes solennels emportés par le vent.

  Les deux mains au menton, du haut de ma mansarde,

  Je verrai l’atelier qui chante et qui bavarde;

  Les tuyaux, les clochers, ces mâts de la cité,

  Et les grands ciels qui font rêver d’éternité.

  II est doux, à travers les brumes, de voir naître

  L’étoile dans l’azur, la lampe à la fenêtre

  Les fleuves de charbon monter au firmament

  Et la lune verser son pâle enchantement.

  Je verrai les printemps, les étés, les automnes;

  Et quand viendra l’hiver aux neiges monotones,

  Je fermerai partout portières et volets

  Pour bâtir dans la nuit mes féeriques palais.

  Alors je rêverai des horizons bleuâtres,

  Des jardins, des jets d’eau pleurant dans les albâtres,

  Des baisers, des oiseaux chantant soir et matin,

  Et tout ce que l’Idylle a de plus enfantin.

  L’Emeute, tempêtant vainement à ma vitre,

  Ne fera pas lever mon front de mon pupitre;

  Car je serai plongé dans cette volupté

  D’évoquer le Printemps avec ma volonté,

  De tirer un soleil de mon coeur, et de faire

  De mes pensers brûlants une tiède atmosphère.

  
  – – –

  More chasteness to my eclogues it would give,

  Sky-high, like old astrologers to live,

  A neighbour of the belfries: and to hear

  Their solemn hymns along the winds career.

  High in my attic, chin in hand, I’d swing

  And watch the workshops as they roar and sing,

  The city’s masts — each steeple, tower, and flue —

  And skies that bring eternity to view.

   

  Sweet, through the mist, to see illumed again

  Stars through the azure, lamps behind the pane,

  Rivers of carbon irrigate the sky,

  And the pale moon pour magic from on high.

  I’d watch three seasons passing by, and then

  When winter came with dreary snows, I’d pen

  Myself between closed shutters, bolts, and doors,

  And build my fairy palaces indoors.

   

  A dream of blue horizons I would garble

  With thoughts of fountains weeping on to marble,

  Of gardens, kisses, birds that ceaseless sing,

  And all the Idyll holds of childhood’s spring.

  The riots, brawling past my window-pane,

  From off my desk would not divert my brain.

  Because I would be plunged in pleasure still,

  Conjuring up the Springtime with my will,

  And forcing sunshine from my heart to form,

  Of burning thoughts, an atmosphere that’s warm.

  — Charles Baudelaire, translation by Roy Campbell

   

  The pale moon pouring magic: Tunisian opium and mugwort with blackened bourbon vanilla, tuberose, glittering white musk, datura accord, wild plum, and tobacco absolute.

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  O Daughter of Death and Priapus Perfume Oil

  They were purple of raiment and golden,

  Filled full of thee, fiery with wine,

  Thy lovers, in haunts unbeholden,

  In marvellous chambers of thine.

  They are fled, and their footprints escape us,

  Who appraise thee, adore, and abstain,

  O daughter of Death and Priapus,

  Our Lady of Pain.

   

  Black opium, wild plum, cypress tar, Bulgarian rose, olibanum, black orchid, and tobacco.

  Out of Stock