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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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  Caterpillar Perfume Oil

  Heavy incense notes waft lazily through a mix of carnation, jasmine, bergamot, and neroli over a lush bed of dark mosses, iris blossom, deep patchouli and indolent vetiver.

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  Ruins of Karnstein Perfume Oil

  “It was a bad family, and here its bloodstained annals were written,” he continued. “It is hard that they should, after death, continue to plague the human race with their atrocious lusts.”

  Palatial grandeur in ruins, its decrepit majesty poised in the liminal space between decay and beauty. A haunting memory of all-consuming desire: the rich, earthy depth of oud, vetiver, and moss, grounded in the untamed wilds of the forest, echoing the ancient stones that remain.
  

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  The Kangaroo Perfume Oil

  Kanagaroo, Kangaroo!
  Thou Spirit of Australia,
  That redeems from utter failure,
  From perfect desolation,
  And warrants the creation
  Of this fifth part of the Earth,
  Which would seem an after-birth,
  Not conceiv’d in the Beginning
  (For GOD bless’d His work at first,
  And saw that it was good),
  But emerg’d at the first sinning,
  When the ground was therefore curst; —
  And hence this barren wood!

  Kangaroo, Kangaroo!
  Tho’ at first sight we should say,
  In thy nature that there may
  Contradiction be involv’d,
  Yet, like discord well resolv’d,
  It is quickly harmonized.
  Sphynx or mermaid realiz’d,
  Or centaur unfabulous,
  Would scarce be more prodigious,
  Or Pegasus poetical,
  Or hippogriff — chimeras all!
  But, what Nature would compile,
  Nature knows to reconcile;
  And Wisdom, ever at her side,
  Of all her children’s justified.

  She had made the squirrel fragile;
  She had made the bounding hart;
  But a third so strong and agile
  Was beyond ev’n Nature’s art;
  So she join’d the former two
  In thee, Kangaroo!
  To describe thee, it is hard:
  Converse of the camélopard,
  Which beginneth camel-wise,
  But endeth of the panther size,
  Thy fore half, it would appear,
  Had belong’d to some “small deer,”
  Such as liveth in a tree;
  By thy hinder, thou should’st be
  A large animal of chace,
  Bounding o’er the forest’s space; —
  Join’d by some divine mistake,
  None but Nature’s hand can make —
  Nature, in her wisdom’s play,
  On Creation’s holiday.

  For howsoe’er anomalous,
  Thou yet art not incongruous,
  Repugnant or preposterous.
  Better-proportion’d animal,
  More graceful or ethereal,
  Was never follow’d by the hound,
  With fifty steps to thy one bound.
  Thou can’st not be amended: no;
  Be as thou art; thou best art so.

  When sooty swans are once more rare,
  And duck-moles the Museum’s care,
  Be still the glory of this land,
  Happiest Work of finest Hand!
  – Barron Field

  Wild grass, mosses, lemon myrtle, cinnamon myrtle, and bush nut.

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