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Weight | 1 oz |
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$29.00
Weight | 1 oz |
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He wore a huge dandyish black coat that was not quite a frock coat nor exactly a trench coat, and high black boots, and, beneath his coat, raggedy clothes. His eyes burned white in an extremely dark face. And he grinned whie teeth, momentarily, as if at a private joke of his own, and bowed to Richard, and said, “De Carabas, at your service, and you are…?”
A splash of bay rum, leather, dusty black wool, massoia bark, and opium residue.
DADDY isn’t defined by gender: it IS a gender, and it’s anyone’s to try on. It takes all kinds — masc daddies, lady daddies, queer daddies, punk daddies, muscle daddies, soft daddies, big daddies, baby daddies, noncorporeal daddies.
Subtle differences in skin chemistry ensure that no two people will wear DADDY quite the same way; this power is yours to wield as you see fit. No leather jacket, no fishnets, no problem! (But if you want ’em, we know a guy.)
A roll in the hay with a sexy demon daddy: a diabolical incense with a splash of bay rum and a hiss of infernal fougere. Congrats, you’re a DADDY now too!
Label photo credit: Jordan Nachole Hall
The accompanying beard oil can be found here.
For some ridiculous reason, to which, however, I’ve no desire to be disloyal,
Some person in authority, I don’t know who, very likely the Astronomer Royal,
Has decided that, although for such a beastly month as February, twenty-eight days as a rule are plenty,
One year in every four his days shall be reckoned as nine and twenty.
Through some singular coincidence – I shouldn’t be surprised if it were owing to the agency of an ill-natured fairy –
You are the victim of this clumsy arrangement, having been born in leap-year, on the twenty-ninth of February;
And so, by a simple arithmetical process, you’ll easily discover,
That though you’ve lived twenty-one years, yet, if we go by birthdays, you’re only five and a little bit over!
Alas, poor Frederic the Leapling! — bound to the merry Pirates of Penzance until his twenty-first birthday.
As his birthday comes around only every four years, so does his scent!
Victorian whimsy and piratical romance: a reluctant seaman’s chypre sloshed with a mix of bay rum, patchouli, amber musk, dark woods, tea rose, and red currant.
A shiny, genteel, vintage ride for all those who feel dead inside: lime rind, citron, petitgrain, white musk, a swish of bay rum and a bit of black pepper.
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