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  Faiza, The Lady of Serpents Perfume Oil

  Upon the next stage, a primitive cage has been erected. It is made of heavy, dark sticks bound with strips of deep brown leather. The stage is as dark as pitch, and from the shadows, you hear soft hissing, spitting, and an ominous chorus of weird rattling sounds. You approach with some trepidation, and peer between the bars. Your attention is seized by writhing forms on the straw bottom of the cage. As your eyes adjust to the gloom, you realize that the floor is seething with serpents, dark and colorful, languid and large, swift and small. You hear a sultry chuckle, and you see bright, unblinking emerald eyes staring at you from the corner of the cage. A woman crawls through the snakes, her scaled body as sinuous and lissome as the creatures that share her home. She reaches towards you languorously with her sharp-clawed hands and sighs.

  A sensual blend of twisting, exotic, serpentine oils: black amber, oakmoss, green sandalwood, bergamot, jasmine sambac, gardenia, orange pulp, black cardamom, vanilla, blackberry, black musk, blackened vanilla husk, white honey, ti leaf, and ginger.

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  The Jersey Devil Perfume Oil

  It was about three feet and half high, with a head like a collie dog and a face like a horse. It had a long neck, wings about two feet long, and its back legs were like those of a crane, and it had horse’s hooves. It walked on its back legs and held up two short front legs with paws on them. It didn’t use the front legs at all while we were watching. My wife and I were scared, I tell you, but I managed to open the window and say, “Shoo”, and it turned around barked at me, and flew away.

  The scent of the wild, hauntingly beautiful Pine Barrens of New Jersey! Pitch pine with blackberry leaf, cranberry, cedar wood and tomato leaf.

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  ‘Tis the Voice of the Lobster Perfume Oil

  ‘Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare
  ‘You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.’
  As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
  Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.
  When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,
  And will talk in contemptuous tones of the shark;
  But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,
  His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.

  I passed by his garden and marked, with one eye,
  How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie:
  The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,
  While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.
  When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,
  Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon:
  While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,
  And concluded the banquet by —

  A woody, musky-weird base glooping over with blackberry preserves, a twist of mandarin, strawberry juice, pulverized watermelon, and a handful of smushed gardenia petals.

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  Darkness Perfume Oil

  The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
  The moon, their mistress, had expir’d before;
  The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air,
  And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need
  Of aid from them — She was the Universe.

  Bottled gloom; the essence of oblivion. Blackest opium and narcissus deepened by myrrh.

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