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  Alviss Perfume Oil

  The peculiar-looking man was of average height, but of an odd shape: Shadow had heard of men who were barrel-chested before, but had no image to accompany the metaphor. This man was barrel-chested, and he had legs like, yes, like tree trunks, and hands like, exactly, ham hocks. He wore a black parka with a hood, several sweaters, thick dungarees, and, incongruously, in the winter and with those clothes, a pair of white tennis shoes, which were the same size and shape as shoeboxes. His fingers resembled sausages, with flat, squared-off fingertips.

  “That’s some hum you got,” said Shadow from the driver’s seat.

  “Sorry,” said the peculiar young man, in a deep, deep voice, embarrassed. He stopped humming.

  “No, I enjoyed it,” said Shadow. “Don’t stop.”

  The peculiar young man hesitated, then commenced to hum once more, his voice as deep and reverberant as before. This time there were words interspersed in the humming. “Down down down,” he sang, so deeply that the windows rattled. “Down down down, down down, down down.”

  Thick, tangled, and strong: ash and oak, elm and pine, reaching down, down, and deeper down into earth.

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  Bard Perfume Oil

  A ridiculously charismatic blend of bay rum, honey, and white musk mingling with the scent of harp wood and lute strings and the twang of horn brass.

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  Bram Stoker Beard Oil

  No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.

  Bourbon vetiver with opoponax, Italian bergamot, and hay absolute.

  Illustrated by Abigail Larson.

  Purchase the tee here!

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  Mouse Circus Perfume Oil

  In the flat above Coraline’s, under the roof, was a crazy old man with a big mustache. He told Coraline that he was training a mouse circus. He wouldn’t let anyone see it.

  “One day, little Caroline, when they are all ready, everyone in the whole world will see the wonders of my mouse circus. You ask me why you cannot see it now. Is that what you asked me?”

  “No,” said Coraline quietly, “I asked you not to call me Caroline. It’s Coraline.”

  “The reason you cannot see the mouse circus,” said the man upstairs, “is that the mice are not yet ready and rehearsed. Also, they refuse to play the songs I have written for them. All the songs I have written for the mice to play go oompah oompah. But the white mice will only play toodle oodle, like that. I am thinking of trying them on different types of cheese.”

  A toodle oodle of pink cotton candy noses, vanilla spun sugar fur, scattered kernels of popcorn, and a touch of polished golden wood.

  Out of Stock