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  Jazz Funeral Perfume Oil

  Considered a great honor, this is one of the most distinguished aspects of New Orleans culture. Its roots lie in the customs of the Dahomeans and Yoruba people, and is a celebration of both the person’s life and the beauty and solemnity of their death. The procession is lead by the Grand Marshal, resplendent in his black tuxedo, white gloves and black hat in hand; almost a vision of the great Baron Samedi himself. The music begins with solemn, tolling dirges, moves into hymns of sorrow, loss and redemption. When the burial site is reached, a two-note preparatory riff is sounded, and the drummers start the second-line beat, heralding the switch in music to joyous, upbeat songs, dancing, and the unfurling of richly decorated umbrellas by the ‘second line’ friends, family, loved ones and stray celebrants. Strutting, bouncing, and festive dance accompanies the upbeat ragtime music that sends the departed soul onto its next journey.

  Didn’t he ramble
  … he rambled
  Rambled all around
  … in and out of town
  Didn’t he ramble
  … didn’t he ramble
  He rambled till the butcher cut him down.

  His feet was in the market place
  his head was in the street
  Lady pass him by, said
  look at the market meat
  He grabbed her pocket book
  and said I wish you well
  She pulled out a forty-five
  said I’m head of personnel.

  Didn’t he ramble
  … he rambled
  Rambled all around
  … in and out of town
  Didn’t he ramble
  … didn’t he ramble
  He rambled till the butcher cut him down.

  He slipped into the cat house
  made love to the stable
  Madam caught him cold
  said I’ll pay you when I be able
  Six months had passed
  and she stood all she could stand
  She said buddy when I’m through with you
  Ole groundhog gonna be shakin yo’ hand.

  Didn’t he ramble
  … he rambled
  Rambled all around
  … in and out of town
  Didn’t he ramble
  … didn’t he ramble
  He rambled till the butcher cut him down.

  I said he rambled
  lord
  … ’till the butcher shot him down.

  Bittersweet bay rum, bourbon, and a host of funeral flowers with a touch of graveyard dirt, magnolia and Spanish Moss.

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
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  Daddy by EFFY Perfume Oil

  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.

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• 

  Knucklebones Perfume Oil

  You hear a clatter on the ground behind you, and a small bleached bone smacks against your foot. Cloaked in shadows between the tents, three men crouch playing knucklebones. Distress clouds the face of one of the men, while another bursts into a wicked smile and the last one sighs in relief. Scooping up his winnings and shaking his head, the victor makes a soft ‘tsk’ noise as he reaches towards the loser’s chest, positioning his hand over the man’s heart. Pressing forward, his hand moves through cloth, flesh, muscle, and bone to extract the beating organ. Tossing the heart onto the ground, he says to you, “Mind handing me those bones, buddy? I’ve got a game to run here.”

  Black musk, bay rum, lime fougere, orange blossom water, gin, and tobacco.

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• 

  Implacable Beautiful Tyrant Hair Gloss

  When, with flame all around him aspirant,
  Stood flushed, as a harp-player stands,
  The implacable beautiful tyrant,
  Rose-crowned, having death in his hands;
  And a sound as the sound of loud water
  Smote far through the flight of the fires,
  And mixed with the lightning of slaughter
  A thunder of lyres.

  Golden amber, frankincense, white ginger, and oudh.

  4oz bottle.

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