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  Touched Twice Perfume Oil

  It was long that the unicorn stood by Prince Lír before she touched him with her horn. For all that her quest had ended joyously, there was weariness in the way she held herself, and a sadness in her beauty that Molly had never seen. It suddenly seemed to her that the unicorn’s sorrow was not for Lír but for the lost girl who could not be brought back; for the Lady Amalthea, who might have lived happily ever after with the prince. The unicorn bowed her head, and her horn glanced across Lír’s chin as clumsily as a first kiss.

   

  He sat up blinking, smiling at something long ago. “Father,” he said in a quick, wondering voice. “Father, I had a dream.” Then he saw the unicorn, and he rose to his feet as the blood on his face began to shine and move again. He said, “I was dead.”

   

  The unicorn touched him a second time, over the heart, letting her horn rest there for a little space. They were both trembling. Prince Lír put his hands out to her like words. She said, “I remember you. I remember.”

   

  As delicate as life, as gentle as death, and as powerful as love: sheer, luminescent vanilla musk with frangipani, red sandalwood, frankincense, champaca flower, coconut, rose absolute, white cyclamen, Himalayan mogra, angelica, and white oud.

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  Leave Her, Johnny Perfume Oil

  Oh the times are hard and the wages low
  Leave her, Johnny, leave her
  Oh the times are hard and the wages low
  And it’s time for us to leave her.

  Oh my old mother she wrote to me
  ‘My dear son, come home from sea.’

  It was rotten meat and weevilly bread
  ‘You’ll eat or starve,’ the Old Man said.

  I thought I heard the Old Man say
  ‘You can go ashore and collect your pay.’

  It’s time for us to say goodbye
  For the old pierhead is drawing nigh.

  Leave her, Johnny, leave her
  Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her
  The voyage is done and the winds don’t blow
  And it’s time for us to leave her.

  A sailor’s love song to her ship: Laotian oud, white cedarwood, sweet black patchouli, spiced rum, blackened fig, and coconut.

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  Eden Perfume Oil

  At the center of the Garden of Eden stands the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Though modern interpretations of the Bible claim that it was an apple that the Serpent of the Tree offered to Eve, it is widely believed that the true Fruit of True Knowledge was, in fact, a fig.

  This oil contains the innocence of the Garden, coupled with the Truth and Erudition found in the fruit of the Tree of Evil: fig leaf, fig fruit, honeyed almond milk, toasted coconut and sandalwood.

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
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  Dead Blonde Perfume Oil

  “Of course young women enjoy slashers. Adolescent girls have spent their lives absorbing our cultural disgust for womanhood, only to find themselves thrust into the middle of it, suddenly the butt of every joke. Their underlying anxieties are hit with a toxic sludge of predatory attention, sexual objectification, and impossible standards, growing to fifty times their natural size. It is not easy to become a monster. It is not fun to slip – suddenly and for the rest of your life – out of humanity and into womanhood. Girls are left reckoning with the fact that their social status, their human value, even their basic survival, are all suddenly contingent on men. Thus, at the exact moment they’re beginning to have sex and enter romantic relationships, girls watch stories in which a moment’s lapse in judgment, or a single instance of giving in to temptation, results and agony and annihilation – not because that’s what they want, but because it’s already happening, and they have precious few other ways to process it.”

  A wilting corsage of tea roses and white roses, bearing forensic traces of honeyed lip gloss and coconut oil suntan lotion.

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