Blackcurrant and cardamom with peru balsam, patchouli, leather, and oudh.
A Pantomime of Deviltry and Debauch in Seven Acts
PERFUME OIL BLENDS
Presented in an amber apothecary vial.
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Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words ‘EAT ME’ were beautifully marked in currants.
‘Well, I’ll eat it,’ said Alice, ‘and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I’ll get into the garden, and I don’t care which happens!’Â
She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, ‘Which way? Which way?’, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.
Three white cakes, vanilla, and red and black currants.
BPALâs Eat Me is not for eating. Please use common sense, and remember: perfume oils are for external use only.
And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away — they have endured but an instant — and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods.
Dreams writhing to and fro, bubbling up from half-subdued laughter: pink peppercorn, jasmine sambac, and cypress bubbling up through half-subdued white lavender, stabbed through with streams of red musk and black currant.
Situated on of the lowest rungs in the Red Light District’s hierarchy, the crib girls solicited from their windows and doorways, entertaining their clients in sparsely furnished, dingy two-room apartments.
Seven honeys under one unkempt roof, with fiery-tart cubeb and dusty cardamom.
A scent pulsing with vitality, warmth and insurmountable strength: dragonâs blood resin, red and black musks, a throb of fig and a sliver of black currant.