Snow drifting on black pine, blood red apple, rosewood, osmanthus, and lemon peel.
A Pantomime of Deviltry and Debauch in Seven Acts
PERFUME OIL BLENDS
Presented in an amber apothecary vial.
– August 31, 2017
I wouldn’t have thought I would like this if I’d been buying from the Lab’s website, but I got to sniff it at a Lunacy event and omg. Bought it immediately. Lemon often goes Pledge on me, so I tend to avoid it, and I have loads of pine already (which tends to amp). I expected this to smell like cold Pledge on a pine table. It doesn’t. The lemon is a sugared lemon, maybe from the apple. Apple’s another hit-or-miss for me, but it’s a hit here — probably because I can barely smell it. And over all that is the snow note. Beautiful. When I bought this, I thought I might be able to give up my Snow White bottle because I thought I’d have enough snow notes. But I need both.
Where I’d wear this: New Years Eve, Seattle
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And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.
Thin, dark, and shadowed. A scent that offers no sustenance, comfort or satiety: lemon peel, white sage, frankincense, lavender fougere, sandalwood, vetiver and labdanum.
And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.
And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see.
Blue lilac, pink pepper, birch tar, juniper berry, and lemon peel.
When you need a change of pace from Strip Twister: lemon candies, orange suckers, and strawberry sugar.
Tristran put down his wooden cup of tea, and stood up, offended.
“What,” he asked, in what he was certain were lofty and scornful tones, “would possibly make you imagine that my lady-love would have sent me on some foolish errand?”
The little man stared up at him with eyes like beads of jet. “Because that’s the only reason a lad like you would be stupid enough to cross the border into Faerie. The only ones who ever come here from your lands are the minstrels, and the lovers, and the mad. And you don’t look like much of a minstrel, and you’re – pardon me saying so, lad, but it’s true – ordinary as cheese-crumbs. So it’s love, if you ask me.”
“Because,” announces Tristran, “every lover is in his heart a madman, and in his head a minstrel.”
Dust on your trousers, mud on your boots, and stars in your eyes: redwood, tonka bean, white sandalwood, lemon peel, patchouli, rosewood, coriander, and crushed mint.