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  Carnal Perfume Oil

  Bold, bright mandarin paired with the sweet, sensual earthiness of fig.

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• 

  Le Lèthè Perfume Oil

  Viens sur mon coeur, âme cruelle et sourde,
  Tigre adoré, monstre aux airs indolents;
  Je veux longtemps plonger mes doigts tremblants
  Dans l’épaisseur de ta crinière lourde;

  Dans tes jupons remplis de ton parfum
  Ensevelir ma tête endolorie,
  Et respirer, comme une fleur flétrie,
  Le doux relent de mon amour défunt.

  Je veux dormir! dormir plutôt que vivre!
  Dans un sommeil aussi doux que la mort,
  J’étalerai mes baisers sans remords
  Sur ton beau corps poli comme le cuivre.

  Pour engloutir mes sanglots apaisés
  Rien ne me vaut l’abîme de ta couche;
  L’oubli puissant habite sur ta bouche,
  Et le Léthé coule dans tes baisers.

  À mon destin, désormais mon délice,
  J’obéirai comme un prédestiné;
  Martyr docile, innocent condamné,
  Dont la ferveur attise le supplice,

  Je sucerai, pour noyer ma rancoeur,
  Le népenthès et la bonne ciguë
  Aux bouts charmants de cette gorge aiguë
  Qui n’a jamais emprisonné de coeur.

  – – –

  Come, lie upon my breast, cruel, insensitive soul,
  Adored tigress, monster with the indolent air;
  I want to plunge trembling fingers for a long time
  In the thickness of your heavy mane,

  To bury my head, full of pain
  In your skirts redolent of your perfume,
  To inhale, as from a withered flower,
  The moldy sweetness of my defunct love.

  I wish to sleep! to sleep rather than live!
  In a slumber doubtful as death,
  I shall remorselessly cover with my kisses
  Your lovely body polished like copper.

  To bury my subdued sobbing
  Nothing equals the abyss of your bed,
  Potent oblivion dwells upon your lips
  And Lethe flows in your kisses.

  My fate, hereafter my delight,
  I’ll obey like one predestined;
  Docile martyr, innocent man condemned,
  Whose fervor aggravates the punishment.

  I shall suck, to drown my rancor,
  Nepenthe and the good hemlock
  From the charming tips of those pointed breasts
  That have never guarded a heart.

  Red musk and sweat-damp golden skin musk with labdanum, golden amber, nutmeg, tobacco absolute, black orchid, and hemlock accord.

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• 

  Ave Maria Gratia Plena Perfume Oil

  Was this His coming! I had hoped to see
  A scene of wondrous glory, as was told
  Of some great God who in a rain of gold
  Broke open bars and fell on Danae:
  Or a dread vision as when Semele
  Sickening for love and unappeased desire
  Prayed to see God’s clear body, and the fire
  Caught her brown limbs and slew her utterly:
  With such glad dreams I sought this holy place,
  And now with wondering eyes and heart I stand
  Before this supreme mystery of Love:
  Some kneeling girl with passionless pale face,
  An angel with a lily in his hand,
  And over both the white wings of a Dove.

  A pale, delicate, truly angelic blend. A scent created to emulate Adonis’ halo of beauty: fragile, distant, and radiant. Rosewood with Sicilian lemon peel, red Mysore sandalwood, pale musks, sweet mountain sage and a dusting of lily, night-blooming jasmine and orris.

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• 

  Les Bijoux Perfume Oil

  My well-beloved was stripped. Knowing my whim,
  She wore her tinkling gems, but naught besides:
  And showed such pride as, while her luck betides,
  A sultan’s favored slave may show to him.

  When it lets off its lively, crackling sound,
  This blazing blend of metal crossed with stone
  Gives me an ecstasy I’ve only known
  Where league of sound and lustre can be found.

  She let herself be loved: then, drowsy-eyed,
  Smiled down from her high couch in languid ease.
  My love was deep and gentle as the seas
  And rose to her as to a cliff the tide.

  My own approval of each dreamy pose,
  Like a tamed tiger, cunningly she sighted:
  And candour, with lubricity united,
  Gave piquancy to every one she chose.

  Her limbs and hips, burnished with changing lustres
  Before my eyes, clairvoyant and serene,
  Swanned themselves, undulating in their sheen;
  Her breasts and belly, of my vine the clusters,

  Like evil angels rose, my fancy twitting,
  To kill the peace which over me she’d thrown,
  And to disturb her from the crystal throne
  Where, calm and solitary, she was sitting.

  So swerved her pelvis that, in one design,
  Antiope’s white rump it seemed to graft
  To a boy’s torso, merging fore and aft.
  The talc on her brown tan seemed half-divine.

  The lamp resigned its dying flame. Within,
  The hearth alone lit up the darkened air,
  And every time it sighed a crimson flare
  It drowned in blood that amber-coloured skin.

  Skin musk and honey, blood-red rose, orange blossom, white peach, red apple, frankincense and myrrh.

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