Insulation Board Tombstone Perfume Oil
$29.00
Insulation Board Tombstone Perfume Oil
$29.00
A fragrant melange of foam insulation board, PVC pipes, jigsaw grease, stone-textured spray paint, and polyurethane sealant.
Related products
-
Seven Inches of Blood Perfume Oil
Add to cartThe grave of the Countess Mircalla was opened; and the General and my father recognized each his perfidious and beautiful guest, in the face now disclosed to view. The features, though a hundred and fifty years had passed since her funeral, were tinted with the warmth of life. Her eyes were open; no cadaverous smell exhaled from the coffin. The two medical men, one officially present, the other on the part of the promoter of the inquiry, attested the marvelous fact that there was a faint but appreciable respiration, and a corresponding action of the heart. The limbs were perfectly flexible, the flesh elastic; and the leaden coffin floated with blood, in which to a depth of seven inches, the body lay immersed.
A shimmering pool of coppery red musk, Dracaena cinnabari, clove bud, cacao, and lead. -
Chocolat Viennois Perfume Oil
Add to cartTurns out this is a thing that vampires are into. A warm mug of dark chocolate and cream with a dribble of blood.
-
Come With Me, Loving Me to Death Perfume Oil
Add to cartYou will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me and still come with me. and hating me through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.
Black orchid, cacao, bitter almond, and black musk.
-
Mircalla, Countess Karnstein Perfume Oil
Add to cartI remembered it; it was a small picture, about a foot and a half high, and nearly square, without a frame; but it was so blackened by age that I could not make it out.
The artist now produced it, with evident pride. It was quite beautiful; it was startling; it seemed to live. It was the effigy of Carmilla!
“Carmilla, dear, here is an absolute miracle. Here you are, living, smiling, ready to speak, in this picture. Isn’t it beautiful, Papa? And see, even the little mole on her throat.”
My father laughed, and said “Certainly it is a wonderful likeness,” but he looked away, and to my surprise seemed but little struck by it, and went on talking to the picture cleaner, who was also something of an artist, and discoursed with intelligence about the portraits or other works, which his art had just brought into light and color, while I was more and more lost in wonder the more I looked at the picture.
“Will you let me hang this picture in my room, papa?” I asked.
“Certainly, dear,” said he, smiling, “I’m very glad you think it so like. It must be prettier even than I thought it, if it is.”
The young lady did not acknowledge this pretty speech, did not seem to hear it. She was leaning back in her seat, her fine eyes under their long lashes gazing on me in contemplation, and she smiled in a kind of rapture.
“And now you can read quite plainly the name that is written in the corner. It is not Marcia; it looks as if it was done in gold. The name is Mircalla, Countess Karnstein, and this is a little coronet over and underneath A.D. 1698. I am descended from the Karnsteins; that is, mamma was.”
Black velvet, blackcurrant, and black roses.
Reviews
There are no reviews yet.