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  Paladin Perfume Oil

  Immaculate white musk, sweet frankincense, bourbon vanilla, white leather, and shining armor.

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  Tzadikim Nistarim Perfume Oil

  Also called the Lamed Vev, two letters in the Hebrew alphabet that translate to the number thirty-six. In this violent, ugly, strife-riddled world of ours there are thirty-six men, the Hidden Just Men or Hidden Saints, who bear on their shoulders the burden of all our pain, sorrows and sins. The Tzadikim Nistarim move in obscurity, and are usually found among the poor, the downtrodden and the meekest among us, and are chosen for this task because of their righteousness, stalwart sense of genuine justice, and the true goodness of their souls. When one of these men dies, God chooses another to take his place. It is for their sake and for love of them that God does not destroy His imperfect creation. As long as the Lamed Vav serves humanity, the world will continue to plod on, but once one of them dies and God cannot find another worthy to take his place, the world will be destroyed. In Qabala, the thirty-six men of the Tzadikim Nistarim together combine to symbolize the seventy-two bridges, corresponding to the seventy-two names of God, that connect the concealed and revealed worlds of our universe.

  The scent is one of unadulterated spiritual purity, with a taste of the world’s eternal pathos, and the joy of suffering with grace: frankincense, olive, spikenard, hyssop and galangal.

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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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  Dawn: Mother Perfume Oil

  Red roses, saffron, honey, and frankincense.

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