Sweet black tobacco infused with dried pumpkin and soaked in bourbon.
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– November 18, 2018
Pumpkin Tobacco is gorgeous, warm and rich, sweet but not foody. Imagine bourbon, tobacco and pumpkin all caramelized together and you get a sense of what this is like. It has terrific wear length — I applied nearly 12 hours ago, and it’s still holding on well — and I was complimented on it this evening by a woman who said most scent makes her ill but mine was lovely and didn’t bother her. I may need more than one bottle.
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A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte… Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fÃªted, as the celebrant “…chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love.” This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda: dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus.
Gloomy and bare the organ-loft,
Bent-backed and blind the organist.
From rafters looming shadowy,
From the pipesâ tuneful company,
Drifted together drowsily,
Innumerable, formless, dim,
The ghosts of long-dead melodies,
Of anthems, stately, thunderous,
Of Kyries shrill and tremulous:
In melancholy drowsy-sweet
They huddled there in harmony.
Like bats at noontide rafter-hung.
– Robert Graves
Sheets of white musk and lavender curling around a melancholy song of violet root, iris, neroli, and honeysuckle.
The Hag is astride,
This night for to ride;
The Devill and shee together:
Through thick, and through thin,
Now out, and then in,
Though ne’r so foule be the weather.
A Thorn or a Burr
She takes for a Spurre:
With a lash of a Bramble she rides now,
Through Brakes and through Bryars,
O’re Ditches, and Mires,
She followes the Spirit that guides now.
No Beast, for his food,
Dares now range the wood;
But husht in his laire he lies lurking:
While mischiefs, by these,
On Land and on Seas,
At noone of Night are working,
The storme will arise,
And trouble the skies;
This night, and more for the wonder,
The ghost from the Tomb
Affrighted shall come,
Cal’d out by the clap of the Thunder.
Black musk, bay leaves, galangal, bourbon vetiver, blackcurrant, and rum.
A bawdy, gleefully wicked and unruly scent: Kentucky Bourbon, sugar and a sprig of mint.