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  Bram Stoker Beard Oil

  No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.

  Bourbon vetiver with opoponax, Italian bergamot, and hay absolute.

  Illustrated by Abigail Larson.

  Purchase the tee here!

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  Avenger Perfume Oil

  Inspired by the character CHRISTINE SPAR.
  A fashionable and fiery journalist who adopts the Grendel persona to avenge the death of her only child and is consumed by the dark identity.

  Plush vanilla bourbon and rum accord with pink pepper, patchouli, clove, pikaki, golden amber, caraway, tuberose, and jacarandá-da-bahia.

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  All of Their Heads Fell Off Perfume Oil

  So there’s a guy living in a little place that’s in the desert

  And then there’s many, many, many, many, many different bodies

  And then all of them, all of their heads fall off

  all of their heads fall off

  all of their heads fall off

   

  And then, they start going to his house and tearing open the windows and breaking the house and eating the guy.

   

  Oozing cactus flesh, creosote, dusty boards, and gruesome globs of blood musk.

   

  Original story by A.S.H. 

   

  Art by John Herndon

  Out of Stock
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  Isaac, The Living Skeleton Perfume Oil

  To your side, you hear a man’s deep whisper, “Slowly I turned… inch by inch… step by step….” A scream interrupts him, and a roar of laughter pulses through the shadowed hall. Following the commotion, you move to the next stage. A bone-thin man moves across the stage, and sits upon an overstuffed, threadbare armchair. A battered violin is propped against the chair’s side. The audience starts to dissipate, and you realize that you must have just missed his performance. Relaxing, he reclines lazily, and as the light falls on his face, you come to realize that he is truly skeletal: a thin membrane of skin covers most of his body, but in many places, bone is completely exposed. He winks at you, and chuckles at your obvious discomfiture. The sweet smoke from his cigar touches your senses, and you hear the soft clink of the ice as he swirls the bourbon in his tumbler.

  “Late for the show, are ya, friend? I’ll tell you a quick one, and then you’d best skedaddle. I have better things to do than sit here and be gawked at all night.” He takes a swig from his tumbler.

  “A man goes to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist says, ‘I think you’re crazy.’ The man says, ‘I want a second opinion.’ The psychiatrist shrugs and says, ‘Alright, you’re ugly, too.’”

  His attention is diverted by a scantily clad woman in the audience beside you, and he leers at her. “Hello, nurse!” he growls, and leans towards her lecherously. “How’s about you come back to my dressing room, and I show you my stamp collection?”

  Bourbon, black tobacco tar, dry bone, bay rum aftershave, and sleazy cologne.

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