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  The Rights of Women Perfume Oil

  Yes, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right!
  Woman! too long degraded, scorned, opprest;
  O born to rule in partial Law’s despite,
  Resume thy native empire o’er the breast!

  Go forth arrayed in panoply divine;
  That angel pureness which admits no stain;
  Go, bid proud Man his boasted rule resign,
  And kiss the golden sceptre of thy reign.

  Go, gird thyself with grace; collect thy store
  Of bright artillery glancing from afar;
  Soft melting tones thy thundering cannon’s roar,
  Blushes and fears thy magazine of war.

  Thy rights are empire: urge no meaner claim, –
  Felt, not defined, and if debated, lost;
  Like sacred mysteries, which withheld from fame,
  Shunning discussion, are revered the most.

  Try all that wit and art suggest to bend
  Of thy imperial foe the stubborn knee;
  Make treacherous Man thy subject, not thy friend;
  Thou mayst command, but never canst be free.

  Awe the licentious, and restrain the rude;
  Soften the sullen, clear the cloudy brow:
  Be, more than princes’ gifts, thy favours sued; –
  She hazards all, who will the least allow.

  But hope not, courted idol of mankind,
  On this proud eminence secure to stay;
  Subduing and subdued, thou soon shalt find
  Thy coldness soften, and thy pride give way.

  Then, then, abandon each ambitious thought,
  Conquest or rule thy heart shall feebly move,
  In Nature’s school, by her soft maxims taught,
  That separate rights are lost in mutual love.
  – Anna Lætitia Barbauld

  Too long degraded, scorned, opprest: a bold, strident red chypre with sweet wild patchouli, bourbon vanilla, Tunisian neroli, tuberose, warm red currant, strawberry, and red labdanum.

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  Juke Joint Perfume Oil

  A bawdy, gleefully wicked and unruly scent: Kentucky Bourbon, sugar and a sprig of mint.

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
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  Masks Confronting Death Perfume Oil

  James Ensor
  Jolly, jeering splats of red and black currants, neroli, and spiced apricot surrounding a grinning clang of spectral sandalwood musk.

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  The Blood Garden Perfume Oil

  Vast open tents have been erected further down the lane. Ornately carved wooden poles support swaths of drooping black lace and blood-crusted burgundy velvet. Grapevines and ivy creep over the beams in the tent and curl like cocoons around bodies that hang upside-down in the caliginous gloom of the tents. Within the shadows, pale figures recline on divans covered in moldering, frayed fabric. As you pass, a feral, white-haired man hoists a tall-stemmed crystal glass of deep red liquid in a toast to you.

  Blood accord, bitter clove, English ivy, Tempranillo grape, red currant, oak, leather, blackberry leaf, and ginger lily.

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