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  High-Strung Daisies Perfume Oil

  `It says “Bough-wough!” cried a Daisy: `that’s why its branches are called boughs!’ 

  `Didn’t you know that?’ cried another Daisy, and here they all began shouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill voices. `Silence, every one of you!’ cried the Tiger-lily, waving itself passionately from side to side, and trembling with excitement. `They know I can’t get at them!’ it panted, bending its quivering head towards Alice, `or they wouldn’t dare to do it!’ 

  `Never mind!’ Alice said in a soothing tone, and stooping down to the daisies, who were just beginning again, she whispered, `If you don’t hold your tongues, I’ll pick you!’ 

  There was silence in a moment, and several of the pink daisies turned white. 

  `That’s right!’ said the Tiger-lily. `The daisies are worst of all. When one speaks, they all begin together, and it’s enough to make one wither to hear the way they go on!’

  `How is it you can all talk so nicely?’ Alice said, hoping to get it into a better temper by a compliment. `I’ve been in many gardens before, but none of the flowers could talk.’

  `Put your hand down, and feel the ground,’ said the Tiger-lily. `Then you’ll know why.

  Alice did so. `It’s very hard,’ she said, `but I don’t see what that has to do with it.’

  `In most gardens,’ the Tiger-lily said, `they make the beds too soft — so that the flowers are always asleep.’

  This sounded a very good reason, and Alice was quite pleased to know it. `I never thought of that before!’ she said.

  `It’s my opinion that you never think at all,’ the Rose said in a rather severe tone.

  Daisy, pink carnation, pink pepper, and sugar.

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  Exotic Bazaar Home & Linen Spray

  Nepalese amber, white sandalwood, black peppercorn, ambrette seed, neroli, coconut sugar, cardamom pods, ginger, fennel, bitter almond, liquorice root, henna, copaiba balsam, and spikenard.

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  Schrodinger’s Cat Perfume Oil

  One can even set up quite ridiculous cases. A cat is penned up in a steel chamber, along with the following diabolical device (which must be secured against direct interference by the cat): in a Geiger counter there is a tiny bit of radioactive substance, so small that perhaps in the course of one hour one of the atoms decays, but also, with equal probability, perhaps none; if it happens, the counter tube discharges and through a relay releases a hammer which shatters a small flask of hydrocyanic acid. If one has left this entire system to itself for an hour, one would say that the cat still lives if meanwhile no atom has decayed. The first atomic decay would have poisoned it. The Psi function for the entire system would express this by having in it the living and the dead cat (pardon the expression) mixed or smeared out in equal parts. It is typical of these cases that an indeterminacy originally restricted to the atomic domain becomes transformed into macroscopic indeterminacy, which can then be resolved by direct observation. That prevents us from so naively accepting as valid a “blurred model” for representing reality. In itself it would not embody anything unclear or contradictory. There is a difference between a shaky or out-of-focus photograph and a snapshot of clouds and fog banks.

  A paradoxical scent experiment! – tangerine, sugared lime, pink grapefruit, oakmoss, lavender, zdravetz, and chocolate peppermint.

  No cats were mistreated during the formulation of this paradox, or in the process of creating this perfume.

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  L’Heure Verte Perfume Oil

  Recoiling, you back away from the dicing. A large tent striped in many shades of green grabs your attention, and you walk towards it. You peer inside the open tent flap and see a room crowded with people in various stages of profound intoxication. Tables are littered with glasses filled with thick, cloudy emerald liquid, and candlelight glints on discarded silver spoons. The scent of spilled absinthe, opium smoke, lilac blossoms, and rose water permeates the stifling air of the tent. As you close the tent flap and turn to leave, you see a scantily clad server bend close to a rugged laborer that is sitting slumped in a sagging chair. A low velvety voice voice asks, “Another drink for you, Monsieur Lanfray?”

  Spilled absinthe, scorched sugar cubes, opium smoke, lilac blossoms, and rose water.

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