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  Alien/Siren Perfume Oil

  “Women are defined from the outside, in terms of how they seem to men, rather than from the inside, as thinking, feeling subjects. They are not fellow people, not even a different or worse variety of person, but simply the opposite of men, and hence, the opposite of human.

  Which leads to the question of how you can have sex with something that isn’t human. In many myths, heterosexuality is portrayed as a kind of legalized bestiality, and attractive women are alluring, predatory, half-human monsters: fairy wives, snake-women, others whose beauty is a thin veneer over their dangerous and alien psyches.”

  A sebaceous, slick reptilian perfume: green and black vegetal musks, kelp, sea salt, blackened opoponax, violet leaf, Siamese red benzoin, davana, squid ink, and ambergris accord.

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  On Freedom Perfume Oil

  At the city gate and by your fireside I have seen you prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom,

  Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though he slays them.

  Ay, in the grove of the temple and in the shadow of the citadel I have seen the freest among you wear their freedom as a yoke and a handcuff.

  And my heart bled within me; for you can only be free when even the desire of seeking freedom becomes a harness to you, and when you cease to speak of freedom as a goal and a fulfilment.

  You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights without a want and a grief,

  But rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound.

   

  And how shall you rise beyond your days and nights unless you break the chains which you at the dawn of your understanding have fastened around your noon hour?

  In truth that which you call freedom is the strongest of these chains, though its links glitter in the sun and dazzle your eyes.

  And what is it but fragments of your own self you would discard that you may become free?

  If it is an unjust law you would abolish, that law was written with your own hand upon your own forehead.

  You cannot erase it by burning your law books nor by washing the foreheads of your judges, though you pour the sea upon them.

  And if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first that his throne erected within you is destroyed.

  For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame in their own pride?

  And if it is a care you would cast off, that cart has been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you.

  And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.

   

  Verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, the desired and the dreaded, the repugnant and the cherished, the pursued and that which you would escape.

  These things move within you as lights and shadows in pairs that cling.

  And when the shadow fades and is no more, the light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light.

  And thus your freedom when it loses its fetters becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.

  
  When the shadow fades and is no more, the light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light: frankincense and myrrh smoke, silver musk, ambergris accord, ti leaf, benzoin, and violet ash.
  

   

  The sales from June’s scents from the Prophet series benefits Lutheran Settlement House, who provides food access, homelessness services, domestic violence services, senior care, and educational resources to Philadelphia’s communities. 

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  To a Wreath of Snow Hair Gloss

  O transient voyager of heaven!

  O silent sign of winter skies!

  What adverse wind thy sail has driven

  To dungeons where a prisoner lies?

   

  Methinks the hands that shut the sun

  So sternly from this mourning brow

  Might still their rebel task have done

  And checked a thing so frail as thou

   

  They would have done it had they known

  The talisman that dwelt in thee,

  For all the suns that ever shone

  Have never been so kind to me!

   

  For many a week, and many a day

  My heart was weighed with sinking gloom

  When morning rose in mourning grey

  And faintly lit my prison room

   

  But angel like, when I awoke,

  Thy silvery form so soft and fair

  Shining through darkness, sweetly spoke

  Of cloudy skies and mountains bare

   

  The dearest to a mountaineer

  Who, all life long has loved the snow

  That crowned her native summits drear,

  Better, than greenest plains below –

   

  And voiceless, soulless messenger

  Thy presence waked a thrilling tone

  That comforts me while thou art here

  And will sustain when thou art gone

  – Emily Brontë

   

  Morning rising in mourning grey: tobacco flower, white oud, lavender bud, and ambergris accord.

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  The First Veil Perfume Oil

  Calcination, the black veil. A densely-ruffled carapace of peppered ambergris, sandalwood smoke, and charred silk

  Out of Stock