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  Paysage 2024 Perfume Oil

  Je veux, pour composer chastement mes églogues,

  Coucher auprès du ciel, comme les astrologues,

  Et, voisin des clochers écouter en rêvant

  Leurs hymnes solennels emportés par le vent.

  Les deux mains au menton, du haut de ma mansarde,

  Je verrai l’atelier qui chante et qui bavarde;

  Les tuyaux, les clochers, ces mâts de la cité,

  Et les grands ciels qui font rêver d’éternité.

  II est doux, à travers les brumes, de voir naître

  L’étoile dans l’azur, la lampe à la fenêtre

  Les fleuves de charbon monter au firmament

  Et la lune verser son pâle enchantement.

  Je verrai les printemps, les étés, les automnes;

  Et quand viendra l’hiver aux neiges monotones,

  Je fermerai partout portières et volets

  Pour bâtir dans la nuit mes féeriques palais.

  Alors je rêverai des horizons bleuâtres,

  Des jardins, des jets d’eau pleurant dans les albâtres,

  Des baisers, des oiseaux chantant soir et matin,

  Et tout ce que l’Idylle a de plus enfantin.

  L’Emeute, tempêtant vainement à ma vitre,

  Ne fera pas lever mon front de mon pupitre;

  Car je serai plongé dans cette volupté

  D’évoquer le Printemps avec ma volonté,

  De tirer un soleil de mon coeur, et de faire

  De mes pensers brûlants une tiède atmosphère.

  
  – – –

  More chasteness to my eclogues it would give,

  Sky-high, like old astrologers to live,

  A neighbour of the belfries: and to hear

  Their solemn hymns along the winds career.

  High in my attic, chin in hand, I’d swing

  And watch the workshops as they roar and sing,

  The city’s masts — each steeple, tower, and flue —

  And skies that bring eternity to view.

   

  Sweet, through the mist, to see illumed again

  Stars through the azure, lamps behind the pane,

  Rivers of carbon irrigate the sky,

  And the pale moon pour magic from on high.

  I’d watch three seasons passing by, and then

  When winter came with dreary snows, I’d pen

  Myself between closed shutters, bolts, and doors,

  And build my fairy palaces indoors.

   

  A dream of blue horizons I would garble

  With thoughts of fountains weeping on to marble,

  Of gardens, kisses, birds that ceaseless sing,

  And all the Idyll holds of childhood’s spring.

  The riots, brawling past my window-pane,

  From off my desk would not divert my brain.

  Because I would be plunged in pleasure still,

  Conjuring up the Springtime with my will,

  And forcing sunshine from my heart to form,

  Of burning thoughts, an atmosphere that’s warm.

  — Charles Baudelaire, translation by Roy Campbell

   

  The pale moon pouring magic: Tunisian opium and mugwort with blackened bourbon vanilla, tuberose, glittering white musk, datura accord, wild plum, and tobacco absolute.

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  Bette Noir Perfume Oil

  The Paradigm’s martial artist and weapons master, Bette carries a grim secret—that she alone knows Plutonian’s one true vulnerability.

  Benzoin, wild plum, smoky amber, bergamot, orange blossom, myrrh, and dark berries.

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  Mme. Moriarty, Misfortune Teller Perfume Oil

  A colorless woman bursts from an elaborate gold and ruby tent and faints dead at your feet. Soft laughter emits from the dark entrance to the tent, and the scent of musk, black fruits and incense touches your senses. Looking up, you see that the sign hovering above the unconscious woman is adorned with images of the Major Arcana’s Tower and reads:

  “Mme. Moriarty, Misfortune Teller.
  No fate too grim, no future too bleak.”

  A tiny woman with floor-length black dreadlocks walks out of the tent, stepping over the prone body. She is clothed in deep red wrappings, and is bedecked in golden ornaments bearing alchemical symbols and charms representing eternity, chance, and wisdom. She pauses, looks you over slowly, and then flicks a tarot card at your feet.

  Red musk, vanilla bean, pomegranate, black currant, patchouli leaf and wild plum.

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  Witch-Birds Perfume Oil

  In Sweden tradition says that sorcerers  on Walpurgis night ride to Blocula and there turn into magpies. A lady at Carlstadt in that country was haunted by witch-birds in a very unpleasant manner. Having insulted a Finn woman who had begged food of her she told her to take a magpie that was hanging in a cage and eat it if she was hungry. The Finn cast an ‘evil eye’ on the lady for this insult but took the bird away with her. Some time after the Swedish lady noticed that whenever she went out a magpie came hopping in front of her. This happened for some days running, and then the magpie was joined by a companion bird, and presently by a number. The lady began to get frightened, but the more she tried to get rid of these strange companions the more numerous they became. They perched on her shoulders, tugged at her dress, and pecked at her ankles. In despair she shut herself up indoors, but they remained outside, and as soon as the door was open in they hopped. At last she went to bed and had the shutters closed, and the magpies kept on tapping outside till she died.

   

  Blinding-white mallow and vanilla sandalwood streaked with indigo opium pod accord, velvet black violet petals, wild plum, and opoponax.

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