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  Antonino, the Carny Talker Perfume Oil

  As you approach an enormous patchwork tent, a curious sound catches your attention: the rattle of bones and the tinkling of tiny bells heralds the arrival of a gaunt and ghastly creature. An animated skeleton dressed in a jester’s motley saunters towards the front of the tent, waving an orange and black striped cane at the crowd in an effort to clear a path. The jester makes his way past the fog-shrouded, faded, colossal posters that adorn the tent to a platform in front of the massive tent’s entrance. His ivory smile frozen in a gleeful rictus grin, he steps up onto the platform, taps the cane three times, and the jester costume vanishes. Suddenly dark eyes appear in the empty sockets, bones are wrapped in muscle, sinew grows over the bones, blood fills rapidly appearing veins. Before your eyes, the skeletal jester has become a dapper, handsome man, dressed in black and orange, with a skull-ornamented straw hat tilted jauntily upon his shining black hair.

  His smile is slick and conspiratorial. With a flourish and arcing wave of his cane, he booms:

  “Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! This is Carnaval Diabolique’s notorious 13-In-1: the finest freak show in all the Hells! What marvels await you, you ask? Simply the strangest and most fantastic creatures, human and inhuman, gathered for your entertainment, enlightenment and erudition!”

  With the cane, he gestures at the gigantic posters that adorn the tent. The images, once hazy, suddenly come into focus.

  “From the depths of the Black Forest: Arachnina, the Spider Girl! From the rain-swept streets of London: Hope and Faith, the Siamese Twins! From ruins of old Aquae Sextia: Wulric, the Wolf Man!

  “Thalassa, the Galapagos Mermaid! A vision of life-in-death, Eshe!

  “All in all, THIRTEEN anatomical curiosities, miracles of genetics, magick and science, masters of marvels, ALIVE ON THE INSIDE!”

  White musk, wild plum, vetiver, black coconut, verbena, fig, and lavender.

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  Wilde Perfume Oil

  To stab my youth with desperate knives, to wear
  This paltry age’s gaudy livery,
  To let each base hand filch my treasury,
  To mesh my soul within a woman’s hair,
  And be mere Fortune’s lackeyed groom, — I swear
  I love it not! these things are less to me
  Than the thin foam that frets upon the sea,
  Less than the thistle-down of summer air
  Which hath no seed: better to stand aloof
  Far from these slanderous fools who mock my life
  Knowing me not, better the lowliest roof
  Fit for the meanest hind to sojourn in,
  Than to go back to that hoarse cave of strife
  Where my white soul first kissed the mouth of sin.
  
  A sophisticated traditional gentleman’s cologne, with just the slightest taint of patchouli’s passion, tonka bean’s decadence, the philanthropy of bergamot, moss’ cynicism, the sharp wit of lavender, and the hopeless romantic longing of jasmine and thyme.

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  Fairy Bites Perfume Oil

  “It bit me!”
  “What did you expect fairies to do?”
  “I thought they did nice things.
  Like — like granting wishes.”
  “Shows what you know, don’t it?”

  Osmanthus and raw honey with lavender, chamomile, white peppermint, raspberry, honeysuckle, thyme, bergamot, and Dracula orchid.

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  The Bow & Crown of Conquest Perfume Oil

  And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.

  Nobility and haughtiness befitting the Antichrist: sage, carnation and cedar with lavender, vanilla, white musk and leather.

  And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.

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