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  Anesthesia Perfume Oil

  ‘Ratty!’ said the girl in something between a squeak and a horrified swallow. She had a large, water-stained red button pinned to her ragged clothes, the kind that comes attached to birthday cards. It said, in yellow letters, I AM 11.

  A scent that slips through the cracks: peppermint, lavender, bergamot, and mandrake.

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  King of Hearts Perfume Oil

  ‘How do you like the Queen?’ said the Cat in a low voice. 

  ‘Not at all,’ said Alice: ‘she’s so extremely–‘ Just then she noticed that the Queen was close behind her, listening: so she went on, ‘–likely to win, that it’s hardly worth while finishing the game.’ 

  The Queen smiled and passed on. 

  ‘Who ARE you talking to?’ said the King, going up to Alice, and looking at the Cat’s head with great curiosity.

  ‘It’s a friend of mine–a Cheshire Cat,’ said Alice: ‘allow me to introduce it.’ 

  ‘I don’t like the look of it at all,’ said the King: ‘however, it may kiss my hand if it likes.’ 

  ‘I’d rather not,’ the Cat remarked. 

  ‘Don’t be impertinent,’ said the King, ‘and don’t look at me like that!’ He got behind Alice as he spoke.

  ‘A cat may look at a king,’ said Alice. ‘I’ve read that in some book, but I don’t remember where.’ 

  ‘Well, it must be removed,’ said the King very decidedly, and he called the Queen, who was passing at the moment, ‘My dear! I wish you would have this cat removed!’ 

  The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. 

  ‘-Off with his head!’ she said, without even looking round. 

  ‘I’ll fetch the executioner myself,’ said the King eagerly, and he hurried off. 

  Rosewood and black cherry with white musk, red rose, red musk and a spark of lavender.

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  Tavern of Hell Perfume Oil

  Sometimes I would venture from my sepulchre to the jazz of night Paris, where having gathered the colours, I would think them over in front of the fire. I could be seen walking through a funeral corridor of my house and descending down a black spiral of steep stairs; rushing underground to Montmartre, all impatience to see the fiery rubies of the Moulin Rouge cross. I wondered thereabouts, then bought a ticket to watch frenzied delirium of feathers, vulgar painted lips and eyelashes of black and blue.

  Naked feet, and thighs, and arms, and breasts were being flung on me from bloody-red foam of translucent clothes. The tuxedoed goatees and crooked noses in white vests and toppers would line the hall, with their hands posed on canes. Then I found myself in a pub, where the liqueurs were served on a coffin (not a table) by the nickering devil: “Drink it, you wretched!” Having drunk, I returned under the black sky split by the flaming vanes, which the radiant needles of my eyelashes cross-hatched. In front of my nose a stream of bowler hats and black veils was still pulsing, foamy with bluish green and warm orange of feathers worn by the night beauties: to me they were all one, as I had to narrow my eyes for insupportable radiance of electric lamps, whose hectic fires would be dancing beneath my nervous eyelids for many a night to come.

  White gardenia, ambergris bouquet, lavender fougere, orange blossom, melissa, tobacco flower, coriander, ebony wood, ylang ylang, absinthe and aged whiskey.

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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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