$29.00
A very special Yuletide sponsorship scent, dressed up for a scandalous night on the town:
red velvet fruitcake with buttercream and a splash of cologne.
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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.
Wood and copper mimicking life, dressed in a gentleman’s cologne. An elegant automaton wonder built to fascinate.
An eccentric genius and leader of the superhero team The Paradigm, Qubit can meld and shape technology with a gesture, allowing him to create whatever he can envision.
Gleaming metal, electrical discharge, and a whiff of tinny cologne.
She was glad to see the back of him. When he failed to return that night she didn't even think of weeping about it. He was foolish and vacuous. She despaired of ever seeing a haunted look in his dull eyes; and what worth was a man who could not be haunted?
A scent with no depth: a light, reedy, almost vapid take on a classic men’s fougere.
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