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  Gently, Gently, They are Timid Perfume Oil

  Softly, softly, hear the rustle
  Of the Spirits airy wings;
  They are coming down to mingle
  Once again with earthly things,
  With their rapping, and their tapping
  Rap-tap-tap to wake our napping,
  In the restless dream of error:
  Hear the weird the Spirit brings –
  Rap-tap-tap lost friends are near you;
  Rap-tap-tap they see and hear you;
  In their mystic converse rappy
  They declare good Spirits happy.
  
  Gently, gently, they are timid
  If a medium is not there;
  They may leave you in delusion,
  And dissolve again to air.
  Tis no fable – beings able –
  Rap-tap-tap upon a table;
  And their language is translated,
  While the watch with guardian care
  Rap-tap-tap lost friends are near you;
  Rap-tap-tap they see and hear you;
  In their mystic converse rappy
  They declare good Spirits happy

  Spirit Rappings, lyrics by T.E. Garrett, music by W.W. Rossington
  
  A joyful undeath: candied orange and pink peppercorn, sugared freesia petals, vanilla bean, and white honey.
  

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• 

  Dead Blonde Perfume Oil

  “Of course young women enjoy slashers. Adolescent girls have spent their lives absorbing our cultural disgust for womanhood, only to find themselves thrust into the middle of it, suddenly the butt of every joke. Their underlying anxieties are hit with a toxic sludge of predatory attention, sexual objectification, and impossible standards, growing to fifty times their natural size. It is not easy to become a monster. It is not fun to slip – suddenly and for the rest of your life – out of humanity and into womanhood. Girls are left reckoning with the fact that their social status, their human value, even their basic survival, are all suddenly contingent on men. Thus, at the exact moment they’re beginning to have sex and enter romantic relationships, girls watch stories in which a moment’s lapse in judgment, or a single instance of giving in to temptation, results and agony and annihilation – not because that’s what they want, but because it’s already happening, and they have precious few other ways to process it.”

  A wilting corsage of tea roses and white roses, bearing forensic traces of honeyed lip gloss and coconut oil suntan lotion.

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• 

  Frederic 2024 Perfume Oil

  For some ridiculous reason, to which, however, I’ve no desire to be disloyal,
  Some person in authority, I don’t know who, very likely the Astronomer Royal,
  Has decided that, although for such a beastly month as February, twenty-eight days as a rule are plenty,
  One year in every four his days shall be reckoned as nine and twenty.
  Through some singular coincidence – I shouldn’t be surprised if it were owing to the agency of an ill-natured fairy –
  You are the victim of this clumsy arrangement, having been born in leap-year, on the twenty-ninth of February;
  And so, by a simple arithmetical process, you’ll easily discover,
  That though you’ve lived twenty-one years, yet, if we go by birthdays, you’re only five and a little bit over!

  Alas, poor Frederic the Leapling! — bound to the merry Pirates of Penzance until his twenty-first birthday.

  As his birthday comes around only every four years, so does his scent!

  Victorian whimsy and piratical romance: a reluctant seaman’s chypre sloshed with a mix of bay rum, patchouli, amber musk, dark woods, tea rose, and red currant.

   

   

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  London Perfume Oil

  Venerable Victorian Tea Rose… twisted, blackened and emboldened with wickedness.

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