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• 

  Byronic Antihero Beard Oil

  He stood – some dread was on his face,
  Soon Hatred settled in its place:
  It rose not with the reddening flush
  Of transient Anger’s hasty blush,
  But pale as marble o’er the tomb,
  Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom.
  His brow was bent, his eye was glazed;
  He raised his arm, and fiercely raised,
  And sternly shook his hand on high,
  As doubting to return or fly;
  Impatient of his flight delay’d,
  Here loud his raven charger neigh’d —
  Down glanced that hand, and grasp’d his blade;
  That sound had burst his waking dream,
  As Slumber starts at owlet’s scream,
  The spur hath lanced his courser’s sides;
  Away, away, for life he rides:
  Swift as the hurl’d on high jerreed
  Springs to the touch his startled steed:
  The rock is doubled, and the shore
  Shakes with the clattering tramp no more:
  The crag is won, no more is seen
  His Christian crest and haughty mien.
  ‘T was but an instant he restrain’d
  That fiery barb so sternly rein’d;
  ‘T was but a moment that he stood,
  Then sped as if by death pursued;
  But in that instant o’er his soul
  Winters of Memory seem’d to roll,
  And gather in that drop of time
  A life of pain, an age of crime.
  O’er him who loves, or hates, or fears,
  Such moment pours the grief of years:
  What felt he then, at once opprest
  By all that most distracts the breast?
  That pause, which ponder’d o’er his fate,
  Oh, who its dreary length shall date !
  Though in Time’s record nearly nought,
  It was Eternity to Thought !
  For infinite as boundless space
  The thought that Conscience must embrace,
  Which in itself can comprehend
  Woe without name, or hope, or end.
  – The Giaour, Lord Byron

  An aristocratic cologne of titanic passions, moody and brooding. This scent is dark with disillusionment and cynicism: a Victorian fougère and a dashing carnation boutonniere tainted by a cloud of khus, yew, and patchouli.

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• 

  Queen Alice Perfume Oil

  At this moment the door was flung open, and a shrill voice was heard singing: 

  ‘To the Looking-Glass world it was Alice that said
  “I’ve a sceptre in hand, I’ve a crown on my head.
  Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be
  Come and dine with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!”‘
  And hundreds of voices joined in the chorus: 
  ‘Then fill up the glasses as quick as you can,
  And sprinkle the table with buttons and bran:
  Put cats in the coffee, and mice in the tea —
  And welcome Queen Alice with thirty-times-three!’

  Then followed a confused noise of cheering, and Alice thought to herself `Thirty times three makes ninety. I wonder if any one’s counting?’ In a minute there was silence again, and the same shrill voice sang another verse: 

  ‘”O Looking-Glass creatures,” quoth Alice, “draw near!
  ‘Tis an honour to see me, a favour to hear:
  ‘Tis a privilege high to have dinner and tea
  Along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!”‘
  Then came the chorus again: 
  ‘Then fill up the glasses with treacle and ink,
  Or anything else that is pleasant to drink:
  Mix sand with the cider, and wool with the wine —
  And welcome Queen Alice with ninety-times-nine!’

  Carnation, posies, and white amber with a hint of inky treacle, sandy cider, and wooly wine.

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• 

  Caterpillar Perfume Oil

  Heavy incense notes waft lazily through a mix of carnation, jasmine, bergamot, and neroli over a lush bed of dark mosses, iris blossom, deep patchouli and indolent vetiver.

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
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  Morocco Bath Oil

  The intoxicating perfume of heady incenses wafting on warm desert breezes. Arabian spices wind through a blend of warm musk, carnation, red sandalwood and cassia.

  4oz Bottle

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