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  Azathoth Perfume Oil

  The Daemon Sultan, Seething Nuclear Chaos

  …that last amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the centre of all infinity — the boundless daemon-sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin, monotonous whine of accursed flutes; to which detestable pounding and piping dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic ultimate gods, the blind, voiceless, tenebrous, mindless Other Gods whose soul and messenger is the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.

  Azathoth is the blind, idiot god who sits on a black throne at the center of Chaos. His scent is high-pitched and screeching, both impenetrably dark and searingly bright with the clarity of madness: tangerine, saffron, vetiver, black amber and cedarwood.

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  Tombstone Perfume Oil

  A celebration of one of the first commercially produced perfumes of America’s Old West. A rugged, warm blend of vanilla, balsam and sassafras layered over Virginia cedar.

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  Blithe Hollow Perfume Oil

  Dead leaves and cold, moist breezes set at the edge of a forest of maple, pine, cedar, and cypress.

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  Roses, Pearls and Diamonds Perfume Oil

  The youngest, who was the very picture of her father for courtesy and sweetness of temper, was withal one of the most beautiful girls ever seen. As people naturally love their own likeness, this mother even doted on her eldest daughter and at the same time had a horrible aversion for the youngest–she made her eat in the kitchen and work continually.

  Among other things, this poor child was forced twice a day to draw water above a mile and a-half off the house, and bring home a pitcher full of it. One day, as she was at this fountain, there came to her a poor woman, who begged of her to let her drink. 

  “Oh! ay, with all my heart, Goody,” said this pretty little girl; and rinsing immediately the pitcher, she took up some water from the clearest place of the fountain, and gave it to her, holding up the pitcher all the while, that she might drink the easier. 

  The good woman, having drunk, said to her: 

  You are so very pretty, my dear, so good and so mannerly, that I cannot help giving you a gift.” For this was a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor country woman, to see how far the civility and good manners of this pretty girl would go. “I will give you for a gift,” continued the Fairy, “that, at every word you speak, there shall come out of your mouth either a flower or a jewel.” 

  When this pretty girl came home her mother scolded her for staying so long at the fountain. 

  “I beg your pardon, mamma,” said the poor girl, “for not making more haste.” 

  And in speaking these words there came out of her mouth two roses, two pearls, and two diamonds.

  Red roses, dazzling crystalline musks, and pearlescent coconut-tinged orris.

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