Welcome to TiddlyWiki created by Jeremy Ruston, Copyright © 2007 UnaMesa Association
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Anniversary")'
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//A macabre and odiferous nod to the carnivals and circuses of old//
The collection ran from June 2005 to September 2005 and again in April 2006
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<<forEachTiddler
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<<forEachTiddler
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[[Astrological]]
[[ Celestials]]
[[ Sephiroth]]
[[Single Notes]]
[[ Tarot]]
[[The Chakras]]
<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Discontinued")'
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November 2005
<<forEachTiddler
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Est deus in nobis.
<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Excolo")'
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'tiddler.title'>>''
@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):The Gratiæ@@''
//The Graces, the Charities, the the Gratiæ: Goddesses of beauty, charm, celebration and merriment. They are the personification of all these aspects as found in both nature and mortal life. Daughters of Zeus and the oceanid Eurynome, they are Aphrodite’s attendants and work in harmony with the Muses as fountains of inspiration in the arts. In their aspect as fertility and nature deities, these Goddesses are associated with the Underworld and the Eleusinian Mysteries.//<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Gratiae")'
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@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):The Norns@@''
//The Norse ~Sister-Goddesses of destiny, who measure the lives and fortunes of both Gods and Men and hold steady the ineffable laws of the cosmos. They are preservers and protectors of the Tree of Life and the Well of Fate, and give assistance during the birth of every mortal and divine creature.//<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Norns")'
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@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):The Kindly Ones@@''
<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.title'>>''
@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):The Zorya@@''
//Also called the Auroras. The Slavic Triple Goddesses of the Dawn, Sky and Light, who govern the paths of the day. The guard the constellation Ursa Minor from the chained Hound of Doomsday; should they ever fail in their duty, and the chain breaks, the universe will end.//<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Zorya")'
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<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Illyria")'
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<<forEachTiddler
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[[Lupercalia 2006]]
[[Lupercalia 2007]]
[[Lupercalia 2008]]
[[Lupercalia 2009]]
<<forEachTiddler
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<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Marchen")'
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<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Oblation")'
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//A selection of therapeutic blends to soothe the mind, renew the senses, and stimulate your spirit.//
<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Panacea")'
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//Once upon a time, many centuries ago, there lived, in the meadows of Ireland, a lazy, wicked farmer by the name of Stingy Jack. Lazy, wicked and cheap, yes, but also as shrewd as a fox. One night, Stingy Jack came across the Devil as he was walking down the road, and he invited Old Scratch to have a drink with him. They walked to the closest tavern, and drank together through the night. When the time came to pay, Stingy Jack convinced the Devil to change himself into a sixpence so the two of them could fool the bartender. Instead of paying the barkeep with the demon-turned-spare-change, Stingy Jack palms the sixpence, and puts it in his pocket next to a silver cross – keeping the Devil from changing back into his true form, and rendering him powerless. Jack, thinking himself quite clever, then makes a deal with the Devil: he would set the Devil free on one condition – that the Devil would swear never to pass Stingy Jack’s soul into Hell. The next year, on All Hallow’s Eve, Stingy Jack dies. Because of his wickedness and pettiness, he is turned away from the Gates of Heaven. As he approaches Hell, the Devil is there, laughing at Jack, barring his way through the Gates of Hell, as he had renounced any claim he had on Stingy Jack’s soul. The Devil, laughing still at the look of dismay on Jack’s face, tosses him a coal from the Fires of Perdition and tells him that the flames of Hell will light his way, wherever he may roam. Undead and disconsolate, Jack returns to his farm in Ireland, carves out one of his turnips and places the coal inside it. To this day, he wanders the Earth, aimlessly: the man neither Heaven nor Hell would have. Through time, the turnip of lore morphed into the pumpkin that we now use for our Hallowe’en decor.//
<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("PumpkinPatch07")'
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<<forEachTiddler
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//O soft embalmer of the still midnight,
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest Sleep! if it so please thee, close,
In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,
Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities.
Then save me, or the passéd day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;
Save me from curious conscience, that still lords
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards,
And seal the hushèd casket of my soul.//
<<forEachTiddler
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//The Stardust Collection.
This series is based on the characters, locations, ideas, and dreams found within the pages of Neil Gaiman's extraordinary, haunting fairy tale, 'Stardust'.
Stardust, the motion picture based on Mr. Gaiman's story, was directed by Matthew Vaughn and features Claire Danes, Michelle Pfeiffer, Robert ~DeNiro, and Charlie Cox. It is being released in the US on August 10th.
A heartfelt thanks to Neil, and to the kind folks at Paramount, for allowing giving us the opportunity to create these scents!//
<<forEachTiddler
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<<forEachTiddler
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<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Unreleased")'
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<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Wanderlust")'
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''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):The Phantom Islands@@''
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[[Yule 2003]]
[[Yule 2004]]
[[Yule 2005]]
[[Yule 2006]]
[[Yule 2007]]
[[Yule 2008]]
<<forEachTiddler
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A potent, enticing love formula, favored among Louisiana courtesans.
//'Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare
'You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.'
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.
When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,
And will talk in contemptuous tones of the shark;
But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,
His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.
I passed by his garden and marked, with one eye,
How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie:
The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,
While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.
When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,
Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon:
While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,
And concluded the banquet by --//
A woody, musky-weird base glooping over with blackberry preserves, a twist of mandarin, strawberry juice, pulverized watermelon, and a handful of smushed gardenia petals.
April 13, 2007 (purple label)
//13 is significant, whether you consider it lucky, unlucky or just plain odd. Many believe it to be unfortunate…
… because there were 13 present at the Last Supper.
… Loki crashed a party of 12 at Valhalla, which ended in Baldur’s death.
… Oinomaos killed 13 of Hippodamia’s suitors before Pelops finally, in his own shady way, defeated the jealous king.
… In ancient Rome, Hecate’s witches gathered in groups of 12, the Goddess herself being the 13th in the coven.
Concern over the number thirteen echoes back beyond the Christian era. Line 13 was omitted form the Code of Hammurabi.
The shivers over Friday the 13th also have some interesting origins:
… Christ was allegedly crucified on Friday the 13th.
… On Friday, October 13, 1307, King Philip IV of France ordered the arrests of Jaques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, and sixty of his senior knights.
… In British custom, hangings were held on Fridays, and there were 13 steps on the gallows leading to the noose.
To combat the superstition, Robert Ingersoll and the Thirteen Club held thirteen-men dinners during the 19th Century. Successful? Hardly. The number still invokes trepidation to this day. A recent whimsical little serial killer study showed that the following murderers all have names that total thirteen letters:
Theodore Bundy
Jeffrey Dahmer
Albert De Salvo
John Wayne Gacy
And, with a little stretch of the imagination, you can also fit ‘Jack the Ripper’ and ‘Charles Manson’ into that equation.
More current-era paranoia: modern schoolchildren stop their memorization of the multiplication tables at 12. There were 13 Plutonium slugs in the atomic bomb that was dropped on Nagasaki. Apollo 13 wasn’t exactly the most successful space mission. All of these are things that modern triskaidekaphobes point to when justifying their fears.
For some, 13 is an extremely fortuitous and auspicious number…
… In Jewish tradition, God has 13 Attributes of Mercy. Also, there were 13 tribes of Israel, 13 principles of Jewish faith, and 13 is considered the age of maturity.
… The ancient Egyptians believed that there were 12 stages of spiritual achievement in this lifetime, and a 13th beyond death.
… The word for thirteen, in Chinese, sounds much like the word which means “must be alive”.
Thirteen, whether you love it or loathe it, is a pretty cool number all around.
… In some theories of relativity, there are 13 dimensions.
… It is a prime number, lucky number, star number, Wilson Prime, and Fibonacci number.
… There are 13 Archimedean solids.
AND…
… There were 13 original colonies when the United States were founded.
Says a lot about the US, doesn’t it?//
A base of cocoa absolute and white chocolate with thirteen baneful and beneficial bits: cardamom, fig meat, grains of paradise, rice flower, chamomile, sandalwood, catnip, clove, and a bundle of five blessed blossoms and herbs.
February 13, 2009 (navy label)
Considering the state of the economy and other worldwide woes, I think we all need a little extra dose of good luck. A sweet, comforting base of dark chocolate and brown sugar with thirteen herbs of good fortune, including nutmeg, Tonka, allspice, star anise, Jamaican and African gingers, devil’s shoestring, lucky hand root, and thyme.
July 13, 2007 (pink label)
13 is significant, whether you consider it lucky, unlucky or just plain odd. Many believe it to be unfortunate...
... because there were 13 present at the Last Supper.
... Loki crashed a party of 12 at Valhalla, which ended in Baldur's death.
... Oinomaos killed 13 of Hippodamia's suitors before Pelops finally, in his own shady way, defeated the jealous king.
... In ancient Rome, Hecate's witches gathered in groups of 12, the Goddess herself being the 13th in the coven.
Concern over the number thirteen echoes back beyond the Christian era. Line 13 was omitted form the Code of Hammurabi.
The shivers over Friday the 13th also have some interesting origins:
... Christ was allegedly crucified on Friday the 13th.
... On Friday, October 13, 1307, King Philip IV of France ordered the arrests of Jaques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, and sixty of his senior knights.
... In British custom, hangings were held on Fridays, and there were 13 steps on the gallows leading to the noose.
To combat the superstition, Robert Ingersoll and the Thirteen Club held thirteen-men dinners during the 19th Century. Successful? Hardly. The number still invokes trepidation to this day. A recent whimsical little serial killer study showed that the following murderers all have names that total thirteen letters:
Theodore Bundy
Jeffrey Dahmer
Albert De Salvo
John Wayne Gacy
And, with a little stretch of the imagination, you can also fit ”˜Jack the Ripper' and ”˜Charles Manson' into that equation.
More current-era paranoia: modern schoolchildren stop their memorization of the multiplication tables at 12. There were 13 Plutonium slugs in the atomic bomb that was dropped on Nagasaki. Apollo 13 wasn't exactly the most successful space mission. All of these are things that modern triskaidekaphobes point to when justifying their fears.
For some, 13 is an extremely fortuitous and auspicious number...
... In Jewish tradition, God has 13 Attributes of Mercy. Also, there were 13 tribes of Israel, 13 principles of Jewish faith, and 13 is considered the age of maturity.
... The ancient Egyptians believed that there were 12 stages of spiritual achievement in this lifetime, and a 13th beyond death.
... The word for thirteen, in Chinese, sounds much like the word which means “must be alive”.
Thirteen, whether you love it or loathe it, is a pretty cool number all around.
... In some theories of relativity, there are 13 dimensions.
... It is a prime number, lucky number, star number, Wilson Prime, and Fibonacci number.
... There are 13 Archimedean solids.
AND...
... There were 13 original colonies when the United States were founded.
Says a lot about the US, doesn't it?
A base of cocoa absolute and white chocolate with thirteen baneful and beneficial bits including vanilla bean, white ginger, orchid, golden peach, massoia bark, clove, honey, and starfruit.
June 13, 2008 (green label)
13 is significant, whether you consider it lucky, unlucky or just plain odd. Many believe it to be unfortunate...
... because there were 13 present at the Last Supper.
... Loki crashed a party of 12 at Valhalla, which ended in Baldur's death.
... Oinomaos killed 13 of Hippodamia's suitors before Pelops finally, in his own shady way, defeated the jealous king.
... In ancient Rome, Hecate's witches gathered in groups of 12, the Goddess herself being the 13th in the coven.
Concern over the number thirteen echoes back beyond the Christian era. Line 13 was omitted form the Code of Hammurabi.
The shivers over Friday the 13th also have some interesting origins:
... Christ was allegedly crucified on Friday the 13th.
... On Friday, October 13, 1307, King Philip IV of France ordered the arrests of Jaques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, and sixty of his senior knights.
... In British custom, hangings were held on Fridays, and there were 13 steps on the gallows leading to the noose.
To combat the superstition, Robert Ingersoll and the Thirteen Club held thirteen-men dinners during the 19th Century. Successful? Hardly. The number still invokes trepidation to this day. A recent whimsical little serial killer study showed that the following murderers all have names that total thirteen letters:
Theodore Bundy
Jeffrey Dahmer
Albert De Salvo
John Wayne Gacy
And, with a little stretch of the imagination, you can also fit ”˜Jack the Ripper' and ”˜Charles Manson' into that equation.
More current-era paranoia: modern schoolchildren stop their memorization of the multiplication tables at 12. There were 13 Plutonium slugs in the atomic bomb that was dropped on Nagasaki. Apollo 13 wasn't exactly the most successful space mission. All of these are things that modern triskaidekaphobes point to when justifying their fears.
For some, 13 is an extremely fortuitous and auspicious number...
... In Jewish tradition, God has 13 Attributes of Mercy. Also, there were 13 tribes of Israel, 13 principles of Jewish faith, and 13 is considered the age of maturity.
... The ancient Egyptians believed that there were 12 stages of spiritual achievement in this lifetime, and a 13th beyond death.
... The word for thirteen, in Chinese, sounds much like the word which means “must be alive”.
Thirteen, whether you love it or loathe it, is a pretty cool number all around.
... In some theories of relativity, there are 13 dimensions.
... It is a prime number, lucky number, star number, Wilson Prime, and Fibonacci number.
... There are 13 Archimedean solids.
AND...
... There were 13 original colonies when the United States were founded.
Says a lot about the US, doesn't it?
In our paean to all the mysteries surrounding this enigmatic number, there are thirteen lucky and unlucky components, including white chocolate, dark chocolate, apple blossom, honeysuckle, frankincense, allspice, nutmeg, black tea, tonka, and sandalwood.
March 13, 2009 (deep red label)
This 13, created by Brian Constantine, is a sign of the times, illustrating chaos and hope, and strength during adversity. Bittersweet dark cocoa is surrounded here by 13 complex aspects, including exotic musks, caraway, allspice, aloes wood, lucky hand, Irish moss, and bamboo. Beneath it all is a glowing core of glistening cherry.
May 13, 2005
January 13, 2006
(white label)
13 is significant, whether you consider it lucky, unlucky or just plain odd. Many believe it to be unfortunate…
… because there were 13 present at the Last Supper.
… Loki crashed a party of 12 at Valhalla, which ended in Baldur’s death.
… Oinomaos killed 13 of Hippodamia’s suitors before Pelops finally, in his own shady way, defeated the jealous king.
… In ancient Rome, Hecate’s witches gathered in groups of 12, the Goddess herself being the 13th in the coven.
Concern over the number thirteen echoes back beyond the Christian era. Line 13 was omitted form the Code of Hammurabi.
The shivers over Friday the 13th also have some interesting origins:
… Christ was allegedly crucified on Friday the 13th.
… On Friday, October 13, 1307, King Philip IV of France ordered the arrests of Jaques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, and sixty of his senior knights.
… In British custom, hangings were held on Fridays, and there were 13 steps on the gallows leading to the noose.
To combat the superstition, Robert Ingersoll and the Thirteen Club held thirteen-men dinners during the 19th Century. Successful? Hardly. The number still invokes trepidation to this day. A recent whimsical little serial killer study showed that the following murderers all have names that total thirteen letters:
Theodore Bundy
Jeffrey Dahmer
Albert De Salvo
John Wayne Gacy
And, with a little stretch of the imagination, you can also fit ‘Jack the Ripper’ and ‘Charles Manson’ into that equation.
More current-era paranoia: modern schoolchildren stop their memorization of the multiplication tables at 12. There were 13 Plutonium slugs in the atomic bomb that was dropped on Nagasaki. Apollo 13 wasn’t exactly the most successful space mission. All of these are things that modern triskaidekaphobes point to when justifying their fears.
For some, 13 is an extremely fortuitous and auspicious number…
… In Jewish tradition, God has 13 Attributes of Mercy. Also, there were 13 tribes of Israel, 13 principles of Jewish faith, and 13 is considered the age of maturity.
… The ancient Egyptians believed that there were 12 stages of spiritual achievement in this lifetime, and a 13th beyond death.
… The word for thirteen, in Chinese, sounds much like the word which means “must be alive”.
Thirteen, whether you love it or loathe it, is a pretty cool number all around.
… In some theories of relativity, there are 13 dimensions.
… It is a prime number, lucky number, star number, Wilson Prime, and Fibonacci number.
… There are 13 Archimedean solids.
AND…
… There were 13 original colonies when the United States were founded.
Says a lot about the US, doesn’t it?
In our paean to all the mysteries surrounding this enigmatic number, there are thirteen lucky and unlucky components, including white chocolate, tangerine, currant, mandarin, white tea and iris.
October 13, 2006 (orange label)
//13 is significant, whether you consider it lucky, unlucky or just plain odd. Many believe it to be unfortunate…
… because there were 13 present at the Last Supper.
… Loki crashed a party of 12 at Valhalla, which ended in Baldur’s death.
… Oinomaos killed 13 of Hippodamia’s suitors before Pelops finally, in his own shady way, defeated the jealous king.
… In ancient Rome, Hecate’s witches gathered in groups of 12, the Goddess herself being the 13th in the coven.
Concern over the number thirteen echoes back beyond the Christian era. Line 13 was omitted form the Code of Hammurabi.
The shivers over Friday the 13th also have some interesting origins:
… Christ was allegedly crucified on Friday the 13th.
… On Friday, October 13, 1307, King Philip IV of France ordered the arrests of Jaques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, and sixty of his senior knights.
… In British custom, hangings were held on Fridays, and there were 13 steps on the gallows leading to the noose.
To combat the superstition, Robert Ingersoll and the Thirteen Club held thirteen-men dinners during the 19th Century. Successful? Hardly. The number still invokes trepidation to this day. A recent whimsical little serial killer study showed that the following murderers all have names that total thirteen letters:
Theodore Bundy
Jeffrey Dahmer
Albert De Salvo
John Wayne Gacy
And, with a little stretch of the imagination, you can also fit ‘Jack the Ripper’ and ‘Charles Manson’ into that equation.
More current-era paranoia: modern schoolchildren stop their memorization of the multiplication tables at 12. There were 13 Plutonium slugs in the atomic bomb that was dropped on Nagasaki. Apollo 13 wasn’t exactly the most successful space mission. All of these are things that modern triskaidekaphobes point to when justifying their fears.
For some, 13 is an extremely fortuitous and auspicious number…
… In Jewish tradition, God has 13 Attributes of Mercy. Also, there were 13 tribes of Israel, 13 principles of Jewish faith, and 13 is considered the age of maturity.
… The ancient Egyptians believed that there were 12 stages of spiritual achievement in this lifetime, and a 13th beyond death.
… The word for thirteen, in Chinese, sounds much like the word which means “must be alive”.
Thirteen, whether you love it or loathe it, is a pretty cool number all around.
… In some theories of relativity, there are 13 dimensions.
… It is a prime number, lucky number, star number, Wilson Prime, and Fibonacci number.
… There are 13 Archimedean solids.
AND…
… There were 13 original colonies when the United States were founded.
Says a lot about the US, doesn’t it?//
In our paean to all the mysteries surrounding this enigmatic number, there are thirteen lucky and unlucky components: cocoa and vanilla beans, Mysore sandalwood, star fruit, orange rind, red amber, fig leaf, mimosa, rooibos tea, bourbon geranium, rose otto, nutmeg, and lavender.
Leather, cognac, fig, ripe berry, and cream, stuffed into a plain brown paper bag.
//Luminescent, glowing, and otherworldly.//
Green mandarin, neroli, honeydew, white amber, guava, freesia, white and green musks hovering over desert scrub, smashed wood, and the dry, biting scent of night air over the Groom Lake salt flats.
//A Bachelor's Dog, C.M. Coolidge.//
Soft musk, leather, and Brazilian cigar tobacco.
Said a blade of grass to an autumn leaf, "You make such a noise falling! You scatter all my winter dreams."
Said the leaf indignant, "Low-born and low-dwelling! Songless, peevish thing! You live not in the upper air and you cannot tell the sound of singing."
Then the autumn leaf lay down upon the earth and slept. And when spring came she waked again -- and she was a blade of grass.
And when it was autumn and her winter sleep was upon her, and above her through all the air the leaves were falling, she muttered to herself, "O these autumn leaves! They make such a noise! They scatter all my winter dreams."
Autumn leaves scattered among blades of grass.
//A Bold Bluff, C.M. Coolidge.//
Cherry tobacco, tonka, and hops.
//Thy gloomy features, like a midnight dial,
Scowl the dark index of a fearful hour.//
Patchouli, ylang ylang, blood orange, and vetiver.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("ADemonInMyView")'
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'tiddler.title'>>
Love Poems
Sir Walter Raleigh
//Farewell, false love, the oracle of lies,
A mortal foe and enemy to rest,
An envious boy, from whom all cares arise,
A bastard vile, a beast with rage possessed,
A way of error, a temple full of treason,
In all effects contrary unto reason.
A poisoned serpent covered all with flowers,
Mother of sighs, and murderer of repose,
A sea of sorrows whence are drawn such showers
As moisture lend to every grief that grows;
A school of guile, a net of deep deceit,
A gilded hook that holds a poisoned bait.
A fortress foiled, which reason did defend,
A siren song, a fever of the mind,
A maze wherein affection finds no end,
A raging cloud that runs before the wind,
A substance like the shadow of the sun,
A goal of grief for which the wisest run.
A quenchless fire, a nurse of trembling fear,
A path that leads to peril and mishap,
A true retreat of sorrow and despair,
An idle boy that sleeps in pleasure's lap,
A deep mistrust of that which certain seems,
A hope of that which reason doubtful deems.
Sith then thy trains my younger years betrayed,
And for my faith ingratitude I find;
And sith repentance hath my wrongs bewrayed,
Whose course was ever contrary to kind:
False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu.
Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.//
Pale lavender, sweet violet, balsam of Peru, and paperwhite narcissus.
//Inspired by Gris Grimly's illustrations for the Oblong Box.//
Electric jolts of mania: a salt-crusted coffin bobbing through tumultuous ocean waves.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Lunacy")'
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'tiddler.title'>>''<html>
<style type="text/css">
p.ex {color:#00B379;font-size:125%}
</style>
<p class="ex">Therianthropic Blends</p>
</html>''<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("TherianthropicBlends")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Gift with purchase of a full set of the 2007 Pumpkin Patch (imp only)
Sleek iris and verbena, grey amber, benzoin, davana, and glossy herbs.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("APicnicInArkham")'
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'tiddler.title'>>
//Rampant lust, self-indulgence, covetousness, lost chastity.//
A soft aquatic musk with kelp and juniper.
//She boldly goes forth to meet her lover, heedless of propriety, intoxicated by love, and radiant with youthful, innocent passion.//
Damascus rose, African orchid, cream accord, and Kashmir musk.
//Fall under the spell of our Green Fairy!//
An intoxicating blend containing wormwood essence, light mints, cardamom, anise, hyssop, and the barest hint of lemon.
2005
//Soul sister of the Ace of Cups in the tarot, this is the Primordial energy of Water: the Heart, emotional release and receptivity, intuition, fertility, and the forces of love, beauty, pleasure and happiness.//
Purest white lotus, white rose, rain orchid, rose gardenia, freesia, and Bulgarian rose.
//Tattered and stained parchment signs lead you through a maze of dark woods and damp leaves; a curl of opium smoke, black musk and floral perfume compels you through the darkness towards the firelight in the distance. The faraway wailing of a phantom calliope grows louder as you approach the isolated clearing, and creaking gates announce your arrival. Massive crumbling statues adorn the gates, depicting a surrealistic scene of cavorting imps, grinning demons, and heavy-lidded succubi. A huge neon sign hums and sparks, marking the entrance:
It flashes, “Carnaval Diabolique”.
It is midnight on the midway, and in the air, the scent of nighttime rain, ozone, and heavy summer blooms mingles with thick incense, and a disconcerting blend of sugar and brimstone. Black and orange banners flutter in sinister gaiety, snapping weirdly in the chill breeze as lightning slashes through the sky. In the gloom, the Carnaval thrums with life and unlife; the murmuration is low-pitched, punctuated by gasps, soft cries, and moans, and the smooth, resonant voices of the carnaval talkers, grinders, candy butchers, and pitchmen carry over it all.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Act1")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//A surge of warm, dark bodies buoys you along, pulling you past the crowded, candle-lit entrances to innumerable tents striped in bone white, blood red, pumpkin orange and twilight violet canvas. Through the shadows cast by the gaslamps and swinging red lanterns, you move through the ghoulish entertainment.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Act2")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Before you stands a tent, striped in orange and black canvas. The tent seems impossibly large; its tattered black banners snap in the chill wind. The Carny Talker slaps his cane upon a bare spot on the canvas wall, and a huge golden mouth bursts forth from the fabric forming a gleaming fanged entryway illuminated by flashing white bulbs. An ornate sign unfurls above the doorway, and in a florid script it reads, “The Parliament of Monsters”. The Carny Talker grins at you malevolently, gestures at the gaping maw with his cane, and barks, “Step this way, my friends! Through this doorway you will find the most magnificent and mind-shattering marvels of the multiverse! Each and every one of these fantastic and fearsome freaks has committed their spirit, nay! -- their very soul! -- to an unlife of unrepentant sin and unwholesome debauchery! Not simply a common display of human and inhuman oddities, these are both the shunned and misbegotten children of nature, and those whose very visages show that they have willingly and – YES, eagerly! -- walked the crooked path of turpitude! Their sins ARE their salvations, as you shall soon see, my friends, and these marvelous monstrosities present the tapestry of their depravity to you in all of its ghastly glory and sinister splendor! EACH is a Prometheus of perversity! THIS, and THIS ALONE, is the finest display of decadence and depredation in all the hells! Yours, for your education and elucidation, for a nominal entrance fee…”
He tips his hat, grins, and steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Act3")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''<html>
<style type="text/css">
p.ex {color:#00B379;font-size:125%}
</style>
<p class="ex">Faiza's Companions: The Snake Pit</p>
</html>''<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SnakePit")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//The flames leap from Priala's body, touching the dry canvas walls, setting the 13-in-1 aflame. Squinting your eyes against the blinding bursts of light and motion, you see a sign on the wall that reads "TO THE EGRESS". Staggering through the fire, you make your way out of the tent and back onto the rain-slick Midway//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("ActIV")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''<html>
<style type="text/css">
p.ex {color:#00B379;font-size:125%}
</style>
<p class="ex">The Ladies of the Grindhouse</p>
</html>''<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Grindhouse")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//The Carny Talker sidles up to you, and puts his thickly-muscled arm across your shoulder. He smiles his crooked smile and says, "You've seen some of our Astonishing Anatomical Wonders - now, come witness an extraordinary, exotic exhibition of hellish and heavenly contraptions and creatures gathered from around the globe! Astounding artifacts abound! A Museum of Miracles and Monstrosities such as the world has never seen, so stupendous that it defies even your most feverish and fanciful imaginings! This, in itself, is a Microcosmos of the Marvels of the Multiverse, an ~Awe-Inspiring Account of Natural and Unnatural History! Confront the Theatre of your within our Cabinet of Curiosities!"
Guiding you gently down the Midway, he leads you to a large building made of bleached grey-white wood. In ornate gold leaf the word 'WUNDERKAMMER' has been painted high on the building's facade. The Carny Talker smacks the crooked door with his cane and it swings open with a deep groan.
"Go right in, my friend. Edification awaits!"
The chambers are filled, floor to ceiling, and the clutter of the grimy ephemera is claustrophobic and overwhelming. Leering grotesques perch in the rafters among the dust-crusted remains of a griffin caught in midflight, dully glowing witchballs, and mummified demons. In the shadowy cubby on one wall, devilish automata stutter and jerk as they perform miniature scenes of murder and mayhem. Long-extinct beasts and creatures of myth are posed in gruesome scenes of anthropomorphic taxidermy, and alcoves are packed with malformed skulls, tusks, myriad jars of unguents and powders, a stuffed flesh-eating toad, and a chemist's receipt for arsenic made to one Madeline Smith. A leaded glass and yew wood bookcase houses the Pnakotic Manuscripts, Opera Omnia, Grimoire of Honorius, Treasure of the Old Man of the Pyramids, Le Dragon Rouge, and the Threefold Coercion of Hell. The script for the King in Yellow and a hymnal of Dhol Chants are propped atop the case next to a black stone etched with strange hieroglyphics. A herbarium of poisonous plants fills one vast shelf, flanked by the The Pschent of ~Nephrem-Ka and a glistening, obscene statue that has been tagged The Golden Idol of the Writhing Tongue. Squirming root-like creatures shriek and moan inside an iron cage, banging their wooden limbs against the bars. The Barbed Whip of the Erinyes hangs upon the wall next to an oval-framed, startlingly lifelike portrait of a beautiful young girl and a mold-crusted straightjacket. A pile of opium sickles, jars of graveyard and crossroads dirt, a jug of Amontillado sherry, and a scattered heap of cards labeled 'Carte da Trionfi' sit on a tea table in one corner. A huge window of colorful stained glass in a pattern of concentric circles and rays leans against one wall, bearing the tag, 'The Rose Window of Billington House'.
Dizzied by the disorder, your eyes drop to the floor. A leatherbound sketchbook lies there, discarded. Embossed on the cover in gold leaf letter is the name B. Hallward. Flipping through it, you see that it is an artist's study of many of the Wunderkammer's curiosities, marked with a few roughly-scrawled margin notes.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("ActV")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
September 2007
//This is her island squared in cypress lines;
With cedar ranks about her alley walks
Set frequent, and the faces of the boles
Are crimson, deep as sunset stains of cloud.
The floor between them, rank and overgrown,
Is tangled with luxuriant heads of bloom,
All in a mat together, mixed with sedge.
There are bells of some wide wine-deep flowers,
Great apple fruits and tawny orange globes;
And bunchy cactus tipped in fire-bright buds.
Grey aloe spikes and heavy curling vines,
And speckled poison berries intertwined.
Her groves lead down upon the light free waves;
Her foam-heads dance and ripple into sound.
The laughter of many birds is in her elms
Jays, owls, sea-crows, larks, lapwings, nightingales,
As jumbled as the flowers beneath their notes.
The isle-grove ends abruptly on the sea,
A stranded star-fish neighbors by the sward,
Where the snail toils beneath his painted walls.
Small seaward gust irresolute breathe near;
And sweeter waftings, sent from the middle brine,
Stir the deep grasses at her perfect feet,
Where Circe, shining down the gaudy flowers,
Leans centre-light of all this paradise.
One ankle gleams against the margin turf,
Just beyond where the wave-teeth cease to bite.
And the sea-pinks grow less rosy at her feet.
But this enchantress, island-queen, herself
Bears on her head a bright tire marvelous,
And for a girdle one of many dyes
Woven and traced with curious pattern-spells.
Her face is not at first so beautiful,
That one should say 'Fear her, she will slay men
And draw them into deaths by her strange ways,
And some soft snare hid under all of her.'
We must consider well upon her face,
And the silent beauty of it all
Begins upon us, grows and greatens on,
Like sweet increasing music, chord on chord,
Till all our being falters overthrown;
And she lures out our soul into her hands,
As faint and helpless as a new-born babe,
To have her will and way with all of it.
O, she, this Circe mage, is strange and great,
And deadlier than those terrible bright forms,
That beam out on us with their grace.
Her love eats deeper to the core of men,
Scathing and killing, fierce and unappeased;
Until not only the divine in us,
But all the human also (which indeed
Are one, tho' this less perfect) fade and change,
And fall corrupted into alien forms.
Till we resemble those strange-headed things,
Herded away behind her island throne,
Chimaeras, tiger-apes, and wolfish swine.//
A dark ocean breeze, electric with adrenaline, magic, and fear, clashing with the thick scent of poisoned berries and spiny aloe, against a backdrop of snowdrop, cedar, and cypress.
//Smoldering coals heat the device from below, and steam hisses through two curved pipes, rotating the shining brass sphere. //
Glowing amber and citrus, labdanum, verbena, cedar, and oud.
Fig, dark myrrh, amber, redwood, nutmeg, tarragon, black musk, and sweet orange.
//A raven-haired Fairy Queen of Ireland. One of her eternal duties dictates that she must hold a midnight court every season and hear the pleas of married Irishwomen. The court serves only to determine whether or not husbands are adequately serving their wife’s sexual needs.//
A judicious yet powerfully sensual blend, a mingling of justice and sexuality: sage, sweet pea, bold pale musk and warm tonka.
//How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!
How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labour or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be passed,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.//
Pollen-dusted honey, diligent tonka, steadfast chamomile, and goodly hyssop.
//Happy fifth birthday to the bpal.org forum! To commemorate five years of camaraderie, love, and unbelievable kindness, we present a scent comprised of notes that encapsulate the essence of friendship://
carnation, apple, sweet pea, vanilla cream, passionfruit, sugar cane, tonka, and guava.
//Splendour//
Three golden ambers, bright musk, peach wine and myrtle.
//The mind of Agnes Nutter was so far adrift in Time that she was considered pretty mad even by the standards of seventeenth-century Lancashire, where mad prophetesses were a growth industry.//
Gunpowder, charred wood, smoke, and rusty nails.
Purple sage, red patchouli, blackberry, lemon blossom, and lime rind.
Attar of rose, violet, white pear, Queen Elizabeth root, and freesia.
French lavender, cedar, armoise, white sandalwood, awapuhi, and the smoke of burning love letters.
Lupercalia 2007
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("AgonyorEcstasy")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Amber, cream accord, white honey, apple blossom, skin musk, caramel, and teak.
Gift at Convergence XIII ~Meet-N-Sniff (imp only)
//no scent description given//
A bright, bittersweet scent honoring the Japanese Deity of Love and Passion. Aizen-Myoo is one of the vidyarajas, the Shingon's Radiant Kings of Wisdom. Though Aizen-Myoo possesses the lust, grace and passion of both genders, he most often appears to his followers as male. His face is screwed into a fearsome demonic mask, but this is only the wrathful, fierce countenance he places over himself to guide and empower his children. Aizen-Myoo is the patron of prostitutes, of joyous, unbridled sexuality and of all forms of erotic love and is worshipped by all those in the sex industry, musicians, and - oddly - landlords.
Yuzu, kaki, and mikan with cherry blossom and black tea.
//The Meeting of Shiva and Shakti
The ~Two-Petaled Lotus: perception and command.
The mind’s eye, intuition, truth found in dreams, imagination, vision, and light.//
Devilish temptation, as sweet as sin.
Blood orange, neroli, and raspberry.
2005 Springtime in Arkham Limited Edition
Reinstated as a General Catalogue Scent in 2006
An Arabic term that refers to both the chirping of nocturnal insects and the ambient sound made by the chattering of demons. This is the original title of the feared Necronomicon, the Book of Dead Names, penned by the Mad Arab, Abdul Alhazred.
//Nor is it to be thought that man is either the oldest or the last of earth’s masters, or that the common bulk of life and substances walks alone. The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them, They walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen. ~Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. ~Yog-Sothoth is the gate. ~Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in ~Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have trod earth’s fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread. By Their smell can men sometimes know Them near, but of Their semblance can no man know, saving only in the features of those They have begotten on mankind; and of those are there many sorts, differing in likeness from man’s truest eidolon to that shape without sight or substance which is Them. They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where the Words have been spoken and the Rites howled through at their Seasons. The wind gibbers with Their voices, and the earth mutters with Their consciousness. They bend the forest and crush the city, yet may not forest or city behold the hand that smites. Kadath in the cold waste hath known Them, and what man knows Kadath? The ice desert of the South and the sunken isles of Ocean hold stones where Their seal is engraven, but who hath seen the deep frozen city or the sealed tower long garlanded with seaweed and barnacles? Great Cthulhu is Their cousin, yet can he spy Them only dimly. Iä! ~Shub-Niggurath! As a foulness shall ye know Them. Their hand is at your throats, yet ye see Them not; and Their habitation is even one with your guarded threshold. ~Yog-Sothoth is the key to the gate, whereby the spheres meet. Man rules now where They ruled once; They shall soon rule where man rules now. After summer is winter, and after winter summer. They wait patient and potent, for here shall They reign again.//
A sinister, sinuous incense of summoning, a herald and paean to the Primordial Gods of Darkness, Chaos, Madness and Decay.
//The enemy of God, also named Iblis, He Who Despaired of the Mercy of God. Al-Shairan is the leader of the Jinn, a tempter who whispers false suggestions to men enticing them into evil and perfidious acts, and is the sworn enemy of all of Adam’s children.//
His scent is fiery, bright and thick with sweet sinfulness: clove, peach and orange with cinnamon, patchouli and dark incense notes.
Honeyed lilies, dry lotus root and fae flowers.
//Unceasing In Anger//
Olive leaf, raspberry leaf, vetiver and cedarwood.
//Curiouser and curiouser.//
Milk and honey with rose, carnation and bergamot.
//There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really clever thing the King had said that day.
'That proves his guilt,' said the Queen.
'It proves nothing of the sort!' said Alice. 'Why, you don't even know what they're about!'
'Read them,' said the King.
The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. 'Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?' he asked.
'Begin at the beginning,' the King said gravely, 'and go on till you come to the end: then stop.'
These were the verses the White Rabbit read:-
They told me you had been to her,
And mentioned me to him:
She gave me a good character,
But said I could not swim.
He sent them word I had not gone
(We know it to be true):
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?
I gave her one, they gave him two,
You gave us three or more;
They all returned from him to you,
Though they were mine before.
If I or she should chance to be
Involved in this affair,
He trusts to you to set them free,
Exactly as we were.
My notion was that you had been
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it,
Don't let him know she liked them best,
For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me.
'That's the most important piece of evidence we've heard yet,' said the King, rubbing his hands; 'so now let the jury-'
'If any one of them can explain it,' said Alice, (she had grown so large in the last few minutes that she wasn't a bit afraid of interrupting him,) 'I'll give him sixpence. I don't believe there's an atom of meaning in it.'
The jury all wrote down on their slates, 'She doesn't believe there's an atom of meaning in it,' but none of them attempted to explain the paper.
'If there's no meaning in it,' said the King, 'that saves a world of trouble, you know, as we needn't try to find any…'//
Containing nary a neutron of meaning: rum-quince-cassis with prune and a bit of black ginger.
//A melding of science fiction and horror in which extraterrestrial life forms come to Earth in order to: * Colonize the planet; * Harvest humans for foodstuffs; * Enslave humanity; * Destroy the planet; * Use probes to perform uncomfortable sexual experiements; among other nefarious objectives.
Examples: War of the Worlds, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Plan 9 From Outer Space, the Day the Earth Stood Still. //
Slick, spiced space fruits and residual tentacle goo.
//All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little hands are plied
While little hands make vain pretence
Our wanderings to guide
Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour
Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of breath too weak
To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
Against three tongues together?
Imperious Prima flashes forth
Her edict to 'begin it'-
In gentler tone Secunda hopes
'There will be nonsense in it!' -
While Tertia interrupts the tale
Not more than once a minute.
Anon, to sudden silence won,
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast -
And half believe it true.
And ever, as the story drained
The wells of fancy dry,
And faintly strove that weary one
To put the subject by,
'The rest next time -It is next time!'
The happy voices cry.
Thus grew the tale of Wonderland
Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out -
and now the tale is done,
And home we steer, a merry crew,
Beneath the setting sun.
Alice! a childish story take,
And with a gentle hand
Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined
In Memory's mystic band,
Like pilgrim's wither'd wreath of flowers
Plucked in far-off land.//
A bizarre blend of pineapple, tangerine, tobacco, apricot, and seltzer coated with hazy amber and heady sun-baked flowers.
As if the name didn't spell it out for you. This blend relieves all sexual inhibitions by simultaneously relaxing and arousing.
Halloween 2004, 2005, 2006
//A celebration of the glory and suffering of the saints and matryrs of the Church.//
Based on a venerable French pontifical incense blend: monastic frankincense and myrrh, Damascus rose, Russian gardenia, cassia, and lily of the valley wafting on a chill Autumn wind.
Halloween 2006, 2007
//A day of remembrance and intercession. Without the prayers and sacrifices of their families and loved ones, the faithful departed may not be cleansed of their venal sins, and thereby cannot attain beatific vision. On November 2nd, prayers are sung and offerings are made to aid lost souls in transcending purgatory.//
An incense blend that invokes the higher qualities of mercy and compassion, mingled with the soft, sugared currant scent of offertory soul cakes.
//As they stared blankly in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realised all they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze, dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the dewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with its soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift that the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has revealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and lighthearted as before.//
Mist and dewy roses, aspen leaves, and translucent yellow blossoms.
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2004
A sinuous, vibrant scent, striking in its boldness and complexity.
Juniper and white cedarwood entwined with orange and raw civet.
July 2007
//O ALLISON GROSS, that lives in yon towr,
The ugliest witch i' the north country,
Has trysted me ae day up till her bowr,
An monny fair speech she made to me.
She stroaked my head, an she kembed my hair,
An she set me down saftly on her knee;
Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true,
Sae monny braw things as I woud you gi.
She showd me a mantle o red scarlet,
Wi gouden flowrs an fringes fine;
Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true,
This goodly gift it sal be thine.
'Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,
Haud far awa, an lat me be;
I never will be your lemman sae true,
An I wish I were out o your company.'
She neist brought a sark o the saftest silk,
Well wrought wi pearles about the ban;
Says, Gin you will be my ain true love,
This goodly gift you sal comman.
She showd me a cup of the good red gold,
Well set wi jewls sae fair to see;
Says, Gin you will be my lemman sae true,
This goodly gift I will you gi.
'Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,
Had far awa, and lat me be;
For I woudna ance kiss your ugly mouth
For a' the gifts that ye coud gi.'
She's turnd her right and roun about,
An thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn,
An she sware by the meen and the stars abeen,
That she'd gar me rue the day I was born.
Then out has she taen a silver wand,
An she's turnd her three times roun an roun;
She's mutterd sich words till my strength it faild,
An I fell down senceless upon the groun.
She's turnd me into an ugly worm,
And gard me toddle about the tree;
An ay, on ilka Saturdays night,
My sister Maisry came to me,
Wi silver bason an silver kemb,
To kemb my heady upon her knee;
But or I had kissd her ugly mouth,
I'd rather a toddled about the tree.
But as it fell out on last Hallow-even,
When the Seely court was ridin by,
The queen lighted down on a gowany bank,
Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye.
She took me up in her milk-white han,
An she's stroakd me three times oer her knee;
She chang'd me again to my ain proper shape,
An I nae mair maun toddle about the tree.//
Witch-herbs, crushed golden flowers, and a man-made-dragon's surly musk lightened by the scent of the blossoms and unearthly incense that clings to the Faerie Queen's hair. Dragon's blood musk, ambergris, sunflower, chrysanthemum, muguet, and rue, with gingered lily, moonflower, bluebell, peony, nightwort, and white rose.
//A hectic, frenzied pinpoint in desolation: booming, bleak, and dark with the horror of loneliness and reluctant solitude.//
Patchouli and cardamom with bright mandarin, labdanum, muguet, red sandalwood, angelica and gardenia.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("AmericanGods")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Tulips, peony, fresh flowing water and crisp green grasses.
//The gargantuan Anaconda is only available in wee lil' imp form.//
Gift with purchase of a full set of the Snake Pit (imp only)
//I feel thy blood against my blood; my pain
Pains thee, and lips bruise lips, and vein stings vein.
Let fruit be crushed on fruit, let flower on flower
Breast kindle breast, and either burn one hour.
Why wilt thou follow lesser loves? are thine
Too weak to bear these hands and lips of mine?//
The scent of the throes of violent passion: entangled limbs, teeth on flesh, furiously grasping hands, the taste of blood and sweat. Golden amber, white honey, red currant, daemonorops, kush, and Arabian musk.
//The Love of Krishna, The Breath of Vayu, the Garden of the Kalpa Taru
The ~Twelve-Petaled Lotus.
Compassion, unconditional love, psychic healing, empathy.
Anahata expresses the ability to follow ones heart, outside the jurisdiction of karma. Decisions truly made in Anahata are unbound by corrupted emotions and unfulfilled base desires.
This is where we hold the image of our divine self. This is the quiet and stillness of our true center.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("AnansiBoys")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
A scent as heavy as thunder from the Vatican, with notes that inspire every sin and excess.
Black opium, with vetivert and honeysuckle.
The Stations of the Sun: The Midday Sun
Discontinued 2008
//Hail unto Thee who art Ahathoor in Thy triumphing, even unto Thee who art Ahathoor in Thy beauty, who travellest over the heavens in thy bark at the Mid-course of the Sun.
Tahuti standeth in His splendour at the prow, and ~Ra-Hoor abideth at the helm.
Hail unto Thee from the Abodes of Morning!//
//And There Was A Great Cry In Egypt, Arthur Hacker.//
Dark myrrh, white sandalwood, amber, hyssop, frankincense, honey, cypress, red musk, cardamom and saffron.
//Angeronalia, also called Divalia, is a Roman festival that takes place at the Winter Solstice. This celebration honors the Goddess Angerona. The Lady of Silence and Secrets is also She Who Stands As the Protector of Rome, and she is represented with her mouth bound, or with her index finger held over her mouth, commanding silence. On this day, the Goddess was implored to grant her children strength and protection. And, as it was believed that Angerona and Voluptia, the Goddess of Joy and Pleasure, were one and the same, sacrifices were made at the temple to Voluptia in order to drive sorrow, regret, and pain from the hearts of the people.//
Strength, passion, and the cleansing fire of joy: olive blossom, white nectarine, vibrant blood orange, honey absolute, lemongrass, elemi, sensual patchouli, and the quiet purity of gardenia.
//A soft, innocent blend, touched with a funereal, gloom-filled air.//
Wild peony, sweet pea, cucumber and white sage with sea lilies and moss.
//Named in honor of the most notorious female pirate to ever set sail. Wicked, cruel, beautiful, intelligent, resourceful and dangerous: a true role model.//
A blend of Indonesian red patchouli, red sandalwood, and frankincense. A million thanks to Juliana ~Williamson-Page for inspiration!
Nostalgia encapsulated.
A soft, wistful blend of dry flowers, aged linens, and the faint breath of long-faded perfumes.
//As you approach an enormous patchwork tent, a curious sound catches your attention: the rattle of bones and the tinkling of tiny bells heralds the arrival of a gaunt and ghastly creature. An animated skeleton dressed in a jester’s motley saunters towards the front of the tent, waving an orange and black striped cane at the crowd in an effort to clear a path. The jester makes his way past the fog-shrouded, faded, colossal posters that adorn the tent to a platform in front of the massive tent’s entrance. His ivory smile frozen in a gleeful rictus grin, he steps up onto the platform, taps the cane three times, and the jester costume vanishes. Suddenly dark eyes appear in the empty sockets, bones are wrapped in muscle, sinew grows over the bones, blood fills rapidly appearing veins. Before your eyes, the skeletal jester has become a dapper, handsome man, dressed in black and orange, with a skull-ornamented straw hat tilted jauntily upon his shining black hair.
His smile is slick and conspiratorial. With a flourish and arcing wave of his cane, he booms:
“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! This is Carnaval Diabolique’s notorious 13-In-1: the finest freak show in all the Hells! What marvels await you, you ask? Simply the strangest and most fantastic creatures, human and inhuman, gathered for your entertainment, enlightenment and erudition!”
With the cane, he gestures at the gigantic posters that adorn the tent. The images, once hazy, suddenly come into focus.
“From the depths of the Black Forest: Arachnina, the Spider Girl! From the rain-swept streets of London: Hope and Faith, the Siamese Twins! From ruins of old Aquae Sextia: Wulric, the Wolf Man!
"Thalassa, the Galapagos Mermaid! A vision of life-in-death, Eshe!
"All in all, THIRTEEN anatomical curiosities, miracles of genetics, magick and science, masters of marvels, ALIVE ON THE INSIDE!”//
White musk, wild plum, vetiver, black coconut, verbena, fig, and lavender.
The embodiment of Classic masculinity. A warrior's scent: the green hills and grasses of the battlefields, the resinous incense from the prayers to his Gods, and a touch of the musky leather of his armor.
Ambergris and frankincense with sage, and basil.
//He Who Counts the Hearts, Jackal Ruler of the Bows, He Who Is In the Place of Embalming. Jackal-headed guardian, protector and psychopomp of Egypt’s dead, he guides souls to the underworld and holds steady the scales upon which the deceased’s heart is weighed against Ma’at’s Feather of Truth. He is the creator and master of funereal rites, He Who Opens the Mouth of the Dead, and is the sentinel that watches over the sanctity of tombs and the virtue and privacy of his charges.//
His scent is a blend of holy myrrh, storax, balsam, and embalming herbs.
//Strong as death, and cruel as the grave,
Clothed with cloud and tempest's blackening breath,
Known of death's dread self, whom none outbrave,
Strong as death,
Love, brow-bound with anguish for a wreath,
Fierce with pain, a tyrant-hearted slave,
Burns above a world that groans beneath.
Hath not pity power on thee to save,
Love? hath power no pity? Nought he saith,
Answering: blind he walks as wind or wave,
Strong as death.//
Unloving love: benzoin, Indian musk, massoia bark, myrrh, ambrette seed, galbanum, bergamot, and fir.
''@@color(#00B379):2007@@'' [[Dogs Playing Poker]]
''@@color(#00B379):2008@@'' [[Atomic Luau Lounge]]
''@@color(#00B379):2009@@'' [[Velvet Paintings]]
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("AprilFool")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//The first of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days of the year. - Mark Twain
The Fool is many things, but rarely is he foolish. He is the inscrutable zero, he is innocence perfected, and he is the nothing from which all things are created. It is the Fool that reveals truth and brings wisdom to King Lear, and it is the Fool that finally finds the Holy Grail.//
Huckleberry, white rose, tangerine, nicotiana, lemon blossom, and Fool's Parsley.
//January 20-February 18//
//Fixed air: the essence of idealism.//
Wisteria, myrrh, anise, galbanum, bryony, and pomegranate.
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2007
//A victim of her own arrogance, conceit and hubris, Arachne, the greatest mortal weaver, had the temerity to claim herself superior to Athena. Arachne was truly gifted: not only was her art astoundingly beautiful, but the vision of her in the act of weaving was a joy to behold. When one observer commented that her skill was so great that she must have been trained by the goddess Athena herself, the proud woman scoffed: she was insulted, and proclaimed aloud that the goddess could do no better than she. Athena heard this, and, as she is not a vindictive or jealous goddess, gave Arachne the opportunity to redeem herself. Disguised as an elderly woman, she came to Arachne and warned her against hubris. She laughed at the old woman and declared that she would welcome a contest with Athena. The goddess accepted the challenge. Athena wove a stunning tapestry depicting her victory over Poseidon, thus gaining patronage over the city of Athens. Arachne, who couldn’t leave well enough alone, wove a vulgar piece that depicted Zeus’ dalliances with Leda, Europa and Danae. Appalled at the woman’s audacity and blasphemy, Athena tore Arachne’s tapestry to shreds, crushed her loom, and bonked the mortal on the head, forcing her to feel remorse for her actions. In guilt and grief, Arachne hung herself. Again, because the goddess is merciful, she took pity on the woman and, after sprinkling aconite upon her corpse, transformed her into the first spider.//
A gossamer scent, as light as a spider’s footfall, touched with sighing mists: pallid flowers, dusty woods and soft herbs.
//You move towards the first stage on your right, and as you walk, you feel something brush across your cheek. Something about the softness of the phantom caress makes your skin crawl, and you flinch involuntarily. At that moment, the Spider Girl strides haughtily onto the platform, her stiletto heels clicking a strange staccato as she walks. Her body is wrapped in skin-tight strips of black PVC, and the gleaming vinyl glistens in stark contrast to the alabaster skin on her six pale, white arms. She gestures to the rafters above with a graceful flick of her blood-red nails. In dread, your eyes are drawn skyward: above her, in a gossamer snare, web-shrouded bodies twist and struggle.//
A swirling, hypnotic perfume of black currant, poppy, red and black musk, lilies, nicotiana, and patchouli.
The essence of magickal enigmas and long-forgotten esoteric mysteries.
Frankincense, rosemary, lavender, neroli, and lemon verbena.
//In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
Pallid waste where no radiant fathomers,
Columbuses or Gamas, ever pass,
In realms of dingy gloom and deep crevasse
Seized from creation by nonentity,
Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
In stone waves and rock waters, far from day,
Amid the gloom, there, on the pole, stands black
Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
And trumpet at his lips; nor does he cast
One flash of eye, or blow one clarion-blast;
He never even dreams, being sheer snow;
The winged winds, captives of that age-old foe
Silence, are in his hand-birds in a snare;
His sightless eyes horribly watch the air;
Hoarfrost is in his bones and on his head,
And he is swathed in ever-petrified dread;
He terrifies the Vast, he seems so wild;
He is harsh, dismal, ice-that is, exiled;
The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,
Is dumb; he is the mute white stony shape
Set on that tomb in the eternal night;
Never does any motion, sound, or light
Brush the lone giant in that somber pall.
But when, on the timepieces that we call
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesce
And melt the spirit; his mouth will distend
Suddenly, in a savage, dreadful bend,
And the worlds-skiffs rudderless, rolling on --
Will hear the storm-blast of his clarion.//
Crystalline, glassy ice whipped by a snowstorm. Piercing ozone, winter darkness.
(The Vampire Maid, Hume Nisbet)
//This contact seemed also to have affected her as it did me; a clear flush, like a white flame, lighted up her face, so that it glowed as if an alabaster lamp had been lit; her black eyes became softer and more humid as our glances crossed, and her scarlet lips grew moist. She was a living woman now, while before she had seemed half a corpse.
She permitted her white slender hand to remain in mine longer than most people do at an introduction, and then she slowly withdrew it, still regarding me with steadfast eyes for a second or two afterwards.
Fathomless velvety eyes these were, yet before they were shifted from mine they appeared to have absorbed all my willpower and made me her abject slave. They looked like deep dark pools of clear water, yet they filled me with fire and deprived me of strength. I sank into my chair almost as languidly as I had risen from my bed that morning.
Yet I made a good breakfast, and although she hardly tasted anything, this strange girl rose much refreshed and with a slight glow of colour on her cheeks, which improved her so greatly that she appeared younger and almost beautiful.
I had come here seeking solitude, but since I had seen Ariadne it seemed as if I had come for her only. She was not very lively; indeed, thinking back, I cannot recall any spontaneous remark of hers; she answered my questions by monosyllables and left me to lead in words; yet she was insinuating and appeared to lead my thoughts in her direction and speak to me with her eyes. I cannot describe her minutely, I only know that from the first glance and touch she gave me I was bewitched and could think of nothing else.
It was a rapid, distracting, and devouring infatuation that possessed me; all day long I followed her about like a dog, every night I dreamed of that white glowing face, those steadfast black eyes, those moist scarlet lips, and each morning I rose more languid than I had been the day before. Sometimes I dreamt that she was kissing me with those red lips, while I shivered at the contact of her silky black tresses as they covered my throat; sometimes that we were floating in the air, her arms about me and her long hair enveloping us both like an inky cloud, while I lay supine and helpless.//
Poppy flowers, peat, sphagnum moss, gardenia, and white water lily.
//March 21 - April 19//
Black pepper, frankincense, ginger.
//Cardinal fire: the essence of identity. //
Black pepper, honeysuckle, opoponax, dragon’s blood, and wild ginger.
2005 Springtime in Arkham Limited Edition
Reinstated as a General Catalogue Scent in 2006
//Behind everything crouched the brooding, festering horror of the ancient town, and of the mouldy, unhallowed garret gable where he wrote and studied and wrestled with figures and formulae when he was not tossing on the meager iron bed. His ears were growing sensitive to a preternatural and intolerable degree, and he had long ago stopped the cheap mantel clock whose ticking had come to seem like a thunder of artillery. At night the subtle stirring of the black city outside, the sinister scurrying of rats in the wormy partitions, and the creaking of hidden timbers in the centuried house, were enough to give him a sense of strident pandemonium. The darkness always teemed with unexplained sound - and yet he sometimes shook with fear lest the noises he heard should subside and allow him to hear certain other fainter noises which he suspected were lurking behind them.
He was in the changeless, legend-haunted city of Arkham, with its clustering gambrel roofs that sway and sag over attics where witches hid from the King's men in the dark, olden years of the Province.//
A shadowy, unapproachable forest of maple, birch, dogwood, cypress and pine softened by a garland of New England wildflowers: bergamot, columbine, rue anemone, blue violet, creeping phlox, bloodroot, toadflax, and pixie moss.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
//A scent seething with the perverse splendor of complete and utter madness. High-pitched, yet dark… subdued and deep, but tingling with frenzy.//
Juniper, nutmeg and black cypress shocked by verbena and lavender.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("LovePotions")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("ArsDraconis")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("ArsMoriendi")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Babylonian musk, vanilla tea, tonka, tobacco, coconut, hyssop, and lilac.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Ashtanyika")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
[[Snake Oil]] with red mandarin, myrrh, and almond.
Rappaccinis Garden
Discontinued 2008
The grey and ghostly flower that fills the fields of Hades.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("AstrologicalOils")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//A reformulation and modernization of a true Classical Greek perfume, myrrhine.//
Voluptuous myrrh, golden honey, red wine, and sweet flowers.
//In the spirit of Polynesian Pop and Tiki Culture, we present Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's Atomic Luau Lounge: the Exotica Collection.
Tiki Culture became a phenomenon in the late 50's, likely inspired by Hawaii's admission to the union in 1959 and by the memories of World War II veterans that were stationed in the South Pacifi. Tiki enthusiasts were influenced by a panoply of Polynesian themes, and they embraced pop renditions of island artwork, dress, and music, revamping them with a distinctly campy Western flair.
This is our tribute to Donn Beach, a true Pisces if there ever was one. Light the torches, bust out the leis, and bust out the Martin Denny ~LPs! Without you, Donn, we wouldn't pu pu platters to gorge on, or Zombies to chug!//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("AtomicLuauLounge")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Bottled happiness. Helps reverse misfortune, brings light and laughter to even the most troubled and discordant place, and aids in alleviating the stress and discontent that accompanies so many of life's daily trials.
True, perfect golden light, refined into an incomparably glorious scent.
[[Snake Oil]] with acai berry, amber, cardamom, neroli, and smoked vanilla.
Dry leaves, osmanthus, sandalwood, and rose absolute.
//Heat lingers
As days are still long;
Early mornings are cool
While autumn is still young.
Dew on the lotus
Scatters pure perfume;
Wind on the bamboos
Gives off a gentle tinkling.
I am idle and lonely,
Lying down all day,
Sick and decayed;
No one asks for me;
Thin dusk before my gates,
Cassia blossoms inch deep.//
The scent of wisteria, Cymbidium, lotus blossom, and cassia buds drifting on a breeze through gently swaying bamboo reeds.
//Was this His coming! I had hoped to see
A scene of wondrous glory, as was told
Of some great God who in a rain of gold
Broke open bars and fell on Danae:
Or a dread vision as when Semele
Sickening for love and unappeased desire
Prayed to see God's clear body, and the fire
Caught her brown limbs and slew her utterly:
With such glad dreams I sought this holy place,
And now with wondering eyes and heart I stand
Before this supreme mystery of Love:
Some kneeling girl with passionless pale face,
An angel with a lily in his hand,
And over both the white wings of a Dove.//
A pale, delicate, truly angelic blend. A scent created to emulate Adonis' halo of beauty: fragile, distant, and radiant.
Rosewood with Sicilian lemon peel, red Mysore sandalwood, pale musks, sweet mountain sage and a dusting of lily, night-blooming jasmine and orris.
2005 Springtime in Arkham Limited Edition
Reinstated as a General Catalogue Scent in 2006
//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.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
//One of the Chiefs of the 200 Fallen Angels of Enoch and Satan's Standard Bearer. Azazel was cast out of Heaven when he refused to kowtow to Man: "Why should a Son of Fire fall down before a son of clay?" Why, indeed.//
Black Mountain sage, bay, lemongrass and citron with a spike of lavender.
//Many people, meeting Aziraphale for the first time, formed three impressions: that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Two of these were wrong; Heaven is not England, whatever certain poets may have thought, and angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort.//
Ethereal musk, blonde woods, and dusty Bible accord.
2008 Dark Delicacies Exclusive Collection
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("BMovies")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//"B-Movie" initially referred to the second half of a double feature, usually a film that was lower in budget than the feature film, and weakly publicized. The expression has morphed over the years to encompass movies whose runtimes were under 70 minutes, low-budget films in general, an inartistic, cheaply produced genre movies, or high-budget exploitation style films.
Examples: I Drink Your Blood, Horror of Party Beach, Attack of the Crab Monsters, It Conquered the World//
This scent is a celebration of B-grade sci fi and horror from the 50s, 60s, and 70s: a glowing glob of radioactive waste mixed with a mishmash of ingredients from assorted recipes for fake blood -- chocolate syrup, corn syrup, grenadine, and peanut butter.
Convergence XV
July 2009
//no scent description given//
Vasilissa the Beautiful
//Then suddenly the wood became full of a terrible noise; the trees began to groan, the branches to creak and the dry leaves to rustle, and the Baba Yaga came flying from the forest. She was riding in a great iron mortar and driving it with the pestle, and as she came she swept away her trail behind her with a kitchen broom.//
Spell-soaked herbs and flowers, cold iron, broom twigs, bundles of moss and patchouli root, and moth dust.
An unreleased prototype was sent as a gift with some lab orders in late 2004 and possibly early 2005 (both imps and bottles I believe). It may or may not contain the same notes as the released version (most likely not though)
Sin & Salvation
Discontinued 2004
//A boisterous, belligerent, festive blend that lends to mad revelry, overindulgence and excess. Perfect for a weekend bender.//
Earthy musks combined with a bestial civet bouquet, a hint of sweet grape and orange blossom.
Friday the 13th, April 2007
//Did you ever have a bad luck woman on your trail?
Did you ever have a bad luck woman on your trail?
Always keeps you broke, always keeps you in jail.
I used to be happy, (as good Lord), all the time,
I used to be happy, (as good Lord), all the time,
but soon as I got this woman, (lost) all I can call mine.
My bad luck woman is a jinx and a worry too,
My bad luck woman is a jinx and a worry too,
I can't get rid of her no matter what I do.
I tried to make her quit me by callin' another woman's name,
I tried to make her quit me by callin' another woman's name,
She said, That is all right, he loves me just the same.
She keeps a ra't's foot in her hand at night when she goes to sleep,
She keeps a ra't's foot in her hand at night when she goes to sleep,
to keep (me with) her, so I won't make no midnight creep.
My bad luck woman keeps me feelin' blues,
My bad luck woman keeps me feelin' blues,
I can't get rid of her, she sticks to me like glue.//
Keep that bad luck woman away with a blend of Spanish moss, black pepper, mullein, sweet sage, vandal root, cypress, cigar tobacco, and a puff of goofer dust cloaked by a swarthy cologne of vetiver, lime, dark musk, caramel accord, and lilac.
//"How on earth, Badger." he said at last, "did you ever find time and strength to do all this? It's astonishing!"
"It would be astonishing indeed," said the Badger simply, "if I had done it. But as a matter of fact I did none of it only cleaned out the passages and chambers, as far as I had need of them. There's lots more of it, all round about. I see you don't understand, and I must explain it to you. Well, very long ago, on the spot where the Wild Wood waves now, before ever it had planted itself and grown up to what it now is, there was a city a city of people, you know. Here, where we are standing, they lived, and walked, and talked, and slept, and carried on their business. Here they stabled their horses and feasted, from here they rode out to fight or drove out to trade. They were a powerful people, and rich, and great builders. They built to last, for they thought their city would last for ever."
"But what has become of them all?'" asked the Mole.
"Who can tell?" said the Badger. "People come they stay for a while, they flourish, they build and they go. It is their way. But we remain. There were badgers here, I've been told, long before that same city ever came to be. And now there are badgers here again. We are an enduring lot, and we may move out for a time, but we wait, and are patient, and back we come. And so it will ever be."//
Warm earth, deep-reaching roots, dark myrrh, galangal, and Atlas cedar.
Amber, saffron and bergamot with mandarin, nutmeg, Bulgar rose, musk and sandalwood.
Thick Turkish coffee spiked with whiskey, with a little bit of mocha to soften the bitterness
February 2007
//In sharp contrast to the stark sterility of Hunger Moon, we present a carnivorous chaotic charmer: the bakeneko. The Monster Cat is a shapeshifter, and is empowered to take the form of a beautiful woman (to entice lonely gentlemen) or a winsome young maiden (to the peril of childless couples). Though some bakeneko are benevolent, and only wish to find someone to care for them, or to show gratitude to a mortal that has done them a great service, others are furry balls of malevolent mayhem. Their mischief ranges from simply destructive -- knocking over lamps and destroying property, tossing ghostly, freezing fireballs from their hands -- to horrifying acts of carnage.//
Warm amber musk, Satsuma tangerine, black tea leaf, cardamom, cherry blossom and cinnamon.
//"We can put the food here," said Silas. "It's cool, and the food will keep longer." He reached into the box, pulled out a banana.
"And what would that be when it was at home?" asked Mrs Owens, eyeing the yellow and brown object suspiciously.
"It's a banana. A fruit, from the tropics. I believe you peel off the outer covering," said Silas, "Like so."
The child - Nobody - wriggled in Mrs Owens arms, and she let it down to the flagstones. It toddled rapidly to Silas, grasped his trouser-leg and held on.
Silas passed it the banana.
Mrs Owens watched the boy eat. "Ba-na-na," she said, dubiously. "Never heard of them. Never. What's it taste like?"
"I've absolutely no idea," said Silas, who consumed only one food, and it was not bananas. "You could make up a bed in here for the boy, you know."//
A banana peel discarded among tombstones and crypts
[[Snake Oil]] with oakmoss, sea moss, and olive leaf.
//A poisonous fruit-bearing member of the buttercup family.//
The scent, like the plant, is dark green, herbal, and plump with bulging black fruit.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
An ethereal, piercing blend of eucalyptus, citrus and mints.
//The ghostly White Women of the Scottish highlands. They seduce unwary travelers by night with their unearthly beauty and mesmerizing dancing. They engage their victims in a wild, hypnotic dance, and once they reach exhaustion, exsanguinate their partners with their vampiric kiss.//
Grapefruit, white tea, apple blossom and ginger.
March 2009
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("BardsofIreland")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//A notorious voodoo priest, who eventually rose to become one of the funereal Guédés, alongside Baron Cimitère and Baron La Croix. He is a Guardian of the Crossroads: the pathways between our world and the realm of the spirits. As a Master of the Graveyard, he ensures that burial rites are performed with skill, and he helps ferry souls to the dark realm.//
In his honor, we have created this scent: our spin on traditional Bay Rum.
//Bast, Ubasti, Ailuros, ~Ba-en-Aset. Represented as both a domestic cat and a fierce lioness, she truly evidences traits of both. She is the Mother of All Cats, Goddess of Sensuality, Fertility, and a guardian and protector of women. She is also one of the Eyes of Ra, and in that aspect is an Avenging Goddess, seeking retribution and punishing enemies of her people.//
Luxuriant amber, warm Egyptian musk, fierce saffron and soft myrrh, almond, cardamom and golden lotus.
//Bat, Albrecht Dürer.//
Dusty amber, grey musk, red orchid, moonflower, night-blooming phlox, stock, honeysuckle, English ivy, toadflax, and purple salvia.
2009 Bat's Day Exclusive
Frankincense, myrrh, orris root, coconut, benzoic, chamomile, cedar, and hyssop.
2009 Bat's Day exclusive
Goats rue, fig, wild geranium, juniper, sassafras, juniper berry, and mandrake.
2009 Bat's Day Exclusive
French lavender, white sage, cypress, verbena, white peach, life everlasting, tansy, and black amber.
2009 Bat's Day Exclusive
Huckleberry, frankincense, rose, strawberry, violet, and star anise
2009 Bat's Day Exclusive
Heliotrope, pomegranate, blackberry, bergamot, and patchouli.
Voodoo Blends
Discontinued 2004
Resurrected November 2006
//Vengeance can be yours.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("BatsDay")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
The Salon, Exhibit 1
Discontinued 2009
//Bat-Woman, Albert Penot.//
Ratkirani, calla lily, moonflower, honeysuckle, night-blooming jasmine, French lavender, verbena, grey amber and nighttime air.
The Seventh Daughter, Daughter of the Oath. She was King David’s lover, and the mother of King Solomon. Her scent is breathtakingly lovely, exotic and powerfully sensual in its innocence.
Carnation, sensual plum, and Arabian musk.
//A lazy, warm deep green scent with a thick aquatic undertone.//
Spanish moss, evergreen and cypress with watery blue-green notes and an eddy of hothouse flowers and swamp blooms.
//A seductive and flowing exaltation of femininity.//
Turkish rose, stargazer lily, violet, honeysuckle, amber, star jasmine and vanilla.
August 2005
//"Am I awake? Have I my senses?" said he to himself. "What is this being? Beautiful shall I call her, or inexpressibly terrible?"
A scent inspired by Beatrice, Rappaccini’s delicate, beautiful, innocent and deadly daughter.//
A fragile, winsome, poisonous blend of rare, precious and graceful flowers, rich blossoms and spicy perfumes that passes heavily, as a broken heart, across the borders of Time.
November 2005
Resurrected as [[Beaver'versary]] November 2008
//Traditionally, Beaver Moon is named thus for a very obvious reason: during this time of year, beavers are hard at work building their dams and preparing for the onset of winter. Because it was too hard to resist, BPAL’s Beaver Moon is sillier, sleazier, and full of camp.//
This scent is of cheesecake and cupcakes, more in line with its cheekier connotations, and really hasn’t a damn thing to do with Luna at all!
October 2007
//Traditionally, Beaver Moon is named thus for a very obvious reason: during this time of year, beavers are hard at work building their dams and preparing for the onset of winter. However, we at BPAL rarely let an opportunity for sleazy campiness pass us by! For your pleasure and amusement, we present this year's incarnation of Beaver Moon.//
Wild cherry with vanilla cream accord, and a hint of strawberry.
Cheesecake and cupcakes, yo! This is Beaver Moon 2005 resurrected!
//Sharp, shining, metallic.//
Rubbed iron with a dry wooden base.
//The devil's herb, which he cultivates with skill and pleasure. According to lore, the spirit of this plant may take the form of a breathtaking, achingly beautiful woman, deadly to behold. This scent is a tribute to such a dark and magnificent plant.//
A rich green and floral blend, earthy and haunting.
//“The Pretty Era”, France’s Golden Time: an age of beauty, innovation and peace in France that lasted from the 19th Century through the first World War and gave birth to the cabaret, the cancan, and the cinema as well as the Impressionist and Art Nouveau movements.//
Sweet opium, Lily of the Valley, vanilla, mandarin and red sandalwood.
Beauty and the Beast
//There was once a very rich merchant, who had six children, three boys and three girls. As he was himself a man of great sense, he spared no expense for their education. The three daughters were all handsome, but particularly the youngest; indeed, she was so very beautiful, that in her childhood every one called her the Little Beauty; and being equally lovely when she was grown up, nobody called her by any other name, which made her sisters very jealous of her. This youngest daughter was not only more handsome than her sisters, but also was better tempered. The two eldest were vain of their wealth and position. They gave themselves a thousand airs, and refused to visit other merchants' daughters; nor would they condescend to be seen except with persons of quality. They went every day to balls, plays, and public walks, and always made game of their youngest sister for spending her time in reading or other useful employments. As it was well known that these young ladies would have large fortunes, many great merchants wished to get them for wives; but the two eldest always answered, that, for their parts, they had no thoughts of marrying any one below a duke or an earl at least. Beauty had quite as many offers as her sisters, but she always answered, with the greatest civility, that though she was much obliged to her lovers, she would rather live some years longer with her father, as she thought herself too young to marry.
It happened that, by some unlucky accident, the merchant suddenly lost all his fortune, and had nothing left but a small cottage in the country. Upon this he said to his daughters, while the tears ran down his cheeks, "My children, we must now go and dwell in the cottage, and try to get a living by labour, for we have no other means of support." The two eldest replied that they did not know how to work, and would not leave town; for they had lovers enough who would be glad to marry them, though they had no longer any fortune. But in this they were mistaken; for when the lovers heard what had happened, they said, "The girls were so proud and ill-tempered, that all we wanted was their fortune: we are not sorry at all to see their pride brought down: let them show off their airs to their cows and sheep." But everybody pitied poor Beauty, because she was so sweet-tempered and kind to all, and several gentlemen offered to marry her, though she had not a penny; but Beauty still refused, and said she could not think of leaving her poor father in this trouble. At first Beauty could not help sometimes crying in secret for the hardships she was now obliged to suffer; but in a very short time she said to herself, "All the crying in the world will do me no good, so I will try to be happy without a fortune."//
Red sandalwood, vanilla, rosewood, osmanthus, and white peach.
2004, 2005
//One of the holiest days in the Pagan calendar, Beltane [May Day, Cetsamhain, Floralia and Roodmas… also, Beltaine, Bealtaine, Bealtuinn, Beletene, La Bheltine] is the Day of Baal’s Fire, and marks the midpoint of Sol’s path between the Vernal Equinox and Summer Solstice. In Druidic tradition, need-fires were set atop hills in a symbolic gesture of bringing the Sun’s light down to Earth. Celebrants danced around the fires in harmony with the Sun’s seeming movement through the sky, and passed eadar dà theine Bhealltuinn, between the Fires of Beltane, to purify themselves. In Scotland, all hearth fires were extinguished, and the flames from the need-fires were used to rekindle their flames, bringing blessings and good fortune into the household. It doesn’t matter where your faith lies, Beltane is sacred to us simply because we’re human. It is a celebration of new growth, rebirth, of the fertility of our land, our spirits and our bodies, and is a reminder of the joy in simply being alive. Celebrate life! Wind some flowers into your hair, dab a little oil behind each ear, toss the first petals of springtime onto your yard, and bless your garden the old fashioned way!//
//One of the holiest days in the Pagan calendar, Beltane [May Day, Cetsamhain, Floralia and Roodmas... also, Beltaine, Bealtaine, Bealtuinn, Beletene, La Bheltine] is the Day of Baal's Fire, and marks the midpoint of Sol's path between the Vernal Equinox and Summer Solstice. In Druidic tradition, need-fires were set atop hills in a symbolic gesture of bringing the Sun's light down to Earth. Celebrants danced around the fires in harmony with the Sun's seeming movement through the sky, and passed eadar dà theine Bhealltuinn, between the Fires of Beltane, to purify themselves. In Scotland, all hearth fires were extinguished, and the flames from the need-fires were used to rekindle their flames, bringing blessings and good fortune into the household. It doesn't matter where your faith lies, Beltane is sacred to us simply because we're human. It is a celebration of new growth, rebirth, of the fertility of our land, our spirits and our bodies, and is a reminder of the joy in simply being alive. Celebrate life! Wind some flowers into your hair, dab a little oil behind each ear, toss the first petals of springtime onto your yard, and bless your garden the old fashioned way!//
Mugwort, French rose, Lily of the Valley, broom, frankincense, myrrh, benzoin, foxglove, woodruff, rowan wood, ivy, sandalwood, spring mint, thyme, iris, copal, and night blooming jasmine.
//A sultry and unruly blend that emulates the ambient scent of the markets in ancient Bengal.//
Skin musk with honey, peppers, clove, cinnamon bark and ginger.
Prunella
//As the years passed Prunella grew up into a very beautiful girl. Now her beauty and goodness, instead of softening the witch's heart, aroused her hatred and jealousy.
One day she called Prunella to her, and said: 'Take this basket, go to the well, and bring it back to me filled with water. If you don't I will kill you.'
The girl took the basket, went and let it down into the well again and again. But her work was lost labour. Each time, as she drew up the basket, the water streamed out of it. At last, in despair, she gave it up, and leaning against the well she began to cry bitterly, when suddenly she heard a voice at her side saying 'Prunella, why are you crying?'
Turning round she beheld a handsome youth, who looked kindly at her, as if he were sorry for her trouble.
'Who are you,' she asked, 'and how do you know my name?'
'I am the son of the witch,' he replied, 'and my name is Bensiabel. I know that she is determined that you shall die, but I promise you that she shall not carry out her wicked plan. Will you give me a kiss, if I fill your basket?'
'No,' said Prunella, 'I will not give you a kiss, because you are the son of a witch.'
'Very well,' replied the youth sadly. 'Give me your basket and I will fill it for you.' And he dipped it into the well, and the water stayed in it. Then the girl returned to the house, carrying the basket filled with water. When the witch saw it, she became white with rage, and exclaimed 'Bensiabel must have helped you.' And Prunella looked down, and said nothing.//
Plum juice, lilac, leather, and a smattering of herbs.
//Misery is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch,—as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow! How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness?—from the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.
A cerebral scent, dry, and white. This is a perfume of thought, not heart, and of unforeseen pain and sudden obsession, touched with uncertain twilight and ambiguous horror.//
Stargazer lily, white musk, clear aloe, blonde amber and winding-cloth linen.
August 2009
//In August, the large masses of berries, which, when in flower, had attracted many wild bees, gradually assumed their bright velvety crimson hue, and by their weight again bent down and broke their tender limbs.//
-- Henry David Thoreau
A golden summer musk with warm fig, orange blossom honey, sweet blueberries, and bright velvety crimson raspberries.
//I grieve and dare not show my discontent,
I love and yet am forced to seem to hate,
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant,
I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate.
I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned,
Since from myself another self I turned.
My care is like my shadow in the sun,
Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it,
Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.
His too familiar care doth make me rue it.
No means I find to rid him from my breast,
Till by the end of things it be supprest.
Some gentler passion slide into my mind,
For I am soft and made of melting snow;
Or be more cruel, love, and so be kind.
Let me or float or sink, be high or low.
Or let me live with some more sweet content,
Or die and so forget what love ere meant.//
Inspired by the tragic, ill-fated love of Queen Elizabeth I and the Earl of Leicester. This is our modernization of a 17th-century perfume blend favored by British aristocracy: rosemary, orange flower, grape spirit, five rose variants, lemon peel, and mint.
Deep, luscious green and berry scents that evoke images of woodland witchcraft and the raw power of nature.
Blackberry, sage, green tea, wild berries and dark musk.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("BewitchingBrews")'
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'tiddler.title'>>''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):The Conjure Bag@@''
Scents inspired by authentic New Orleans voodoo recipes. Passed down to our lab via oral tradition.<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("VoodooBlends")'
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'tiddler.title'>>
//Much smoother in texture than I had thought it would be. How does one employ it?//
Copaiba balsam, Tolu balsam, hay absolute, cardamom, and hiba wood.
//This is the house, the sacred box,
Where, always draped in languorous frocks,
And always at home if someone knocks,
One elbow into the pillow pressed,
She lies, and lazily fans her breast,
While fountains weep their soulfullest:
This is the chamber of Dorothy.
— Fountain and breeze for her alone
Sob in that soothing undertone.
Was ever so spoiled a harlot known?
With odorous oils and rosemary,
Benzoin and every unguent grown,
Her skin is rubbed most delicately.
— The flowers are faint with ecstasy.//
The Scarlet Woman, aglow with sensual indolence.
Red musk, benzoin, caramel accord, golden honey, and spiced Moroccan unguents.
//The Queen of Sheba, half-demon, they said, on her father's side, witch woman, wise woman, and queen, who ruled Sheba when Sheba was the richest land there ever was, when its spices and its gems and scented woods were taken by boat and camel-back to the corners of the earth, who was worshipped even when she was alive, worshipped as a living goddess by the wisest of kings, stands on the sidewalk of Sunset Boulevard at 2:00 A.M. staring blankly out at traffic like a slutty plastic bride on a black-and-neon wedding cake. She stands as if she owns the sidewalk and the night that surrounds her.//
Honey, myrrh, lily of the valley, rose otto, fig leaf, almond, ambrette, red apple, and warm musk.
//The Womb, the Uppermost Feminine in the Godhead, Supernal Mother, Divine Sorrow, Supernal Shekhinah, and the source of the 50 Gates of Understanding.//
//Well, we *are* doing a vampire update finally.//
Croquembouche with almond silk and a drizzle of caramel.
December 2006
//Kokoro no oni ga mi wo semeru. The body is tortured only by the demon of the heart.//
Nepal poppy, lotus root, wild rose, and blue hibiscus with blackberry, tonka, sage, lavender, peony and vetiver.
//Vast talons, foul with human flesh, there grew
In place of hands, and features livid blue
Glar'd in her visage; while the obscene waist
Warm skins of human victims close embraced.//
//The blue faced hag of the British Hills. She lives in the Dane Hills, Leicestershire, in a cave called Black Annis' Bower Close, which she dug out of rock with her own iron-strong claws. Dozens of huge cats prowl the Bower with her, and it is guarded by a great pollarded oak in which she hides so that she may catch lambs and small children to eat. She carries her victims back to her cave, where she flays them alive before devouring them. She drapes their skins on her guardian oak to dry. Her skirt is fashioned from the skins of her prey, and her bed is a high-piled bed of their bones.//
Black Annis' perfume is a mixture of damp cave lichen and oak leaf with a hint of vetiver, civet and anise.
September 2009
//Sister of the first-born light,
Type of sorrowing gentleness!
Quivering mists in silv'ry dress
Float around thy features bright;
When thy gentle foot is heard,
From the day-closed caverns then
Wake the mournful ghosts of men,
I, too, wake, and each night-bird.
O'er a field of boundless span
Looks thy gaze both far and wide.
Raise me upwards to thy side!
Grant this to a raving man!
And to heights of rapture raised,
Let the knight so crafty peep
At his maiden while asleep,
Through her lattice-window glazed.
Soon the bliss of this sweet view,
Pangs by distance caused allays;
And I gather all thy rays,
And my look I sharpen too.
Round her unveil'd limbs I see
Brighter still become the glow,
And she draws me down below,
As Endymion once drew thee.//
Soft, deep, and luminous: Lady of the Night orchid, benzoin, opopponax, currant, black chypre, white gardenia, ambergris, damp, wooded mosses, and black lily.
A very tricky kitty, indeed. Used most often as a key to bringing back the joy one needs to have in life in order for living to feel worthwhile. Brings back a sense of delight in simple pleasures, and creates a surge of childlike curiosity and a youthful sense of fun. This blend can also be used to reverse troublesome lesser crossings, create a playful air of catlike sexuality, and, because cats will be cats, it can also be used to throw minor, irritating or bothersome hexes, causing small amounts of chaos and disruption to your foes.
Voluptuous magnolias strewn over orchid, star jasmine, black amber and smoky rose.
This is the captured scent of a cold, moonless night, lost deep within the darkest wood. Haunting and desolate, this scent evokes images of fairy tale tragedy and half-remembered nightmares.
Thick, viscous pine with ambergris, black musk, juniper and cypress.
//Also called Melampode. In witchcraft legend, this is one of the components of the notorious flying ointment, and is used in rituals that summon the Devil. In Greek mythology, Melampus of Pylos used hellebore to save the daughters of the king of Argos from a Dionysian Maenad-like madness. In Christian myth, hellebore was born from the tears a little girl shed onto the snow because she had no gift to give to the Christ child. In low magick, it has been used by farmers to protect their livestock from the evil eye. Court magicians have used it in martial invisibility spells, enabling spies and assassins to infiltrate enemy camps. Hellebore resembles the wild rose, but does not belong to their family.
Borage and hellebore fill two scenes,
Sovereign plants to purge the veins
Of melancholy, and cheer the heart
Of those black fumes which make it smart.//
The scent is a pale green herbal, darkly rooty, with a faint rose and peony-like overtone.
//Lovely, dangerous, slick, and bitterly cold.//
Chilly white sleet-like notes with a hint of vetiver, a breath of smoky asphalt, and winter wind.
Dark Delicacies Exclusive
November 2007
//The embodiment of Victorian funereal elegance.//
A delicate sugar-spun vanilla cream cotton, stained by tobacco and incense smoke, Indian musk, and drops of cognac.
Breathtaking darkness, a vision of grace in shadow.
//Born in the shadows of a Temple to Set, this corrupted Egyptian scent evokes images of black pyramids, river demons, and bleak, deadly desert sands.//
Black lotus flower, amber, myrrh and sandalwood.
September 2006
//The absence of light.//
Motia attar, black orchid, mugwort, English pear, cucumber, blue lotus, jonquil, massoia, calamus and crystal musk.
A play of geological darkness and jagged brilliance.
Soft and luminescent with flashes of black fire.
Evocative of the sea's unplumbed mysteries. Gentle and lovely, but menacing and profound.
Coconut, Florentine iris, hazelnut and opalescent white musk.
//Our signature oil.// A dark, languid scent. Promotes hedonistic tendencies and extreme self-love. You won't stop kissing mirrors for a month.
[[Monster Bait]]
[[Miskatonic Valley Junior Baseball Association]]
[[Agony or Ecstasy Inquisition]]
[[Trick or Treat Inquisition]]
[[Naughty or Nice Inquisition]]
[[Storytime Inquisition]]
[[Four Seasons Inquisition]]
[[Warrior Queens Inquisition]]<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("BPTP")'
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//Exquisitely melancholy. The background scent to an ancient exequies.//
Heavy, dark and floral: a blend of roses, with a touch of amber and musk.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
//Terminally alluring. A deep, wickedly passionate scent, compelling and commanding in its feminine allure.//
Attar of rose, jasmine, myrrh, red sandalwood, red wine, and East African black patchouli.
A shot of pure, self-indulgent euphoria! A scent that is very, very wicked in its own way.
The serotonin-slathered scent of pure milk chocolate.
Used to open up options in your life, overcome obstacles, and create opportunities. This blend increases your potential for success, inspires creativity and quick thinking, and helps you to be more flexible, adaptable and open to change.
A vital, bold scent, throbbing with sensuality.
Essence of dragon's blood resin, thickened with myrrh and cherry, with a trickle of clove.
Slivers of warm, pulsating blood forever crystallized in golden amber resin.
//Elizabeth Báthory, also called Erzsébet Báthory in Hungarian and Alžbeta ~Bátoriová-Nádašdy in Slovak, was the Bloody Lady of Hungary. In order to preserve her youth and loveliness, the brutal and incomparably savage countess captured, tortured and slaughtered innumerable young women and bathed in their blood as part of her beauty regimen. Ah, vanity.//
Corrupted black plum, smoky opium and crumbling dead roses covered by a deceptive veil of Hungarian lilac, white gardenia and wild berry.
Lush, creamy vanilla and the honey of the sweetest kiss smeared with the vital throb of husky clove, swollen red cherries , but darkened with the vampiric sensuality of vetiver, soporific poppy and blood red wine, and a skin-light pulse of feral musk.
Lush, velvet-red blooms born from the blood shed in the eternal battle between Set and Horus the Avenger.
October 2005
//In October, the crop harvest has past, and all hands turn to the Hunt: the third and final harvest before winter. Blood Moon shines over huntsmen as they ride over reaped grain in pursuit of their prey.
In Christian mythology, Blood Moon may have a darker significance:
"And I looked when He broke the sixth seal, and there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth made of hair, and the whole moon became like blood; and the stars of the sky fell to the earth, as a fig tree casts its unripe figs when shaken by a great wind." -- Revelation 6:12-13//
The feral scent of the heat of the chase, deep woods, undulating musks, brushed by forest herbs, crushed grains, and touched by blood-dimmed lunar oils.
October '08
//In October, the crop harvest has past, and all hands turn to the Hunt: the third and final harvest before winter. Blood Moon shines over huntsmen as they ride over reaped grain in pursuit of their prey.
In Christian mythology, Blood Moon may have a darker significance:
"And I looked when He broke the sixth seal, and there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth made of hair, and the whole moon became like blood; and the stars of the sky fell to the earth, as a fig tree casts its unripe figs when shaken by a great wind." -- Revelation 6:12-13//
The feral scent of the heat of the chase, deep woods, undulating musks, brushed by forest flora, swirled in the incense of the anointed cherub that covereth, and touched by blood-dimmed lunar oils.
Lustrous, sanguine, soft and lavish.
Soft orris, blood musk, and coconut.
2007
//Blood: expressing passion, will, and a sensual aesthetic.//
Dragon's blood resin, helichrysum, burgundy wine grape, red musk, opoponax, red poppy, myrrh, carnation, tonka, almond, mimosa, jonquil, and neroli.
//Sensual, robust, and silken.//
Voluptuous red rose bursting with lascivious red wine and sultry dragon's blood resin.
A fiery Martial blend that embodies primal rage, lust for conquest, and all-encompassing desire.
Dragon's blood essence, heavy red musk, Indonesian patchouli and swarthy vetiver with a drop of cinnamon.
The Bar
Papaya, blueberry, lemongrass, and gin.
July 2004
//How often does the bright moon come?
With wine, I ask the blue sky.
The Heavily Palace, I wish to return there, riding the wind,
But fear that in the high places of jade halls and eaves,
I cannot fend off the cold. Rising to dance with my clear shadow,
Scarcely believing that I among men,
I turn around the red lacquered pavilions,
Dip below the silken-curtained windows,
Shine on the sleepless.
Let there be no regrets,
What else is always so full at the time of parting?
Men have sorrow and joy and farewell and union.
The moon has clouds and clear skies,
Waxing and waning.
Perfection is rare since days of old,
So wish only that the years be long,
To share beauty even across a thousand miles.
-- Su Shih
The spirit of the full moon is capricious, intense and passionate, yet still distant, aloof and cold. Luna herself governs glamours, bewitchments and dream-work, innocent wonder, transient pleasure and delight, the Moment, impulse, mystery and veils. The Blue Moon is one of her rarest manifestations, and this scent is formulated to encapsulate her most complex and profound nature.//
Mugwort and bay, for psychic sensitivity…
Juniper, for divination through dreams…
Orchid and galbanum, for complexity, wisdom and noscere…
… with a potent lunar-charged blend of poppy, calamus, orris, wood aloes, moonflower, cucumber, and pale creeping buttercup.
June, July 2007
//The spirit of the full moon is capricious, intense and passionate, yet still distant, aloof and cold. Luna herself governs glamours, bewitchments and dream-work, innocent wonder, transient pleasure and delight, the Moment, impulse, mystery and veils. The Blue Moon is one of her rarest manifestations, and this scent is formulated to encapsulate her most complex and profound nature:
Mugwort and bay, for psychic sensitivity…
Juniper, for divination through dreams…
Orchid and galbanum, for complexity, wisdom and noscere…//
… with a potent lunar-charged blend of exquisite Asian woods, moonflower, Madagascan ylang ylang, Florentine iris, Greek cypress, davana, green tea absolute, palmarosa, cucumber, Clary sage, melilot trefoils, wood aloes, and pale creeping buttercup.
A scent swirling with dark rage, unbridled jealousy, and murderous intent.
Violet, lavender, white musk and vetiver.
//Rebel Queen of the Iceni, she led an uprising of the tribes against the Roman Empire. After Claudius’ conquest of the area, the Iceni voluntarily allied themselves to Rome, though Rome was not a gentle parent state. The Romans conquered much of Brittania, desecrated the sacred groves at Mona, and slaughtered the druids. When Boadicea’s husband, Prasutagus, died, his will was ignored and his massive financial debt to Rome was called in forcefully. Iceni was annexed as though it was a conquered territory, property and estates were seized, both tribal nobility and the common folk were enslaved. When Boadicea objected to the treatment of her lands and her people, she was flogged, and her children were grievously injured.
Boadicea took her vengeance.
Under the leadership of Boadicea, the Iceni and Trinovantes united with their neighbors and the surviving druids of Mona to instigate a rebellion. They cut a swath of furious destruction. Her warriors slaughtered Legionary forces, and destroyed Camulodunum, Londinium, and Verulamium -- so scorching the earth beneath Londinium that the scar is still visible beneath modern London.//
Amber, fig, vanilla flower, oak, patchouli, vetiver, dragon’s blood resin, leather, and neroli.
//The Tree of Poisons. Every aspect of this tree is toxic, from the narcotic, lethal fumes that it emits, to its oozing, poisonous sap.//
A deceptively tranquil scent: heady fruits, dry bark, and deep green leaves, enveloped by a dark and sinister murk.
An effervescent blend of crystalline champagne notes and sweet strawberry.
//Guy Fawkes, Guy;
Stick him up on high!
Hang him on a lamp post
And there let him die!
Guy, Guy, Guy!
Poke Him in the eye!
Put him on the fire,
And there let him die!
Burn his body from his head:
Then you'll say
Guy Fawkes is dead!
Hip, Hip, Hooray!//
__Beer, woodsmoke, tar, and treacle.__
February 2009
//In the stark darkness of February, food is so scarce that some are forced to chew bones and make marrow soup for nourishment. It is a time when we honor our ancestors with fasting, solemn ritual, and reflection on the triumphs and accomplishments of those who have passed before us.//
White sandalwood, dry cedar, and radiant, crisp lunar herbs.
Eerie billows of spun sugar, fluttering white cotton, and sheets of cream.
Flotsam
Bamboo reed, palm frond, and hibiscus.
[[Snake Oil]] with cocoa, teakwood, and rice milk.
A decadent, deep perfume, lusty and luxuriant. The scent evokes images of velvet-lined Old West cathouses, tightly laced corsets, rustling petticoats and coquettish snarls of pleasure.
Bawdy plum with amaretto, burgundy wine and black currant.
//In Hermetic alchemy, brimstone is one of the Three Heavenly Substances, one of the primary alchemical Principles. It represents the strength of will and the vigor of passion, and it is a symbol of the process of fermentation.//
A smoky, gritty blend, husky and gray.
The amber necklace of Freyja, Norse Goddess of Love, Sex, Attraction and Fruitfulness. Her magnificent necklace was bough from four Dwarves [Alfrik, Berling, Dvalin and Grer] at the price of four nights of her passion. When Brisingamen graces your throat, no man can resist your charms.
A glittering mantle of rich golden notes: five ambers, soft myrtle and apple blossom, myrtle, and carnation.
//Among these the most formidable was a burly, roaring, roystering blade, of the name of Abraham, or, according to the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van Brunt, the hero of the country round, which rang with his feats of strength and hardihood. He was broad-shouldered and double-jointed, with short curly black hair, and a bluff, but not unpleasant countenance, having a mingled air of fun and arrogance. From his Herculean frame and great powers of limb, he had received the nickname of BROM BONES, by which he was universally known. He was famed for great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dexterous on horseback as a Tartar.
He was foremost at all races and cock-fights; and, with the ascendancy which bodily strength acquires in rustic life, was the umpire in all disputes, setting his hat on one side, and giving his decisions with an air and tone admitting of no gainsay or appeal. He was always ready for either a fight or a frolic; but had more mischief than ill-will in his composition; and, with all his overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of waggish good humor at bottom. He had three or four boon companions, who regarded him as their model, and at the head of whom he scoured the country, attending every scene of feud or merriment for miles round. In cold weather he was distinguished by a fur cap, surmounted with a flaunting fox's tail; and when the folks at a country gathering descried this well-known crest at a distance, whisking about among a squad of hard riders, they always stood by for a squall. Sometimes his crew would be heard dashing along past the farmhouses at midnight, with whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossacks; and the old dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen for a moment till the hurry-scurry had clattered by, and then exclaim, "Ay, there goes Brom Bones and his gang!" The neighbors looked upon him with a mixture of awe, admiration, and good will; and when any madcap prank, or rustic brawl, occurred in the vicinity, always shook their heads, and warranted Brom Bones was at the bottom of it.//
The butchest, manliest of musks covered in well-worn leather.
//The yellowed country records containing her testimony and that of her accusers were so damnably suggestive of things beyond human experience - and the descriptions of the darting little furry object which served as her familiar were so painfully realistic despite their incredible details.
That object - no larger than a good-sized rat and quaintly called by the townspeople ""Brown Jenkins - seemed to have been the fruit of a remarkable case of sympathetic herd-delusion, for in 1692 no less than eleven persons had testified to glimpsing it. There were recent rumours, too, with a baffling and disconcerting amount of agreement. Witnesses said it had long hair and the shape of a rat, but that its sharp-toothed, bearded face was evilly human while its paws were like tiny human hands. It took messages betwixt old Keziah and the devil, and was nursed on the witch's blood, which it sucked like a vampire. Its voice was a kind of loathsome titter, and it could speak all languages. Of all the bizarre monstrosities in Gilman's dreams, nothing filled him with greater panic and nausea than this blasphemous and diminutive hybrid, whose image flitted across his vision in a form a thousandfold more hateful than anything his waking mind had deduced from the ancient records and the modern whispers.//
A small, furry, sharp-toothed scent that will nuzzle you curiously in the black hours before dawn: dusty white sandalwood and orris root, dry coconut husk, creeping musk, and the residue of ceremonial incense.
//Promotes vigor in undeath, and relieves the discomforts and complaints so common to incorporeal spirits!
The learned and eminent scholar Alessandro Cagliostro once remarked, “Long experience has taught me to prize Doctor Constantine’s Compounds above all others!”//
Crushed violets, red currant, patchouli root, and Spanish moss
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2004
//Menacing, bewitching and darkly sexual.//
A blend of myrrh, amber and lilac.
//`I never saw anybody that looked stupider,' a Violet said, so suddenly, that Alice quite jumped; for it hadn't spoken before.
`Hold your tongue!' cried the Tiger-lily. `As if you ever saw anybody! You keep your head under the leaves, and snore away there, till you know no more what's going on in the world, that if you were a bud!'//
__Violet petal, violet leaf, osmanthus, orris, mint, and opoponax__
//`Are there any more people in the garden besides me?' Alice said, not choosing to notice the Rose's last remark.
`There's one other flower in the garden that can move about like you,' said the Rose. `I wonder how you do it -- ' (`You're always wondering,' said the Tiger-lily), `but she's more bushy than you are.'
`Is she like me?' Alice asked eagerly, for the thought crossed her mind, `There's another little girl in the garden, somewhere!'
`Well, she has the same awkward shape as you,' the Rose said, `but she's redder -- and her petals are shorter, I think.'
`Her petals are done up close, almost like a dahlia,' the Tiger-lily interrupted: `not tumbled about anyhow, like yours.'
`But that's not your fault,' the Rose added kindly: `you're beginning to fade, you know -- and then one can't help one's petals getting a little untidy.'//
July 2005
// This Full Moon marks the time of the year when the new antlers of buck deer emerge from their foreheads, coated in soft velvet. This is a time of masculine vigor, thunder, balmy nights, glorious sunlight and hot winds. Buck Moon is an animalistic, deep scent.//
An amplification of one’s natural musk coupled with forest herbs, a hint of clear, warm evening air and a crystalline spark of lunar oil.
February 2006
//Budding Moon shines as Spring moves with its first breath, and this scent expresses that burst of life-affirming joy through an olfactory interpretation of Huang Quans flower-and-bird paintings.//
Plum blossom, peony, lotus root, Chinese musk and a hint of white ginger.
The Dark Side of Earth.
Deep, brooding forest scents, including juniper and patchouli. The scent of upturned cemetary loam mingling with floral offerings to the dead.
A boozy addition to the devil's bake sale! Rum-soaked butter cookies, crusted with sugar, soaked in almond and garnished with orange rind.
Blood orange, King mandarin, nectarine, patchouli, violet, ylang ylang, and amber.
//Residing in Paris during the spring and part of the summer of 18, I there became acquainted with a Monsieur C. Auguste Dupin. This young gentleman was of an excellent, indeed of an illustrious family, but, by a variety of untoward events, had been reduced to such poverty that the energy of his character succumbed beneath it, and he ceased to bestir himself in the world, or to care for the retrieval of his fortunes. By courtesy of his creditors, there still remained in his possession a small remnant of his patrimony; and, upon the income arising from this, he managed, by means of a rigorous economy, to procure the necessaries of life, without troubling himself about its superfluities. Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries, and in Paris these are easily obtained.//
Well-worn leather and lavender-lime cologne.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("CDimp")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Ars Amatoria
Discontinued 2004
//Decadent, flamboyant, and fiercely seductive!//
Passionate red musk mixed with jasmine and wisteria.
The essence of holy Kyphi, beloved incense of the Egyptian Gods.
//The third of our Bean scents commemorates Bean and Brian's birthday! September 2nd marks the day that Little Lily came into our lives, and Brian spent his birthday in 2008 watching me huff and puff through labor!
Happy birthday, Brian! You are the best brother, uncle, and brother-in-law that we could ask for! We love you so much!
Little Bean, you are our soul's sunshine and our heart's joy. We love you, little Lily. Your mom and dad love you more than words can say.
Happy birthday, Virgos big and small!//
Red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting against a backdrop of Snake Oil, Dorian, and Doc Constantine!
//Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.//
The scent of the salty seas, bittersweet wine, palm and tropical ferns.
Sea air, driftwood, waterlogged kelp, and the memory of plundered spices sprayed over worn leathers, rough musk, and the salty wooden floorboards of the Revenge.
Excolo, Muses
Discontinued 2008
//But when, Calliope, thy loud harp rang --
In Epic grandeur rose the lofty strain;
The clash of arms, the trumpet's awful clang
Mixed with the roar of conflict on the plain;
The ardent warrior bade his coursers wheel,
Trampling in dust the feeble and the brave,
Destruction flashed upon his glittering steel,
While round his brow encrimsoned laurels waved,
And o'er him shrilly shrieked the demon of the grave.
The eldest of the Muses, she is Eloquence, and thus, governs heroic and epic poetry, and her eloquence has served to calm quarrels even amongst the surliest of Gods. She is crowned in gold, and holds a roll of parchment or stylus and tablet. Hers is the scent of creative inspiration, and it is a boon to writers, poets and arbitrators.//
Lavender and bright mint with bergamot, verbena, thyme and a touch of sweet orange and warm almond.
//June 21 - July 22//
Chamomile, lilac, lemon, rose.
//Cardinal Water: the essence of feeling.//
Wild lettuce, wild pear, chamomile, germanica orris, sweet pea, and mallow.
2008
A dusky, yet effervescent mix of pomegranate and black currant candies, with a dusting of sugared pear and white apple.
//December 22 - January 19//
//Cardinal earth: the essence of control.//
Solomon's Seal, pine, amaranth, ambrette, cypress, wild tobacco, and hemp.
//Carceri d'Invenzione, Giovanni Battista Piranesi.//
Redwood, red sandalwood, black pepper, blonde tobacco and frankincense. Featured in the Salon: the title plate.
//At Purfleet, on a byroad, I came across just such a place as seemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated notice that the place was for sale. It was surrounded by a high wall, of ancient structure, built of heavy stones, and has not been repaired for a large number of years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak and iron, all eaten with rust.
"The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old Quatre Face, as the house is four sided, agreeing with the cardinal points of the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres, quite surrounded by the solid stone wall above mentioned. There are many trees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water is clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house is very large and of all periods back, I should say, to mediaeval times, for one part is of stone immensely thick, with only a few windows high up and heavily barred with iron. It looks like part of a keep, and is close to an old chapel or church. I could not enter it, as I had not the key of the door leading to it from the house, but I have taken with my Kodak views of it from various points. The house had been added to, but in a very straggling way, and I can only guess at the amount of ground it covers, which must be very great. There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very large house only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic asylum. It is not, however, visible from the grounds.//
The scent of abandoned places, of desolation and emptiness: heavy woods and thin dusty herbs touched by the wafting incense of a nearby chapel.
//The Spirit of the Eve of Samhain, an aspect of Cailleach, the Divine Hag, in her Destroyer aspect.
While Brìghde rules the time between Beltane and Sahmain, Cailleach rules the Dark of the Year. On the night of Samhain, she transforms into Carlin, harbingering the death of the land and the onset of the snows. On Beltane, the Great Crone is slain by Brìghde so springtime can reinvigorate the land.//
Black sage, ivy-twined rowan, thistle, snapdragon, heather, gorse, fumitory, and anise.
Bold, bright mandarin paired with the sweet, sensual earthiness of fig.
//A Pantomime of Deviltry and Debauch in Seven Acts//
[[Act I: The Prologue]]
[[Act II: Fiat Nox]]
[[Act III: The 13-in-1]]
[[Act IV: The Interlude]]
[[Act V: The Wunderkammer]]
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("CarnavalDiabolique")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Straight from the twisted alleys of Dis, by way of the City of Angels.//
Opium smoke, lemon flower, heliotrope, tuberose, black musk, vanilla, coconut, apricot flower.
Discontinued 2004
Revisited in Carnaval Noir
//Bright, intoxicating, hectic notes masking a twisted, corrupted core.//
Sweet wild berry, spicy carnation and heliotrope layered over deep amber and musk.
//A name synonymous with seduction and licentiousness. From childhood aspirations of seclusion and priesthood came Giacomo Casanova, the self-styled Chevalier de Seingalt, the most notorious debauchee and playboy of all time. His memoirs, Histoire de Ma Vie, enflamed the Enlightenment with scandal and tales of sexual conquest. His restless nature and flair for sensationalizing his adventures drew him into and out of fortune, through numerous careers and affairs, and led him into a brief altercation with the Inquisition and a conviction on the charge of witchcraft. Though he had a life rife with drama and intrigue, he died peacefully at the age of 73, librarian to the Count of Waldstein. Who says librarians can’t be sexy?//
A rakish blend of leather, anise, lavender, bergamot and amber with tonka, lemon peel and lusty patchouli.
Venerable and solemn: the scent of incense smoke wafting through an ancient church.
A true ecclesiastical blend of pure resins.
Named for the ambitious, vengeful poisoner Catherine deMedici, who used perfumes to perform her dark deeds.
A sinful blend of orange blossom, rosemary and rose... allegedly the exact perfume she utilized in her work.
A negatively charged scent.
Ambergris, Spanish Moss, oakmoss and three electric mints.
//The Four Hundred divine rabbits of the Aztec pantheon that preside over parties and drunkenness.//
Bittersweet Mexican cocoa with rum, red wine, and a scent redolent of sacrificial blood.
//Animal Assistance League of Orange County
Cerberus, the ~Three-Headed watchdog that guards the gate to Hades. Loyal, dutiful and ferocious to its master’s enemies, but possessed of a distracting fondness for honey cakes and the song of the lyre. A deep, rumbling scent, warm, soft and as cozy as a dog by a hearthfire, but with a fierce and feral soul.//
Deep chocolate, deeper musks, with a dash of fig, bittersweet walnut, and the wild essences of juniper berry, cubeb and rum.
December 2008 will-call exclusive
//no scent description given//
December 2008 will-call exclusive
//no scent description given//
December 2008 will-call exclusive
//no scent description given//
//I
Bientôt nous plongerons dans les froides ténèbres;
Adieu, vive clarté de nos étés trop courts!
J'entends déjà tomber avec des chocs funèbres
Le bois retentissant sur le pavé des cours.
Tout l'hiver va rentrer dans mon être: colère,
Haine, frissons, horreur, labeur dur et forcé,
Et, comme le soleil dans son enfer polaire,
Mon coeur ne sera plus qu'un bloc rouge et glacé.
J'écoute en frémissant chaque bûche qui tombe
L'échafaud qu'on bâtit n'a pas d'écho plus sourd.
Mon esprit est pareil à la tour qui succombe
Sous les coups du bélier infatigable et lourd.
Il me semble, bercé par ce choc monotone,
Qu'on cloue en grande hâte un cercueil quelque part.
Pour qui? — C'était hier l'été; voici l'automne!
Ce bruit mystérieux sonne comme un départ.
II
J'aime de vos longs yeux la lumière verdâtre,
Douce beauté, mais tout aujourd'hui m'est amer,
Et rien, ni votre amour, ni le boudoir, ni l'âtre,
Ne me vaut le soleil rayonnant sur la mer.
Et pourtant aimez-moi, tendre coeur! soyez mère,
Même pour un ingrat, même pour un méchant;
Amante ou soeur, soyez la douceur éphémère
D'un glorieux automne ou d'un soleil couchant.
Courte tâche! La tombe attend; elle est avide!
Ah! laissez-moi, mon front posé sur vos genoux,
Goûter, en regrettant l'été blanc et torride,
De l'arrière-saison le rayon jaune et doux!
- - -
I
Soon we will sink in the frigid darkness
Good-bye, brightness of our too short summers!
I already hear the fall in distress
Of the wood falling in the paved courtyard.
Winter will invade my being: anger,
Hatred, chills, horror, hard and forced labor,
And, like the sun in its iced inferno,
My heart is but a red and frozen floe.
I hear with shudders each weak limb that falls.
The scaffold will have no louder echo.
My spirit is like a tower that yields
Under the tireless and heavy ram blow.
It seems, lulled by this monotonous sound,
Somewhere a coffin is hastily nailed,
For whom? Summer yesterday, autumn now!
This mysterious noise sounds like a farewell.
II
I love the greenish light of your long eyes,
Sweet beauty, but all is bitter today.
Nothing, not love, the boudoir or the hearth
Is dearer than the sunshine on the sea.
Still love me, tender heart! Be a mother
Even to the ingrate, to the wicked,
Lover, sister, ephemeral sweetness
Of fall's glory or of the setting sun.
Short-lived task! The tomb awaits, merciless.
Ah! Let me, my head resting on your knees,
Savor, regretting the white hot summer,
The autumn's last rays yellow and tender.//
The scent of the year's fall and the setting sun, ominous and foreboding: dried leaves, charred wood, blood musk, amber, khus, and Nicotiana tabacum.
//Baruch ata Ado-nai, Elo-heinu Melech ha'olam, Asher kid'shanu b'mitzvosav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Chanukah.
Baruch ata Ado-nai, Elo-heinu Melech ha'olam, She'asah nisim la'avoseinu, bayamim ha'hem baz'man hazeh.
Baruch ata Ado-nai, Elo-heinu Melech ha'olam, She'hecheyanu, vekiyemanu vehigi'anu laz'man hazeh.//
__Olive oil, beeswax, glowing amber, sweet sufganiyot, pomegranate, and fig.__
//Ha'Neiros halalu anachnu madlikin al hanisim ve'al hanifla'os, ve'al hat'shu'os ve'al hamilchamos, sh'asisa la'avoseinu bayamim hahem baz'man hazeh, al yedei kohaneicha hakedoshim. Vechol sh'monas yemei Chanukah, haneiros halalu kodesh hem. Ve'ein lanu reshus le'hishtamesh ba'hem, eh'la lir'osam bilvad, ke'dei le'hodos u'lehalel leshimcha hagadol al nisecha ve'al nifle'osecha ve'al yeshu'oshecha.
Ma'oz tzur yeshu'asi
Lecha na'eh leshabe'ach
Tikone bais tefilasi
Ve'sham todah nezabe'ach
Le'es Tachin Mabe'ach
Mitzar ham'nabe'ach
Az egmor beshir mizmor
Chanukas hamizbe'ach.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("ChaosTheory")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Each bottle of Chaos Theory is truly unique, a fragrant fractal, and exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct. Each bottle is numbered, and comes with a small parchment certificate.//
//Each bottle of Chaos Theory is truly unique, a fragrant fractal, and exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct. Each bottle is numbered, and comes with a small parchment certificate.//
//Each bottle of Chaos Theory is truly unique, a fragrant fractal, and exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct. Each bottle is numbered, and comes with a small parchment certificate.//
Each bottle of Chaos Theory is truly unique, a fragrant fractal, and exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct.
Most common allergens have been omitted from the experiment. No pennyroyal, no nuts, no cinnamon, no cassia. Regardless, if you have any sensitivities, please do not participate in Chaos Theory. The contents of the oils are not recorded [that's the whole point!] and we will not be able to answer questions about specific bottles of CT4 or guarantee that an allergen is not present in your order.
The Chaos blends were created by both myself and Mister Constantine, with a handful contributed by Teddy, so you get an extra dose of chaos!
March 2005
//Though March marks the end of the desolation and chill of winter, it is not yet Spring, the time of rebirth, fertility and the Earth’s fecundity. March’s Full Moon is a Virgin’s Moon, pure, youthful, unsullied and innocent. This is the Moon of the Child, and the scent is as soft and gentle as a baby’s breath.//
Milky blossoms and soft cream touch the last buds of winter, coupled with crystalline, bright traditional Lunar oils.
//Loving Kindness, the Benevolence of God, and the source of the 72 Bridges of Mercy.//
Grapefruit, red currant, dark musk, Roman chamomile, delphinium, and lavender.
//The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good- natured, she thought: still it had VERY long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt that it ought to be treated with respect.
Cheshire Puss,' she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. Come, it's pleased so far,' thought Alice, and she went on. Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.
I don't much care where' said Alice.
Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
so long as I get SOMEWHERE,' Alice added as an explanation.
Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, if you only walk long enough.'
Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. What sort of people live about here?'
In THAT direction,' the Cat said, waving its right paw round, lives a Hatter: and in THAT direction,' waving the other paw, lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad.'
But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
You must be,' said the Cat, or you wouldn't have come here.' //
A lunatic’s blend of lunar herbs and blossoms, with lemongrass, guava, pink grapefruit, banyan fruit, hibiscus, and cherry blossom.
The fiery, volatile scent of cinnamon, thickened by myrrh, honeysuckle, and copal.
//"Pound well together sandal-wood, Kunku, costus, Krishnaguru, Suvasika-puspha, white vala and the bark of the Deodaru pine; and, after reducing them to fine powder, mix it with honey and thoroughly dry. It is now known as Chintamani-Dhupa, the 'thought-mastering incense'. If a little of this be used according to the ceremonies prescribed, he who employs it will make all the world submissive to him."//
A fumigation for fascination! A strangely sensual blend, exotic, compelling, and commanding, adapted from an incense recipe found in the venerable sex manual, the Ananga Ranga.
//Bat Conservation International
A bat-friendly bouquet!//
Evening primrose, night-scented stock, moonflower, night phlox, lemon balm, lavender, honeysuckle, sweet sage, salvia and thyme.
//The Primordial Point of Creation, Being Out of Nothingness, the Origin of Thought and the source of the 32 Ways of Wisdom.//
//"Then he hissed at me. 'Ah, I frighten you, do I? ... I dare say! ... Perhaps you think that I have another mask, eh, and that this ... this ... my head is a mask? Well,' he roared, 'tear it off as you did the other! Come! Come along! I insist! Your hands! Your hands! Give me your hands!' And he seized my hands and dug them into his awful face. He tore his flesh with my nails, tore his terrible dead flesh with my nails! ... 'Know,' he shouted, while his throat throbbed and panted like a furnace, 'know that I am built up of death from head to foot and that it is a corpse that loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you! ... Look, I am not laughing now, I am crying, crying for you, Christine, who have torn off my mask and who therefore can never leave me again! ... As long as you thought me handsome, you could have come back, I know you would have come back ... but, now that you know my hideousness, you would run away for good... So I shall keep you here! ... Why did you want to see me? Oh, mad Christine, who wanted to see me! ... When my own father never saw me and when my mother, so as not to see me, made me a present of my first mask!'
"He had let go of me at last and was dragging himself about on the floor, uttering terrible sobs. And then he crawled away like a snake, went into his room, closed the door and left me alone to my reflections. Presently I heard the sound of the organ; and then I began to understand Erik's contemptuous phrase when he spoke about Opera music. What I now heard was utterly different from what I had heard up to then. His Don Juan Triumphant (for I had not a doubt but that he had rushed to his masterpiece to forget the horror of the moment) seemed to me at first one long, awful, magnificent sob. But, little by little, it expressed every emotion, every suffering of which mankind is capable. It intoxicated me; and I opened the door that separated us. Erik rose, as I entered, BUT DARED NOT TURN IN MY DIRECTION. 'Erik,' I cried, 'show me your face without fear! I swear that you are the most unhappy and sublime of men; and, if ever again I shiver when I look at you, it will be because I am thinking of the splendor of your genius!' Then Erik turned round, for he believed me, and I also had faith in myself. He fell at my feet, with words of love ... with words of love in his dead mouth ... and the music had ceased ... He kissed the hem of my dress and did not see that I closed my eyes.//
A bouquet of Swedish blossoms -- linnea borealis, hoya, and Phyteuma nigra -- with frankincense and pale vanilla orchid.
Bruise-tinted hellebore blossoms pushing through snowdrifts.
A Sojourn: August 2006
//"Your attention is diverted from the pleasures of the Midway and the curiosities within the colossal 13-in-1 by the pressure of a long fingered and lily-white hand on your elbow. You turn and see a woman staring at you. Her hair is raven black, and she possesses all the fragile beauty of a fine porcelain doll. Lazily, she hands you a gold-dusted, sun-yellow chrysanthemum. She tosses her head towards a small indigo and crimson striped tent that stands just off of the Midway and gestures for you to come closer. Her scent is bewitching, almost intoxicating: a sensual incense of crushed mums, red ginger, and pulsing musk. You are overcome with a surge of desire, and like a silent siren, she compels you to follow.
As you approach the tent, you see that softly glowing lanterns illuminate a gilded wooden sign that reads, “Chrysanthemum Moon”. The tent is unlike any other that you have seen in the Carnaval: it is tiny, small enough to hold one or two bodies in comfort, and as you pass through the entryway, you see nothing at all within the space save for a framed piece of ragged parchment that reads,
“Then Helen, daughter of Zeus, turned to new thoughts. Presently she cast a drug into the wine whereof they drank, a drug to lull all pain and anger, and bring forgetfulness of every sorrow. Whoso should drink a draught thereof, when it is mingled in the bowl, on that day he would let no tear fall down his cheeks, not though his mother and his father died, not though men slew his brother or dear son with the sword before his face, and his own eyes beheld it.”
As your eyes pass over the black ink, the ground before you abruptly opens like a hideous yawning mouth, revealing a pitch black stairwell that leads directly underground. Turning back to find your guide, you realize that she has vanished.
Still clutching the golden chrysanthemum, you descend into the earth on well-worn steps of grey clay. The only light comes from the bottom of the stairs: a guttering oil lamp that stands as a sentinel before a heavy wooden door. You push it open, and move into a vast, dimly lit room. The ceiling is low and intimate, the walls are terraced with wooden berths and riddled with shadowy alcoves, and the air is thick with leaden brown opium smoke that hangs thickly over a seductive mixture of red musk, body-warmed perfume, and hypnotic Eastern flowers.-Ornate braziers of burning charcoal are filled with smoldering poppy tar that punctuates the gloom with bursts of strange, surreal flames.
As your eyes adjust, you see that among the thick, plush cushions and elaborate brocade blankets strewn across the floor, bodies writhe. Some lie in hebetudinous repose, heads thrown back in quiet delirium, others sit transfixed like crouching beasts. Flashes of fire burst in tiny circles of bloody light as metal pipes are lit. Sluggish, slurring voices coalesce into a hypnotic susurration. Your mind becomes unfocused, your thoughts abstracted. The scents, the sounds, and the darkness envelop you, and you find yourself falling - falling endlessly into a dream within a thousand dreams."//
The Hummingbird of Love, the Rose Sucker. A potent, benevolent, merciful love blend.
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2004
//A late Medieval European blend, based on a formula allegedly worn by Charles V.//
Violet, neroli, lavender, and white musk.
Gift with purchase at Bat's Day 2008 (imp only)
//no scent description given//
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2004
//Surround yourself with an aura of lethal allure.//
An incomparably enticing blend of intoxicating aquatic scents and florals.
(La Morte Amoureuse, Theophile Gautier) //I do not know whether it was an illusion or a reflection of the lamplight, but it seemed to me that the blood was again commencing to circulate under that lifeless pallor, although she remained all motionless. I laid my hand lightly on her arm; it was cold, but not colder than her hand on the day when it touched mine at the portals of the church. I resumed my position, bending my face above her, and bathing her cheeks with the warm dew of my tears. Ah, what bitter feelings of despair and helplessness, what agonies unutterable did I endure in that long watch! Vainly did I wish that I could have gathered all my life into one mass that I might give it all to her, and breathe into her chill remains the flame which devoured me. The night advanced, and feeling the moment of eternal separation approach, I could not deny myself the last sad sweet pleasure of imprinting a kiss upon the dead lips of her who had been my only love. . . . Oh, miracle! A faint breath mingled itself with my breath, and the mouth of Clarimonde responded to the passionate pressure of mine. Her eyes unclosed, and lighted up with something of their former brilliancy; she uttered a long sigh, and uncrossing her arms, passed them around my neck with a look of ineffable delight. "Ah, it is thou, Romuald!" she murmured in a voice languishingly sweet as the last vibrations of a harp. "What ailed thee, dearest? I waited so long for thee that I am dead; but we are now betrothed; I can see thee and visit thee. Adieu, Romuald, adieu! I love thee. That is all I wished to tell thee, and I give thee back the life which thy kiss for a moment recalled. We shall soon meet again."
Her head fell back, but her arms yet encircled me, as though to retain me still. A furious whirlwind suddenly burst in the window, and entered the chamber. The last remaining leaf of the white rose for a moment palpitated at the extremity of the stalk like a butterfly's wing, then it detached itself and flew forth through the open casement, bearing with it the soul of Clarimonde. The lamp was extinguished, and I fell insensible upon the bosom of the beautiful dead.//
Pallid skin musk, white roses, and a languorous vapor of Oriental perfume.
The lab had 3 Clearing Out the Cobwebs events at Dark Delicacies in 2009 at which they sold the following prototypes (no scent descriptions were given)
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Cobwebs")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Patchouli, Kashmiri tea, cardamom, black pepper, carnation, and clove.
//Cleopatra Testing Poisons on Those Condemned to Death, Alexandre Cabanel.//
Accords of peach kernel, hemlock, aconite, and belladonna, with bitter almond, saffron, honey, myrrh, hyssop, frankincense, and palm.
Excolo, Muses
Discontinued 2008
//Majestic Clio touched her silver wire,
And through time's lengthened vista moved a train,
In dignity sublime; -- the patriot's fire
Kindled its torch in heaven's resplendent ray,
And 'mid contention rose to Heaven again.
The Proclaimer is the Muse of Historic and Heroic Poetry. Clio holds a scroll or set of tablets in her hands, and is surrounded by a veritable wall of books. She is credited with introducing the Phonecian alphabet to the Greeks. As a consequence of her teasing, barbed sense of humor, she was cursed by Aphrodite: she fell in love with a mortal, Pierus, the King of Macedonia. Clio bore two sons, one by Bacchus and one by Pierus: Hymenaeus, the God of Marriage Ceremonies and Wedding Feasts, and the doomed Hyacinth. She is the patron of historians, epic poets, biographers and all those who wish for fame, reknown, and celebrity status.//
Her scent is the warm, dry parchment of scrolls, lavender for critical thought and analysis, the solidity of heavy woods, ornery patchouli and glib benzoin, and superstar-splashed orange and amber.
//Cloister graveyard in the snow, Caspar David Friedrich.//
Three white musks, ozone, frankincense, mint.
Sharp, heady and viciously carnivorous.
//The weather is always mild, the wine flows freely, sex is readily available, and all people enjoy eternal youth. The Land of Plenty, also called Luilekkerland – the Lazy, Luscious Land.//
Milk and honey, sweet cakes and wine.
December 2004
//The Full Moon that shines over the frost-rimed heart of winter.//
Traditional lunar oils combined with glittering snow flowers, soft breezes and frozen ferns.
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SecondaryPale: #CCFFD5
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A phenomenally powerful attractant. Sexual and commanding in the extreme.
Lacquered beech wood and old books.
[[Snake Oil]] with blood orange, red apple, lemon peel, plumeria, and gardenia.
//Proceeds go to Safe Haven For Donkeys in the Holy Land.
The scent of divine mercy, pulsating and throbbing through the heart of every living creature.//
Glorious red musk and a halo of golden amber with a touch of wet mango, lavender, and purple sage.
The essence of faith, love and devotion.
Lilac, lemon, green tea, wisteria, osmanthus, white cedar, and Chinese musk.
[[Snake Oil]] with linden blossom, calla lily, passion flower, and narcissus.
//He must, indeed, have been that Voivode Dracula who won his name against the Turk, over the great river on the very frontier of Turkeyland. If it be so, then was he no common man, for in that time, and for centuries after, he was spoken of as the cleverest and the most cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons of the 'land beyond the forest.' That mighty brain and that iron resolution went with him to his grave, and are even now arrayed against us. The Draculas were, says Arminius, a great and noble race, though now and again were scions who were held by their coevals to have had dealings with the Evil One. They learned his secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the mountains over Lake Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due. In the records are such words as 'stregoica' witch, 'ordog' and 'pokol' Satan and hell, and in one manuscript this very Dracula is spoken of as 'wampyr,' which we all understand too well. There have been from the loins of this very one great men and good women, and their graves make sacred the earth where alone this foulness can dwell. For it is not the least of its terrors that this evil thing is rooted deep in all good, in soil barren of holy memories it cannot rest.//
The essence of nobility, brutality and true Will made flesh and propelled through the eons by an ever-burning hatred: black patchouli, neroli, tonka, cinnamon, bitter clove, leather, black musk, coffin wood and fiery ginger.
(Dracula's Guest, the omitted introduction to Bram Stoker's Dracula)
//Now and again, through the black mass of drifting cloud, came a straggling ray of moonlight, which lit up the expanse, and showed me that I was at the edge of a dense mass of cypress and yew trees. As the snow had ceased to fall, I walked out from the shelter and began to investigate more closely. It appeared to me that, amongst so many old foundations as I had passed, there might be still standing a house in which, though in ruins, I could find some sort of shelter for a while. As I skirted the edge of the copse, I found that a low wall encircled it, and following this I presently found an opening. Here the cypresses formed an alley leading up to a square mass of some kind of building. Just as I caught sight of this, however, the drifting clouds obscured the moon, and I passed up the path in darkness. The wind must have grown colder, for I felt myself shiver as I walked; but there was hope of shelter, and I groped my way blindly on.
I stopped, for there was a sudden stillness. The storm had passed; and, perhaps in sympathy with nature's silence, my heart seemed to cease to beat. But this was only momentarily; for suddenly the moonlight broke through the clouds, showing me that I was in a graveyard, and that the square object before me was a great massive tomb of marble, as white as the snow that lay on and all around it. With the moonlight there came a fierce sigh of the storm, which appeared to resume its course with a long, low howl, as of many dogs or wolves. I was awed and shocked, and felt the cold perceptibly grow upon me till it seemed to grip me by the heart. Then while the flood of moonlight still fell on the marble tomb, the storm gave further evidence of renewing, as though it was returning on its track. Impelled by some sort of fascination, I approached the sepulchre to see what it was, and why such a thing stood alone in such a place. I walked around it, and read, over the Doric door, in German:
COUNTESS DOLINGEN OF GRATZ
IN STYRIA
SOUGHT AND FOUND DEATH
1801
On the top of the tomb, seemingly driven through the solid marble-for the structure was composed of a few vast blocks of stone-was a great iron spike or stake. On going to the back I saw, graven in great Russian letters:
'The dead travel fast.'
There was something so weird and uncanny about the whole thing that it gave me a turn and made me feel quite faint. I began to wish, for the first time, that I had taken Johann's advice. Here a thought struck me, which came under almost mysterious circumstances and with a terrible shock. This was Walpurgis Night!
Walpurgis Night, when, according to the belief of millions of people, the devil was abroad-when the graves were opened and the dead came forth and walked. When all evil things of earth and air and water held revel. This very place the driver had specially shunned. This was the depopulated village of centuries ago. This was where the suicide lay; and this was the place where I was alone-unmanned, shivering with cold in a shroud of snow with a wild storm gathering again upon me! It took all my philosophy, all the religion I had been taught, all my courage, not to collapse in a paroxysm of fright.
And now a perfect tornado burst upon me. The ground shook as though thousands of horses thundered across it; and this time the storm bore on its icy wings, not snow, but great hailstones which drove with such violence that they might have come from the thongs of Balearic slingers-hailstones that beat down leaf and branch and made the shelter of the cypresses of no more avail than though their stems were standing-corn. At the first I had rushed to the nearest tree; but I was soon fain to leave it and seek the only spot that seemed to afford refuge, the deep Doric doorway of the marble tomb. There, crouching against the massive bronze door, I gained a certain amount of protection from the beating of the hailstones, for now they only drove against me as they ricocheted from the ground and the side of the marble.
As I leaned against the door, it moved slightly and opened inwards. The shelter of even a tomb was welcome in that pitiless tempest, and I was about to enter it when there came a flash of forked-lightning that lit up the whole expanse of the heavens. In the instant, as I am a living man, I saw, as my eyes were turned into the darkness of the tomb, a beautiful woman, with rounded cheeks and red lips, seemingly sleeping on a bier. As the thunder broke overhead, I was grasped as by the hand of a giant and hurled out into the storm. The whole thing was so sudden that, before I could realise the shock, moral as well as physical, I found the hailstones beating me down. At the same time I had a strange, dominating feeling that I was not alone. I looked towards the tomb. Just then there came another blinding flash, which seemed to strike the iron stake that surmounted the tomb and to pour through to the earth, blasting and crumbling the marble, as in a burst of flame. The dead woman rose for a moment of agony, while she was lapped in the flame, and her bitter scream of pain was drowned in the thundercrash. The last thing I heard was this mingling of dreadful sound, as again I was seized in the giant-grasp and dragged away, while the hailstones beat on me, and the air around seemed reverberant with the howling of wolves. The last sight that I remembered was a vague, white, moving mass, as if all the graves around me had sent out the phantoms of their sheeted-dead, and that they were closing in on me through the white cloudiness of the driving hail.//
Hailstone-pounded cypress boughs, olibanum, and an ozone blast of lightning.
Orange blossom, blackberry, amber mint, and red sandalwood.
Le Mat
Red currant, Moroccan musk, sage, and frankincense.
//The Native American Creator / Trickster God of Chaos and Change.//
The warmth of doeskin, dry plains grasses and soft, dusty woods warmed by amber and a downy, gentle coat of deep musk.
//The struggle of man against metaphor: these movies symbolize man's conflict with the destruction he wreaks on the environment. The antagonists in Creature Features are usually victims of radiation, pollution, or experiments gone awry - monsters created by the folly of men.
Examples: Creature From the Black Lagoon, Godzilla, King Kong, Mothra, Gorgo, Destroy All Monsters, Them!//
Giant Monster Musk!
Halloween 2006, 2009
//This season's Ridiculous Scent! As creepy as Spooky was spooky//
This is the scent of butterscotch-kissed, caramel-smothered red apples spiked with a blast of coconut rum.
//Have you been bad or good? Santa has sharpened his candy canes, and he's got his eye on you! //
Gore-splattered snow, chimney smoke, and bloody, broken peppermint sweets.
(For the Blood is the Life by F. Marion Crawford)
//He was near the village now; it was half an hour since the sun had set, and the cracked church bell sent little discordant echoes across the rocks and ravines to tell all good people that the day was done. Angelo stood still a moment where the path forked, where it led toward the village on the left, and down to the gorge on the right, where a clump of chestnut trees overhung the narrow way. He stood still a minute, lifting his battered hat from his head and gazing at the fast-fading sea westward, and his lips moved as he silently repeated the familiar evening prayer. His lips moved, but the words that followed them in his brain lost their meaning and turned into others, and ended in a name that he spoke aloud -- Cristina!
With the name, the tension of his will relaxed suddenly, reality went out and the dream took him again, and bore him on swiftly and surely like a man walking in his sleep, down, down, by the steep path in the gathering darkness. And as she glided beside him, Cristina whispered strange, sweet things in his ear, which somehow, if he had been awake, he knew that he could not quite have understood; but now they were the most wonderful words he had ever heard in his life. And she kissed him also, but not upon his mouth. He felt her sharp kisses upon his white throat, and he knew that her lips were red.
So the wild dream sped on through twilight and darkness and moonrise, and all the glory of the summer's night. But in the chilly dawn he lay as one half dead upon the mound down there, recalling and not recalling, drained of his blood, yet strangely longing to give those red lips more. Then came the fear, the awful nameless panic, the mortal horror that guards the confines of the world we see not, neither know of as we know of other things, but which we feel when its icy chill freezes our bones and stirs our hair with the touch of a ghostly hand. Once more Angelo sprang from the mound and fled up the gorge in the breaking day, but his step was less sure this time, and he panted for breath as he ran; and when he came to the bright spring of water that rises half way up the hillside, he dropped upon his knees and hands and plunged his whole face in and drank as he had never drunk before -- for it was the thirst of the wounded man who has lain bleeding all night upon the battle-field.
She had him fast now, and he could not escape her, but would come to her every evening at dusk until she had drained him of his last drop of blood. It was in vain that when the day was done he tried to take another turning and to go home by a path that did not lead near the gorge. It was in vain that he made promises to himself each morning at dawn when he climbed the lonely way up from the shore to the village. It was all in vain, for when the sun sank burning into the sea, and the coolness of the evening stole out as from a hiding-place to delight the weary world, his feet turned toward the old way, and she was waiting for him in the shadow under the chestnut trees; and then all happened as before, and she fell to kissing his white throat even as she flitted lightly down the way, winding one arm about him.//
Chestnut trees, juniper berries, violet leaf, labdanum, dazzling, moonlit white musk, and night-blooming summer flowers.
//'Get to your places!' shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game began. Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches.
The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a blow with its head, it would twist itself round and look up in her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was going to begin again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog had unrolled itself, and was in the act of crawling away: besides all this, there was generally a ridge or furrow in the way wherever she wanted to send the hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up and walking off to other parts of the ground, Alice soon came to the conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed.//
We have some trouble managing our flamingos, too.
__Pink lime, pink grapefruit, white nectarine, wild rose, sage, woody patchouli, bergamot, and ornery hedgehog musk.__
//The forks of the road: an in-between place, sacred and tangibly magickal in innumerable cultures and faiths. This scent is dark with mystery, taut with power.//
A chill twilit garden of blooms over dry earth and mosses, heavily laden with incense and offertory herbs.
March 2007
//This is the final Full Moon of winter. The call of the crow signals the end of the frost, and their scent, of vervain, black violet, white musk, and Chinese cedar, is brushed by the last cold wind of winter on their wings, and the scent of evergreen boughs touched by the season’s final flowers and the first blossoms of spring.//
Wintersweet, green-barked dogwood, primrose, snowdrop, and lenten rose hellebore bouquet.
//Nothing about him looked particularly demonic, at least by classical standards. No horns, no wings. Admittedly he was listening to a Best of Queen tape, but no conclusions should be drawn from this because all tapes left in a car for more than a fortnights metamorphose into Best of Queen albums. No particularly demonic thoughts were going through his head. In fact, he was wondering vaguely who Moey and Chandon were.
Crowley had dark hair, and good cheekbones, and he was wearing snakeskin shoes, or at least presumably he was wearing shoes, and he could do really weird things with his tongue. And, whenever he forgot himself, he had a tendency to hiss.//
Infernal musk, red patchouli, lilac cologne, mahogany, lemon rind, oakmoss, leather, and vanilla husk.
Voodoo Blends
Discontinued 2004
//Imbues you with enormous amounts of courage. Use this blend when you feel weak, scared, or intimidated. Helps you find the strength to confront dangerous or frightening situations.//
Phoenix Parade at Convergence XIII
May 2007
//no scent description given//
//As sweet as death, as deep as the grave.//
Pomegranate, raspberry, gardenia, plum, and rose with patchouli, black pepper, rose musk, and a hint of blood accord.
2005 Springtime in Arkham Limited Edition
Reinstated as a General Catalogue Scent in 2006
//If I say that my somewhat extravagant imagination yielded simultaneous pictures of an octopus, a dragon, and a human caricature, I shall not be unfaithful to the spirit of the thing. A pulpy, tentacled head surmounted a grotesque and scaly body with rudimentary wings... It represented a monster of vaguely anthropoid outline, but with an octopus-like head whose face was a mass of feelers, a scaly, rubbery-looking body, prodigious claws on hind and fore feet, and long, narrow wings behind. This thing, which seemed instinct with a fearsome and unnatural malignancy, was of a somewhat bloated corpulence...//
A creeping, wet, slithering scent, dripping with seaweed, oceanic plants and dark, unfathomable waters.
Frosted chocolate cupcakes and filth.
//Cupid Complaining to Venus, Lucas Cranach the Elder.//
Apple blossom, fig, white peach, honey absolute, red sandalwood, and wild thyme.
White sandalwood, patchouli, white amber, orris, bourbon vanilla, champaca flower, and kush.
//Created in honor of the Slavic Black God of the Dead. A nighttime god of grief, evil, chaos and woe, he is paralleled by his twin brother Bylebog, god of light, joy, order, and good fortune.//
A combination of three musks, with splashes of dark myrrh, vetiver and mullein.
Moroccan jasmine, chrysanthemum, tea leaf, white musk, and acai berry.
Sin & Salvation
Discontinued 2004
//The incense of a black mass, the perfume of perdition.//
White sandalwood, cedar, frankincense and swarthy vetiver.
//In Irish folklore the Dana O'Shee are a fae, elven people that live in a realm of beauty, their nobility akin to our that own Age of Chivalry, eternally beautiful and eternally young. They surround themselves with the pleasures of the Arts, they live for the hunt, and to this day can be seen riding in procession through the Irish countryside at twilight, led by their King and Queen. However, the Dana O'Shee are not benevolent creatures, despite what their unearthly beauty may imply. They are vengeful and treacherous and possess a streak of mischievous malice, and many have whispered that their true home lies deep in the shadowed groves of the Realm of the Dead. Hearing even a single chord of their otherworldly music leaves one stunned and lost to the mortal realms for ever, finding themselves prey to the Dana O'Shee's hunt or enslaved in their Court as servants or playthings.//
Offerings of milk, honey and sweet grains were made to placate these creatures, and it is that the basis of the scent created in their name.
//Carrying bouquet, and handkerchief, and gloves,
Proud of her height as when she lived, she moves
With all the careless and high-stepping grace,
And the extravagant courtesan's thin face.
Was slimmer waist e'er in a ball-room wooed?
Her floating robe, in royal amplitude,
Falls in deep folds around a dry foot, shod
With a bright flower-like shoe that gems the sod.
The swarms that hum about her collar-bones
As the lascivious streams caress the stones,
Conceal from every scornful jest that flies,
Her gloomy beauty; and her fathomless eyes
Are made of shade and void; with flowery sprays
Her skull is wreathed artistically, and sways,
Feeble and weak, on her frail vertebrae.
O charm of nothing decked in folly! they
Who laugh and name you a Caricature,
They see not, they whom flesh and blood allure,
The nameless grace of every bleached, bare bone,
That is most dear to me, tall skeleton!
Come you to trouble with your potent sneer
The feast of Life! or are you driven here,
To Pleasure's Sabbath, by dead lusts that stir
And goad your moving corpse on with a spur?
Or do you hope, when sing the violins,
And the pale candle-flame lights up our sins,
To drive some mocking nightmare far apart,
And cool the flame hell lighted in your heart?
Fathomless well of fault and foolishness!
Eternal alembic of antique distress!
Still o'er the curved, white trellis of your sides
The sateless, wandering serpent curls and glides.
And truth to tell, I fear lest you should find,
Among us here, no lover to your mind;
Which of these hearts beat for the smile you gave?
The charms of horror please none but the brave.
Your eyes' black gulf, where awful broodings stir,
Brings giddiness; the prudent reveller
Sees, while a horror grips him from beneath,
The eternal smile of thirty-two white teeth.
For he who has not folded in his arms
A skeleton, nor fed on graveyard charms,
Recks not of furbelow, or paint, or scent,
When Horror comes the way that Beauty went.
O irresistible, with fleshless face,
Say to these dancers in their dazzled race:
"Proud lovers with the paint above your bones,
Ye shall taste death, musk scented skeletons!
Withered Antinoüs, dandies with plump faces,
Ye varnished cadavers, and grey Lovelaces,
Ye go to lands unknown and void of breath,
Drawn by the rumour of the Dance of Death.
From Seine's cold quays to Ganges' burning stream,
The mortal troupes dance onward in a dream;
They do not see, within the opened sky,
The Angel's sinister trumpet raised on high.
In every clime and under every sun,
Death laughs at ye, mad mortals, as ye run;
And oft perfumes herself with myrrh, like ye
And mingles with your madness, irony!//
A gloriously elegant representation of Lady Death. Dry, bone-white orris, black musk, serpentine patchouli and our murkiest myrrh.
//An allegorical expression of the ineffable, indisputable triumph of death, generally expressed in medieval artwork as a violin or flute-wielding skeleton leading a procession of dancers to their graves.//
Black cypress with oakmoss, frankincense, oude, and a sliver of toasted hazelnut.
Rhododendron and bellflower petals swirl through deep, cool, dark aquatic notes.
Gift for guests at an exclusive Neil Gaiman reading at Comic-Con 2008 (imp only)
//no scent description given//
Box of Chocolates
Dark chocolate & cherry
Box of Chocolates
Dark chocolate and pepper-smoked caramel.
January 2007
Dark Delicacies Exclusive
Black Phoenix's exclusive Dark Delicacies blend is the embodiment of sinister sensuality.//
A heady and darkly romantic blend of devil's trumpet accord, black orchid, tonka, coconut meat, fruit gums, osmanthus, smoky resin, myrtle, and Indonesian patchouli.
//The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;
The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them -- She was the Universe.//
Bottled gloom; the essence of oblivion. Blackest opium and narcissus deepened by myrrh.
//In Bolivia, many people hold to the tradition of keeping the skulls of their ancestors with them in their homes, caring for their remains. It is believed that each person has seven souls, and one of those souls stays with the skull after death, enabling a spirit to grant protection and prophetic dreams to their descendants, and to bless their families with good health and prosperity.
The Bolivian Fiesta de las Ñatitas, or Dia de los Ñatitas, is a day of honor for these ancestors. Their skulls are dressed with fragrant blossoms, and offerings of cocoa leaves, alcohol, and cigarettes are made.//
White sandalwood, beeswax, and frankincense crowned by hydrangea, rose, and kantuta blossoms, dressed with tobacco, cocoa leaves and flowers from the sacred Cactus of the Four Winds.
Varnished oak flooring and flattened daylilies.
Sin & Salvation
Discontinued October 2009
The essence of pleasure heightened by pain.
The raw scent of leather.
2005
//To celebrate the opening of the Black Phoenix Trading Post, we are offering this rugged, visceral dark cowboy scent. Now widely considered a portent of doom, the Dead Man’s Hand is a term used in five-card poker when you have “aces over eights” or “aces backed with eights” – the hand allegedly held by Wild Bill Hickock when he was gunned down from behind by Jack ~McCall in Saloon No. 10, Deadwood. According to the saloon’s proprietor, Hickock was holding all black cards, aces and eights, and it is believed that he was about to draw at the time of his murder.
Our Dead Man’s Hand is the quintessential western scent.//
Dusty rawhide and oiled leather.
[[Snake Oil]] with vetiver, black coconut, vanilla, and opoponax.
A lethal poison bundled up in a dainty, innocent little package that was oft times found in ancient witches’ flying ointments and astral projection balms.
A warm, soft, ruddy scent, earthy and mild.
//Death and Life Completed, Gustav Klimt.//
Grey amber, carnation, lemon balm, hydrangea, Chinese peony, white sandalwood, cypress, juniper, cedar, hibiscus, and African daisy.
//Death of the Grave Digger, Carlos Schwabe.//
Snow, soil, opoponax and myrrh.
//And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.
And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see.
And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.//
The End of All Things: empty white musk and mint seeped with solemn lavender, doleful patchouli and vetiver, scythe-sharp yuzu and lime, with geranium bourbon, white sandalwood and calla lily.
A sinful, licentious scent: self-indulgent and luxurious.
Mingled heady civet and red Egyptian musk, thickened with opium.
Golden amber, white amber, redwood, teak, bois du rose, sage, tree moss, and snow.
//John Dee: master of science, alchemy and magic, Hermetic philosopher in the schools of Rosicrucian Christian Mysticism and ~Platonic-Pythagorean doctrine, and Queen Elizabeth’s astrologer, advisor, cryptologist and spy. With Edward Kelly, he created a field of study and work in Angelic Evocation, and isolated the Angelic language: Enochian.//
His scent is soft English leather, rosewood and tonka with a hint of incense, parchment and soft woods.
//Deep in earth my love is lying
And I must weep alone.//
Rose geranium, Spanish moss, Irish yew, and graveyard dirt.
[[Updated October 5th 2009]]
[[GettingStarted]]
//Good Gods, what a night that was,
The bed was so soft, and how we clung,
Burning together, lying this way and that,
Our uncontrollable passions
Flowing through our mouths.
If I could only die that way,
I'd say goodbye to the business of living.//
Olive blossom, honey, smoky vanilla, cinnamon, jasmine, sandalwood, and champaca flower.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
//Son of Ares, twin to Phobos, Deimos is the personification of dread.//
Murky ambergris and civet with dark musk, sharpened by orange, bergamot and frankincense.
In ancient India it was believed that a specific combination of flower petals, when strewn across a couple's bed, would amplify desire and sexual pleasure. This blend is a blend of the same floral essences, refined into a gloriously sinful perfume blend.
Frangipani, with rose, tuberose, and jasmine.
Non compos mentis, indeed! A contrary, conflicted scent, bubbling with merry madness.
Contains apple, rose, and lemon.
Gift at the July 2007 will-call (imp only)
//no scent description given//
The smoke of Sacred Incense of Apollo twined through laurel branches, bay, and honey wine.
Gift with purchase included in some Election Day 2008 orders (imp only)
//no scent description given//
A salacious, lecherous, leering scent - dirty and dark, slapped with a wet sweetness.
Earthy black patchouli swelling with apricot.
Innocent, soft and pure.
Sweet pea, carnation and water lily.
The overwhelming agony of passion crystallized into a singularly dark and magnetic blend.
Bittersweet neroli, black patchouli and black musk, gilded by apple, bergamot, blood red rose, teak, and vanilla.
Ars Moriendi
Discontinued 2004
Resurrected November 2005
//We in dark dreams are tossing to and fro...//
Soft and melancholy, a poignant blend of Roman chamomile, rosewood, cypress, Rose Otto, lavender, sandalwood and ylang ylang.
//One of the deadliest mushrooms to ever pop through Gaia’s soil.//
Papery white notes evoke the grace of this fungi, grounded by thin, crisp soil.
//Inspired by Gris Grimly's illustrations for the Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar.//
Melty vanilla ice cream!
A yellow-bright and smoky brown-black scent, horned, pronged and strange.
Halloween 2005, 2006, 2009
//Devil’s Eve, Devil’s Night, Gate Night, Trick Night, Mischief Night; whatever your name for it might be, the chaos is still the same. Contrary to popular belief, this festival of pandemonium isn’t unique to Detroit. Falling on October 30th, it is an evening of mayhem and destruction. On the gentler side, it may be celebrated by practical jokes, an egging, ~Ding-Dong-Ditch, or enthusiastic TP’ing of your most hated neighbor’s trees, and on the more violent side, arson and vandalism.//
This is the scent of autumn night, fires in the distance, with a touch of boozy swoon, playful sugar and thuggish musk.
Ode to Aphrodite
Divine, shining.
White amber, coconut, white musk, oakmoss, and tobacco flower.
Halloween 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009
//A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte… Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fêted, as the celebrant "…chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love." This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda.//
Dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus.
//The passage into parenthood is, despite all its joys, often confusing, a little shocking, and sometimes frightening -- moreso for some parents than others.
Examples: the Bad Seed, the Omen, Rosemary's Baby, and Alice, Sweet Alice//
Baby sweetness and a touch of brimstone.
//Be as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see:
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
Hath such force and blessed power.//
//The NIGHTMARE TERROR of TEENAGE love gone GRISLY!
She’s ~HELL-BENT on romance, ~THRILL-CRAZED, and HUNGRY!
There’s NO ESCAPE from her clutches!//
A deranged darling, sweet and sociopathic! Clotted vanilla cream, pink pepper, grapefruit, blood lily, red ginger, English pear, and lemon-squeezed candyfloss!
Wild plum, pomegranate, raspberry, Siamese benzoin, plum blossom, patchouli, frankincense, and mahogany
A wonderful antidote to an all-nighter oozing with drunken, addled perversion and debauchery.
A fresh, crisp white linen scent: perfectly clean, perfectly breezy.
<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Discimp")'
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Sin & Salvation
Discontinued 2004
Strands of bacchanal ivy wind through sweet wormwood, pungent poppy, and a sliver of murky sassafras.
//The Festival of Lights, a celebration of life, prosperity, and the triumph of good over evil, light over darkness, and knowledge over ignorance. The first day, Dhanvantari Triodasi, honors Lakshmi, the Goddess of Wealth, Good Fortune, and Splendor, and Yama, Lord of Death and the Keeper of the Book of Destiny. The second day, ~Narak-Chaturdashi, celebrates Lord Krishna's victory over the demon lord, Narkasur. On this day, fierce Kali, the Great and Terrible Mother, is venerated, and she is entreated to grant her children strength. ~Narak-Chaturdashi also commemorates the birth of Hanuman, the vanara who helped Lord Rama rescue Sita from Ravana, the Rakshasa king. The third day, called Diwali, is wholly devoted to the worship and propitiation of Lakshmi, She Who is as Beautiful as a Lotus. The fourth day, Annakut, is the first day of the lunar New Year. Old accounts are settled, new ventures begin. On the fifth and final day of Diwali, Bhayiduj, sibling love is celebrated.
It is a time to banish ignorance and hate, and to dissolve jealousy. It is a time to renew our spirits through light and understanding, and to ask for blessings of prosperity and joy for the upcoming year.
It is a time where we embrace our friends and forgive our enemies.//
Lotus root, mango, tamarind, cardamom, clove, almond milk, cashew, rice flower, coconut, supari, raisins, and incense crafted from aloeswood, red sandalwood, cedar, and spikenard.
//An ancient, free-willed race created from the essence of Fire, much as man was created from Earth. They prowled the land at night, vanishing with the first rays of dawn. Myths surrounding the Djinn paint them as many things: benevolent champions of mankind and slaves to mad sorcerers, malicious incubi / succubi and energy vampires, or malevolent harbingers of madness and disease. The Djinn are ruled by Iblis, the Prince of Darkness, who bears unspeakable contempt for man.//
The scent of black smoke, of crackling flames, and smoldering ashes.
Convergence XII
April 2006
//no scent description given//
//As you pass the tiny stage, you come across a large canvas tent, illuminated within, the exterior dotted with odd splatters. In front of the tent stands a scorched wooden cart covered in a jumble of bottles, jars, vials and twisted steel implements, and an elaborate, gold-gilded sign reads:
“Doc Constantine Cures What Ails Ye!
Liniments, salves, potions and elixirs for every malady of the body and spirit!”
A scream splits the air, jarring you. You see shadows move jaggedly within the tent, there is another scream, and all is suddenly still and silent. After a long heartbeat, the door flap opens. A man steps out wearing a crystal-eyed schnabel mask in the style of medieval plague doctors, carmine streaking his sleeves, vest, and the blonde hair that crowns him. He pulls off the mask, and you see a handsome figure, almost beatific. He rolls a cigarette, lights it, takes a deep pull, and winks at you slyly as he gestures at the multitude of concoctions he has for sale. A bent crone, her body as bowed and knotty as an ancient oak, shuffles up to the wagon with rosy-cheeked, tow-headed maiden following her at a small distance. As she approaches the doctor, the crone gestures at herself, running a gnarled hand down her body in a sweeping movement, and casting a sideways glance at her grandchild. Smiling an angel’s smile, Doc Constantine hands the old woman a potion the color of cold, congealed blood. She drinks it quickly, gasping. Before your eyes her body shimmers and blurs, and a shower of dark sparks seems to engulf her. Where the crone stood, there is now a voluptuous, raven-haired vixen, vibrant, sensual, at the prime of her life and sexual vitality. Her shriek of joy is interrupted by another’s scream of shock: the rigors of age have not vanished; they have moved aside, and the young woman has aged horribly, taking on the crone’s burden.//
Sheer musk, cedar smoke, fir needle, black amber and leather.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("DogsPlayingPoker")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Love always finds shelter in the gentle heart. Dolce Stil Nuovo is a 13th & 14th century Florentine literary style that celebrates love and womanhood through heartfelt, delicate, and melodious sonnets, ballate, and canzones. This is fin’amor, Courtly Love, in its most moving form, and the emotions that these words express reflect love that both spiritual and idealized.
Within this literary movement, earthly love reaches for the Divine.
Who is she coming, whom all gaze upon,
Who makes the air tremulous with light,
And at whose side is Love himself? that none
Dare speak, but each man's sighs are infinite.
Ah me! how she looks round from left to right,
Let Love discourse: I may not speak thereon.
Lady she seems of such high benison
As makes all others graceless in men's sight.
The honor which is hers cannot be said;
To whom are subject all things virtuous,
While all things beauteous own her deity.
Ne'er was the mind of man so nobly led
Nor yet was such redemption granted us
That we should ever know her perfectly.//
Our interpretation of Dolce Stil Nuovo is a blend of rose otto, carnation, vanilla flower, lavender and jasmine with the clarity of crystalline white musk and the warmth of golden amber.
Bat's Day Exclusive, August 2007
//no scent description given//
//The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself. //
//Inspired by and created for my beloved Tedwin: my eternal, beautiful, wicked Dorian Gray.// Refined, elegant, and lovely, with a noble bearing and seemingly gentle air. This blend is an artful deception: a sweet gilded blossom lying over a twisted and corrupted core.
A Victorian fougere with three pale musks and dark, sugared vanilla tea.
A gentle, healing love blend, often used to help mend a broken heart. Brings peace of mind, soothes the sting of loss, and aids in finding closure.
//Hence it came about that I concealed my pleasures; and that when I reached years of reflection, and began to look round me, and take stock of my progress and position in the world, I stood already committed to a profound duplicity of life.//
A discreet men's cologne of juniper, cumin, verbena, bergamot, mint, and basil splattered with dregs from apothecary bottles.
//Well, my dear, number One came just before lunch. I told you of him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic asylum man, with the strong jaw and the good forehead. He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all sorts of little things, and remembered them, but he almost managed to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream. He spoke to me, Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, though he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me to help and cheer him. He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said he was a brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off and asked if I could love him in time, and when I shook my head his hands trembled, and then with some hesitation he asked me if I cared already for any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did not want to wring my confidence from me, but only to know, because if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope. And then, Mina, I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only told him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that If I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of my best.//
Penetrating and gifted, vulnerable, with just a hint of opium-blurred delirium: poppy smoke, champaca flower, tonka, sandalwood, ginger, white pepper.
Named in honor of Vlad III, Tepes, of the Order of the Dragon.
Black musk, tobacco, fir, balsam of peru, cumin, bitter clove, crushed mint, and orange blossom.
May 2006
//In Imperial China, the Dragon was the symbol of the Emperor’s power, and to this day, the concept and the image of the Dragon is considered sacrosanct. The Dragon is a symbol of power, the Lord of weather and water. The Dragon Moon celebrates the glory and vigor of Springtime.//
Dragon’s blood resin, tea leaf, bamboo reed, sandalwood and cherry blossom.
May 2008
//In some cultures, the Dragon is benevolent, bestowing blessings and granting wishes. In others, the Dragon is an icon of destruction and harbinger of catastrophe. In all its incarnations, both baneful and benign, the Dragon is a symbol of strength, authority, and the raw power of nature. Our Dragon Moon represents the forces of rebirth and the vigor that springtime brings. //
dragon’s blood resin, galbanum, blue sage, lavender, peppermint, sweetgrass, frankincense, moonglow magnolia, bergamot, and green cedar.
Powerful, commanding, blazing with strength.
The dry, thin scent of a draconic ossuary.
Dragon's blood resin with white sandalwood, dusty orris and crisp blondewood.
Smooth, polished and lethally sharp.
Dragon’s blood resin and three sandalwoods.
A piercing, radiant perfume.
Dragon's blood resin, lily of the valley, lilac and galbanum.
A scent pulsing with vitality, warmth and insurmountable strength.
Dragon's blood resin, red and black musks, a throb of fig and a sliver of black currant.
Flame-kissed, warm, smooth, and highly protective.
Dragon’s blood, leather and a hint of smoke.
A truly fae nectar!
Dragon's blood resin and honeyed vanilla.
Dominant, passionate, devastating.
Dragon’s blood and five deep musks.
Opium-laced dreams of flame, plunder, power and fury.
Dragon’s blood resin, poppy, amber and ylang ylang.
Bittersweet yet powerful.
Salty aquatic notes and bursting with dragon's blood.
//Created to invoke the ancient Greek deities of dreams. On the shores of the ocean, somewhere in the West, they dwell behind their gates of horn and ivory.//
Soporific, dark, and unfathomable.
//Our Nightmarebane. Named after the Baku, benevolent Japanese spirits that eat nightmares. In Japanese tradition, nightmares are gifts from malevolent spirits; when you wake up from one, you may call, "Baku, please eat my dreams!", and if you are virtuous and merciful in spirit, the Baku will devour the evil, transforming it into a blessing of good fortune.//
//For use when working with the many Gods of Sleep, Dreams, and Nightmares.//
//The Babylonian Goddess of Dreams, who bestows the power of Oneiromancy onto her priests. This blend opens up psychic sensitivity during sleep and aids in the understanding and correct interpretation of portents and symbols.//
//Named after the Roman God of Sleep. This blend helps bring on deep, restful, natural sleep.//
//The shadowy, fitful scent of nightmare, rife with ill-omen.//
Osmanthus and tuberose over pulsating, heated skin musk, spiked carnation, night phlox and vesper iris.
//There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a little bottle on it, ('which certainly was not here before,' said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words 'DRINK ME' beautifully printed on it in large letters.
It was all very well to say 'Drink me,' but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. 'No, I'll look first,' she said, 'and see whether it's marked "poison" or not'; for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they would not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger very deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked 'poison,' it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.
However, this bottle was not marked 'poison,' so Alice ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off.//
BPAL’s Drink Me is not for drinking. Please use common sense, and remember: perfume oils are for external use only.
Wanderlust
Discontinued 2007
The scent of misty forests, damp alder leaf, and the gentlest touch of white rose.
//When a traveller in north central Massachusetts takes the wrong fork at the junction of Aylesbury pike just beyond Dean's Corners he comes upon a lonely and curious country.
The ground gets higher, and the brier-bordered stone walls press closer and closer against the ruts of the dusty, curving road. The trees of the frequent forest belts seem too large, and the wild weeds, brambles and grasses attain a luxuriance not often found in settled regions. At the same time the planted fields appear singularly few and barren; while the sparsely scattered houses wear a surprisingly uniform aspect of age, squalor, and dilapidation.
Without knowing why, one hesitates to ask directions from the gnarled solitary figures spied now and then on crumbling doorsteps or on the sloping, rock-strewn meadows. Those figures are so silent and furtive that one feels somehow confronted by forbidden things, with which it would be better to have nothing to do. When a rise in the road brings the mountains in view above the deep woods, the feeling of strange uneasiness is increased. The summits are too rounded and symmetrical to give a sense of comfort and naturalness, and sometimes the sky silhouettes with especial clearness the queer circles of tall stone pillars with which most of them are crowned. Gorges and ravines of problematical depth intersect the way, and the crude wooden bridges always seem of dubious safety. When the road dips again there are stretches of marshland that one instinctively dislikes, and indeed almost fears at evening when unseen whippoorwills chatter and the fireflies come out in abnormal profusion to dance to the raucous, creepily insistent rhythms of stridently piping bull-frogs. The thin, shining line of the Miskatonic's upper reaches has an oddly serpent-like suggestion as it winds close to the feet of the domed hills among which it rises.
As the hills draw nearer, one heeds their wooded sides more than their stone-crowned tops. Those sides loom up so darkly and precipitously that one wishes they would keep their distance, but there is no road by which to escape them. Across a covered bridge one sees a small village huddled between the stream and the vertical slope of Round Mountain, and wonders at the cluster of rotting gambrel roofs bespeaking an earlier architectural period than that of the neighbouring region. It is not reassuring to see, on a closer glance, that most of the houses are deserted and falling to ruin, and that the broken-steepled church now harbours the one slovenly mercantile establishment of the hamlet. One dreads to trust the tenebrous tunnel of the bridge, yet there is no way to avoid it. Once across, it is hard to prevent the impression of a faint, malign odour about the village street, as of the massed mould and decay of centuries. It is always a relief to get clear of the place, and to follow the narrow road around the base of the hills and across the level country beyond till it rejoins the Aylesbury pike. Afterwards one sometimes learns that one has been through Dunwich.//
Dry, skeletal woods and moist marsh, dripping with the perfume of bog lilies.
May 2008
//Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heaven to clear when day did close:
Bless us then with wishèd sight,
Goddess excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal-shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever;
Thou that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.//
The essence of the pure, unsullied virgin moon and of the huntress that stalks her prey by the moon's light: amaranth, musk rose, juniper, chaste tree, sweet bay, chamomile, rose mallow, Madonna lily, blue musk, wisteria, and iris.
Out of many, one: a bouquet of the States' flowers.
//If my health is spared I'll be long relating
Of that boat that sailed out of Anach Cuain.
And the keening after of mother and father
And child by the harbour, the mournful croon!
King of Graces, who died to save us,
T'were a small affair but for one or two,
But a boat-load bravely in calm day sailing
Without storm or rain to be swept to doom.
What wild despair was on all the faces
To see them there in the light of day,
In every place there was lamentation,
And tearing of hair as the wreck was shared.
And boys there lying when crops were ripening,
From the strength of life they were borne to clay
In their wedding clothes for their wake they robed them
O King of Glory, man's hope is in vain.//
- ANTOINE Ó RAIFTEIRI
Unutterable grief expressed through the scent of balsam, frankincense, blackberry leaf, oud, white rose, driftwood, zdravetz, and bitter clove, beneath the cold waters of the River Corrib.
2009
A new year's blessing! __Peony__, China's national flower, with __bamboo__ for flexibility, __plum blossom__ for perseverance, courage, and hope, __tangerine__ for wealth, __orange__ for happiness, __lychee__ for household peace, __pine resin__ for constancy, __golden kumquat and quince__ for prosperity, __narcissus and King mandarin__ for good fortune, __peach blossom__ for longevity, __oakmoss, plum, and tobacco__ for stability, and a splash of __blazing red of dragon's blood__... to help you scare away the rampaging Nian.
2008
Hard work, patience, and harmony: Chinese musk, dark musk, and moist soil with black cherry, opoponax, night-blooming jasmine, plum, woodland tobacco, snakeweed, and cypress.
2008
A new year's blessing! __Peony__, China's national flower, with __bamboo__ for flexibility, __plum blossom__ for perseverance, courage, and hope, __tangerine__ for wealth, __lychee__ for strong family relationships and peace in the home, __orange__ for happiness, __pine resin__ for constancy, __golden kumquat and quince__ for prosperity, __narcissus and King mandarin__ for good fortune, __coconut__ for longevity, and __candied melon__ for good health, with a splash of blazing red of __dragon's blood__... to help you scare away the rampaging Nian.
//Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words 'EAT ME' were beautifully marked in currants.
'Well, I'll eat it,' said Alice, 'and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I'll get into the garden, and I don't care which happens!'
She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, 'Which way? Which way?', holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.//
Three white cakes, vanilla, and red and black currants.
BPAL’s Eat Me is not for eating. Please use common sense, and remember: perfume oils are for external use only.
//They all started telling stories, then, of how fine and wonderful a thing it was to be a ghoul, of all the things they had crunched up and swallowed down with their powerful teeth. Impervious they were to disease or illness, said one of them. Why, it didn't matter what their dinner had died of, they could just chomp it down. They told of the places they had been, which mostly seemed to be catacombs and plague-pits ("Plague Pits is good eatin'," said the Emperor of China, and everyone agreed.) They told Bod how they had got their names and how he, in his turn, once he had become a nameless ghoul, would be named, as they had been.
"But I don't want to become one of you," said Bod.
"One way or another," said the Bishop of Bath and Wells, cheerily, "you'll become one of us. The other way is messier, involves being digested, and you're not really around very long to enjoy it."
"But that's not a good thing to talk about," said the Emperor of China."Best to be a Ghoul. We're afraid of nuffink!"
And all the ghouls around the coffin-wood fire howled at this statement, and growled and sang and exclaimed at how wise they were, and how mighty, and how fine it was to be scared of nothing.//
Dessicated skin coated in blackened ginger, cinnamon, and mold-flecked dirt, with cumin, bitter clove, leather, and dried blood.
Oakmoss, skin musk, and nectarine.
All the glory, warmth and majesty of the sun -- darkened.
A delicious blend of bitter almond, vanilla, frankincense and heliotrope, with a drop of cinnamon.
Black cherry, pink grapefruit, white musk, lemon verbena, champagne grape, pikaki, plumeria, and Hawaiian ginger.
Bourbon vanilla, red musk, galbanum, ambergris, sweet clove, petitgrain, and golden amber.
Patchouli, carnation, peach blossom, frankincense, honeysuckle, and Spanish mandarin.
//At the center of the Garden of Eden stands the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Though modern interpretations of the Bible claim that it was an apple that the Serpent of the Tree offered to Eve, it is widely believed that the true Fruit of True Knowledge was, in fact, a fig.//
This oil contains the innocence of the Garden, coupled with the Truth and Erudition found in the fruit of the Tree of Evil: fig leaf, fig fruit, honeyed almond milk, toasted coconut and sandalwood.
Yule 2004, 2007
Sweet brandy, dark rum, heavy cream, sugar, and a dash of nutmeg.
Fresh egg, just starting to warm nicely in the sun!
Gift for toy donation at December 2008 will-call
//no scent description given//
Egle, the Queen of the Serpents
//In another time, long ago lived an old man and his wife. Both of them had twelve sons and three daughters. The youngest being named Egle. On a warm summer evening all three girls decided to go swimming. After splashing about with each other and bathing they climbed onto the riverbank to dress and groom their hair. But the youngest, Egle, only stared for a serpent had slithered into the sleeve of her blouse. What was she to do? The eldest girl grabbed Egle's blouse. She threw the blouse down and jumped on it, anything to get rid of the serpent. But the serpent turned to the youngest, Egle, and spoke to her in a man's voice:
Egle, promise to become my bride and I will gladly come out.
Egle began to cry how could she marry a serpent? Through her tears she answered:
Please give me back my blouse and return from whence you came, in peace.
But the serpent would not listen:
Promise to become my bride and I will gladly come out.
There was nothing else she could do; she promised the serpent to become his bride.//
Ocean water, hyacinth petals, star jasmine, and fir.
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2004
//A curious word, meaning both a phantom or apparition and the image of an ideal.//
A complex, unearthly scent: Himalayan cedarwood, Italian bergamot, verbena and sage.
Mandarin, black tea, yuzu, tuberose, labdanum, tonka, neroli, ambergris, and lime peel.
Honey, ambergris, neroli, white peach, patchouli, and cocoa absolute.
Clove, red sandalwood, orris, rose, opoponax, benzoin, and patchouli.
//The Day of Kings, the Celebration of the Magi. In Mexico, on January 6th, children place their shoes by their windows. If they have been good during the previous year, the Wise Men tuck gifts into their shoes during the night.//
Hot cocoa with cinnamon, coffee, and brown sugar.
//Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.
But he grew old
This knight so bold
And o'er his heart a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.
And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow
"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it be
This land of Eldorado?"
"Over the Mountains
Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied
"If you seek for Eldorado!" //
Copal resin incense blowing through halls of dazzling gold.
//The Spirit of the Divine Messenger, the Lord of the Crossroads, He Who Owns All Doors and Roads in this World. He is the intermediary between the Orishas and mankind, and stands at the intersection of humanity and the Divine. He opens all paths of communication, both mundane and Heavenly.//
His ofrenda contains coconut, tobacco and sweet, sugared rum.
//Passion, sensuality, romance, sexual sensitivity.//
//Relaxation, calm, finding center.//
//Mental, physical and spiritual purification.//
//Peace, serenity, tranquility, silence.//
//”Many things -- such as loving, going to sleep, or behaving unaffectedly -- are done worst when we try hardest to do them.”//
//Energy, vigor, verve, strength, courage, balls.//
//Purge, purify, cleanse.//
//A travel blend. Calms nerves, alleviates tension, soothes jetlag.//
//Snappy-quick PMS relief.//
A light, pure scent.
White musk, green tea, aloe and lemon.
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2007
//A hazy, soft, veiled scent: mist floating through twilit skies, curling gently towards the heavens.//
//Selune, the Moon Goddess, fell in love with a beautiful shepherd named Endymion. She appealed to Zeus, asking him to cast Endymion into everlasting slumber so that she could be with him for all eternity. Her wish was granted, and every night the Goddess visited her love as he slept.//
A sweet, wistful blend of d'Anjou pear, Lily of the Valley, bois du rose and white musk.
//Extracted directly from the twitching nether-regions of the wild Eastertime bunny rabbit. Inspired by Emzabel, by way of Heretic and Lycanthrope on the BPAL forum! This may be the Year of the Enraged Musks.//
A snarling, slavering, buck-toothed, fluffy, floppy-eared, horny-as-hell Springtime beast. Soft cotton blossom, white musk, baby's breath, clover and pale powder notes.
//Really ridiculous, insanely inappropriate, and staggeringly silly!//
Cranky groundhog musk sweetened up by chocolate-covered black cherries, cardamom, French vanilla, and caramel.
//You didn't think I'd really do it, didja? Inspired by Lycanthrope and Heretic on the BPAL forum!//
Five dark, aggressive, furious musks with ambergris bouquet, Malaysian rainforest plant extracts, black amber and orange peel.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
//The perfect distillate of decay, death, and damnation.//
Blood red patchouli saturated with black poppy, civet and a hint of rose.
Green herbs slithering through mint, lime and lavender.
//The Rising Sun. She is Ostara, Easter, the Anglo-Saxon goddess of fertility and the dawn. She is a protector and friend to all children.//
Her scent is that of softly glowing skin, jasmine, buttercup and honeysuckle.
//Your eyes that once were never weary of mine
Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,
Because our love is waning.'
And then She:
'Although our love is waning, let us stand
By the lone border of the lake once more,
Together in that hour of gentleness
When the poor tired child, passion, falls asleep.
How far away the stars seem, and how far
Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!'
Pensive they paced along the faded leaves,
While slowly he whose hand held hers replied:
'Passion has often worn our wandering hearts.'
The woods were round them, and the yellow leaves
Fell like faint meteors in the gloom, and once
A rabbit old and lame limped down the path;
Autumn was over him: and now they stood
On the lone border of the lake once more:
Turning, he saw that she had thrust dead leaves
Gathered in silence, dewy as her eyes,
In bosom and hair.
'Ah, do not mourn,' he said,
'That we are tired, for other loves await us;
Hate on and love through unrepining hours.
Before us lies eternity; our souls
Are love, and a continual farewell.'//
The scent of loss, love and the echo of time without end: sorrowful violet and chamomile with muguet, white geranium, calla lily and tea rose with a hint of autumn leaves.
Ode to Aphrodite
She who turns to love.
Florentine iris, frankincense, violet, ylang ylang, amber, and orchid.
//Heap not on this mound
Roses that she loved so well:
Why bewilder her with roses,
That she cannot see or smell?
She is happy where she lies
With the dust upon her eyes.//
Roses and funeral lilies perceived, faintly, through an indistinct, ghostly mist.
Excolo, Muses
Discontinued 2004
//But when Erato brushed her flowery lute,
What strains of sweetness whispered in the wind!
Soft as at evening when the shepherd's flute
To tones of melting love alone resigned,
Breathes through the windings of the silent vale;
Complaining accents tremble on the gale,
Or notes of ecstasy serenely roll.
So when the smiling muse of Cupid sung,
Her melody sighed out the sorrowing soul,
Or o'er her silken chords sweet notes of gladness rung.
She is the Muse of mimicry, and inspires both erotic and romantic poetry. She is crowned in roses, holding a lyre.//
Her scent inspires creative expressions of love and lust: __a crush of roses with sweet pea, myrrh, ylang ylang, orris and stephanotis.__
//"Then he hissed at me. 'Ah, I frighten you, do I? ... I dare say! ... Perhaps you think that I have another mask, eh, and that this ... this ... my head is a mask? Well,' he roared, 'tear it off as you did the other! Come! Come along! I insist! Your hands! Your hands! Give me your hands!' And he seized my hands and dug them into his awful face. He tore his flesh with my nails, tore his terrible dead flesh with my nails! ... 'Know,' he shouted, while his throat throbbed and panted like a furnace, 'know that I am built up of death from head to foot and that it is a corpse that loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you! ... Look, I am not laughing now, I am crying, crying for you, Christine, who have torn off my mask and who therefore can never leave me again! ... As long as you thought me handsome, you could have come back, I know you would have come back ... but, now that you know my hideousness, you would run away for good... So I shall keep you here! ... Why did you want to see me? Oh, mad Christine, who wanted to see me! ... When my own father never saw me and when my mother, so as not to see me, made me a present of my first mask!'
"He had let go of me at last and was dragging himself about on the floor, uttering terrible sobs. And then he crawled away like a snake, went into his room, closed the door and left me alone to my reflections. Presently I heard the sound of the organ; and then I began to understand Erik's contemptuous phrase when he spoke about Opera music. What I now heard was utterly different from what I had heard up to then. His Don Juan Triumphant (for I had not a doubt but that he had rushed to his masterpiece to forget the horror of the moment) seemed to me at first one long, awful, magnificent sob. But, little by little, it expressed every emotion, every suffering of which mankind is capable. It intoxicated me; and I opened the door that separated us. Erik rose, as I entered, BUT DARED NOT TURN IN MY DIRECTION. 'Erik,' I cried, 'show me your face without fear! I swear that you are the most unhappy and sublime of men; and, if ever again I shiver when I look at you, it will be because I am thinking of the splendor of your genius!' Then Erik turned round, for he believed me, and I also had faith in myself. He fell at my feet, with words of love ... with words of love in his dead mouth ... and the music had ceased ... He kissed the hem of my dress and did not see that I closed my eyes.//
Resin-coated wood, kerosene, oil, leather, musty velvet, and dust from the Grand Drape.
Excolo
Discontinued 2009
Goddess of Strife and Discord, constant companion and sometime consort to Ares. She is a fickle, chaotic Goddess of Bedlam whose greatest passion is the sowing of dissention and turmoil.
A suitably disjointed scent, bursting with gleeful mayhem: wet fruits and sharp mimosa with Martial spices and a deceptive flash of floral.
//And eros again the loosener of limbs makes me tremble
A sweet-bitter unmanageable creature.//
Myrrh, lilac, and honey wine with crimson tea leaf and sweet resins.
//Moving counter-clockwise through the room, you come upon the next stage. The backdrop is shredded, and seems to have been torn in a fury. On the remaining half of the canvas, you can barely make out a faded illustration of the sun setting over a pyramid. On the center of the platform, an elaborate golden sarcophagus has been set upright and propped up towards the edge of the stage. Beside it, upon the ground, sits a hooded lantern. A woman’s image is painted on the front of the sarcophagus, and upon the gold limned body, a tale is being told in hieroglyphics: scenes of murder, carnage, and grotesque, mad passion. Although you do not know the language, the inscription upon the tomb translates within your mind, and the words burn behind your eyes as if they were written in blood and fire: “The Guardian will never part the veil for her soul. Mighty Sutekh, have pity on us all.” A thin, dark-skinned man wearing a linen loincloth climbs onto the stage. His form is frail and withered, he is impossibly old, yet his long, straight hair is as black as the night skies. With solemn, reverential gravity, he slowly moves the casket lid aside. Within the box, you see a skeletal figure wrapped in stained, ragged cloths, draped in a mauve cloth. The dark-skinned man bends low, and lights the lanterna magica. From within the glass, images begin to form, and glowing alchemical symbols cast their eerie light onto the mummy. As the lights touch the creature, the desiccated body swells, and with horrific, agonizing slowness, a woman’s form begins to appear within the wrappings. At her chest, the rotted wrappings burst, exposing sinew and the glinting white bones of her ribs. Her hands reach towards her face, and with a screech of agony and eons-long rage, she tears the gauze from her glittering black eyes.//
The perfume of life-in-death: embalming herbs, black myrrh, white sandalwood, black orchid, paperwhites, tomb dust, and Moroccan jasmine.
2006
//At last, the light at the end of our three-month tunnel of misfortune. To commemorate this momentous occasion, we present a big ol’ bottle of sunny, happy, bounciness -- a golden blend with a celebratory feel, promoting joy, peace, and a sense of comfort and well-being.//
Golden amber, heliotrope, vanilla musk, carnation, daisy and sunflower bouquet, neroli, lemon peel, ylang ylang and honeycomb.
//Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea
they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.//
Stephanotis, cyclamen, heliotrope, white rose and gardenia.
//Glass globes fill with sweet vitriol, and the gas passes lazily through slim tubes. A misty fog veils the senses, and the world fades to hazy, opaque nothingness.//
Translucent blooms, ethereal white resins, and davana.
//Mirth//
Gardenia, tea rose, vanilla and jasmine.
Ode to Aphrodite
Richly crowned.
Antiqued amber, frankincense, pomegranate, myrrh, rose absolute, and bois de rose.
Excolo, Muses
Discontinued 2008
//Euterpe glanced her fingers o'er her lute,
And lightly waked it to a cheerful strain,
Then laid it by, and took the mellow flute,
Whose softly flowing warble filled the plain:
It was a lay that roused the drooping soul,
And bade the tear of sorrow cease to flow;
From shady woods the Nymphs enchanted stole,
While laughing Cupids bent the silver bow,
Fluttering like fays that flit in Luna's softened glow.
The Giver of Pleasure, Euterpe is the Muse of Music and Lyric Poetry. She is Delight, and her name means “Rejoicing Well”. She is credited with inventing the aulos, and is most often depicted playing that double-flute.//
Her scent is the joy of performing, the euphoria in song, and the passion inspired by all music: carnation and white poppy, honeysuckle, lemon, iris and white musk.
The spirit of temptation, the essence of lost innocence.
Apple blossom, rose, ylang ylang and golden honey.
//A chill, crystalline nocturnal perfume.//
Moonflower with oriental poppy, fairy lily, orris and night gladiolus.
[[Bat's Day]]
[[Clearing Out the Cobwebs]]
[[ Convergence]]
[[Will-Call]]
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("EventExclusive*")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
A disconcerting scent, heavy and oppressive, through which no light, no matter, and no spirit can escape.
Black opium, labdanum, opoponax, black orchid, and benzoin.
//A refreshing scent! GET IT?!//
Aloe, white musk, lime peel, fresh mint, seaspray, verbena and green tea.
A brilliant, ethereal scent.
White musk, bergamot, heliotrope, peach and oakmoss.
//I thought this was an effect of bioluminescence, but it seems there is no source. Could it truly be a soul trapped within this glass dome? Impossible.//
Mushroom gases, swamp mist, green mint, and bog violet.
//"Eyes, eyes! New eyes for old!" shouted a tiny woman in front of a table covered with bottles and jars filled with eyes of every kind and color.
"Instruments of music from a hundred lands!"
"Penny whistles! Tuppenny hums! Threepenny choral anthems!"
"Try your luck! Step right up! Answer a simple riddle and win a wind-flower!"
"Everlasting lavender! Bluebell cloth!"
"Bottled dreams, a shilling a bottle!"
"Coats of night! Coats of twilight! Coats of dusk!"
"Swords of fortune! Wands of power! Rings of eternity! Cards of grace! Roll-up, roll-up, step this way!"
"Salves and ointments, philtres and nostrums!"//
Otherworldy golden incense, blooming wind-flowers, everlasting lavender, bluebell, a faint whiff of exotic sugared candies, and fae mist upon wet green grass.
//Mr. Bromios had set up a wine-tent and was selling wines and pasties to the village folk, who were often tempted by the foods being sold by the folk from Beyond the Wall but had been told by their grandparents, who had got it from their grandparents, that it was deeply, utterly wrong to eat fairy food, to drink fairy water and sip fairy wine.//
An ethereal vintage, steeped with dandelion, honey, and red currants.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SnakePit")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Upon the next stage, a primitive cage has been erected. It is made of heavy, dark sticks bound with strips of deep brown leather. The stage is as dark as pitch, and from the shadows, you hear soft hissing, spitting, and an ominous chorus of weird rattling sounds. You approach with some trepidation, and peer between the bars. Your attention is seized by writhing forms on the straw bottom of the cage. As your eyes adjust to the gloom, you realize that the floor is seething with serpents, dark and colorful, languid and large, swift and small. You hear a sultry chuckle, and you see bright, unblinking emerald eyes staring at you from the corner of the cage. A woman crawls through the snakes, her scaled body as sinuous and lissome as the creatures that share her home. She reaches towards you languorously with her sharp-clawed hands and sighs.//
A sensual blend of twisting, exotic, serpentine oils: black amber, caraway, oakmoss, green sandalwood, bergamot, jasmine sambac, gardenia, orange pulp, vanilla, blackberry, black musk, white honey, ti leaf, and ginger.
[[Faiza's Companions: The Snake Pit]]
//Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heav'n. This is our song to Lucifer, Lucis Ferre, Heosphoros, the Morning Star, the Brilliant One and the Son of the Morning. He is equated with Samhazai, the ~Heaven-Seizer, and Azazel, one of the 200 Fallen Angels of Enoch. The essence of overweening pride and unearthly angelic beauty. A regal scent, glowing darkly, elegant and patrician, but unfathomably desolate.//
Cherubic white sandalwood and golden musk with a dark halo of amber, a breath of imperial florals, unbending woods, and the shadow cast by vetiver and violet.
October 2009
//My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.//
The first autumn rains dripping onto fallen leaves against a backdrop of opoponax, labdanum, patchouli, agarwood, and oakmoss.
//It was not surprising that she had recognized him, for his dark grey eyes stared out from his photo on the foil-embossed cover. Foodless Dieting: Slim Yourself Beautiful, the book was called; The Diet Book of the Century!//
Sleek black tea, tobacco leaf, frankincense, lilac, and white musk.
//Hic habitat felicitas! The penis was a potent and popular symbol of good fortune, strength, power, and fertility in ancient Rome. Images of phalluses adorned Roman homes and shops, bringing the positive energy that the symbol represents into the lives of the inhabitants.//
Golden amber, golden musk, litsea cubeba, cedar, and saffron.
An infusion of incalculable power and irresistible temptation. Truly an exercise in megalomania and self-gratification.
Frankincense and cinnamon, darkened by violet.
//Another of his sources of fearful pleasure was, to pass long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives, as they sat spinning by the fire, with a row of apples roasting and spluttering along the hearth, and listen to their marvellous tales of ghosts and goblins, and haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted houses, and particularly of the headless horseman, or galloping Hessian of the Hollow, as they sometimes called him. He would delight them equally by his anecdotes of witchcraft, and of the direful omens and portentous sights and sounds in the air, which prevailed in the earlier times of Connecticut; and would frighten them woefully with speculations upon comets and shooting stars; and with the alarming fact that the world did absolutely turn round, and that they were half the time topsy-turvy!//
Dried orange peels floating in simmering cider, roasted apples, smoldering firewood, chimney smoke, sassafras beer, warm hawthorn wood, and oakmoss.
A buoyant, dulcet blend of vanilla, sunflower, carnation, honeydew, peach blossom, lychee, oakmoss and white tea.
A barrel of beer, a pyramid of cakes, and three sticks of incense.
The raw, untamable power of chaos.
Rosewood, amber, red musk and a dribble of red sandalwood.
June 2009
//Anuket is the Embracer, a Goddess of Passion and of the waters of the Nile that caress the land and bring forth fruitfulness. She is the Nourisher of the Fields, the Giver of Life, and She Who Shoots Forth. A goddess of the hunt, archers, movement, and speed, she has the head of a gazelle, and sometimes wears a headdress of ostrich feathers. She is a protector of children at birth, and nursed many of the great pharaohs of Egypt.//
Shimmering offerings of gold scattered through life-giving, fertile waters.
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2004
Resurrected November 2006
//Deceptively gentle and lethally alluring.//
Jasmine and rose, touched with sparkling heliotrope.
//Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is proud to present a 15-month scent and art series based on Neil Gaiman's short story, "15 Painted Cards from a Vampire Tarot."
Each package comes with a 5ml bottle of perfume inspired by the tale and a corresponding tarot card, created by Madame Talbot.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("VampireTarot")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//A glowing red and flickering scent.//
Warm, lurid, seductive.
2008
Enterprise, adventure, restlessness, impulsiveness, and dynamism: Chinese musk and red musk with hyacinth, cactus flower, cubeb berry, galangal, tobacco, pink pepper, and sarsaparilla
Chinese New Year 2007
//A new year’s blessing!//
__Peony__, China’s national flower, with __bamboo__ for flexibility, __plum blossom__ for perseverance, courage, and hope, __tangerine__ for wealth, __orange__ for happiness, __lychee__ for household peace, __pine resin__ for constancy, __golden kumquat, pussy willow, and quince__ for prosperity, __narcissus and King mandarin__ for good fortune, and __peach blossom__ for longevity, with a splash of blazing red of __dragon’s blood__… to help you scare away the rampaging Nian.
Vasilissa the Beautiful
//Vasilissa ran to the yard, and behind her she heard the old witch shouting to the locks and the gate. The locks opened, the gate swung wide, and she ran out on to the lawn. The Baba Yaga seized from the wall one of the skulls with burning eyes and flung it after her. "There," she howled, "is the fire for thy stepmother's daughters. Take it. That is what they sent thee here for, and may they have joy of it!"//
Flaming coals, hellfire, and blackened bone.
A catalytic, potent love oil used to spark (or rekindle) the flame of desire between lovers.
Murky water, rotting leaves, and silt.
//The pearl of the Italian Renaissance.//
Elegant iris, bright berries, gilded amber and velvety spices.
May 2005
//May marks the apex of the year’s fertility, expresses the reawakening of the sexuality of the Earth and her inhabitants, and May’s full moon celebrates both the fecundity of the creatures and flora of this world and the vibrancy, rejuvenation and life-affirming energy of Spring. Flower Moon embodies the unrestrained bliss, energy and color of the season.//
A bouquet of vivid, sexy blooms… tulip, daffodil, violet, dewdrop, rhododendron, iris, daisy, and a mix of California wildflowers.
April 2009
//April, too, marks the apex of the year's fertility, expresses the reawakening of the sexuality of the Earth and her inhabitants, and May's full moon celebrates both the fecundity of the creatures and flora of this world and the vibrancy, rejuvenation and life-affirming energy of Spring. //
Flower Moon embodies the unrestrained bliss, energy and color of the season: a bouquet of vivid, sexy blooms, coated in thick, golden honey... wisteria, swamp jasmine, honeysuckle, daffodil, rhododendron, phlox, and a mix of California wildflowers.
Chrysanthemum, marigold, golden sandalwood, vanilla, cinnamon, and amber incense.
A houdoun recipe dating back almost 150 years. This blend is favored by prostitutes, exotic dancers and others in the sex industry for its power to attract, seduce, and enthrall. Ensures financial gain and increased profits.
/***
|''Name:''|ForEachTiddlerPlugin|
|''Version:''|1.0.8 (2007-04-12)|
|''Source:''|http://tiddlywiki.abego-software.de/#ForEachTiddlerPlugin|
|''Author:''|UdoBorkowski (ub [at] abego-software [dot] de)|
|''Licence:''|[[BSD open source license (abego Software)|http://www.abego-software.de/legal/apl-v10.html]]|
|''Copyright:''|© 2005-2007 [[abego Software|http://www.abego-software.de]]|
|''TiddlyWiki:''|1.2.38+, 2.0|
|''Browser:''|Firefox 1.0.4+; Firefox 1.5; InternetExplorer 6.0|
!Description
Create customizable lists, tables etc. for your selections of tiddlers. Specify the tiddlers to include and their order through a powerful language.
''Syntax:''
|>|{{{<<}}}''forEachTiddler'' [''in'' //tiddlyWikiPath//] [''where'' //whereCondition//] [''sortBy'' //sortExpression// [''ascending'' //or// ''descending'']] [''script'' //scriptText//] [//action// [//actionParameters//]]{{{>>}}}|
|//tiddlyWikiPath//|The filepath to the TiddlyWiki the macro should work on. When missing the current TiddlyWiki is used.|
|//whereCondition//|(quoted) JavaScript boolean expression. May refer to the build-in variables {{{tiddler}}} and {{{context}}}.|
|//sortExpression//|(quoted) JavaScript expression returning "comparable" objects (using '{{{<}}}','{{{>}}}','{{{==}}}'. May refer to the build-in variables {{{tiddler}}} and {{{context}}}.|
|//scriptText//|(quoted) JavaScript text. Typically defines JavaScript functions that are called by the various JavaScript expressions (whereClause, sortClause, action arguments,...)|
|//action//|The action that should be performed on every selected tiddler, in the given order. By default the actions [[addToList|AddToListAction]] and [[write|WriteAction]] are supported. When no action is specified [[addToList|AddToListAction]] is used.|
|//actionParameters//|(action specific) parameters the action may refer while processing the tiddlers (see action descriptions for details). <<tiddler [[JavaScript in actionParameters]]>>|
|>|~~Syntax formatting: Keywords in ''bold'', optional parts in [...]. 'or' means that exactly one of the two alternatives must exist.~~|
See details see [[ForEachTiddlerMacro]] and [[ForEachTiddlerExamples]].
!Revision history
* v1.0.8 (2007-04-12)
** Adapted to latest TiddlyWiki 2.2 Beta importTiddlyWiki API (introduced with changeset 2004). TiddlyWiki 2.2 Beta builds prior to changeset 2004 are no longer supported (but TiddlyWiki 2.1 and earlier, of cause)
* v1.0.7 (2007-03-28)
** Also support "pre" formatted TiddlyWikis (introduced with TW 2.2) (when using "in" clause to work on external tiddlers)
* v1.0.6 (2006-09-16)
** Context provides "viewerTiddler", i.e. the tiddler used to view the macro. Most times this is equal to the "inTiddler", but when using the "tiddler" macro both may be different.
** Support "begin", "end" and "none" expressions in "write" action
* v1.0.5 (2006-02-05)
** Pass tiddler containing the macro with wikify, context object also holds reference to tiddler containing the macro ("inTiddler"). Thanks to SimonBaird.
** Support Firefox 1.5.0.1
** Internal
*** Make "JSLint" conform
*** "Only install once"
* v1.0.4 (2006-01-06)
** Support TiddlyWiki 2.0
* v1.0.3 (2005-12-22)
** Features:
*** Write output to a file supports multi-byte environments (Thanks to Bram Chen)
*** Provide API to access the forEachTiddler functionality directly through JavaScript (see getTiddlers and performMacro)
** Enhancements:
*** Improved error messages on InternetExplorer.
* v1.0.2 (2005-12-10)
** Features:
*** context object also holds reference to store (TiddlyWiki)
** Fixed Bugs:
*** ForEachTiddler 1.0.1 has broken support on win32 Opera 8.51 (Thanks to BrunoSabin for reporting)
* v1.0.1 (2005-12-08)
** Features:
*** Access tiddlers stored in separated TiddlyWikis through the "in" option. I.e. you are no longer limited to only work on the "current TiddlyWiki".
*** Write output to an external file using the "toFile" option of the "write" action. With this option you may write your customized tiddler exports.
*** Use the "script" section to define "helper" JavaScript functions etc. to be used in the various JavaScript expressions (whereClause, sortClause, action arguments,...).
*** Access and store context information for the current forEachTiddler invocation (through the build-in "context" object) .
*** Improved script evaluation (for where/sort clause and write scripts).
* v1.0.0 (2005-11-20)
** initial version
!Code
***/
//{{{
//============================================================================
//============================================================================
// ForEachTiddlerPlugin
//============================================================================
//============================================================================
// Only install once
if (!version.extensions.ForEachTiddlerPlugin) {
if (!window.abego) window.abego = {};
version.extensions.ForEachTiddlerPlugin = {
major: 1, minor: 0, revision: 8,
date: new Date(2007,3,12),
source: "http://tiddlywiki.abego-software.de/#ForEachTiddlerPlugin",
licence: "[[BSD open source license (abego Software)|http://www.abego-software.de/legal/apl-v10.html]]",
copyright: "Copyright (c) abego Software GmbH, 2005-2007 (www.abego-software.de)"
};
// For backward compatibility with TW 1.2.x
//
if (!TiddlyWiki.prototype.forEachTiddler) {
TiddlyWiki.prototype.forEachTiddler = function(callback) {
for(var t in this.tiddlers) {
callback.call(this,t,this.tiddlers[t]);
}
};
}
//============================================================================
// forEachTiddler Macro
//============================================================================
version.extensions.forEachTiddler = {
major: 1, minor: 0, revision: 8, date: new Date(2007,3,12), provider: "http://tiddlywiki.abego-software.de"};
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
// Configurations and constants
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
config.macros.forEachTiddler = {
// Standard Properties
label: "forEachTiddler",
prompt: "Perform actions on a (sorted) selection of tiddlers",
// actions
actions: {
addToList: {},
write: {}
}
};
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
// The forEachTiddler Macro Handler
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
config.macros.forEachTiddler.getContainingTiddler = function(e) {
while(e && !hasClass(e,"tiddler"))
e = e.parentNode;
var title = e ? e.getAttribute("tiddler") : null;
return title ? store.getTiddler(title) : null;
};
config.macros.forEachTiddler.handler = function(place,macroName,params,wikifier,paramString,tiddler) {
// config.macros.forEachTiddler.traceMacroCall(place,macroName,params,wikifier,paramString,tiddler);
if (!tiddler) tiddler = config.macros.forEachTiddler.getContainingTiddler(place);
// --- Parsing ------------------------------------------
var i = 0; // index running over the params
// Parse the "in" clause
var tiddlyWikiPath = undefined;
if ((i < params.length) && params[i] == "in") {
i++;
if (i >= params.length) {
this.handleError(place, "TiddlyWiki path expected behind 'in'.");
return;
}
tiddlyWikiPath = this.paramEncode((i < params.length) ? params[i] : "");
i++;
}
// Parse the where clause
var whereClause ="true";
if ((i < params.length) && params[i] == "where") {
i++;
whereClause = this.paramEncode((i < params.length) ? params[i] : "");
i++;
}
// Parse the sort stuff
var sortClause = null;
var sortAscending = true;
if ((i < params.length) && params[i] == "sortBy") {
i++;
if (i >= params.length) {
this.handleError(place, "sortClause missing behind 'sortBy'.");
return;
}
sortClause = this.paramEncode(params[i]);
i++;
if ((i < params.length) && (params[i] == "ascending" || params[i] == "descending")) {
sortAscending = params[i] == "ascending";
i++;
}
}
// Parse the script
var scriptText = null;
if ((i < params.length) && params[i] == "script") {
i++;
scriptText = this.paramEncode((i < params.length) ? params[i] : "");
i++;
}
// Parse the action.
// When we are already at the end use the default action
var actionName = "addToList";
if (i < params.length) {
if (!config.macros.forEachTiddler.actions[params[i]]) {
this.handleError(place, "Unknown action '"+params[i]+"'.");
return;
} else {
actionName = params[i];
i++;
}
}
// Get the action parameter
// (the parsing is done inside the individual action implementation.)
var actionParameter = params.slice(i);
// --- Processing ------------------------------------------
try {
this.performMacro({
place: place,
inTiddler: tiddler,
whereClause: whereClause,
sortClause: sortClause,
sortAscending: sortAscending,
actionName: actionName,
actionParameter: actionParameter,
scriptText: scriptText,
tiddlyWikiPath: tiddlyWikiPath});
} catch (e) {
this.handleError(place, e);
}
};
// Returns an object with properties "tiddlers" and "context".
// tiddlers holds the (sorted) tiddlers selected by the parameter,
// context the context of the execution of the macro.
//
// The action is not yet performed.
//
// @parameter see performMacro
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.getTiddlersAndContext = function(parameter) {
var context = config.macros.forEachTiddler.createContext(parameter.place, parameter.whereClause, parameter.sortClause, parameter.sortAscending, parameter.actionName, parameter.actionParameter, parameter.scriptText, parameter.tiddlyWikiPath, parameter.inTiddler);
var tiddlyWiki = parameter.tiddlyWikiPath ? this.loadTiddlyWiki(parameter.tiddlyWikiPath) : store;
context["tiddlyWiki"] = tiddlyWiki;
// Get the tiddlers, as defined by the whereClause
var tiddlers = this.findTiddlers(parameter.whereClause, context, tiddlyWiki);
context["tiddlers"] = tiddlers;
// Sort the tiddlers, when sorting is required.
if (parameter.sortClause) {
this.sortTiddlers(tiddlers, parameter.sortClause, parameter.sortAscending, context);
}
return {tiddlers: tiddlers, context: context};
};
// Returns the (sorted) tiddlers selected by the parameter.
//
// The action is not yet performed.
//
// @parameter see performMacro
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.getTiddlers = function(parameter) {
return this.getTiddlersAndContext(parameter).tiddlers;
};
// Performs the macros with the given parameter.
//
// @param parameter holds the parameter of the macro as separate properties.
// The following properties are supported:
//
// place
// whereClause
// sortClause
// sortAscending
// actionName
// actionParameter
// scriptText
// tiddlyWikiPath
//
// All properties are optional.
// For most actions the place property must be defined.
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.performMacro = function(parameter) {
var tiddlersAndContext = this.getTiddlersAndContext(parameter);
// Perform the action
var actionName = parameter.actionName ? parameter.actionName : "addToList";
var action = config.macros.forEachTiddler.actions[actionName];
if (!action) {
this.handleError(parameter.place, "Unknown action '"+actionName+"'.");
return;
}
var actionHandler = action.handler;
actionHandler(parameter.place, tiddlersAndContext.tiddlers, parameter.actionParameter, tiddlersAndContext.context);
};
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
// The actions
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
// Internal.
//
// --- The addToList Action -----------------------------------------------
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.actions.addToList.handler = function(place, tiddlers, parameter, context) {
// Parse the parameter
var p = 0;
// Check for extra parameters
if (parameter.length > p) {
config.macros.forEachTiddler.createExtraParameterErrorElement(place, "addToList", parameter, p);
return;
}
// Perform the action.
var list = document.createElement("ul");
place.appendChild(list);
for (var i = 0; i < tiddlers.length; i++) {
var tiddler = tiddlers[i];
var listItem = document.createElement("li");
list.appendChild(listItem);
createTiddlyLink(listItem, tiddler.title, true);
}
};
abego.parseNamedParameter = function(name, parameter, i) {
var beginExpression = null;
if ((i < parameter.length) && parameter[i] == name) {
i++;
if (i >= parameter.length) {
throw "Missing text behind '%0'".format([name]);
}
return config.macros.forEachTiddler.paramEncode(parameter[i]);
}
return null;
}
// Internal.
//
// --- The write Action ---------------------------------------------------
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.actions.write.handler = function(place, tiddlers, parameter, context) {
// Parse the parameter
var p = 0;
if (p >= parameter.length) {
this.handleError(place, "Missing expression behind 'write'.");
return;
}
var textExpression = config.macros.forEachTiddler.paramEncode(parameter[p]);
p++;
// Parse the "begin" option
var beginExpression = abego.parseNamedParameter("begin", parameter, p);
if (beginExpression !== null)
p += 2;
var endExpression = abego.parseNamedParameter("end", parameter, p);
if (endExpression !== null)
p += 2;
var noneExpression = abego.parseNamedParameter("none", parameter, p);
if (noneExpression !== null)
p += 2;
// Parse the "toFile" option
var filename = null;
var lineSeparator = undefined;
if ((p < parameter.length) && parameter[p] == "toFile") {
p++;
if (p >= parameter.length) {
this.handleError(place, "Filename expected behind 'toFile' of 'write' action.");
return;
}
filename = config.macros.forEachTiddler.getLocalPath(config.macros.forEachTiddler.paramEncode(parameter[p]));
p++;
if ((p < parameter.length) && parameter[p] == "withLineSeparator") {
p++;
if (p >= parameter.length) {
this.handleError(place, "Line separator text expected behind 'withLineSeparator' of 'write' action.");
return;
}
lineSeparator = config.macros.forEachTiddler.paramEncode(parameter[p]);
p++;
}
}
// Check for extra parameters
if (parameter.length > p) {
config.macros.forEachTiddler.createExtraParameterErrorElement(place, "write", parameter, p);
return;
}
// Perform the action.
var func = config.macros.forEachTiddler.getEvalTiddlerFunction(textExpression, context);
var count = tiddlers.length;
var text = "";
if (count > 0 && beginExpression)
text += config.macros.forEachTiddler.getEvalTiddlerFunction(beginExpression, context)(undefined, context, count, undefined);
for (var i = 0; i < count; i++) {
var tiddler = tiddlers[i];
text += func(tiddler, context, count, i);
}
if (count > 0 && endExpression)
text += config.macros.forEachTiddler.getEvalTiddlerFunction(endExpression, context)(undefined, context, count, undefined);
if (count == 0 && noneExpression)
text += config.macros.forEachTiddler.getEvalTiddlerFunction(noneExpression, context)(undefined, context, count, undefined);
if (filename) {
if (lineSeparator !== undefined) {
lineSeparator = lineSeparator.replace(/\\n/mg, "\n").replace(/\\r/mg, "\r");
text = text.replace(/\n/mg,lineSeparator);
}
saveFile(filename, convertUnicodeToUTF8(text));
} else {
var wrapper = createTiddlyElement(place, "span");
wikify(text, wrapper, null/* highlightRegExp */, context.inTiddler);
}
};
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
// Helpers
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
// Internal.
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.createContext = function(placeParam, whereClauseParam, sortClauseParam, sortAscendingParam, actionNameParam, actionParameterParam, scriptText, tiddlyWikiPathParam, inTiddlerParam) {
return {
place : placeParam,
whereClause : whereClauseParam,
sortClause : sortClauseParam,
sortAscending : sortAscendingParam,
script : scriptText,
actionName : actionNameParam,
actionParameter : actionParameterParam,
tiddlyWikiPath : tiddlyWikiPathParam,
inTiddler : inTiddlerParam, // the tiddler containing the <<forEachTiddler ...>> macro call.
viewerTiddler : config.macros.forEachTiddler.getContainingTiddler(placeParam) // the tiddler showing the forEachTiddler result
};
};
// Internal.
//
// Returns a TiddlyWiki with the tiddlers loaded from the TiddlyWiki of
// the given path.
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.loadTiddlyWiki = function(path, idPrefix) {
if (!idPrefix) {
idPrefix = "store";
}
var lenPrefix = idPrefix.length;
// Read the content of the given file
var content = loadFile(this.getLocalPath(path));
if(content === null) {
throw "TiddlyWiki '"+path+"' not found.";
}
var tiddlyWiki = new TiddlyWiki();
// Starting with TW 2.2 there is a helper function to import the tiddlers
if (tiddlyWiki.importTiddlyWiki) {
if (!tiddlyWiki.importTiddlyWiki(content))
throw "File '"+path+"' is not a TiddlyWiki.";
tiddlyWiki.dirty = false;
return tiddlyWiki;
}
// The legacy code, for TW < 2.2
// Locate the storeArea div's
var posOpeningDiv = content.indexOf(startSaveArea);
var posClosingDiv = content.lastIndexOf(endSaveArea);
if((posOpeningDiv == -1) || (posClosingDiv == -1)) {
throw "File '"+path+"' is not a TiddlyWiki.";
}
var storageText = content.substr(posOpeningDiv + startSaveArea.length, posClosingDiv);
// Create a "div" element that contains the storage text
var myStorageDiv = document.createElement("div");
myStorageDiv.innerHTML = storageText;
myStorageDiv.normalize();
// Create all tiddlers in a new TiddlyWiki
// (following code is modified copy of TiddlyWiki.prototype.loadFromDiv)
var store = myStorageDiv.childNodes;
for(var t = 0; t < store.length; t++) {
var e = store[t];
var title = null;
if(e.getAttribute)
title = e.getAttribute("tiddler");
if(!title && e.id && e.id.substr(0,lenPrefix) == idPrefix)
title = e.id.substr(lenPrefix);
if(title && title !== "") {
var tiddler = tiddlyWiki.createTiddler(title);
tiddler.loadFromDiv(e,title);
}
}
tiddlyWiki.dirty = false;
return tiddlyWiki;
};
// Internal.
//
// Returns a function that has a function body returning the given javaScriptExpression.
// The function has the parameters:
//
// (tiddler, context, count, index)
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.getEvalTiddlerFunction = function (javaScriptExpression, context) {
var script = context["script"];
var functionText = "var theFunction = function(tiddler, context, count, index) { return "+javaScriptExpression+"}";
var fullText = (script ? script+";" : "")+functionText+";theFunction;";
return eval(fullText);
};
// Internal.
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.findTiddlers = function(whereClause, context, tiddlyWiki) {
var result = [];
var func = config.macros.forEachTiddler.getEvalTiddlerFunction(whereClause, context);
tiddlyWiki.forEachTiddler(function(title,tiddler) {
if (func(tiddler, context, undefined, undefined)) {
result.push(tiddler);
}
});
return result;
};
// Internal.
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.createExtraParameterErrorElement = function(place, actionName, parameter, firstUnusedIndex) {
var message = "Extra parameter behind '"+actionName+"':";
for (var i = firstUnusedIndex; i < parameter.length; i++) {
message += " "+parameter[i];
}
this.handleError(place, message);
};
// Internal.
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.sortAscending = function(tiddlerA, tiddlerB) {
var result =
(tiddlerA.forEachTiddlerSortValue == tiddlerB.forEachTiddlerSortValue)
? 0
: (tiddlerA.forEachTiddlerSortValue < tiddlerB.forEachTiddlerSortValue)
? -1
: +1;
return result;
};
// Internal.
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.sortDescending = function(tiddlerA, tiddlerB) {
var result =
(tiddlerA.forEachTiddlerSortValue == tiddlerB.forEachTiddlerSortValue)
? 0
: (tiddlerA.forEachTiddlerSortValue < tiddlerB.forEachTiddlerSortValue)
? +1
: -1;
return result;
};
// Internal.
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.sortTiddlers = function(tiddlers, sortClause, ascending, context) {
// To avoid evaluating the sortClause whenever two items are compared
// we pre-calculate the sortValue for every item in the array and store it in a
// temporary property ("forEachTiddlerSortValue") of the tiddlers.
var func = config.macros.forEachTiddler.getEvalTiddlerFunction(sortClause, context);
var count = tiddlers.length;
var i;
for (i = 0; i < count; i++) {
var tiddler = tiddlers[i];
tiddler.forEachTiddlerSortValue = func(tiddler,context, undefined, undefined);
}
// Do the sorting
tiddlers.sort(ascending ? this.sortAscending : this.sortDescending);
// Delete the temporary property that holds the sortValue.
for (i = 0; i < tiddlers.length; i++) {
delete tiddlers[i].forEachTiddlerSortValue;
}
};
// Internal.
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.trace = function(message) {
displayMessage(message);
};
// Internal.
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.traceMacroCall = function(place,macroName,params) {
var message ="<<"+macroName;
for (var i = 0; i < params.length; i++) {
message += " "+params[i];
}
message += ">>";
displayMessage(message);
};
// Internal.
//
// Creates an element that holds an error message
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.createErrorElement = function(place, exception) {
var message = (exception.description) ? exception.description : exception.toString();
return createTiddlyElement(place,"span",null,"forEachTiddlerError","<<forEachTiddler ...>>: "+message);
};
// Internal.
//
// @param place [may be null]
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.handleError = function(place, exception) {
if (place) {
this.createErrorElement(place, exception);
} else {
throw exception;
}
};
// Internal.
//
// Encodes the given string.
//
// Replaces
// "$))" to ">>"
// "$)" to ">"
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.paramEncode = function(s) {
var reGTGT = new RegExp("\\$\\)\\)","mg");
var reGT = new RegExp("\\$\\)","mg");
return s.replace(reGTGT, ">>").replace(reGT, ">");
};
// Internal.
//
// Returns the given original path (that is a file path, starting with "file:")
// as a path to a local file, in the systems native file format.
//
// Location information in the originalPath (i.e. the "#" and stuff following)
// is stripped.
//
config.macros.forEachTiddler.getLocalPath = function(originalPath) {
// Remove any location part of the URL
var hashPos = originalPath.indexOf("#");
if(hashPos != -1)
originalPath = originalPath.substr(0,hashPos);
// Convert to a native file format assuming
// "file:///x:/path/path/path..." - pc local file --> "x:\path\path\path..."
// "file://///server/share/path/path/path..." - FireFox pc network file --> "\\server\share\path\path\path..."
// "file:///path/path/path..." - mac/unix local file --> "/path/path/path..."
// "file://server/share/path/path/path..." - pc network file --> "\\server\share\path\path\path..."
var localPath;
if(originalPath.charAt(9) == ":") // pc local file
localPath = unescape(originalPath.substr(8)).replace(new RegExp("/","g"),"\\");
else if(originalPath.indexOf("file://///") === 0) // FireFox pc network file
localPath = "\\\\" + unescape(originalPath.substr(10)).replace(new RegExp("/","g"),"\\");
else if(originalPath.indexOf("file:///") === 0) // mac/unix local file
localPath = unescape(originalPath.substr(7));
else if(originalPath.indexOf("file:/") === 0) // mac/unix local file
localPath = unescape(originalPath.substr(5));
else // pc network file
localPath = "\\\\" + unescape(originalPath.substr(7)).replace(new RegExp("/","g"),"\\");
return localPath;
};
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
// Stylesheet Extensions (may be overridden by local StyleSheet)
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
//
setStylesheet(
".forEachTiddlerError{color: #ffffff;background-color: #880000;}",
"forEachTiddler");
//============================================================================
// End of forEachTiddler Macro
//============================================================================
//============================================================================
// String.startsWith Function
//============================================================================
//
// Returns true if the string starts with the given prefix, false otherwise.
//
version.extensions["String.startsWith"] = {major: 1, minor: 0, revision: 0, date: new Date(2005,11,20), provider: "http://tiddlywiki.abego-software.de"};
//
String.prototype.startsWith = function(prefix) {
var n = prefix.length;
return (this.length >= n) && (this.slice(0, n) == prefix);
};
//============================================================================
// String.endsWith Function
//============================================================================
//
// Returns true if the string ends with the given suffix, false otherwise.
//
version.extensions["String.endsWith"] = {major: 1, minor: 0, revision: 0, date: new Date(2005,11,20), provider: "http://tiddlywiki.abego-software.de"};
//
String.prototype.endsWith = function(suffix) {
var n = suffix.length;
return (this.length >= n) && (this.right(n) == suffix);
};
//============================================================================
// String.contains Function
//============================================================================
//
// Returns true when the string contains the given substring, false otherwise.
//
version.extensions["String.contains"] = {major: 1, minor: 0, revision: 0, date: new Date(2005,11,20), provider: "http://tiddlywiki.abego-software.de"};
//
String.prototype.contains = function(substring) {
return this.indexOf(substring) >= 0;
};
//============================================================================
// Array.indexOf Function
//============================================================================
//
// Returns the index of the first occurance of the given item in the array or
// -1 when no such item exists.
//
// @param item [may be null]
//
version.extensions["Array.indexOf"] = {major: 1, minor: 0, revision: 0, date: new Date(2005,11,20), provider: "http://tiddlywiki.abego-software.de"};
//
Array.prototype.indexOf = function(item) {
for (var i = 0; i < this.length; i++) {
if (this[i] == item) {
return i;
}
}
return -1;
};
//============================================================================
// Array.contains Function
//============================================================================
//
// Returns true when the array contains the given item, otherwise false.
//
// @param item [may be null]
//
version.extensions["Array.contains"] = {major: 1, minor: 0, revision: 0, date: new Date(2005,11,20), provider: "http://tiddlywiki.abego-software.de"};
//
Array.prototype.contains = function(item) {
return (this.indexOf(item) >= 0);
};
//============================================================================
// Array.containsAny Function
//============================================================================
//
// Returns true when the array contains at least one of the elements
// of the item. Otherwise (or when items contains no elements) false is returned.
//
version.extensions["Array.containsAny"] = {major: 1, minor: 0, revision: 0, date: new Date(2005,11,20), provider: "http://tiddlywiki.abego-software.de"};
//
Array.prototype.containsAny = function(items) {
for(var i = 0; i < items.length; i++) {
if (this.contains(items[i])) {
return true;
}
}
return false;
};
//============================================================================
// Array.containsAll Function
//============================================================================
//
// Returns true when the array contains all the items, otherwise false.
//
// When items is null false is returned (even if the array contains a null).
//
// @param items [may be null]
//
version.extensions["Array.containsAll"] = {major: 1, minor: 0, revision: 0, date: new Date(2005,11,20), provider: "http://tiddlywiki.abego-software.de"};
//
Array.prototype.containsAll = function(items) {
for(var i = 0; i < items.length; i++) {
if (!this.contains(items[i])) {
return false;
}
}
return true;
};
} // of "install only once"
// Used Globals (for JSLint) ==============
// ... DOM
/*global document */
// ... TiddlyWiki Core
/*global convertUnicodeToUTF8, createTiddlyElement, createTiddlyLink,
displayMessage, endSaveArea, hasClass, loadFile, saveFile,
startSaveArea, store, wikify */
//}}}
/***
!Licence and Copyright
Copyright (c) abego Software ~GmbH, 2005 ([[www.abego-software.de|http://www.abego-software.de]])
Redistribution and use in source and binary forms, with or without modification,
are permitted provided that the following conditions are met:
Redistributions of source code must retain the above copyright notice, this
list of conditions and the following disclaimer.
Redistributions in binary form must reproduce the above copyright notice, this
list of conditions and the following disclaimer in the documentation and/or other
materials provided with the distribution.
Neither the name of abego Software nor the names of its contributors may be
used to endorse or promote products derived from this software without specific
prior written permission.
THIS SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED BY THE COPYRIGHT HOLDERS AND CONTRIBUTORS "AS IS" AND ANY
EXPRESS OR IMPLIED WARRANTIES, INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO, THE IMPLIED WARRANTIES
OF MERCHANTABILITY AND FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE ARE DISCLAIMED. IN NO EVENT
SHALL THE COPYRIGHT OWNER OR CONTRIBUTORS BE LIABLE FOR ANY DIRECT, INDIRECT,
INCIDENTAL, SPECIAL, EXEMPLARY, OR CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES (INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED
TO, PROCUREMENT OF SUBSTITUTE GOODS OR SERVICES; LOSS OF USE, DATA, OR PROFITS; OR
BUSINESS INTERRUPTION) HOWEVER CAUSED AND ON ANY THEORY OF LIABILITY, WHETHER IN
CONTRACT, STRICT LIABILITY, OR TORT (INCLUDING NEGLIGENCE OR OTHERWISE) ARISING IN
ANY WAY OUT OF THE USE OF THIS SOFTWARE, EVEN IF ADVISED OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
***/
As light and innocent as your first time should have been.
The fresh scent of lotus hidden behind lightly scented flowers, amber, and citrus.
//Visions of smeared candy red lipstick, torn fishnet and searching, sunken eyes. The scent of an all-nighter.//
Cognac, tobacco flower, dark musk, black rose and clove.
//It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed the eighth, the ninth, and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognising as that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said—
"Ha! ha! ha!—he! he!—a very good joke indeed—an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo—he! he! he!—over our wine—he! he! he!"
"The Amontillado!" I said.
""He! he! he!—he! he! he!—yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone.""
"Yes," I said "let us be gone."
"For the love of God, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, ""for the love of God!"//
A deep, rich sherry encased in dusty darkness, touched by oak, and damp catacomb stone. The scent begins with a sense of drunken glee, of orange peel, bittersweet berry and rose hip, and moves inexorably towards the dread and terror expressed in black patchouli.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("ForumExclusive")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):Election Day@@''
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("ElectionDay")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("FourSeasons")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Fox Fires on New Year's Eve at the Garment Nettle Tree at Oji, Hiroshige.//
Weeping cherry, watery bamboo pulp, nettle tree bark, green tea incense, soft musk, rice wine, and Japanese tree lilac.
//Frau Holle, or Holda, is the personification of the changes wrought when winter seizes the land: she rides the chill winds in her chariot, shaking out her featherbeds in order to precipitate snowfall. The rolling fog is the smoke from her hearth fire, and thunder claps when she reels her flax. Holda is a goddess of matrons, who governs spinning, domestic chores, witchcraft and witches, and the Wild Hunt. She presides over the transition of souls, both to and from this world. Though she is childless, she watches over children, and the spirits of newborns spring forth from her sacred pool. Her festival falls during midwinter, when the dead roam free. She holds court in Hörselberg, from which the Wild Hunt is issued, and all the beasts in the land heed her call.//
Snow-covered pines, witches herbs, bestial musk, flax, and ethereal flowers that represent both birth and death.
//A strange, disconcerting embrace… to some, alarming, and to some, intimately familiar.//
Fig, pomegranate and cocoa bean with lemon, bergamot, vanilla, mellow honey musk, calamus and tonka.
Leap Day 2008
//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.
Voodoo Blends
Discontinued 2004
//Draws influential, powerful people into your life. Helps make your wishes and desires into a reality.//
A warm, soft, sexual blend. Sweet and alluring. Used to entice new lovers and add an aura of temptation and carnal sin to your environment.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Friday13")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
November 2004
//The chill, crystal-bright Full Moon that is harbinger to the death of the year, and a monument to the snowy, dead months to come.//
A blend of traditional lunar oils frozen with winter mints, shivering eucalyptus, clear lotus, a gust of wind, and a midnight aquatic note.
August 2005
//The bountiful, bright and vivacious prelude to the Harvest.//
A horde of wet, ripe fruits: green apple, apricot, blackberry, black cherry, black and red currants, cantaloupe, English pear, guava, lemon and lime, orange, mandarin orange, kiwi and mango, passion fruit, papaya, Georgia peach, raspberry, plum, tangerine, pomegranate and strawberry over a luminous blend of lunar oils.
Gift with Purchase included in some Yule 2007 orders (imp only)
//"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"//
Bandersnatch musk, redolent of spicy carnations, wild plums and chrysanthemum.
Gift with purchase included in some Election Day 2008 orders (imp only)
//Golden goggles fitted with zinc and copper plates dangle heavily by their leather straps from a hook mounted to the wall. Its crystal lenses are effulgent with residual electric energy.//
Metallic notes with Indian musk, tobacco flower, and African balsam.
//Idleness and unconscious, uncontrolled, perverse sexual desire.//
//Garden Path With Chickens, Gustav Klimt.//
Damp grass, ivy leaves, morning glory, daisy, rose geranium, heliotrope, white gardenia, climbing roses, peppery nasturtium, phlox, begonia, verbena and sun-warmed herbs.
//The Basque God of Night and all the perils of the darkness. Though he is the God of the Danger that Lurks in the Gloom, he is kind to men and warns them against the nighttime hazards and sets rules of conduct for both the living and the dead as they travel through his domain. It is said that since the warm, vibrant daylight is for the living, the abodes of night are reserved for the dead. All who heed his counsel are protected, but woe be to any man that disobeys the laws of Gaueko: he is swift to punish those that would scorn his advice.//
Blackened sandalwood and misty lavender, with curling wisps of smoky tobacco, nag champa, and labdanum.
//Din, the Heavenly Court, the Consuming Fire, Divine Wrath, the Force that Contains the Seeds of Sitra Ahra.//
//A snarling, feral scent, ever-so-slightly slightly deranged.//
Hot leather, opoponax, cedar, pine, needle, mosses, dry grass, patchouli and cinnamon bark.
//Sevivon, sov, sov, sov
Chanukah, hu chag tov
Chanukah, hu chag tov
Sevivon, sov, sov, sov!
Chag simcha hu la-am
Nes gadol haya sham
Nes gadol haya sham
Chag simcha hu la-am.//
A bounty of chocolate coins! Dry cocoa and golden amber!
//May 21 - June 20//
Lavender, lemon, lemongrass, orange, mint, sweet pea
//Mutable Air: the essence of thought.//
Lavender, benzoin, orchid, and frankincense.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("GeneralCatalogue")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//A chittering buzz rises from a small crowd that has gathered around an opulent velvet-draped tent. Some are fidgeting impatiently; others try in vain to peep within the tent. Within moments, a slim, stunningly handsome man emerges from the entryway to the sound of gasps and scattered applause. His face is lit with fierce joy, and he bows almost smugly to the assemblage. Grabbing a flirtatious blonde from the mob, he kisses her in a rush of mad passion, his arm encircles her waist, and he leads her directly to a nearby opium den.The crowd disperses, and curiosity pulls you forward. You push open the fringed, beaded tent-flap and enter the dimly-lit room. A lovely, voluptuous redhead stands before an ornate antique easel. Her luminous alabaster skin and the phosphorescence emanating from her paintbrush seem to be the only source of light. As you adjust to the gloom, you see that the walls are covered with atrocities: an exhibit of dissolution. The myriad canvases show men and women in various stages of rot and decay, a panoply of indulgence, teeth set in fury, mouths leering in lust, hands grasping greedily.
The scarlet woman turns her gleaming sightless eyes towards you and, in a husky, compelling voice, she speaks:
“Why let the years tear at your youthful splendor? Why let the mark of your sins stain your fine features? Will you let the cold, creeping grasp of time and the toil of temptation mar your visage? Why should the pleasures of our flesh wreak such havoc?”
She leans in close to you and whispers, “Let me capture your soul on this canvas in oil and blood, and you will be beautiful forever.”//
Hyson tea leaf, pale mint, sugar cane, orange blossom, lemongrass, and honey.
//Highly stylized, stark, and filled with vivid, dark symbolism, these films employed bizarre, striking geometry and mise en scène to convey mood and tell their tale. Examples: Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Nosferatu, M, Der Golem, Schatten - Eine nächtliche Halluzination.//
Casket dust, black musk and khus, musty velvet, black pine needle, patchouli, myrrh, and black pepper.
''@@font-size(110%):Getting Started with Your Own BPAL ~TiddlyWiki:@@''
From tiddlywiki.com: "The easiest way to learn about ~TiddlyWiki is to use it! Try clicking on various links and see what happens"
*Download this ~TiddlyWiki to your computer using the download link to your right
*Enter a username: <<option txtUserName>>
''@@font-size(110%):Basic BPAL ~TiddlyWiki Instructions:@@''
Tiddlers are blocks of information. Every Scent, Scent Category, & Scent Subcategory here is a Tiddler :)
*''@@color(#00B379):To Create a New Scent Tiddler:@@''
**Click the 'new tiddler' button to your right
**Type the name of the scent in the first box
**The description in the second box
**Any tags that may be useful in the third box (~LimitedEdition, ~GeneralCatalogue, etc)
*''@@color(#00B379):Tagging Tiddlers:@@''
**You can have as many tags per tiddler as you'd like, separated by spaces
**Tags must either be all one word.....
<!--{{{-->
YourTagHere
<!--}}}-->
** or several words surrounded by double brackets
<!--{{{-->
[[Your Tag Here]]
<!--}}}-->
*''@@color(#00B379):To Create a New Scent Category Tiddler:@@''
**Click the 'new tiddler' link to your right
**Type the title for your new category, the description (if any), and the tags (if any)
**Copy and paste the following code:
<!--{{{-->
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("YourTagHere")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<!--}}}-->
**Replace ~YourTagHere with a tag that corresponds to your new category
**Create and tag all of the scents you want to appear in your new category
**By using that same idea, you could also create a category called 'Bottle Wishlist' and tag scents 'Wanted', a category called 'Scents I Want to Try' and tag scents '~ToTry', a category called 'Scents I've Tried' and tag scents 'Tried', or a category called 'For Sale or Swap' and tag scents ~ForSaleSwap. The possibilities are endless!
*''@@color(#00B379):To Get a Word or Phrase to Show Up as a Link to a Tiddler:@@'' Surround the word(s) in double brackets, like this
<!--{{{-->
[[Your Text Here]]
<!--}}}-->
*[[DefaultTiddlers]]: Contains the names of the tiddlers that you want to appear when the ~TiddlyWiki is opened
*[[MainMenu]]: The main scent categories (on the left)
*[[ColorPalette]]: Controls the colors of everything in ~TiddlyWiki
*''@@color(#00B379):To Import Tiddlers From Another ~TiddlyWiki:@@''
**Click the 'backstage' button (top right corner) of the ~TiddlyWiki where you want to import the tiddlers to. A menu will appear
**Click import. A box will drop down
**If the ~TiddlyWiki that has the tiddlers you want to import is already on your computer, click the 'Browse' button to find it. If it's on the web, then enter the URL. Click Open. A list of tiddlers will appear.
**Click the check box of the tiddlers you want to import
**Click 'Import'
*''@@color(#00B379):Basic Text Formatting:@@''
**To create ''bold'' text, enclose text in double apostrophes, like this
<!--{{{-->
''your text here''
<!--}}}-->
**To create //italicized// text, enclose text in double slashes, like this
<!--{{{-->
//your text here//
<!--}}}-->
**To create __underlined__ text, enclose text in double underscores, like this
<!--{{{-->
__your text here__
<!--}}}-->
**To create --strikethrough-- text, enclose text in double hyphens, like this
<!--{{{-->
--your text here--
<!--}}}-->
**To change the text @@color(red):color@@ (without changing the text color of every tiddler), use this
<!--{{{-->
@@color(#00B379):your text here@@
<!--}}}-->
Replace #00B379 with the hex code of the color you would like to use. You can also use color names instead of hex codes like red, blue, green, etc
**To change the @@font-size(150%):font size@@ (without changing the font size of every tiddler), use this
<!--{{{-->
@@font-size(120%):your text here@@
<!--}}}-->
Replace 120 with whatever percentage of normal size you would like your font to be
*''@@color(#00B379):More Information:@@''
**http://www.tiddlywiki.com/
**http://tiddlywiki.org/wiki/Main_Page
**http://tiddlyspot.com/twhelp/
**http://www.giffmex.org/twfortherestofus.html
If you have any questions or corrections, feel free to contact me. My username on the forum is ~SurrealReality and my email is surrealreality@embarqmail.com
//This is the sphere that encompasses those who stand by idly, or turn their faces, when confronted with wickedness and corruption.//
//Uncontrolled energy, nihilism, narcissistic illusion.//
//Ghouls do not build. They are parasites and scavengers, eaters of carrion. The city they call Ghûlheim is something they found, long ago, but did not make. No one they call knows (if anyone human ever knew) what kind of creatures it was that made those buildings, who honeycombed the rock with tunnels and towers, but it is certain that no-one but the ghoul-folk could have wanted to stay there, or even to approach that place.
Even from the path below Ghûlheim, even from miles away, Bod could see that all of the angles were wrong -- that the walls sloped crazily, that it was every nightmare he had ever endured made into a place, like a huge mouth of jutting teeth. It was a city that had been built just to be abandoned, in which all the fears and madnesses and revulsions of the creatures who built it were made into stone. The ghoul folk had found it and delighted in it and called it home.//
A dark and disjointed scent: smoke and black musk, bladderwrack, opopponax, galangal, and pepper.
//The term Giallo, meaning yellow, was initally coined in reference to the yellow backgrounds used on the covers of Il Giallo Mondadori pulp crime and mystery novels that influenced Italian thriller filmmaking. The film genre that emerged began as translations of these pulps, and transformed with time into a melding of traditional murder mystery storylines with guignol'esque horror, combined with stylized, tense erotica that was liberally flavored with operatic melodrama. The storylines often touched on psychological terror, feelings of isolation and alienation, and claustrophobic paranoia.
Examples: Blood and Black Lace, Twitch of the Death Nerve, The House With Laughing Windows, Tenebrae.//
Profoundly passionate and singularly sinister: opopponax, black plum, night-blooming jasmine, benzoin, red musk, violet leaf, orange blossom, mimosa, mandarin, smoky vanilla, tobacco, patchouli, and black amber.
Skin musk, sugar cane, honey, beeswax, vanilla flower, and copal.
Yule 2003, 2004, 2005, 2007
Warm, cozy gingerbread spiced with nutmeg, clove and cinnamon.
The rich scent of wild blackberry breezing over gentle rosy heather.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
Resurrected November 2006
//Created in honor of the fiery, vicious Princess of Hell and bloodthirsty general who governs thirty-six legions of infernal warriors. Her lust for bloodshed and manslaughter is matched only by her love of the classical arts and sciences - definitely a woman that we respect.//
A seething, fiery blend of dragon's blood, deep myrrh, red and black musks, civet and thick red patchouli, glistening with drops of rose and ylang ylang.
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2005
Resurrected November 2006
//All flash and glam.//
White wine, heliotrope, d'Anjou pear, and lotus.
Cream accord, amber, teak, and lotus blossom.
Warm red wine spiced with cinnamon sticks, cardamom, vanilla beans, honey, clove, lemon and orange rind, bay leaf, and honey
Ode to Aphrodite
Limb-loosener.
Ambergris, pale musk, peru balsam, golden amber, cedar, lavender, spikenard, narcissus, vanilla caramel, white sandalwood, and woodmoss.
Thick, sugared and bloated with sweetness.
Dark chocolate, vanilla, buttercream, and hops with pralines, hazelnut, toffee and caramel.
Earth
Strength :: Endurance :: The Physical Body
Fertility :: Prosperity :: Money :: Solidity
Commitment :: Responsibility :: Practicality
Wisdom :: Patience :: Perserverance
Greed :: Materialism
Dab a bit behind each ear, and you'll be instantly inspired to alter street signs, shake fruit from your neighbor's trees, and hide your roommate's car keys.
Black coconut, gnarly patchouli, and sweet benzoin.
Godfather Death
//He went onwards, and then came Death striding up to him with withered legs, and said, "Take me as godfather." The man asked, "Who art thou?" "I am Death, and I make all equal." Then said the man, "Thou art the right one, thou takest the rich as well as the poor, without distinction; thou shalt be godfather." Death answered, "I will make thy child rich and famous, for he who has me for a friend can lack nothing." The man said, "Next Sunday is the christening; be there at the right time." Death appeared as he had promised, and stood godfather quite in the usual way.//
Olibanum, elemi, Bulgarian rose, yew, and oppoponax.
//Tyranny, violence, destruction, injustice, revenge.//
Insatiable lust, unending vigor! A truly carnal, energetic men's blend.
Vanilla and amber with juniper, rosewood and white pine.
The Bar
Tangerine, gin, passion fruit, guava, and tonic.
//One of the Biblical Cities on the Plain, destroyed by God with fire and brimstone because of its people’s pride, prosperous ease, deceit, hedonism and indolence, and their callous, uncharitable hearts.//
A gritty, sordid and languid scent: ripe fig, date and currant with black herbs.
Illyria
Discontinued 2008
//A gentle floral bouquet masks a sinister and black-hearted core.//
White geranium, calla lily, cedarwood and black orchid.
//This series is based on the characters, locations, and concepts squished within the pages of 'Good Omens', an apocalyptic comedy by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman! A million thanks to Messrs. Pratchett and Gaiman for giving us this project their blessing!
This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture: proceeds from every single bottle are split between the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, which works to preserve and protect the First Amendment rights of the comics community, and the Orangutan Foundation UK, which works to actively preserve orangutan habitats while supporting long-term research projects that benefit orangutans.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("GoodOmens")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Voodoo Blends
Discontinued 2004
//A soft, sweet peace and harmony blend. Used to create an atmosphere of compassion, understanding, trust and love. This is particularly useful in mediation, calming tense or volatile situations, and in strengthening relationships.//
//With its roots in the Grand Guignol, Gore-Shock is a transgressive art form: using visual depictions of graphic, horrendous violence to push the limits of social tolerance. In the words of Michael Arnzen, "Splatter films differ from typical horror films because they revel in the special effects of gore as an artform. They are part of postmodern art and depict postmodern condition as a vehicle for cultural transformation." Then again, these might be extreme gross out flicks and nothing deeper.
Examples: Blood Feast, Two Thousand Maniacs, I Spit on Your Grave. //
Pulpy, scorched, pork-like flesh, glistening entrails, and doughy skin with the coppery tang of blood, salty, sweaty musk, filth, and a huff of rusted machinery.
//The blueblood of the horror genre. Gothic horror borrows heavily from Victorian Romanticism: a dark, passionate sojourn into emotionally-driven aesthetic experience – reaching through gloom towards a vision of the sublime. Using sprawling, decay-riddled visuals, and lyrical narrative rife with suspense, awe, and dread, these films tell tales of tortured souls, long-buried secrets, rapid descents into depravity and madness, and grasping supernatural beings.
Examples: Vampyr, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Dracula, Frankenstein, the Phantom of the Opera//
Morbidly romantic, thick with murky melodrama, untouched by the centuries, and dust-rimed: Byzantine incense, benzoin, myrrh, bitter clove, spikenard, oud, and ancient balsam.
Grace is an aquatic with mahogany, carnation, rose, violet leaf, black cedar, and bourbon vanilla.
//In 1897, a new form of entertainment was presented to the people of Montmartre, Paris: the Théâtre du Grand Guignol. During the course of an evening at the theatre, one would watch several small plays, ranging from crime dramas to sexual farces, a violent, throat-ripping, eye-gouging, acid-tossing good time, which always included shock topics such as infanticide, necrophilia, insanity, murder, paranoia, vengeance and death by common household object.//
Our Grand Guignol perfume is a shot of sweet apricot brandy; just enough to settle your nerves after a ghoulish, gory brush with the macabre.
//Mania, Roman Goddess of the Dead, Matron of Madness, Governess of the Ancestral Spirits, Bestower of Divine Frenzy.//
Her scent swirls with a high-pitched tumult of laurel, stargazer lily, splintered woods, peony, mandarin and white musk, and is spiked with pale pepper.
2005, Halloween 2008
//A tribute to a somewhat nefarious and truly notorious ingredient in New Orleans spellcrafting. It is employed in hoodoo rootwork for various reasons, primarily in spells of protection, "tricking" your enemies, binding, and even love magick. The graves are chosen based on the type of working, and are determined by the type of spirit that lies there and the manner of their demise. Payment is always required in the form of offerings to the deceased.//
This is the scent of pure graveyard dust, spattered with grave loam and dusted lightly with tombstone moss.
February 2009 Dark Delicacies Exclusive Collection
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("GreatDuetsinHorror")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Base and earthy, yet glittering with golden notes.
Patchouli, heliotrope, copal and oakmoss.
Gift with purchase included in some Election Day 2008 orders (imp only)
2007
//Green, for growth, expansion, prosperity, and stability.//
Sage, white mint, grey amber, papaya pulp, crushed grass, cucumber, green musk, green tea, and lime rind.
[[Snake Oil]] with four mints, bergamot, and green tea.
''Gris Grimly's Tales of Death and Dementia''
//The Gris Grimly Poe Collection.
This series is based on the Gris Grimly's illustrations for Poe's short stories as featured in Gris' new book, Tales of Death and Dementia!
To Commemorate the 200th anniversary of Edgar Allan Poe, Gris Grimly fully illustrated four of Poe's short stories, the ~Tell-Tale Heart, the System of Dr Tarr and Professor Fether, the Oblong Box, and the Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar. We are thrilled beyond belief to have the opportunity to translate a few of Gris' illustrations into merrily macabre complimentary scents!//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("GrisGrimly")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Arrr! Avast ye, matey! This be the scent of pirate rum!
//That he might make his appearance before his mistress in the true style of a cavalier, he borrowed a horse from the farmer with whom he was domiciliated, a choleric old Dutchman, of the name of Hans Van Ripper, and, thus gallantly mounted, issued forth, like a knight-errant in quest of adventures. But it is meet I should, in the true spirit of romantic story, give some account of the looks and equipments of my hero and his steed. The animal he bestrode was a broken-down plough-horse, that had outlived almost every thing but his viciousness. He was gaunt and shagged, with a ewe neck and a head like a hammer; his rusty mane and tail were tangled and knotted with burrs; one eye had lost its pupil, and was glaring and spectral; but the other had the gleam of a genuine devil in it. Still he must have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge from the name he bore of Gunpowder. He had, in fact, been a favorite steed of his master's, the choleric Van Ripper, who was a furious rider, and had infused, very probably, some of his own spirit into the animal; for, old and broken-down as he looked, there was more of the lurking devil in him than in any young filly in the country.//
Carrot peelings, hay, chaff, molasses, maple oats, red apples, stable wood, and musk.
Rose otto, tonka, orchid, Calla lily, skin musk, coconut, and Spanish sage.
//A heavy-lidded perfume, the quintessence of beauty and power shrouded in mystery, swathed in a deep, velvet-clad cloak of dark omens.//
Romany incense and candle smoke mingling with an alluring, body-warmed whiff of bergamot, neroli, Bulgar rose, carnation, and amber musk.
[[Snake Oil]] with ho wood, teak, black musk, and bamboo.
//The gloomy Hades enriches himself with our sighs and our tears. The Unseen. Eldest brother of Zeus, Husband of Persephone, Lord of the Underworld and Commander of the Demons of the Underworld, God of Wealth, whose epithets are Clymenus [Notorious], Eubuleus [Wise in Counsel], and Polydegmon [He who receives many / The Hospitable]. Though he is a dark, morbid and morose deity, fierce and relentless, and is stern, pitiless, and sometimes cruel, he is by no means an evil God. His justice is true, even-handed and absolute, and he is possessed of unbreakable loyalty, single-minded devotion to duty, and immense courage.//
A dark, palpably sacred chthonic blend: black narcissus and cypress, stephanotis, opoponax, labdanum, onycha and ambergris.
Spotty, hairy, purple, sweet!
Voodoo Blends
Discontinued 2004
//A highly sexual, passionately primal love oil for men.//
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
//Inspired by the cursed skeletal undead of Japanese lore.//
White sandalwood, Lily of the Valley and bergamot.
[[Halloween 2004]]
[[Halloween 2005]]
[[Halloween 2006]]
[[Halloween 2007]]
[[Halloween 2008]]
[[Halloween 2009]]
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Halloween04")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Halloween05")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):Pumpkin Patch 2005@@''
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("PumpkinPatch05")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Halloween06")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):Pumpkin Patch 2006@@''
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("PumpkinPatch06")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Halloween07")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):Pumpkin Patch 2007@@''
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("PumpkinPatch07")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):Haunted House@@''
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("HauntedHouse")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Halloween08")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):Pumpkin Patch 2008@@''
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("PumpkinPatch08")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):Sleepy Hollow@@''
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SleepyHollow")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Halloween09")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):Pumpkin Patch 2009@@''
//The 'Patch is back, and there are five new pumpkin blends to choose from. Pick individual pumpkins from the field, or snatch up the whole shebang!//<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("PumpkinPatch09")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''
@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):The Literary Vampire@@''
//A cypress-bough, and a rose-wreath sweet
A wedding-robe, and a winding-sheet,
A bridal-bed and a bier.
Thine be the kisses, maid,
And smiling Love's alarms;
And thou, pale youth, be laid
In the grave's cold arms.
Each in his own charms,
Death and Hymen both are here;
So up with scythe and torch,
And to the old church porch,
While all the bells ring clear:
And rosy, rosy the bed shall bloom,
And earthy, earthy heap up the tomb.
Now tremble dimples on your cheek,
Sweet be your lips to taste and speak,
For he who kisses is near:
By her the bridegod fair,
In youthful power and force;
By him the grizard bare,
Pale knight on a pale horse,
To woo him to a corpse.
Death and Hymen both are here;
So up with scythe and torch,
And to the old church porch,
While all the bells ring clear:
And rosy, rosy the bed shall bloom,
And earthy, earthy heap up the tomb.//
-- Songs from "Death's ~Jest-Book", Athulf's Death Song, Thomas Lovell Beddoes<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("LiteraryVampire")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Oak, tonka, vanilla, white sandalwood, lily of the valley, white ginger, amber, and apricot.
Yule 2006, 2007
//Sacred to both Demeter and Dionysus, this is a celebration of the of the pruning of the vines, the first fermentation of the year’s wine, and of the consecration of the next year’s planting. The service was lead by the heterai and the Eleusinian Arkhontes, and began with the preparation of a banquet that honors Demeter’s bounty and the fertility aspect of Dionysus with pudenda- and phallus-shaped cakes. After the preliminary feast, the magistrates departed, and the heterai held a second rite that consisted of copious wine consumption, ritual symbolic fornication, and formal offerings of incense, grain, and cakes to sacred statues of the deities and to clay images of genitalia. Finally, the magistrates and priests were permitted to rejoin the ritual. A Priest and Priestess bore torches that symbolizes Demeter and her daughter Persephone presided over the final ceremony, which culminated in the ultimate celebration of fertility: an orgy that lasted til dawn.//
Wine grapes, myrrh, frankincense and olive leaf, and the warm scent of offertory cakes.
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2008
//Nature spirits and protectors of the world’s groves and forests that appear as breathtakingly stunning women. Hamadryads are born into a tree that serves as both a home and an anchor for the creature’s soul. They are sometimes tricksters, sometimes seducers, sometimes helpful and benign, but they are always fierce and furious protectors of the natural world.//
Seven dry woods with mossy lichen and a gentle breeze of forest flowers.
February 2008
//Sleeping under the trees on Yoshino mountain
The spring breeze wearing cherry blossom petals
In Japan, the advent of spring is heralded by a blanket of pink and white that spreads gently from the South to the North to cover the islands. Hana-mi translates to "flower watching", and it is a sport of leisure that has been enjoyed since the Heian Period.//
A scent of peace, reflection, and renewal of the spirit: sakura, ume blossoms, and wisteria.
//The fingertips themselves are aflame, yet the desiccated skin is not being consumed.//
Beeswax, dry leather, black pepper, saltpeter, nutmeg, Mysore sandalwood, and oak bark.
//Hanerot halalu anachnu madlikin
Al hanissim ve'al haniflaot
Al hatshu-ot ve'al hamilchamot
She-asita la'avoteynu
Bayamim hahem, bazman hazeh
Al yedey kohanecha hakdoshim.
Vechol shmonat yemey Chanukah
Hanerot halalu kodesh hem,
Ve-ein lanu reshut lehishtamesh bahem
Ela lirotam bilvad
Kedai lehodot leshimcha
Al nissecha veal nifleotecha ve-al yeshuotecha.
We light these lights
For the miracles and the wonders,
For the redemption and the battles
That you made for our forefathers
In those days at this season,
Through your holy priests.
During all eight days of Chanukah
These lights are sacred
And we are not permitted to make
Ordinary use of them,
But only to look at them;
In order to express thanks
And praise to your great Name
For your miracles, your wonders
And your salvations.//
Olive oil, beeswax, and smoke.
Osmanthus, honey, golden musk, vanilla flower, and ginger.
Based on a Romany incense blend reputed to induce sexual dreams.
Somalian rose, Moroccan rose and Bulgar rose with a sultry dribble of cinnamon.
September 2004
The autumnal blooms of clematis, chrysanthemum, narcissus, sunflower, sage and lily twined with Dionysus' sacred grapes and ivy, a bounty of apple, pumpkin, and ripe berries, and the amaranth and lingum aloes of Janus, all touched by a gentle breath of festival woodsmoke and sweet wine.
September 2005
The autumnal scents of gladiola, chrysanthemum, aster, dahlia, anemone, bergamot, marigold, sage and verbena dust a blend of wine-soaked apples, plums, and red pears, mulling spices and brown sugar, the ivy leaves of Dionysus and Janus, amaranth and lingum aloe.
August 2006
//"The Harvest Moon, by definition, is the Full Moon that falls closest to the Autumnal Equinox, and thus, it shares some of that Sabbat’s characteristics. This Full Moon was thus named because it rises within half an hour of the sun’s setting, in the Northern Hemisphere, and at this time farmers are able to work longer into the night by the light of this Moon. As the year draws to a close, the Full Moon rises an average of fifty minutes later each night, with the exception of a few nights surrounding the Harvest Moon, which only rises 10-30 minutes later. This moon is also, August 2006
to the human eye, the fullest and largest of the year’s Moons, hanging gloriously huge, yellow and low in the night sky, and many Moon Illusions trick our eyes at this time.
The Harvest ushers in many celebrations in magickal work, including the Equinox and the Festival of Janus, God of Doors. Janus is the Roman Lord of Gateways, beginnings and endings, and transitions. Thus, the Harvest Moon is a time for blessing new undertakings, the onset of new and progressive phases in one’s life, and rites of passage into adulthood. This time of year also marks one of the Festivals of Dionysus, Lord of Ecstasy and the Vine.//
The autumnal blooms of clematis, chrysanthemum, narcissus, sunflower, sage and lily twined with Dionysus’ sacred grapes and ivy, a bounty of apple, pumpkin, and ripe berries, and the amaranth and lingum aloes of Janus, all touched by a gentle breath of festival woodsmoke and sweet wine."
September '08
//Harvest Moon is celebrated in almost every culture, and the bounty of the season is marked in a myriad of ways. Harvest Moon touches the Equinox, the festival of Janus, the culmination of Homowo, the "crying of the neck" in Cornwall, and the Women's Festival of the Moon. This is a day that celebrates abundance and beauty, fertility and progress, and the light of this full moon blesses new undertakings and reunites lost loves.
The Harvest Moon, by definition, is the Full Moon that falls closest to the Autumnal Equinox, and thus, it shares some of that Sabbat's characteristics. This Full Moon was thus named because it rises within half an hour of the sun's setting, in the Northern Hemisphere, and at this time farmers are able to work longer into the night by the light of this Moon. As the year draws to a close, the Full Moon rises an average of fifty minutes later each night, with the exception of a few nights surrounding the Harvest Moon, which only rises 10-30 minutes later. This moon is also, to the human eye, the fullest and largest of the year's Moons, hanging gloriously huge, yellow and low in the night sky, and many lunar illusions play tricks our eyes at this time.
The Harvest ushers in many celebrations, including the Equinox and the Festival of Janus, God of Doors. Janus is the Roman Lord of Gateways, beginnings and endings, and transitions. Thus, the Harvest Moon is a time for blessing new ventures, the onset of new and progressive phases in one's life, and rites of passage into adulthood. This time of year also marks one of the Festivals of Dionysus, Lord of Ecstasy and the Vine.//
This Harvest lunacy combines the autumnal scents of balsam fir, cedar, juniper berry, clove, saffron, damson plum, sage, black cherry, and fennel with the crushed wine grapes of Dionysus and Janus' lingum aloes.
Brings a rush of good luck, lifts the spirit, and helps alleviate depression.
//It wasn't a dark and stormy night.
It should have been, but that's the weather for you. For every mad scientist who's had a convenient thunderstorm just on the night his Great Work is finished and lying on the slab, there have been dozens who've sat around aimlessly under the peaceful stars while Igor racks up the overtime.
But don't let the fog (with rain later, temperatures dropping to around forty-five degrees) give anyone a false sense of security. Just because it's a mild night doesn't mean that dark forces aren't abroad. They're abroad all the time. They're everywhere.
They always are. That's the whole point.
Two of them lurked in a ruined graveyard. Two shadowy figures, one hunched and squat, the other lean and menacing, both of them Olympic-grade lurkers. If Bruce Springsteen had ever recorded "Born to Lurk," these two would have been on the album cover. They had been lurking in the fog for over an hour now, but they had been pacing themselves and could lurk for the rest of the night if necessary, with still enough sullen menace left for a final burst of lurking around dawn.
Finally, after another twenty minutes, one of them said: "Bugger this for a lark. He should have been here hours ago."
The speaker's name was Hastur. He was a Duke of Hell.//
Smoky-sour labdanum, black patchouli, wet tobacco, and brimstone.
A mournful, poignant scent, thick with foreboding.
Soft golden amber darkened with a touch of murky black musk.
Date palm, dried tobacco, snakeroot, and leather.
June 2004
//The embodiment of heart-wrenching loss, torment, of mad, obsessive cruelty and chilly revenge.//
This is the scent of a frost-limed wedding bouquet, frozen forever in time.
June 2008
//The moon was but a chin of gold
A night or two ago,
And now she turns her perfect face
Upon the world below.
Her forehead is of amplest blond;
Her cheek like beryl stone;
Her eye unto the summer dew
The likest I have known.
Her lips of amber never part;
But what must be the smile
Upon her friend she could bestow
Were such her silver will!
And what a privilege to be
But the remotest star!
For certainly her way might pass
Beside your twinkling door.
Her bonnet is the firmament,
The universe her shoe,
The stars the trinkets at her belt,
Her dimities of blue.//
Hay absolute, tall grasses, dry honey, mallow, cardamom, amber, and wheat.
Sweet pipe tobacco, cherry wood, the warm, worn leather of an easy chair and a pleasant, subtle waft of fireplace smoke.
Thoroughly revisited. This year's Hearth is warmer, sweeter, and more traditionally comforting. This is the scent of candied chestnuts, buttered, covered in brown sugar and honey, alongside the scent of cedar smoke and soft pine.
Ambergris accord, benzoin, teakwood, frankincense, myrrh, Mysore sandalwood, and incense.
//Magnificent three-faced Goddess of Magic, the Dark Moon and the Crossroads. She is the Mother of Witches, and the midnight baying of hounds is her paean. Her compassion is evidenced in her role as Psychopomp for Persephone, and her wrath manifests as Medea's revenge.//
Deep, buttery almond layered over myrrh and dark musk.
//I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell,
To die upon the hand I love so well.//
Rose amber, calla lily, night-blooming jasmine, water lily, and white rose.
Sweet, smoky and sensually wicked. A thick, steamy scent, truly sinister in its voluptuous sexuality. The perfume of a demon's favored consort, or of the devil herself.
Oleander with wet, sweet mandarin, lush magnolia, a rush of deep musk and a touch of spice.
//This series is based on the characters, locations, themes, and concepts in the world of Eisner-award winning Mike Mignola's Hellboy.
Hellboy was translated into film twice, both directed by Guillermo del Toro, starring Ron Perlman, Doug Jones, and Selma Blair.
Mike is a fantastic artist and storyteller, and we're so thrilled about this project! A huge thanks to Mike and Christine Mignola for giving us the opportunity to create these scents! //
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Aftershave, candy wrappers, brimstone, and cat.
A soft, sensual, luxuriant blend with a wicked bite.
Hazelnut, buttercream, honey mead, rum and sweet almond.
New Formulation
//A scent celebrating Sir Francis Dashwood's Order of the Knights of St. Francis of Wycombe, also known as the Hellfire Club.//
A swirl of pipe tobacco, hot leather, ambergris, dark musk and the lingering incense smoke from their Black Mass.
Sin & Salvation
Discontinued 2004
//A scent celebrating Sir Francis Dashwood’s Order of the Knights of St. Francis of Wycombe, also known as the Hellfire Club.//
A swirl of pipe tobacco, hot leather, ambergris, dark musk and the lingering incense smoke from their Black Mass.
August 2008
//… blues falling down like hail
And the day keeps on remindin' me, there's a hellhound on my trail …
August 16th marks the day the Devil came to call on the King of the Delta Blues.//
Bay rum, bourbon vanilla, galangal, hyssop, High John the Conqueror root, tobacco, life everlasting, and brimstone.
Imp Statues
//A scent for all rabble-rousing, nose-thumbing reprobates.//
Black plum, champaca flower, dark musk, patchouli, narcissus and scorched sandalwood.
This infamous herb has a long, complex history: it has been used in spells of death and destruction, was a principal component in traditional witches' flying ointments, and was the poison used to put the philosopher Socrates to death.
We have created a dark, profound herbal blend to personify and honor this wicked little plant.
Love Peoms
Oscar Wilde
//The wild bee reels from bough to bough
With his furry coat and his gauzy wing.
Now in a lily-cup, and now
Setting a jacinth bell a-swing,
In his wandering;
Sit closer love: it was here I trow
I made that vow,
Swore that two lives should be like one
As long as the sea-gull loved the sea,
As long as the sunflower sought the sun --
It shall be, I said, for eternity
'Twixt you and me!
Dear friend, those times are over and done,
Love's web is spun.
Look upward where the poplar trees
Sway and sway in the summer air,
Here in the valley never a breeze
Scatters the thistledowns, but there
Great winds blow fair
From the mighty murmuring mystical seas,
And the wave-lashed leas.
Look upward where the white gull screams
What does it see that we do not see?
Is that a star? or the lamp that gleams
On some outward voyaging argosy, --
Ah! can it be
We have lived our lives in land of dreams!
How sad it seems.
Sweet, there is nothing left to say
But this, that love is never lost.
Keen winter stabs the breasts of May
Whose crimson roses burst his frost,
Ships tempest-tossed
Will find a harbour in some bay,
And so we may.
And there is nothing left to do
But to kiss once again, and part,
Nay, there is nothing we should rue,
I have my beauty, -- you your Art.
Nay, do not start,
One world was not enough for two
Like me and you.//
__Hyacinth, beeswax, wild roses, vanilla amber, lily of the valley, tiger lily, honeysuckle, carnation, and heliotrope.__
//Of Herbert West, who was my friend in college and in after life, I can speak only with extreme terror. This terror is not due altogether to the sinister manner of his recent disappearance, but was engendered by the whole nature of his life-work, and first gained its acute form more than seventeen years ago, when we were in the third year of our course at the Miskatonic University Medical School in Arkham. While he was with me, the wonder and diabolism of his experiments fascinated me utterly, and I was his closest companion. Now that he is gone and the spell is broken, the actual fear is greater. Memories and possibilities are ever more hideous than realities.//
Aftershave, embalming fluid, and splatterings from a panoply of reanimation reagents.
//How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak;
How low am I? I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.//
Pink pepper, golden amber, honeysuckle, and passion flower.
Yule 2005, 2006
//Magus, toymaker, and Godfather to Klara. An enigmatic man, seemingly somewhat sinister, but bearing a gentle air and a sincere love for children. This scent is dignified, refined, but dark, and hints towards esoteric mysteries and the secrets that tie mechanics to magick.//
Pipe smoke, sweet leather, woods and linen.
The sublimely beautiful, fiercely independent, impeccably cultured, fascinatingly worldly and witty courtesans of ancient Greece.
A seductive and dazzling blend of golden honey, fiery patchouli, sweet fig and clove, and a blushing touch of ylang ylang.
//The Night of the Witches. In the Teutonic calendar, April 30, not October 31, was the night that the witches congregated to celebrate their Work through ecstatic dance, wild music and revelry. The witches fêted with spirits, fairies, and a bevy of otherworldy creatures atop Brockenberg peak in the Harz region of Germany, where they lit an enormous bonfire and cavorted naked until midnight… at which point they donned their robes, boarded their brooms, flying rams and sacred goats, scooped up their cat familiars, and sped off into the night. In later days, it was believed that on this night the witches conjured the devil, who would then select one of them for his bride.//
This perfume is the scent of the witches’ revel: German fir and forest herbs, incense and bonfire smoke, and the wet, glimmering scent of skin warmed by dance.
//The Night of the Witches. In the Teutonic calendar, April 30, not October 31, was the night that the witches congregated to celebrate their Work through ecstatic dance, wild music and revelry. The witches fêted with spirits, fairies, and a bevy of otherworldy creatures atop Brockenberg peak in the Harz region of Germany, where they lit an enormous bonfire and cavorted naked until midnight... at which point they donned their robes, boarded their brooms, flying rams and sacred goats, scooped up their cat familiars, and sped off into the night. In later days, it was believed that on this night the witches conjured the devil, who would then select one of them for his bride.//
This perfume is the scent of the witches' revel: German fir and forest herbs, incense and bonfire smoke, infernal flora, glowing amber, and the wet, glimmering scent of skin warmed by dance.
//Sister to Pele, Patroness of Hula Dancers, she is a Lady of Hawa'ii, and is caretaker, mother, and beloved of the land itself. The heart of the forest beats along with Her dance, and the air is suffused with Her scent.//
Mai'a, hibiscus, white ginger, akala, na'u, Hawaiian moon flower, yellow ilima, pink lokelani, jewel orchid, and fringed orchid.
//Inspired by Gris Grimly's illustrations for the ~Tell-Tale Heart.//
A macabre Valentine: wild black cherries, licorice root, and cinnamon.
A fast-acting, powerful scent used to overcome adversity through positive means. Attracts wealth, prestige, good health, and enhances others' opinions of you. Grants courage and steadfastness.
//`It says "Bough-wough!" cried a Daisy: `that's why its branches are called boughs!'
`Didn't you know that?' cried another Daisy, and here they all began shouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill voices. `Silence, every one of you!' cried the Tiger-lily, waving itself passionately from side to side, and trembling with excitement. `They know I can't get at them!' it panted, bending its quivering head towards Alice, `or they wouldn't dare to do it!'
`Never mind!' Alice said in a soothing tone, and stooping down to the daisies, who were just beginning again, she whispered, `If you don't hold your tongues, I'll pick you!'
There was silence in a moment, and several of the pink daisies turned white.
`That's right!' said the Tiger-lily. `The daisies are worst of all. When one speaks, they all begin together, and it's enough to make one wither to hear the way they go on!'//
__Daisy, pink carnation, pink pepper, and sugar__
//`How is it you can all talk so nicely?' Alice said, hoping to get it into a better temper by a compliment. `I've been in many gardens before, but none of the flowers could talk.'
`Put your hand down, and feel the ground,' said the Tiger-lily. `Then you'll know why.
Alice did so. `It's very hard,' she said, `but I don't see what that has to do with it.'
`In most gardens,' the Tiger-lily said, `they make the beds too soft -- so that the flowers are always asleep.'
This sounded a very good reason, and Alice was quite pleased to know it. `I never thought of that before!' she said.
`It's my opinion that you never think at all,' the Rose said in a rather severe tone.//
//A brace of loaded pistols
He carried night and day;
He never robbed a poor man
Upon the king's highway;
But what he'd taken from the rich,
Like Turpin and Black Bess,
He always did divide it
With the widow in distress.//
Stand and deliver! Vetiver with gardenia, blood red rose, night-blooming jasmine, a dash of cinnamon and a faint hint of leather.
//The God of Sexual Desire, Longing and Yearning; an attendant of Eros and Aphrodite.//
A passion-rousing blend of juniper, sandalwood, rosewood, red musk, orchid, bergamot and lilac.
//His Station and Four Aces, C.M. Coolidge.//
Lilac fougere, white musk, and leather accord.
Gift with purchase at December 2008 will-call
//no scent description given//
//Glory and Majesty, God’s Judgment.//
January 2006
//Before my bed
There is bright-lit moonlight
So that it seems
Like frost on the ground:
Lifting my head
I watch the bright moon
Lowering my head
I dream that I'm home.
When the moon is full, mankind is one.//
Bamboo pulp and oude with green and white tea.
Blood red holly berries and mistletoe accord
//The essence of innocence shattered.//
Glittering Egyptian amber and heliotrope, infused with the sweetness of strawberry and vanilla - dragged into debauch by lusty red musk and a dribble of black cherry.
June 2005
Honey Moon contains five different honeys, ranging from pale and sweet to deep and heady, with hints of jasmine, white gardenia, Hawaiian white ginger and thyme.
//Hony mone, a term proverbially applied to such as be newly married, which will not fall out at the first, but th'one loveth the other at the beginning excedingly, the likelyhood of their exceadinge love appearing to aswage, ye which time the vulgar people call the hony mone.//
Three honeys blended with seven fruits, flowers, and herbs of passion, pleasure, and joy: honeysuckle, fig, carnation, apricot, jasmine, tonka, and almond.
//A huge crowd mills in front of the next stage. You hear the din of their voices, chattering in a Babel’s fall of languages, laughing and buzzing with a strange anticipation. As you get closer, you notice that they are wearing a motley mix of clothing from ages past… all rotting, all in shreds. In the sea of faces, all bearing a similar chalky pallor, some stand out: there is a woman in a threadbare Burgundian gown, a young man in torn breeches and sagging slops, a maiden in a dagged-sleeve houppelande that is splattered with cruor, a snarling Victorian rogue with a battered silk top hat, and a vacant-eyed man in a shredded Confederate uniform. As you make your way through the crowd, you feel cold fingers pluck at your clothing, and the hard, almost glassy skin that you brush against radiates an unnatural cold. You hear tittering sighs as you push through the gathering, and your skin prickles as you feel icy breath upon your neck. Abruptly, someone cries out, and the strange congregation begins clapping a steady rhythm. Their voices rise in a tintamar of ghastly cheers as torches flare to life on the stage. The firelight illuminates a gargantuan, shining black stake in the center of the stage. It is festooned with black ribbons, drooping moss, and viciously-colored poisonous blooms in a playful, grotesque mockery of a Maypole. Two women, clutched tightly in a brutal embrace, spin onto the stage, shaking a tambourine and clacking a hembra in time with the clapping. One is clad in violet, with violet tresses to match; the other is a vision of swirling rose. Their long, waving hair whips in manic arcs as they twirl, stomp, and pirouette around the onyx shaft. The crowd becomes more and more frenzied as the dance reaches a mad crescendo, and suddenly you realize that the two are one: they are conjoined, identical twins, bound eternally at the ribs. The violet sister, caught in the throes of the ritual’s passion, throws her head back and moans. She bares a set of gleaming white fangs and bites deeply into her sister's neck. The rose maiden screams in joy, and returns her sister’s violent kiss as the crowd explodes into Corybantic mayhem.//
Simplicity and innocence, gleefully despoiled! Hope is sugared rose, Faith is sugared violet. The sisters are inseparable, and may only be purchased together.
Gift for food donation at September 2008 will-call (imp only)
Cream, honey, fig, quince, cos lettuce, pomegranate, pear, wild cucumber, carrot, marrow squash, saffron crocus, and bergamot
Forces a change of fortune, helps overcome poverty and want, and helps attract prosperity, prestige and earthly bounty.
//From livid skies that, without end,
As stormy as your future roll,javascript:;
What thoughts into your empty soul
(Answer me, libertine!) descend?
— Insatiable yet for all
That turns on darkness, doom, or dice,
I'll not, like Ovid, mourn my fall,
Chased from the Latin paradise.
Skies, torn like seacoasts by the storm!
In you I see my pride take form,
And the huge clouds that rush in streams
Are the black hearses of my dreams,
And your red rays reflect the hell,
In which my heart is pleased to dwell.//
The perfume of a hellbound soul, gleefully lost to iniquity: blood musk, golden honey, thick black wine, champagne grapes, tobacco flower, plum blossom, tonka bean, oakmoss, carnation, benzoin, opoponax, and sugar cane.
Antique amber frames a series of distorted, eternally warping clear crystal and glass notes.
//And by that light around the dome appear'd
A mournful garden of autumnal hue,
Its lately pleasing flowers all drooping stood
Amidst high weeds that rank in plenty grew.
The Primrose there, the violet darkly blue,
Daisies and fair Narcissus ceas'd to rise,
Gay spotted pinks their charming bloom withdrew.
And Polyanthus quench'd its thousand dyes.
No pleasant fruit or blossoms gaily smil'd,
Nought but unhappy plants or trees were seen,
The yew, the myrtle, and the church-yard elm,
The cypress, with its melancholy green.
There cedars dark, the osier, and the pine,
Shorn tamarisks, and weeping willows grew,
The poplar tall, the lotos, and the lime,
And Pyracantha did her leaves renew.
The poppy there, companion to repose,
Display'd her blossoms that began to fall,
And here the purple amaranthus rose
With mint strong-scented, for the funeral.
And here and there with laurel shrubs between
A tombstone lay, inscrib'd with stains of woe,
And stanzas sad, throughout the dismal green,
Lamented for the dead that slept below.//
A sorrowful graveyard bouquet of somber blooms, funereal boughs, dismal green and laden with grief.
//How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!
How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!//
Chocolate peppermint, mint-soaked vanilla, pistachio, oakmoss, and green cedar.
//Click, click, for ever click, click;
Mulan sits at the door and weaves.
Listen, and you will not hear the shuttle’s sound,
But only a girl’s sobs and sighs.
‘Oh, tell me, lady, are you thinking of your love,
Oh, tell me, lady, are you longing for your dear?’
‘Oh no, oh no, I am not longing for my dear.
But last night I read the battle-roll;
The Khan has ordered a great levy of men.
The battle-roll was written in twelve books,
And in each book stood my father’s name.
My father’s sons are not grown men,
And of all of my brothers, none is older than me.
Oh let me to the market to buy saddle and horse,
And ride with the soldiers to take my father’s place.’
In the eastern market she’s bought a gallant hors.
In the western market she’s bought saddle and cloth.
In the southern market she’s bought snaffle and reins.
In the northern market she’s bought a tall whip.
In the morning she stole from her father’s and mother’s house.
At night she was camping by the Yellow River’s side.
She could not hear her father and mother calling to her by name,
But only the voice of the Yellow River as its waters swirled through the night.
At dawn they left the River and went on their way;
At dusk they came to the Black Water’s side.
She could not hear her father and mother calling to her by her name,
She could only hear the muffled voices of foreign horsemen riding on the hills of Yen.
A thousand leagues she tramped on the errands of war.
Frontiers and hills she crossed like a bird in flight.
Through the northern air echoed the watchman’s tap;
The wintry light gleamed on coats of mail.
The captain had fought a hundred fights, and died;
The warriors in ten years had won their rest.
The went home, they saw the Emperor’s face;
The Son of Heaven was seated in the Hall of Light.
The deeds of the brave were recorded in twelve books;
In prizes he gave a hundred thousand cash.
Thus spoke the Khan and asked her what she would take.
‘Oh, Mulan asks not to be made
A counsellor at the Khan’s court;
I only beg for a camel that can march
A thousand leagues a day,
To take me back to my home.’
When her father and mother heard that she had come,
They went out to the wall and led her back to the house.
When her little sister heard that she had come,
She went to the door and rouged herself afresh.
When her little brother heard that his sister had come,
He sharpened his knife and darted like a flash
Towards the pigs and sheep.
She opened the gate that leads to the eastern tower,
She sat on her bed that stood in the western tower.
She cast aside her heavy soldier’s cloak,
And wore again her old-time dress.
She stood at the window and bound her cloudy hair;
She went to the mirror and fastened her yellow combs.
She left the house and met her messmates in the road;
Her messmates were startled out of their wits.
The had marched with her for twelve years of war
And never know that Mulan was girl.
For the male hare sits with its legs tucked in,
And the female hare is known for her bleary eye;
But set them both scampering side by side,
And who so wise could tell you ‘This is he’?//
Pink musk, white ginger, tea leaf, night blooming jasmine, bergamot, and leather.
//On All Saints Day, Spanish families visit their loved ones in the cemeteries, keeping vigil throughout the evening, saying prayers for the dead. Family burial plots are cleaned and tended, and graves are adorned with gladiolas, chrysanthemums, and roses. Bone-shaped pastries called Saint's Bones, or the Bones of the Holy, are baked and shared in honor of the souls in Purgatory, and to remind us of those who no longer share our repast, but with whom we one day hope to be reunited with again.//
Orange-glazed cake, dotted with anise seed, and filled with custard, set beside a bouquet of celebratory funeral flowers.
Evokes sheer, unadulterated carnal lust. An undeniably warm and sensual scent.
Black narcissus, orange blossoms, and vanilla.
February 2007
//When Hunger Moon hangs high in the sky, the fields are frozen, and game is piteously scarce. Sleet covers the ground, and biting winds chill to the bone. This is a quiet, cold perfume: desolate and despairing. It is a clear night sky that and bracing chill wind that bears the promise of snow, sharpened by the pain of hunger, and the sharp, rasping stab of thirst.//
Ozone, white sandalwood, crystallized white amber, verbena, oakmoss, clary sage, and a hint of white citrus rind.
July 2006
//On the 14th day of the seventh month of the lunar calendar, the Gates of Hell burst open, and ghosts pour forth from the Nine Darknesses into the sunlit world. To placate the dead, Hell Money is burned, offerings are made, and paper boats and floating lanterns are set out to give comfort and direction to wayward spirits. Though many spirits simply seek out the comforts of their former homes and the company of their loved ones, rancorous spirits also roam the streets, seeking revenge on those who have wronged them, before and after their deaths.//
Offerings of ginger candy, sugar cane, smoky vanilla and rice wine mingle with a ghost’s perfume of white sandalwood, ho wood, ti, white grapefruit, crystalline musk and aloe. This scent is tapered by the presence of seven herbs, woods and resins used in the purification of the spirit and the purging of earthly concerns from the soul.
October 2004
//As the winter encroaches, the time comes to embark on the last Great Hunts of the year. The deer are fattened, the fields have been reaped, and the light of the full moon illuminates the wild creatures that have come out to glean. This scent is redolent of night skies, falling leaves, and the high-pitched tension and release associated with the Hunt.//
A blend of traditional lunar oils touched with dry leaves, autumn bonfires, warm mulled wine, feral, animalistic notes and the chill of approaching winter.
September 2007
//As the winter encroaches, the time comes to embark on the last Great Hunts of the year. The deer are fattened, the fields have been reaped, and the light of the full moon illuminates the wild creatures that have come out to glean. This scent is redolent of night skies, falling leaves, and the high-pitched tension and release associated with the Hunt.//
Dry leaves, autumn bonfires, blood red wine, feral, animalistic notes and the chill of approaching winter.
The Dark Side of Air.
A high pitched, tangy, clear scent -- light China rain deepened by murky vetivert.
A paean to true holiness, spiritual purity, and sacred enlightenment. Based on an incense blend sacred to the Virgin Mary.
Perfect rose absolute and Palestinian Lily of the Valley with olibanum, labdanum, frankincense and myrrh.
//I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end;
Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend.
Thou art more than the day or the morrow, the seasons that laugh or that weep;
For these give joy and sorrow; but thou, Proserpina, sleep.
Sweet is the treading of wine, and sweet the feet of the dove;
But a goodlier gift is thine than foam of the grapes of love.
Yea, is not even Apollo, with hair and harpstring of gold,
A bitter God to follow, a beautiful God to behold?
I am sick of singing; the bays burn deep and chafe: I am fain
To rest a little from praise and grievous pleasure and pain.
For the Gods we know not of, who give us our daily breath,
We know they are cruel as love or life, and lovely as death.
O Gods dethroned and deceased, cast forth, wiped out in a day!
From your wrath is the world released, redeemed from your chains, men say.
New Gods are crowned in the city; their flowers have broken your rods;
They are merciful, clothed with pity, the young compassionate Gods
But for me their new device is barren, the days are bare;
Things long past over suffice, and men forgotten that were.
Time and the Gods are at strife; ye dwell in the midst thereof,
Draining a little life from the barren breasts of love.
I say to you, cease, take rest; yea, I say to you all be at peace,
Till the bitter milk of her breast and the barren bosom shall cease.
Wilt thou yet take all, Galilean? but these thou shalt not take,
The laurel, the palms and the breasts of the nymphs in the brake:
Breasts, more soft than a dove's, that tremble with tenderer breath;
And all the wings of the Loves, and all the joys before death;
All the feet of the hours that sound as a single lyre,
Dropped and deep in the flowers, with strings that flicker like fire.
More than these wilt thou give, things fairer than all these things?
Nay, for a little we live, and life hath mutable wings.
A little while and we die; shall life not thrive as it may?
For no man under the sky lives twice, outliving his day.
And grief is a grievous thing, and a man hath enough of his tears:
Why should he labour, and bring fresh grief to blacken his years?
Thou has conquered, O pale Galilean; the world has grown grey from thy breath;
We have drunken of thins Lethean, and fed on the fullness of death.
Laurel is green for a season, and love is sweet for a day;
But love grows bitter with treason, and laurel outlives not May.
Sleep, shall we sleep after all? for the world is not sweet in the end:
For the old faiths loosen and fall, the new years ruin and rend.
Fate is a sea without shore, and the soul is a rock that abides:
But her ears are vexed with the roar and her face with the foam of the tides.
O lips that the live blood faints in, the leavings of racks and rods!
O ghastly glories of saints, dead limbs of gibbeted Gods!
Though all men abase them before you in spirit, and all knees bend,
I kneel not neither adore you, but standing look to the end.
All delicate days and pleasant, all spirits and sorrows are cast
Far out with the foam of the present that sweeps to the surf of the past:
Where beyond the extreme sea wall, and between the remote sea gates
Waste water washes and tall ships founder, and deep death waits:
Where, mighty with deepening sides, clash about with the seas as the wings
And impelled of invisible tides, and fulfilled of unspeakable things,
White eyed and poisonous finned, shark toothed and serpentine curled,
Rolls under the whitening wind of the future, the wave of the world.
The depths stand naked in sunder behind it, the storms flee away,
In the hollow before it the thunder is taken and snared as a prey;
In its sides is the north wind bound; and its salt is of all men's tears.
With light of ruin, and sound of changes, and pulse of years;
With travail of day after day and with trouble of hour upon hour
And bitter as blood is the spray; and the crests are as fangs that devour
And its vapour and storm of its steam as the sighing of spirits to be;
And its noise as the noise in a dream; and it depth as the roots of the sea;
And the heights of its heads as the height of the utmost stars of the air;
And the ends of the earth at the might thereof tremble, and time is made bare.
Will ye bridle the deep sea with reins, will ye chasten the high sea with rods?
Will ye take her to chain her with chains who is older then all of ye Gods?
All ye as a wind shall go by, as a fire shall ye pass and be past:
Ye are Gods and behold ye shall die, and the waves be upon you at last.
In the darkness of time, in the deeps of the years, in the changes of things,
Ye shall sleep as a slain man sleeps, and the world shall forget you for kings.
Though the feet of thine high priests tread where they lords and our forefathers trod,
Though these that were Gods are dead, and thou being dead art a God
Though before thee the throned Cytherean be fallen, and hidden her head,
Yet thy kingdom shall pass, Galilean, thy dead shall go down to thee dead.
Of the maiden thy mother men sing as a goddess with grace clad around;
Thou art throned where another was king; where another was queen she is crowned.
Yea, once we had sight of another: but now she is queen, say these.
Not as thine, not as thine was our mother, a blossom of flowering seas,
Clothed round with the world's desire as with raiment, and fair as the foam,
And fleeter then kindled fire, and a goddess, and mother of Rome.
For thine came pale and a maiden, and sister to sorrow, but ours,
Her deep hair heavily laden with odour and colour of flowers.
White rose of the rose white water, a silver splendour, a flame,
Bent down unto us that besought her, and earth grew sweet with her name.
For thine came weeping, a slave among slaves, and rejected; but she
Came flushed from the full flushed wave, and imperial, her foot on the sea
And the wonderful waters knew her, the winds and the viewless ways,
And the roses grew rosier, and bluer the sea blue stream of the bays
Ye are fallen, our lords, by what token? we wist that ye should not fall.
Ye were all so fair that are broken; and one more fair than ye all
But I turn to her still, having seen she shall surely abide in the end:
Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend.
O daughter of earth, of my mother, her crown and blossom of birth,
I am also, I also thy brother; I go as I came unto earth.
In the night where thine eyes are as moons in heaven, the night where thou art,
Where the silence is more than all tunes, where sleep overflows from the heart,
Where the poppies are sweet as the rose in our world, and the red rose is white,
And the wind falls fain as it blows with the fume of the flowers of the night,
And the murmur of spirits in the shadow of Gods afar
Grows dim in thine ears and deep as the deep dim soul of a star
In the sweet low light of thy face, under heavens untrod by the sun,
Let my soul with their souls find peace, and forget what was done and undone
Thou are more than the Gods who number the days of our temporal breath:
For these give labour and slumber, but thou, Proserpina, death.
Therefore now at thy feet I abide for a season in silence. I know;
I shall die as my fathers died, and sleep as they sleep even so,
For the glass of the years is brittle wherein we gaze for a span;
A little soul for a little bears up this corpse which is man.
So long I endure, no longer; and laugh not again, neither weep.
For there is no God found stronger than death, and death is a sleep.//
The darkening amber of faith’s sunset, deepened by the dark fruits of Proserpine.
//I died for beauty but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth, the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.//
The Venusian splendor of ylang ylang and violet stirred by hyssop, frankincense, and grave loam.
spongy grey and pink cake, with sweet strawberry cream, giddy carnation, and electrical pulses of white grapefruit.
//Unspeakable HORROR and SHOCKING supernatural space SEX!
Can they find MARITAL BLISS on EARTH?//
A blend of blood-soaked daemonorops, black amber, dark musk, glistening leather, caraway, smoky myrrh, cinnamon, and clove that is glowing with a luminescent, space-addled coating of clary sage, lemon balm, white grapefruit rind, mandarin, green melon, and white musk.
Malevolent, dark and shadowy.
Sinuous black musk, wet leather and vetiver.
//Daughter of Pan and Echo and dear friend to Demeter. When Demeter was mourning the abduction of her daughter, Iambe was the only creature in heaven and earth that was able to lend cheer and laughter to the grieving mother//
Her scent is one of comfort, beauty and joy: Sudanese amber, patchouli, rose, gardenia, gladiola and white tea.
A majestic blend of precious pale musks, brittle winter blossoms, spruce, and frozen winter fruits.
//The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person. He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weather-cock, perched upon his spindle neck, to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield.
. . .
From his half itinerant life, also, he was a kind of travelling gazette, carrying the whole budget of local gossip from house to house; so that his appearance was always greeted with satisfaction. He was, moreover, esteemed by the women as a man of great erudition, for he had read several books quite through, and was a perfect master of Cotton Mather's history of New England Witchcraft, in which, by the way, he most firmly and potently believed.
He was, in fact, an odd mixture of small shrewdness and simple credulity. His appetite for the marvellous, and his powers of digesting it, were equally extraordinary; and both had been increased by his residence in this spellbound region. No tale was too gross or monstrous for his capacious swallow. It was often his delight, after his school was dismissed in the afternoon, to stretch himself on the rich bed of clover, bordering the little brook that whimpered by his school-house, and there con over old Mather's direful tales, until the gathering dusk of the evening made the printed page a mere mist before his eyes. Then, as he wended his way, by swamp and stream and awful woodland, to the farmhouse where he happened to be quartered, every sound of nature, at that witching hour, fluttered his excited imagination: the moan of the whip-poor-will from the hill-side; the boding cry of the tree-toad, that harbinger of storm; the dreary hooting of the screech-owl, or the sudden rustling in the thicket of birds frightened from their roost. The fire-flies, too, which sparkled most vividly in the darkest places, now and then startled him, as one of uncommon brightness would stream across his path; and if, by chance, a huge blockhead of a beetle came winging his blundering flight against him, the poor varlet was ready to give up the ghost, with the idea that he was struck with a witch's token. His only resource on such occasions, either to drown thought, or drive away evil spirits, was to sing psalm tunes;-and the good people of Sleepy Hollow, as they sat by their doors of an evening, were often filled with awe, at hearing his nasal melody, "in linked sweetness long drawn out," floating from the distant hill, or along the dusky road.//
Dusty black wool, tea with cream, black pepper, muguet, and beeswax candle drippings.
//Home to the Brethren of the Coast and a notorious safe-haven for pirates, this island was once described as the common place of refuge for all sorts of wickedness, the seminary of pirates and thieves.//
Damp air trapped in limestone caverns, heady greenery, hothouse orchids, nicotiana blossoms, bois de chandel, elemi, palm wine, garambullo, pega-pega, flame of the forest, and a swirl of Haitian vetiver.
Devilishly playful.
White peach, amber, golden musk and patchouli.
A 1/32oz vial brimming with the scent of three roses and a half bottle of cognac.
//`O Tiger-lily,' said Alice, addressing herself to one that was waving gracefully about in the wind, `I wish you could talk!'
`We can talk,' said the Tiger-lily: `when there's anybody worth talking to."
Alice was so astonished that she could not speak for a minute: it quite seemed to take her breath away. At length, as the Tiger-lily only went on waving about, she spoke again, in a timid voice -- almost in a whisper. `And can all the flowers talk?'
`As well as you can,' said the Tiger-lily. `And a great deal louder.'//
Tiger-lily, ginger root, neroli, purple fruits, and frankincense.
//Though thy slumber may be deep,
Yet thy spirit shall not sleep;
There are shades which will not vanish,
There are thoughts thou canst not banish;
By a power to thee unknown,
Thou canst never be alone;
Thou art wrapt as with a shroud,
Thou art gather'd in a cloud;
And for ever shalt thou dwell
In the spirit of this spell.//
A profound and entrancing potion. Deep, wispy, and unfathomably dark: vetiver, dark woods, crumbling and burnt black sandalwood and a drop of lemon rind.
//As if, with beasts' eyes, angels led
The way, I slip back to your bed,
Quiet as a hooded light,
Hushed by the shadows of the night.
And then, my dark one, you shall soon
Embrace the cold beams of the moon,
Around a fresh grave, the chilling hiss
Of serpent coiled shall be my kiss.
When morning shows his livid face
Your bed shall feel my empty place,
As cold as death, till fall of night.
Others take tenderness to wife:
Dread gives away your youth and life
To me, to be bride of fright.//
Spectral white musk and the heart-stopping chill of sheared mint, fanned by caramel-touched body heat, and the diabolical sensuality of black musk, nicotiana, and sage.
Gift with purchase included in some Election Day 2008 orders (imp only)
Voodoo Blends
Discontinued 2004
//Used liberally in love magick to ensure tranquility, calm quarrels, and rekindle faltering flames of attraction, sensuality and romance. Used also to put an end to infidelity, and in this aspect, it can be used not only on your mate, but on your self to keep your own eyes from wandering and hands from straying.//
Golden amber, vanilla musk, myrrh, cedar, carnation, and red sandalwood.
The Dark Side of Fire.
Cinnamon, bitter almond, and neroli. Heavily spiced, torrid, and possibly conflagrant.
Ars Amatoria
Discontinued 2004
//A tawdry Hollywood tragedy, the essence of innocence lost amongst casting couch cushions.//
Wild clover and gentle melon interlaced with violet leaf, water lilies, smooth wooden notes, and blushing rose.
/***
|Name|InlineJavascriptPlugin|
|Source|http://www.TiddlyTools.com/#InlineJavascriptPlugin|
|Version|1.6.0|
|Author|Eric Shulman - ELS Design Studios|
|License|http://www.TiddlyTools.com/#LegalStatements <<br>>and [[Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 License|http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5/]]|
|~CoreVersion|2.1|
|Type|plugin|
|Requires||
|Overrides||
|Description|Insert Javascript executable code directly into your tiddler content.|
''Call directly into TW core utility routines, define new functions, calculate values, add dynamically-generated TiddlyWiki-formatted output'' into tiddler content, or perform any other programmatic actions each time the tiddler is rendered.
!!!!!Usage
<<<
When installed, this plugin adds new wiki syntax for surrounding tiddler content with {{{<script>}}} and {{{</script>}}} markers, so that it can be treated as embedded javascript and executed each time the tiddler is rendered.
''Deferred execution from an 'onClick' link''
By including a {{{label="..."}}} parameter in the initial {{{<script>}}} marker, the plugin will create a link to an 'onclick' script that will only be executed when that specific link is clicked, rather than running the script each time the tiddler is rendered. You may also include a {{{title="..."}}} parameter to specify the 'tooltip' text that will appear whenever the mouse is moved over the onClick link text
''External script source files:''
You can also load javascript from an external source URL, by including a src="..." parameter in the initial {{{<script>}}} marker (e.g., {{{<script src="demo.js"></script>}}}). This is particularly useful when incorporating third-party javascript libraries for use in custom extensions and plugins. The 'foreign' javascript code remains isolated in a separate file that can be easily replaced whenever an updated library file becomes available.
''Display script source in tiddler output''
By including the keyword parameter "show", in the initial {{{<script>}}} marker, the plugin will include the script source code in the output that it displays in the tiddler.
''Defining javascript functions and libraries:''
Although the external javascript file is loaded while the tiddler content is being rendered, any functions it defines will not be available for use until //after// the rendering has been completed. Thus, you cannot load a library and //immediately// use it's functions within the same tiddler. However, once that tiddler has been loaded, the library functions can be freely used in any tiddler (even the one in which it was initially loaded).
To ensure that your javascript functions are always available when needed, you should load the libraries from a tiddler that will be rendered as soon as your TiddlyWiki document is opened. For example, you could put your {{{<script src="..."></script>}}} syntax into a tiddler called LoadScripts, and then add {{{<<tiddler LoadScripts>>}}} in your MainMenu tiddler.
Since the MainMenu is always rendered immediately upon opening your document, the library will always be loaded before any other tiddlers that rely upon the functions it defines. Loading an external javascript library does not produce any direct output in the tiddler, so these definitions should have no impact on the appearance of your MainMenu.
''Creating dynamic tiddler content''
An important difference between this implementation of embedded scripting and conventional embedded javascript techniques for web pages is the method used to produce output that is dynamically inserted into the document:
* In a typical web document, you use the document.write() function to output text sequences (often containing HTML tags) that are then rendered when the entire document is first loaded into the browser window.
* However, in a ~TiddlyWiki document, tiddlers (and other DOM elements) are created, deleted, and rendered "on-the-fly", so writing directly to the global 'document' object does not produce the results you want (i.e., replacing the embedded script within the tiddler content), and completely replaces the entire ~TiddlyWiki document in your browser window.
* To allow these scripts to work unmodified, the plugin automatically converts all occurences of document.write() so that the output is inserted into the tiddler content instead of replacing the entire ~TiddlyWiki document.
If your script does not use document.write() to create dynamically embedded content within a tiddler, your javascript can, as an alternative, explicitly return a text value that the plugin can then pass through the wikify() rendering engine to insert into the tiddler display. For example, using {{{return "thistext"}}} will produce the same output as {{{document.write("thistext")}}}.
//Note: your script code is automatically 'wrapped' inside a function, {{{_out()}}}, so that any return value you provide can be correctly handled by the plugin and inserted into the tiddler. To avoid unpredictable results (and possibly fatal execution errors), this function should never be redefined or called from ''within'' your script code.//
''Accessing the ~TiddlyWiki DOM''
The plugin provides one pre-defined variable, 'place', that is passed in to your javascript code so that it can have direct access to the containing DOM element into which the tiddler output is currently being rendered.
Access to this DOM element allows you to create scripts that can:
* vary their actions based upon the specific location in which they are embedded
* access 'tiddler-relative' information (use findContainingTiddler(place))
* perform direct DOM manipulations (when returning wikified text is not enough)
<<<
!!!!!Examples
<<<
an "alert" message box:
><script show>
// uncomment this: alert('InlineJavascriptPlugin: this is a demonstration message');
</script>
dynamic output:
><script show>
return (new Date()).toString();
</script>
wikified dynamic output:
><script show>
return "link to current user: [["+config.options.txtUserName+"]]";
</script>
dynamic output using 'place' to get size information for current tiddler:
><script show>
if (!window.story) window.story=window;
var title=story.findContainingTiddler(place).id.substr(7);
return title+" is using "+store.getTiddlerText(title).length+" bytes";
</script>
creating an 'onclick' button/link that runs a script:
><script label="click here" title="clicking this link will show an 'alert' box" show>
if (!window.story) window.story=window;
alert("Hello World!\nlinktext='"+place.firstChild.data+"'\ntiddler='"+story.findContainingTiddler(place).id.substr(7)+"'");
</script>
loading a script from a source url:
>http://www.TiddlyTools.com/demo.js contains:
>>{{{function demo() { alert('this output is from demo(), defined in demo.js') } }}}
>>{{{alert('InlineJavascriptPlugin: demo.js has been loaded'); }}}
><script src="demo.js" show>
return "loading demo.js..."
</script>
><script label="click to execute demo() function" show>
demo()
</script>
<<<
!!!!!Installation
<<<
import (or copy/paste) the following tiddlers into your document:
''InlineJavascriptPlugin'' (tagged with <<tag systemConfig>>)
<<<
!!!!!Revision History
<<<
''2007.02.19 [1.6.0]'' added support for title="..." to specify mouseover tooltip when using an onclick (label="...") script
''2006.10.16 [1.5.2]'' add newline before closing '}' in 'function out_' wrapper. Fixes error caused when last line of script is a comment.
''2006.06.01 [1.5.1]'' when calling wikify() on script return value, pass hightlightRegExp and tiddler params so macros that rely on these values can render properly
''2006.04.19 [1.5.0]'' added 'show' parameter to force display of javascript source code in tiddler output
''2006.01.05 [1.4.0]'' added support 'onclick' scripts. When label="..." param is present, a button/link is created using the indicated label text, and the script is only executed when the button/link is clicked. 'place' value is set to match the clicked button/link element.
''2005.12.13 [1.3.1]'' when catching eval error in IE, e.description contains the error text, instead of e.toString(). Fixed error reporting so IE shows the correct response text. Based on a suggestion by UdoBorkowski
''2005.11.09 [1.3.0]'' for 'inline' scripts (i.e., not scripts loaded with src="..."), automatically replace calls to 'document.write()' with 'place.innerHTML+=' so script output is directed into tiddler content. Based on a suggestion by BradleyMeck
''2005.11.08 [1.2.0]'' handle loading of javascript from an external URL via src="..." syntax
''2005.11.08 [1.1.0]'' pass 'place' param into scripts to provide direct DOM access
''2005.11.08 [1.0.0]'' initial release
<<<
!!!!!Credits
<<<
This feature was developed by EricShulman from [[ELS Design Studios|http:/www.elsdesign.com]]
<<<
!!!!!Code
***/
//{{{
version.extensions.inlineJavascript= {major: 1, minor: 6, revision: 0, date: new Date(2007,2,19)};
config.formatters.push( {
name: "inlineJavascript",
match: "\\<script",
lookahead: "\\<script(?: src=\\\"((?:.|\\n)*?)\\\")?(?: label=\\\"((?:.|\\n)*?)\\\")?(?: title=\\\"((?:.|\\n)*?)\\\")?( show)?\\>((?:.|\\n)*?)\\</script\\>",
handler: function(w) {
var lookaheadRegExp = new RegExp(this.lookahead,"mg");
lookaheadRegExp.lastIndex = w.matchStart;
var lookaheadMatch = lookaheadRegExp.exec(w.source)
if(lookaheadMatch && lookaheadMatch.index == w.matchStart) {
if (lookaheadMatch[1]) { // load a script library
// make script tag, set src, add to body to execute, then remove for cleanup
var script = document.createElement("script"); script.src = lookaheadMatch[1];
document.body.appendChild(script); document.body.removeChild(script);
}
if (lookaheadMatch[5]) { // there is script code
if (lookaheadMatch[4]) // show inline script code in tiddler output
wikify("{{{\n"+lookaheadMatch[0]+"\n}}}\n",w.output);
if (lookaheadMatch[2]) { // create a link to an 'onclick' script
// add a link, define click handler, save code in link (pass 'place'), set link attributes
var link=createTiddlyElement(w.output,"a",null,"tiddlyLinkExisting",lookaheadMatch[2]);
link.onclick=function(){try{return(eval(this.code))}catch(e){alert(e.description?e.description:e.toString())}}
link.code="function _out(place){"+lookaheadMatch[5]+"\n};_out(this);"
link.setAttribute("title",lookaheadMatch[3]?lookaheadMatch[3]:"");
link.setAttribute("href","javascript:;");
link.style.cursor="pointer";
}
else { // run inline script code
var code="function _out(place){"+lookaheadMatch[5]+"\n};_out(w.output);"
code=code.replace(/document.write\(/gi,'place.innerHTML+=(');
try { var out = eval(code); } catch(e) { out = e.description?e.description:e.toString(); }
if (out && out.length) wikify(out,w.output,w.highlightRegExp,w.tiddler);
}
}
w.nextMatch = lookaheadMatch.index + lookaheadMatch[0].length;
}
}
} )
//}}}
''<html>
<style type="text/css">
p.ex {color:#00B379;font-size:120%}
</style>
<p class="ex">Agony or Ecstasy Inquisition</p>
</html>''Lupercalia 2007<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("AgonyorEcstasy")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''<html>
<style type="text/css">
p.ex {color:#00B379;font-size:120%}
</style>
<p class="ex">Trick or Treat Inquisition</p>
</html>''Halloween 2006<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("TrickorTreat06")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>> Halloween 2007
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("TrickorTreat07")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''<html>
<style type="text/css">
p.ex {color:#00B379;font-size:120%}
</style>
<p class="ex">Naughty or Nice Inquisition</p>
</html>''Yule 2005<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("NaughtyorNice")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''<html>
<style type="text/css">
p.ex {color:#00B379;font-size:120%}
</style>
<p class="ex">Storytime Inquisition</p>
</html>''Yule 2008<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Storytime")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''<html>
<style type="text/css">
p.ex {color:#00B379;font-size:120%}
</style>
<p class="ex">Four Seasons Inquisition</p>
</html>''<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("FourSeasons")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''<html>
<style type="text/css">
p.ex {color:#00B379;font-size:120%}
</style>
<p class="ex">Warrior Queens Inquisition</p>
</html>''<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("WarriorQueens")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Gift at Glam Rock Extravaganza will-call, December 2006
//no scent description given//
A sultry, exotic scent that inspires devious plotting and clandestine affairs. It is a scent painted in artifice, veiled in deceit, and slithering with whispered secrets.
Black palm, with cocoa, fig and shadowy wooded notes.
Trampled gingerbread cookies, scattered rum balls, and indestructible, rock-hard fruitcake and a gargantuan squirt of musk
//if there was one thing that I think encapsulates the whole experience of pregnancy for me, it would be the Irrelevant and Disturbing Surreal Crawdad Dream. Since conception, my dreamscape has been unusually bizarre, bordering on the demented. One of my baby books told me that I'd be having nonstop dreams about puppies, kittens, and baby bunnies. Really? 'Cuz my dreams are filled with zombie-driven ice trucks that are late for delivery on my kid's birthday, masquerades where people come as themselves, a quest to cure possessed individuals (in this dream, you could tell that people were possessed by how annoying they were) by hitting them on the head with large rocks, and, of course, millions of malformed crawdads with human faces filling up numerous 18-wheeler truck beds.
Nary a bunny nor kitten to be found.
Par for the course during pregnancy? For me, it is.//
An irrelevant, disturbing, and surreal scent: red currant, green tea, red musk, Hawaiian ginger, benzoin, vanilla, coriander, squash blossom, and blueberry.
//To your side, you hear a man’s deep whisper, “Slowly I turned… inch by inch… step by step….” A scream interrupts him, and a roar of laughter pulses through the shadowed hall. Following the commotion, you move to the next stage. A bone-thin man moves across the stage, and sits upon an overstuffed, threadbare armchair. A battered violin is propped against the chair’s side. The audience starts to dissipate, and you realize that you must have just missed his performance. Relaxing, he reclines lazily, and as the light falls on his face, you come to realize that he is truly skeletal: a thin membrane of skin covers most of his body, but in many places, bone is completely exposed. He winks at you, and chuckles at your obvious discomfiture. The sweet smoke from his cigar touches your senses, and you hear the soft clink of the ice as he swirls the bourbon in his tumbler.
“Late for the show, are ya, friend? I’ll tell you a quick one, and then you’d best skedaddle. I have better things to do than sit here and be gawked at all night.” He takes a swig from his tumbler.
“A man goes to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist says, ‘I think you’re crazy.’ The man says, ‘I want a second opinion.’ The psychiatrist says, ‘Alright, you’re ugly, too.’”
His attention is diverted by a scantily clad woman in the audience beside you, and he leers at her. “Hello, nurse!” he growls, and leans towards her lecherously. “How’s about you come back to my dressing room, and I show you my stamp collection?”//
Bourbon, tobacco, dry bone, bay rum aftershave, and sleazy cologne.
//The Isle of the Dead, Arnold Böcklin.//
Cypress, labdanum, stargazer lily, juniper, yew, black rose, white sandalwood, benzoin and aquatic notes.
//Itasô Kansei Nenkan Jorô No Fûzoku, Wada hori Yû.//
Osmanthus, white honey, ti leaf, hibiscus, and sugar cane.
November 2007
//Ivanushka took his little sister, Alenushka, by the hand, and whispered to her, "Since our dear mother and father have died, we have had no joy. Our wicked stepmother beats us every morning and every evening. Our stepsister is cruel, and she laughs as stepmother beats us with switches. Our meals are dry, moldy crusts of bread. May the Lord have mercy on us! Come, little sister, we will set forth together into the great, wide world, for surely there can be nothing worse for us than we have in this house."
They walked and walked through meadows and fields, past sagging, abandoned cottages, and through barren, stony plains. Rain began to fall upon their tiny brows. "Heaven weeps with our hearts", Little Alenushka sighed. At nightfall, they came to a large, dark forest. Though the forest was frightening, the children were so weary with fear, hunger, and fatigue that they crawled into a hollow tree and fell asleep together.
The children's wicked stepmother was a black-hearted woman, and a witch, to boot. When she discovered that the children had run away, she crept behind them, using her magic for stealth, and watched them as they walked, and watched them as they slept. They awoke as the noon sun beat hot and bright upon the hollow tree. Ivanushka said, "Sister, I am terribly thirsty. I think I hear a brook; please, let us find it!"
Laughing to herself, the witch sped to all the brooks in the forest, ensorcelling them.
The children came across the first brook, and Brother Ivanushka rushed towards it. Alenushka, though, heard the voice of the water as it skipped over the slippery stones:
Whoever drinks of me will be a tiger.
Alenushka cried, "Oh Brother, please, please do not drink, or you will become a wild beast and will tear me to pieces!"
Ivanushka ignored his thirst, and did not drink. "Sister, I will wait," he said, and the children continued through the forest.
When they came across the next brook, Alenushka heard it whisper:
Whoever drinks of me will be a wolf.
"Dear Brother!" she cried. "Please do not drink from this brook, or you will transform into a wolf, and you will eat me!" Ivanushka did not drink, but he was truly suffering.
"Sister, I will wait."
When they came to the third brook, he could take the pain no longer, and he rushed forward, plunging his hands into the water even as his sister wailed, "Oh Brother! This brook speaks as well! You will become a roebuck, and you will run away from me!" But Ivanushka could not resist, and as soon as the first droplets of water touched his lips, he became a deer.
Alenushka wept, and collapsed to the ground. In his heart, the roe wept with her. The roe moved slowly and sorrowfully closer to his sister. Alenushka dried her tears and whispered, "Dear Brother, I will never, ever leave you. This, I promise."
She untied her golden garters and put them around the deer's neck. She plucked pliable rushes and wove them into a simple cord. She tied the cord to the garters, and led her brother deeper into the forest.
They walked on and on, for hours and hours, deeper and deeper into the forest. At last, they came to a small cottage. Alenushka peeked into one of the windows, and the cottage seemed be empty. She thought to herself, "We can stay here together; we will live here."
Every morning she gathered berries to eat, and brought grasses for her brother. Ivanushka's voice whispered to her heart, and she found that though he had changed to a deer, her brother still retained a boy's voice. They walked together through the forest, and played what games they could. At night, she said her prayers, and laid her head upon the roebuck's back as she drifted off to sleep.
One day, hunting horns sounded in the distance. The howl and bark of dogs and the raucous shouts of the huntsmen echoed through the forest, and the siblings knew that the King's Great Hunt had begun.
"Please, Sister! Let me be off to the Hunt!" the roebuck cried. She hesitated, worried for his safety. "Sister, I am wild, and this is now my nature. Please, I cannot bear it. Let me run with the hunt! I am fleet of foot, and I am young; I will outrun them!" He begged and pleaded, and her resolve crumbled. She agreed, but said, "Come back to me in the evening. I must shut the door to the cottage, as I fear the rough huntsmen. So when you return to me, you must knock and say, 'My Little Sister, let me in!' I will then know it is you. If you do not say this, I will not open the door."
The little deer kissed his sister's hand, and leapt merrily into the forest.
The King and his huntsmen saw the graceful roebuck with the golden collar and started after him, but he was swift and spry, and they could not catch their prey. When it was dark, the roebuck sped to the cottage. He knocked upon the door with his hoof and said, "My Little Sister, let me in!" Alenushka opened the door, and her brother leapt into the tiny house. They whispered and sang until they both grew tired, and slept the night through on the soft bed of grass.
The next day, the Hunt began anew. When the roebuck heard the trumpets and bugles in the distance, his blood stirred. "Sister, please let me out! It is time, and I must run!" She opened the door for him and said, "Remember: you must come back to me in the evening, knock, and say the password."
When the King and his men saw the roebuck again, they gave chase. The creature was so swift and nimble that the chase ran on the whole day. At twilight, one of the hunter's arrows found the roe's foot. The roe was forced to slow his run, and as he limped back to the cottage, one of the hunters tracked him. As the hunter hid behind the large and shadowy trees, he heard the roe knock on the cottage door and he heard the roe whisper, "My Little Sister, let me in." The hunter saw a flash of pale skin and gleaming russet hair as Alenushka opened the door for her injured brother.
The huntsman raced back to his King, and told him all that he had seen and heard. Intrigued, the King said, "Tomorrow, friends, we will hunt once more."
Alenushka was terrified when she saw that her brother was hurt. She cleaned his wound, and washed the blood from his fur. She laid herbs on his foot, and bound it with fresh cloth. The wound was so slight that, after a night of rest and with the aid of his sister's gentle ministrations, he did not feel the injury at all. When he heard the calls of the huntsmen and the howl of the dogs, his blood stirred again, and he said, "I must run, Little Sister! Let me out!"
"I shall not!" Alenushka cried. "You are injured, and they will catch you. They will catch and kill you, and I will be alone in the forest. I will not let you out."
"Sister, I am wild. This is now my nature. If you do not set me free, I will perish from grief."
Alenushka had no choice, so she opened the door with a heavy heart. "I am weak with fear for you, Brother."
"You have nothing to fear, Little Sister. I am fleet of foot, and I am young; I will outrun them!"
With that, he bounded joyfully into the forest.
Soon, the King spotted the roebuck with the golden collar. He said to his men, "Chase him all day long; he will tire. But take care, and none of you shall do him any harm. We will track the beast."
At twilight, the King said to his men, "The roe is still giving chase. Now you will show me the cottage in the woods." The King crept to the door, knocked, and whispered, "Dearest Little Sister, let me in." The door opened, and the King entered the tiny house. Before him stood a young maiden, the loveliest he had ever seen. Her ivory skin shone like moonlight, and her auburn hair hung in long, thick waves around a perfect, beautiful face made wise by sadness and despair. The maiden was frightened when she saw, not her beloved brother, but a tall and dark-haired man with a golden crown upon his head. But the King's face was handsome and his eyes were kind, and he said to her, softly, "You have won my heart, fairest of ladies. Will you go with me to my palace and be my wife? I will love you all of my days."
His voice struck her heart, and she said, "Yes, sir, I will. But the little roebuck must come with us. I cannot leave him."
The King took her tiny hand in his, and said, "The deer shall stay with you for as long as you live, and you both shall want nothing." At that moment, the roe came running into the cottage. He stopped, startled. His sister stroked his fur gently, and looped the cord of rushes through his collar. The three, together, left the tiny cottage in the woods.
The King set the maiden upon his horse, and carried her to his castle. A splendid, joyful wedding was held with great pageantry, and courtiers from across the land came to pay their respects to their liege. Alenushka was now Queen, and they lived together in happiness in peace. The roebuck was cared for and cherished, and ran happily through the castle gardens. The King and Queen basked in the joy of true love.
The wicked stepmother, whose cruelty had forced the siblings out into the world, believed that Alenushka had been torn to shreds by wild beasts in the forest, and that Ivanushka, as a roebuck, had been slain as a trophy by huntsmen. One day, while the crone was purchasing herbs in the marketplace, she heard that the King had married. She heard tales of the kindness and beauty of the new Queen, and her curiosity was piqued. She traveled to the castle, huddled under the rags of a beggar woman. The Queen was outside the castle giving alms to the poor. Her pale face was lit with joy, and her auburn hair was set aflame by the light of the sun and her golden, bejeweled crown. The wicked stepmother saw that this Queen was the child she had scorned. When she saw the happiness in Alenushka's eyes, her black heart clenched with poisonous envy. She fled back to her home, seething with hatred.
The crone had no peace, and thought of nothing else over the next few days except how to bring the Queen misfortune. Her own wretched daughter, one-eyed and ugly and bent as sin, groused, "A Queen, indeed! That ought to have been my luck. You should have killed those children yourself. You should have slashed them with a knife, or beaten them with a cudgel. Then I would now be Queen."
"Be quiet," hissed the old woman. She turned to her daughter and cooed, "When the time comes, we shall be ready."
After a time, the Queen gave birth to a beautiful boy. One day, the King went hunting, and the wicked stepmother seized upon the opportunity. The old crone used her magic to take the form of a chamber maid, and went into the room where the Queen lay. She said to the Queen, "Come, my dear, your bath is ready. It will do you good, and will renew your strength. Make haste, or the water shall go cold!"
The crone's daughter was also nearby, and the two of them carried the birth-weak Queen to the bath room. Gently, they lowered her into the bath, then they crept out, and shut the door. Using her magic, the crone set a huge, ferocious fire blazing within the bath room, and the Queen died from suffocation.
When this evil deed was done, the witch took her daughter and laid a glamour upon her wretched daughter's countenance so she would take the shape of the dead Queen. Her magic could not replace her daughter's missing eye, so she bade her daughter lie down in bed in a way that the King could not see it.
In the evening, the King went to the bedchamber to see his wife and infant son. But the crone called out, "My King! Keep the bedcurtains closed. The Queen should not see light yet, and she must have rest." The King left, and did not see that an imposter lay in his bed.
At midnight, while all in the castle slept, the nurse, who was sitting by the Prince's cradle, saw a ghostly form approach the baby. Shocked, she saw that this phantom was her Queen. The Ghost Queen took the child out of the cradle and held it. She crooned a soft lullaby to the child, and set him back down in his cradle. She tucked a blanket around the infant, and caressed his tiny face. In the corner of the nursery, the roe lay on a bed of velvet. The Ghost Queen stopped and stroked the roe's fur lovingly, then glided silently through the door.
The nurse did not believe her eyes, and thought the shadows within the castle and the lateness of the hour were creating strange fancies.
The next morning the nurse, shaken, asked the guards whether anyone had come into the palace during the night, but they answered, "No, we have seen no one."
The Ghost Queen visited the nursery many nights in silence. The nurse always saw her, but she did not dare to tell anyone about it, though she feared that she might be losing her mind.
Meanwhile, the King tried to visit his Queen every evening, and each time, the crone waved him away. "My King! Keep the bedcurtains closed. The Queen should not see light yet, and she must have rest." The King left, and still did not see that an imposter lay in his bed.
After many days, the Ghost Queen finally spoke to the nurse as she left the Prince's bedchamber --
"How fares my child, how fares my roe?
Twice shall I come, then never more."
In terror, the nurse did not answer, but when the Queen had vanished, the nurse could bear it no longer. She ran to the King and told him all she had seen and heard. The King said, "What phantom is this that stalks my son's bed? Tomorrow night I will watch by the child."
In the evening he went into the nursery, and sat hidden in the shadows. At midnight, the Ghost Queen appeared and said -
"How fares my child, how fares my roe?
Once more will I come, then never more."
The King did not dare to speak to the ghost, but on the next night he returned to the shadows of the Prince's bedchamber. At midnight, the Ghost Queen returned, and said --
"How fares my child, how fares my roe?
This time I come, then never more."
The King leapt forward, and stared deep into the ghost's unearthly eyes. He saw the maiden that he had fallen in love with, and cried, "You can be none other than my beloved Queen!"
The ghost whispered, "Yes, my Lord, I am your wife."
The King rose to embrace her, and as the King's tears fell upon her ghostly form, the Queen was filled with life. Her body became solid, her cheeks flushed with love. Weeping, Alenushka told her husband the tale of her murder. The King and his guard stormed into the Queen's bedchamber and arrested the witch and her daughter. They were dragged before the judge, and were sentenced. The daughter was taken to the forest, where she was bound and left to be shredded by wild animals. The crone was cast into a fire with stones tied to her throat, and died a terrible death. At the moment of the crone's demise, the roebuck was transformed back into a young man, and thus the sister and brother lived the rest of their lives, happily ever after.//
Soft, velvety fur and warm musk, brushed by forest woods and dusted by dry leaves.
//Japanese horror films are tense, elliptical, psychologically chilling experiences, most often inspired by Japanese folklore and Kaidan, or supernatural tales, and are woven tightly with themes of retribution and vengeance. Examples: Ringu, Jigoku, Ugetsu, The Ghost Story of Yotsuya.//
This scent is spectral, draped in funeral white, and surges with otherworldly, malevolent rage: stargazer lily, white sandalwood, chrysanthemum, and shincha, with white mint, eucalyptus, licorice bark, and blood orange.
//And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Come whiffing through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!//
An earthy yet buoyant scent: pine, eucalyptus and orange.
The scent of warm, glowing jack o'lanterns on a warm autumn night.
True Halloween pumpkin, spiced with nutmeg, glowing peach and murky clove.
Yule 2005, 2006, 2008
//And Jacob went out from Beersheba, and went toward Haran.
And he lighted upon a certain place, and tarried there all night, because the sun was set; and he took of the stones of that place, and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep.
And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it.
And, behold, the Lord stood above it, and said, I am the Lord God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac: the land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed;
And thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and thou shalt spread abroad to the west, and to the east, and to the north, and to the south: and in thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed.
And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into this land; for I will not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of.
And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not.
And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.//
The meeting of Heaven and Earth: golden amber, galbanum, benzoin, ambrette, rockrose, costus and tonka.
Innocence defiled.
Sticky pink bubblegum and the thick, sweet scent of orange and cherry lollipops smeared over a breath of heady womanly perfume.
//She'd rented the cottage furnished, which meant that the actual furniture was the special sort you find in these circumstances and had probably been left out for the dustmen by the local War on Want shop. It didn't matter. She didn't expect to be here long.
If Agnes was right, she wouldn't be anywhere long. Nor would anyone else.//
Camellia, jasmine, heather, orange blossom, osmanthus, wisteria, thyme, angelica, freesia, granny’s nightcap, and English wildflowers.
//Considered a great honor, this is one of the most distinguished aspects of New Orleans culture. Its roots lie in the customs of the Dahomeans and Yoruba people, and is a celebration of both the person’s life and the beauty and solemnity of their death. The procession is lead by the Grand Marshal, resplendent in his black tuxedo, white gloves and black hat in hand; almost a vision of the great Baron Samedi himself. The music begins with solemn, tolling dirges, moves into hymns of sorrow, loss and redemption. When the burial site is reached, a two-note preparatory riff is sounded, and the drummers start the second-line beat, heralding the switch in music to joyous, upbeat songs, dancing, and the unfurling of richly decorated umbrellas by the “second line”: friends, family, loved ones and stray celebrants. Strutting, bouncing, and festive dance accompanies the upbeat ragtime music that sends the departed soul onto its next journey.
Didn’t he ramble
... he rambled
Rambled all around
... in and out of town
Didn’t he ramble
... didn’t he ramble
He rambled till the butcher cut him down.
His feet was in the market place
… his head was in the street
Lady pass him by, said
… look at the market meat
He grabbed her pocket book
… and said I wish you well
She pulled out a forty-five
… said I’m head of personnel.
Didn’t he ramble
... he rambled
Rambled all around
... in and out of town
Didn’t he ramble
... didn’t he ramble
He rambled till the butcher cut him down.
He slipped into the cat house
… made love to the stable
Madam caught him cold
… said I’ll pay you when I be able
Six months had passed
… and she stood all she could stand
She said buddy when I’m through with you
Ole groundhog gonna be shakin yo’ hand.
Didn’t he ramble
... he rambled
Rambled all around
... in and out of town
Didn’t he ramble
... didn’t he ramble
He rambled till the butcher cut him down.
I said he rambled
… lord
...’ till the butcher shot him down.//
Bittersweet bay rum, bourbon, and a host of funeral flowers with a touch of graveyard dirt, magnolia and Spanish Moss.
Huckleberry and red currant with the incisive bite of neroli.
Biblical witch, priestess of Astarte, and general troublemaker. A true role model for today's upwardly mobile Modern Woman.
A gloriously decadent blend of honey, roses, orange blossom and sandalwood.
The Dragon’s Isle: smoke and fire, earth and wind. The rage of the elements blasting over a primordial paradise.
//Known as Pimoko, the sun-daughter, Jingu was an Empress of Japan who served as regent and de facto ruler between the time of the death of her husband and the ascension of her son, Emperor Ojin. Sure that knowledge of her husband’s death would bring discord to her realm, she managed to keep his passing a secret, and successfully put down numerous insurrections in his name. Although she was pregnant with the future emperor of Japan, she donned armor and rode into battle, leading the conquest of Silla.//
Sakura, white orchid, mandarin, bamboo, red sandalwood, plum blossom, and lilac.
//There was three men come out o' the west
their fortunes for to try,
And these three men made a solemn vow,
John Barleycorn must die,
They plowed, they sowed, they harrowed him in,
throwed clods upon his head,
And these three men made a solemn vow,
John Barleycorn was dead.//
Barley, beer, blood, and whiskey.
Sea spray with an undercurrent of leather, Bay Rum, and salty, dry woods.
//Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a hysterical way: "Must you go? Oh! Young Herr, must you go?" She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at all. I was just able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told her that I must go at once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked again:
"Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth of May. She shook her head as she said again:
"Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it is?"
On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:
"It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?" She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally, she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting.
It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it.
I tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go.
She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to me.
I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind.
She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round my neck and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of the room.//
A respectable gentleman’s scent: lavender, iris, white tea, verbena and white sandalwood.
Douglas fir, tinsel, metallic swag garlands, arc flash, and the ozone smell of electrical discharge.
//Judith Victorious, Lucas Cranach the Elder.//
Chestnut blossom, lily of the valley, King mandarin, French magnolia, and golden musk.
Skin musk, honey, carnation, French magnolia, patchouli, sandalwood, and immortelle.
Voodoo Blends
Discontinued 2004
//Both a fearsome crossing and fiercely potent uncrossing blend, depending on your intent.//
A bawdy, gleefully wicked and unruly scent.
Kentucky Bourbon, sugar and a sprig of mint.
(The Room in the Tower, E.F. Benson.)
//And then, with a sudden start of unexplained dismay, I saw that there were two rather conspicuous objects which I had not seen before in my dreams: one a life-sized oil painting of Mrs. Stone, the other a black-and-white sketch of Jack Stone, representing him as he had appeared to me only a week before in the last of the series of these repeated dreams, a rather secret and evil-looking man of about thirty. His picture hung between the windows, looking straight across the room to the other portrait, which hung at the side of the bed. At that I looked next, and as I looked I felt once more the horror of nightmare seize me.
It represented Mrs. Stone as I had seen her last in my dreams: old and withered and white-haired. But in spite of the evident feebleness of body, a dreadful exuberance and vitality shone through the envelope of flesh, an exuberance wholly malign, a vitality that foamed and frothed with unimaginable evil. Evil beamed from the narrow, leering eyes; it laughed in the demon-like mouth. The whole face was instinct with some secret and appalling mirth; the hands, clasped together on the knee, seemed shaking with suppressed and nameless glee. Then I saw also that it was signed in the left-hand bottom corner, and wondering who the artist could be, I looked more closely, and read the inscription, "Julia Stone by Julia Stone."//
Rotting once-white fabric, spotted with mold.
Sweet pea with stargazer lily, calla lily, heliotrope, honeysuckle, white musk and a touch of fresh pear.
//Ted’s gloriously dismal creation. As a lover of rainy days, grey skies and chill air, summer is his antithesis. A spell of June Gloom is always welcome in our household.//
A bouquet of bright summer flowers dampened by the scent of morning mist and rain.
//It’s May in Los Angeles, and we’re baking slowly as the weather hits the low 100’s…
Here at the Lab, we are praying for a little June Gloom.//
Bright summer flowers, fresh herbs, and a bit of citrus rind dampened by the scent of morning mist and rain.
//Majesty - Expansion - Optimism - Politics - Civic and religious leadership - Health - Prosperity - Advancement - Justice - Benevolent power - Responsibility - Sagacity - Sworn oaths//
Yule 2006, 2007
//The Jólasveinar are the seventy-some offspring of Grýla and Leppalúði, an ogre couple with a taste for chomping naughty children. This impish brood delights in causing discomfort, sowing confusion, and all-out raising hell during the Yule season. Their names are indicative of their malicious intentions -- Strap Loosener, Door Slammer, Window Peeper, Sausage Snatcher, Doorway Sniffer, Icebreaker -- and their creepy natures -- Lamp Shadow, Smoke Gulper, Crevice Imp. The devillish Jólasveinar finally cease their mischief and head for home at Þrettándinn.//
Their scent is a mishmash of snow, dirt, Icelandic moss, marsh felwort, and the smushed petals of buttercups and moorland spotted orchids, with the barest hint of the scent of pilfered Christmas pastries.
Compelling, complex, and utterly enigmatic.
A luxuriant, exotic blend of cherry, red musk, and star anise.
//She regrets her harsh words, spoken thoughtlessly, which caused a quarrel that divided her from her lover.//
Hyssop, lavender, balsam of Peru, jonquil, and elemi.
//Kali, the Black One, is the fearless Goddess of Destruction, Creation, Energy [in her Shakti aspect] and Dissolution. Also named Kaliratri [Black Night] and Kalikamata [Black ~Earth-Mother], she is the fiercest aspect of Devi, the supreme mother goddess. Kali is a protector Goddess, the destroyer of evil spirits and guardian of the faithful. She, along with her consort Shiva, represent the unending cycle of death and birth, sexual union, creation and destruction. Kali annihilates ignorance, maintains the natural order of the world, and blesses those who strive for spiritual awareness and knowledge of true holiness with infinite tenderness and motherly love. The constant, unending Work of Creation is called the "The Play of Kali".//
This perfume is a blend of the sacred blooms of cassia, hibiscus, musk rose, Himalayan wild tulip, lotus and osmanthus swirled with offertory dark chocolate, red wine, tobacco, balsam and honey.
//The Other Woman. The scent of dark desire, heady with intrigue, shadowy with deception.//
Black opium, Haitian patchouli, jasmine sambac, French magnolia and kush.
//The sound of metal smashing metal jars your ears, and you follow the cacophony to the next stage. The backdrop is painted with streaks of lightning, and you see that an iron sign hangs above it, now broken, pounded into pieces, possibly by a hammer or mallet. Despite the damage, you can still make out the words that have been burned into its face:
Property of Pygmalion Industries, LLC
A slender, willowy blonde is facing the sign, looking up at it thoughtfully. She reaches up, and with unbelievable strength, speed, and fury, pounds the sign with her fists until it is an unrecognizable mess, and it falls to the ground with a thunderous crash. She turns, and you realize that this is no creature born of woman: she is half human, half machine. Her exposed stomach shows brass and copper gears, and her joints are girded with steel. You see that her hands are covered in blood as she reaches towards a large burlap sack on the floor, picks it up, and tosses it at your feet. It lands with a sickening wet splat. She locks her gaze on yours, and her hollow, mechanical voice murmurs, “I am no man’s property.”//
Gentle flowers over hot metal, shocked to life with electricity.
A strong, willful blend with a soft, utterly lovely soul.
White musk with a trickle of bright, sharp apricot and orange blossom.
//The scent of sacred incense swirling up the steep slopes to Swayambhunath Stupa.//
Saffron, blessed sandalwood, Himalayan cedar and the miraculous lotus of the Buddha with chiuri bark and Nepalese spices.
//… and though he had seen many spectres in his time, and been more than once beset by Satan in divers shapes, in his lonely perambulations, yet daylight put an end to all these evils; and he would have passed a pleasant life of it, in despite of the devil and all his works, if his path had not been crossed by a being that causes more perplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins, and the whole race of witches put together, and that was-a woman.
Among the musical disciples who assembled, one evening in each week, to receive his instructions in psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, the daughter and only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. She was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen; plump as a partridge; ripe and melting and rosy cheeked as one of her father's peaches, and universally famed, not merely for her beauty, but her vast expectations. She was withal a little of a coquette, as might be perceived even in her dress, which was a mixture of ancient and modern fashions, as most suited to set off her charms. She wore the ornaments of pure yellow gold, which her great-great-grandmother had brought over from Saardam, the tempting stomacher of the olden time; and withal a provokingly short petticoat, to display the prettiest foot and ankle in the country round.//
White rose and honeyed cream.
//Kelly Pool, C.M. Coolidge.//
Worsted wool, teakwood, and bois du rose.
//The Supreme Crown, the Primordial Ether, the Source of All, the Origin of Will that radiates 620 pillars of light.//
Lupercalia 2006, 2007, 2008
//The fabled Khajuraho temples of India are shrines of love in all its myriad forms. They are a celebration of love itself – transcendental, spiritual and erotic. This is a rejection of sorrow, spiritual ennui and despair. The sexual motifs that adorn the temples, and the temples themselves, are monuments to ecstasy and to passion, and through that, they are also monuments to spiritual fulfillment. It is believed that the realization of moksha by dedicating oneself to adhyatma and dharma can be attained only by first experiencing sexual satisfaction. In the midst of the drudgery and struggle that we sometimes endure during the course of our Earthly lives, it is vitally important that we remember the joy found in kama, and that in kama we can achieve transformation of the body and soul.
This is a blissful, euphoric blend based on an ancient Indian love potion.//
Honey, date palm, tuberose, davana blossom, amber, white sandalwood, vanilla bean, Damask rose, and champaca flower.
//She, whose lover has been unfaithful. She lashes out in rage, and her heart is filled with fury.//
Fiery saffron, neroli, severe black musk, rose otto, and a harsh splinter of rosemary.
Stations of the Sun: The Midnight Sun
Excolo
Discontinued 2008
//Hail unto thee who art Khephra in Thy hiding, even unto Thee who art Khephra in Thy silence, who travellest over the heavens in Thy bark at the Midnight Hour of the Sun. Tahuti standeth in His splendour at the prow, and ~Ra-Hoor abideth at the helm. Hail unto Thee from the Abodes of Evening.//
Ode to Aphrodite
Golden.
Vanilla amber and orange blossom.
//"Rum punch is not improperly called Kill-Devil; for thousands lose their lives by its means. When newcomers use it to the least excess, they expose themselves to imminent peril, for it heats the blood and brings on fevers, which in a very few hours send them to their graves."//
Sugar cane, molasses, oak wood, and honey.
October 2006
//Hide this one night thy crescent, kindly Moon;
So shall Endymion faithful prove, and rest
Loving and unawakened on the breast;
So shall no foul enchanter importune
Thy quiet course; for now the night is boon,
And through the friendly night unseen I fare,
Who dread the face of foemen unaware,
And watch of hostile spies in the bright noon.
Thou knowest, Moon, the bitter power of Love;
'Tis told how shepherd Pan found ways to move,
For little price, thy heart; and of your grace,
Sweet stars, be kind to this not alien fire,
Because on earth ye did not scorn desire,
Bethink ye, now ye hold your heavenly place.//
Utterly ethereal, an exquisite expression of love: moonflower, lotus root, white gardenia, beeswax, peach blossom, blue musk, stargazer lily, golden osmanthus, ti, sandalwood, hyacinth, ylang ylang, and a touch of vanilla bean.
[[Snake Oil]] with orris, frankincense, and copal.
//The Queen’s Consort: Lord of the Wide and Fertile Land. Patient, laborious, and clever, though preoccupied with material things. A perfect compliment to his Queen.//
Deeper, darker earth notes with dark musk, tobacco leaf, oakmoss, amber, leather, sage and vetiver with fig and bitter almond.
//Blindingly handsome, imperious, and gleaming with crystalline light. The perfect mate to the Queen’s shimmering hauteur.//
A white chypre shot through with shards of translucent musk.
//The Queen's beloved, he is a modern representation of the tarot's Sword Knight. His authortative, keen and penetrating demeanor is a perfect compliment to her dagger-sharp beauty. Master of logic and reason, brave, fearless and stong, albeit a bit flamboyant and flashy. His scent is deep, swarthy, and darkly commanding, and compliments the Queen of Swords perfectly.//
Oakmoss, vetiver and opoponax with black plum, wild blackberry, soft woods, sharp and glinting white musk under a soft, velvety robe of vanilla and coconut.
//They do not wish the souls of their young men to leave the pleasant hearths and gambrel-roofed taverns of old Kingsport, nor do they wish the laughter and song in that high rocky place to grow louder. For as the voice which has come has brought fresh mists from the sea and from the north fresh lights, so do they say that still other voices will bring more mists and more lights, till perhaps the olden gods (whose existence they hint only in whispers for fear the Congregational parson shall hear} may come out of the deep and from unknown Kadath in the cold waste and make their dwelling on that evilly appropriate crag so close to the gentle hills and valleys of quiet, simple fisher folk. This they do not wish, for to plain people things not of earth are unwelcome; and besides, the Terrible Old Man often recalls what Olney said about a knock that the lone dweller feared, and a shape seen black and inquisitive against the mist through those queer translucent windows of leaded bull's-eyes.
All these things, however, the Elder Ones only may decide; and meanwhile the morning mist still comes up by that lovely vertiginous peak with the steep ancient house, that gray, low-eaved house where none is seen but where evening brings furtive lights while the north wind tells of strange revels. White and feathery it comes from the deep to its brothers the clouds, full of dreams of dank pastures and caves of leviathan. And when tales fly thick in the grottoes of tritons, and conchs in seaweed cities blow wild tunes learned from the Elder Ones, then great eager vapors flock to heaven laden with lore; and Kingsport, nestling uneasy in its lesser cliffs below that awesome hanging sentinel of rock, sees oceanward only a mystic whiteness, as if the cliff's rim were the rim of all earth, and the solemn bells of the buoys tolled free in the aether of faery.//
Salty ocean breezes touched by a numinous, incandescent mist.
//~Kitsune-Tsuki are malevolent Japanese spirits, akin to western werebeasts: women are possessed by the spirits of foxes, who compel them to perform acts of wickedness and mischief.//
Asian plum, orchid, daffodil, jasmine and white musk.
//Kiyohime Changes From a Serpent, Yoshitoshi.//
Salty ocean spray, red kelp, black plum, lychee, sea moss, green musk, hachiya, plum blossom, and matcha.
//I came here from the forest
I tell you, it is a very holy night!
All over the tips of the firs
I saw bright flashes of golden light;
And from above, the gates of heaven
I saw with open eyes the Christ-child
and as I wander through the dark forest
I hear a light voice calling me.
"Knecht Ruprecht" it called, "Old man
Lift your legs and hurry! Fast!
The candles alight
the gates of heaven open wide
old and young
shall rest from the hunt of life
and tomorrow I shall fly to earth
as it shall be Christmas again!"
I said: "O dear master, Christ
My trip is almost at an end;
It is only this one town / where the children are good".
"Do you have your sack with you?"
I said: "The sack, it is here;
apples, nuts and almonds
solemn children do enjoy".
"Do you also have your cane?"
I said: "The cane, it is here.
But only for the bad children,
to hit their right rear".
The Christ-child spoke: "That is good;
So go with god my faithful servant!"
I came here from the forest
I tell you, it is a very holy night!
Speak now how I find it here
Are the children good or bad?//
The snow-covered foliage of the Black Forest and the fruit and woods of apple and almond trees.
//You hear a clatter on the ground, and a small bleached bone smacks against your foot. Cloaked in shadows between the tents, three men crouch playing knucklebones. Distress clouds the face of one of the men, while another bursts into a wicked smile and the last one sighs in relief. Scooping up his winnings and shaking his head, the victor makes a soft 'tsk' noise as he reaches towards the loser's chest, positioning his hand over the man's heart. Pressing forward, his hand moves through cloth, flesh, muscle, and bone to extract the beating organ. Tossing the heart onto the ground, he says to you, "Mind handing me those bones, buddy? I've got a game to run here."//
Black musk, bay rum, lime fougere, orange blossom water, gin, and tobacco.
Wanderlust
Discontinued 2008
//A celebration of the Bone Church of Prague.//
Frankincense, rosewood, lily, and geranium rose.
Yule 2006, 2007
//Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa’s wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away. Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river!//
Sinister red musk, black leather, dusty rags, and wooden switches.
Shining black leather, gleaming metal, labdanum, and myrrh.
//Bust out the dzang dzi! This scent honors the zombies of Chinese lore.//
Mandarin orange, white musk, mango, and white sandalwood.
//In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me
That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise.//
Through sunlit caves of ice, roses unfurl amidst dancing waves of serpentine opium smoke and amber tobacco, golden sandalwood, champaca, tea leaf, sugared lily, ginger, rich hay absolute, leather, dark vanilla, mandarin, peru balsam, and Moroccan jasmine.
//The hollow scent of a vast antediluvian civilization, now frozen and buried, smothered by a thick sheet of ice and trapped deep beneath the ocean.//
Thick incense, clay, stone, and hothouse blooms with a spike of frost, a hint of decay, and heavy, dolorous aquatic notes.
//Nine-tailed fox demon of Korean lore who transforms into the visage of an irresistible beauty in order to seduce men and lead them to their doom.//
A sharp, biting blend of crisp white tea and ginger.
//A sensory jumble, a true cacophony of odors.//
Black pepper, benzoin, blood orange and olibanum.
//The Tibetan goddess of love and wealth.//
Her scent is a harmonious, sweet, enchanting blend of three lotus blooms and three roses.
A gentle, soothing blend of cherry blossom, white sandalwood and star anise.
Hawthorn, fig, myrrh, carnation, toasted almond, red and green apple, patchouli, wood smoke, and Indian musk.
//We sang till almost night, and drank my good store of wine; and then they parted and I to my chamber, where I did read through L'Escholle des Filles; a lewd book, but what doth me no wrong to read for imagination's sake… and after I had done it, I burned it, that it might not be among my books to my shame.//
Published around 1655, this is considered to be the origin of modern pornography in France. It is a discourse between two young ladies, the elder instructing the younger in the ways of passion.
This is a libertine's celebration of decadence, debauchery, and sexual freedom: orange blossom, ambergris, orris root, white rose, lemon balm, jonquil, carrot seed, and benzoin.
Nepalese amber, vanilla infused amber, golden musk, sandalwood, golden lily, sunflower, and honey myrtle.
//Recoiling, you back away from the dicing. A large tent striped in many shades of green grabs your attention, and you walk towards it. You peer inside the open tent flap and see a room crowded with people in various stages of profound intoxication. Tables are littered with glasses filled with thick, cloudy emerald liquid, and candlelight glints on discarded silver spoons. The scent of spilled absinthe, opium smoke, lilac blossoms, and rose water permeates the stifling air of the tent. As you close the tent flap and turn to leave, you see a scantily clad server bend close to a rugged laborer that is sitting slumped in a sagging chair. A low velvety voice voice asks, "Another drink for you, Monsieur Lanfray?"//
Spilled absinthe, scorched sugar cubes, opium smoke, lilac blossoms, and rose water.
.
White musk, winter plum, pine wood, benzoin, orchid, and stargazer lily.
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//On the night of the Epiphany, a joyful, broomstick-riding hag clad in a tattered shawl drops into chimneys all over Italy, bestowing gifts to good children, and dropping coal into the stockings of naughty kiddies.
La Befana vien di notte
Con le scarpe tutte rotte
Col vestito alla Romana
Viva, Viva La Befana!
As the Three Wise Men searched for the house of the Christ child, they found themselves lost. Eventually, they stopped at a small house and knocked on the door. A small, wizened woman opened the door, holding a broom in her hand. The Astrologers asked the woman if she knew the location of the child, but, unfortunately, she did not know who these men were looking for, and could not aid them in their search. It was deep into the night, and the air was chilly, so the kindly woman offered the three men her hospitality. They spent the night in her warm, comfortable home, and shared bread and stories with one another. The Astrologers explained to the woman why they were looking for this blessed infant, and invited her to join them in their search come morning. Though she was touched by their tale, she declined, as she had a great deal of housework to do. At daybreak, the Astrologers awoke. They thanked the woman for her generosity, gathered their things, and prepared to leave. Before they departed, they, again, asked the old woman if she would like to join them on their journey. Again, she declined, and sent them on their way. After they had left, she regretted her decision, and she set off to find the Three Wise Men. After many long and frustrating hours of searching, she still could not find them. Saddened, yet still filled with hope, she stopped to give a gift to every good child she passed.
La Befana comes by night
With her shoes old and broken
She comes dressed in the Roman way
Long life to the Befana!//
Candy charcoal, winter lilies, parma violet, a sprig of cypress, a poof of chimney dust, and holiday sweets.
//My limbs are wasted with a flame,
My feet are sore with traveling,
For, calling on my Lady's name,
My lips have now forgot to sing.
O Linnet in the wild-rose brake
Strain for my Love thy melody,
O Lark sing louder for love's sake,
My gentle Lady passeth by.
She is too fair for any man
To see or hold his heart's delight,
Fairer than Queen or courtesan
Or moonlit water in the night.
Her hair is bound with myrtle leaves,
(Green leaves upon her golden hair!)
Green grasses through the yellow sheaves
Of autumn corn are not more fair.
Her little lips, more made to kiss
Than to cry bitterly for pain,
Are tremulous as brook-water is,
Or roses after evening rain.
Her neck is like white melilote
Flushing for pleasure of the sun,
The throbbing of the linnet's throat
Is not so sweet to look upon.
As a pomegranate, cut in twain,
White-seeded, is her crimson mouth,
Her cheeks are as the fading stain
Where the peach reddens to the south.
O twining hands! O delicate
White body made for love and pain!
O House of love! O desolate
Pale flower beaten by the rain!//
Soft, lush myrtle and dry, sweet melilot with wild rose, pomegranate juice and peach blossom against a background of deep aquatic notes and a twirl of melancholy autumn breezes.
The Sleeping Beauty. A gentle, lovely scent, slightly soporific, but beautiful in its quiet repose.
Plumeria and white pear, Damascus rose, tuberose, magnolia and evening dew.
//The name translates to "the beautiful woman without mercy", and is the title of an old French court poem that was later revamped by John Keats.//
A bewitching, seductive scent, rife with mystery and foreboding.
Imp Statues
//A variant on the absinthe theme.//
Sugared wormwood, hyssop and melissa with calamus, angelica and Dittany of Crete, blended with a Bohemian perfume of vanilla musk, honey absolute and Moroccan spices.
//La Mort Qui Danse, Félicien Rops.//
Black pepper, white ginger, Calla lily, and lily of the valley.
Seduction, sensuality, the Act, and the aftermath all in one.
The scent of warm, damp skin flushed with the glow of passion, touched by the luxuriant potency of ylang ylang and myrrh.
Plum blossom, tuberose, oakmoss, violet leaf, jasmine, ylang ylang, lemon peel, orange blossom, and lemon peel.
White peach, lily of the valley, jasmine, rose, iris, osmanthus, tangerine, white wine grape, and cream accord.
Love Poems
Dante Alighieri
//In that book which is
My memory...
On the first page
That is the chapter when
I first met you
Appear the words...
Here begins a new life//
Apple blossom, white rose, lemon balm, and champagne grape.
2009
//Nothing there is beyond hope,
nothing that can be sworn impossible,
nothing wonderful, since Zeus,
father of the Olympians,
made night from mid-day,
hiding the light of the shining Sun,
and sore fear came upon men.//
On July 22, we will be experiencing a total solar eclipse. This is the Labores Solis: the sun’s rays expressed through frankincense, amber, heliotrope, saffron, and chamomile, crossed with Luna’s Artemisias, manifesting in darkness.
The hundred-headed dragon that guards the garden of the Hesperides.
Dragon’s blood resin, golden apple, apple blossom, white musk and hyacinth.
Lady Lilith, Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Climbing rose, vanilla cream, vanilla flower, white tea, mandarin, red and white musks, opium poppy, Parma violet, and opoponax.
Friday the 13th, April 2007
//Bad luck has come to stay
Trouble never end
My man has gone away
With a girl I thought was my friend
I'm worried down with care
Lordy, can't you hear my prayer
Lady Luck, Lady Luck
Won't you please smile down on me
There's the time, friend of mine
I need your sympathy
I've got a horseshoe on my door
I've knocked on wood till my hands are sore
Since my man's done turned me loose
I've got those Lady Luck blues, I mean
I've got those Lady Luck blues
Lady Luck, Lady Luck
Won't you please smile down on me
There's the time, friend of mine
I need your sympathy
I've got his picture turned upside down
I've sprinkled goofer dust all around
Since my man is gone I'm all confused
I've got those Lady Luck blues
Find my good man
I've got those Lady Luck blues
Lady Luck, please smile down on me.//
A melancholy scent, aching with longing, created to appease Fickle Fortune. Honeyed Bulgarian rose, vanilla flower, benzoin, tonka, black plum, peony, and iris.
The essence of ambition, covetousness and manipulation.
Sweet Bordeaux wine, blood red currant, thyme and wild berries.
//"Why, you are crying."
She said nothing. Dunstan pulled her toward him, wiping ineffectually at her face with his big hand; and then he leaned into her sobbing face, and, tentatively, uncertain of whether or not he was doing the correct thing given the circumstances, he kissed her, full upon the burning lips.
There was a moment of hesitation, and then her mouth opened against his, and her tongue slid into his mouth, and he was, under the strange stars, utterly, irrevocably, lost.//
Honey musk, green tea leaf, blackberry leaf, vanilla bean, and fae spices.
//According to William Shepard Walsh, the Gentleman's Magazine for May of 1784 stated, "this is a constant ingredient at merrymaking on Holy Eve." He also quotes Vallancey's etymological speculation: "The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, etc., and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, -- that is, the day of the apple fruit, -- and being pronounced Lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to Lambs-wool."//
A popular holy day beverage in 18th century Ireland: roasted apples mashed into warmed milk and ale, with nutmeg, sugar, ginger, and clove.
//The Lampades are the darkly beautiful nymphs of the underworld, also called the Lethe Nymphae Avernales. They are the daughters of the Gods that govern the many rivers of Hades. The Lampades are Hecate's torch-bearers and accompany the Goddess on her hunts, quests and revels.//
Their scent is the crisp, inviting bittersweet tang of cranberry with smoky dark lilies, heady, sensual musk, a tingle of ginger and a brush of Mediterranean spices.
//An opiate torpor, soporific, trancelike, and sublimely languid. A poet’s morphine dream, a listless journey into a gentle dream and the precipice of intoxicated madness.//
Paperwhite and black narcissus, three lilies, black poppy and tuberose and a hint of hypnotic opium den haze.
//The festival of Roman goddess of death, Larenta, who was also known as Dea Tacita, the Silent Goddess. Spells to silence and bind slanderous enemies were cast on her holy days, as were spells of closure and suppression. During this time, offerings to the dead are left on thresholds, where spirits are said to dwell.//
A Roman funeral garden: cypress, thyme, oleander, crocus, gladiola, amaranth, and myrtle shrouded by herbs and flowers sacred to the Silent One.
Gift with purchase of any 2009 halloweenie from BPTP (imp only)
The essence of the most debauched hunger encapsulated into a perfume. Desire beyond love, anguish beyond sanity.
Nutmeg, sassafras, black poppy and myrrh.
Summer Garden Series 2009
//Benevolent groundskeepers, these carefree plaster and stone companions lighten the hearts of passers by.//
Red currant, molasses, vanilla cream, moss, and patchouli
//Once upon a time, there lived a stone-hearted, evil butcher and his grasping, covetous wife. Their shop was located near a parochial boarding school in a small village in eastern France. One day, three little boys passed the butcher's shop. Their clothes were neat and starched, and the wicked couple fancied that they could see gold stitching on the little boys' shirtcuffs. The butcher's eyes gleamed with avarice, and he hatched an evil plan to rob the children. His wife enticed the little boys into the shop and fed them poisoned sweets. Her husband then slit their throats, chopped their little bodies into pieces, and put the pieces into barrels. Good Saint Nicholas discovered the monstrous crime, and, through God's grace, resurrected the little boys. He confronted the vile butcher and forced him to atone for his crime. The butcher became Le Père Fouettard, Saint Nicholas' partner on his Christmas travels. Dressed in a soot-covered black suit that mirrors Father Christmas' suit of red and white, he travels with Saint Nick and dispenses coal and floggings to naughty children.//
Whip leather, coal dust, gaufrette, and black licorice.
//Once upon a time, there lived a stone-hearted, evil butcher and his grasping, covetous wife. Their shop was located near a parochial boarding school in a small village in eastern France. One day, three little boys passed the butcher's shop. Their clothes were neat and starched, and the wicked couple fancied that they could see gold stitching on the little boys' shirtcuffs. The butcher's eyes gleamed with avarice, and he hatched an evil plan to rob the children. His wife enticed the little boys into the shop and fed them poisoned sweets. Her husband then slit their throats, chopped their little bodies into pieces, and put the pieces into barrels. Good Saint Nicholas discovered the monstrous crime, and, through God's grace, resurrected the little boys. He confronted the vile butcher and forced him to atone for his crime. The butcher became Le Père Fouettard, Saint Nicholas' partner on his Christmas travels. Dressed in a soot-covered black suit that mirrors Father Christmas' suit of red and white, he travels with Saint Nick and dispenses coal and floggings to naughty children.//
Whip leather, coal dust, gaufrette, and black licorice.
//When, as by glaciers ground, the spate
Swells hissing from beneath,
The water of your mouth, elate,
Rises between your teeth --
It seems some old Bohemian vintage
Triumphant, fierce, and tart,
A liquid heaven that showers a mintage
Of stars across my heart.//
A sinister, darkly seductive scent inspired by poetry of Charles Baudelaire.
Violet entwined with vanilla and gardenia.
Dust, decaying fabric, dead leaves, and concrete.
//Most of the Gaelic poets, down to quite recent times, have had a Leanhaun Shee, for she gives inspiration to her slaves and is indeed the Gaelic muse -- this malignant fairy. Her lovers, the Gaelic poets, died young. She grew restless and carried them away to other worlds, for death does not destroy her power. – W.B. Yeats
The name translates to “fairy, love of my soul”. A vampiric spirit and a dark muse, the love of the Leanan Sidhe is both a gift and a curse. These eerily beautiful Irish spirits drain the sanity and lifeforce of the men they inspire to artistic greatness. Her kiss infuses a man with depth of vision and feeling, otherworldly passion, and a sudden and ineffable understanding of the unending sadness that plagues mankind.//
Her perfume is a crush of Irish herbs and flowers, Gaelic mists, and nighttime dew.
A regal, commanding scent, but poignant.
White cedarwood, blue sage and bay leaf.
Gift with Purchase included in some Bards of Ireland orders (imp only)
//A dark and bellicose scent that speaks of loss, lament, bitterness and breast-beating woe.//
Thick black vetiver, sharp white musk and lemon peel, smoke and saffron, patchouli, thyme and black plum.
//July 23 - August 22//
Lime, heliotrope, juniper, orange, sandalwood.
//Fixed Fire: the essence of pride.//
Egyptian amber, walnut bark, chamomile, frankincense, and saffron.
//Les Anges Déchus, Edouard Cibot.//
Khus, blonde tobacco, life everlasting, orris root, black currant, cabreuva, Spanish moss, leather, and ambrette.
//My well-beloved was stripped. Knowing my whim,
She wore her tinkling gems, but naught besides:
And showed such pride as, while her luck betides,
A sultan's favored slave may show to him.
When it lets off its lively, crackling sound,
This blazing blend of metal crossed with stone
Gives me an ecstasy I've only known
Where league of sound and lustre can be found.
She let herself be loved: then, drowsy-eyed,
Smiled down from her high couch in languid ease.
My love was deep and gentle as the seas
And rose to her as to a cliff the tide.
My own approval of each dreamy pose,
Like a tamed tiger, cunningly she sighted:
And candour, with lubricity united,
Gave piquancy to every one she chose.
Her limbs and hips, burnished with changing lustres
Before my eyes, clairvoyant and serene,
Swanned themselves, undulating in their sheen;
Her breasts and belly, of my vine the clusters,
Like evil angels rose, my fancy twitting,
To kill the peace which over me she'd thrown,
And to disturb her from the crystal throne
Where, calm and solitary, she was sitting.
So swerved her pelvis that, in one design,
Antiope's white rump it seemed to graft
To a boy's torso, merging fore and aft.
The talc on her brown tan seemed half-divine.
The lamp resigned its dying flame. Within,
The hearth alone lit up the darkened air,
And every time it sighed a crimson flare
It drowned in blood that amber-coloured skin.//
Skin musk and honey, blood-red rose, orange blossom, white peach, red apple, frankincense and myrrh.
The scents of the blossoms of darkness, condensed into one perfume.
Features a rose base, softened with lilac and wisteria.
A pain-tinged, pleasure-soaked blend of leather, oakmoss, orange blossom, amber, and rose with a breath of virginal French florals and a hint of austere monastic penitential incense.
Sin & Salvation
Discontinued 2005
Resurrected November 2005
//The law of retaliation and perfect reciprocity: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, an arm for an arm, a life for a life. The essence of blunt justice.//
Dark myrrh, vetiver, cardamom, violet, black pepper, sage, cedarwood and black patchouli with a clarion note of sharp white grapefruit.
Gift with purchase included in some Election Day 2008 orders (imp only)
//Like a puffed and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads.//
Rosewood and chamomile with bergamot, violet, red sandalwood, primrose and Arabian musk.
//September 23 - October 22//
Apple, white musk, rose, rose geranium, sandalwood, ylang ylang.
//Cardinal air: the essence of balance.//
Rose, black cherry, carnation, fig, honey, plum, and black currant.
//What else could possibly be more lickable at Yuletide?//
This is a candy cane perfume, minty, sweet and sugared.
[Please don’t literally Lick It. I need no cheerful holiday lawsuits, thank you!]
//Every holiday season should be full of lewd suggestions and filthy double entendres, right?//
This is a new take on last year’s Lick It – a peppermint candy cane with an extra jolt of sugar.
//As always, we have to state: don’t lick perfume. Don’t eat it, drink it, cook with it, or use it in any strange and unforeseen way. Black Phoenix is not responsible for that sort of irresponsible funnybusiness.//
E//very holiday season should be full of lewd suggestions and filthy double entendres, right? Lick it in earnest! Lick it with vigor! Peppermint candy cane with an extra jolt of sugar.//
(As always, we have to state: don't lick perfume. Don't eat it, drink it, cook with it, or use it in any strange and unforeseen way. Black Phoenix is not responsible for that sort of irresponsible funnybusiness. For real. Don't lick it.)
//Every holiday season should be full of lewd suggestions and filthy double entendres, right?//
This is a new take on Lick It and Lick It Again -- a peppermint candy cane with a flash of vanilla and an extra jolt of sugar.
(As always, we have to state: don't lick perfume. Don't eat it, drink it, cook with it, or use it in any strange and unforeseen way. Black Phoenix is not responsible for that sort of irresponsible funnybusiness.)
//What language is this? I have never seen graphemes such as this before.//
Hemp paper, frankincense, dried pomegranate juice, lavender, gum mastic, verbena, fennel, star anise, and Dittany of Crete.
Discontinued 2004
Revisited in Maelström
//And the will therein lieth, which dieth not. Who knoweth the mysteries of the will, with its vigor? For God is but a great will pervading all things by nature of its intentness. Man doth not yield himself to the angels, nor unto death utterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will.//
Jasmine, juniper berry and rose geranium.
Lightning slashing the midnight skies over the endless reaches of the ocean.
The electric tang of ozone, marine notes, and a drop of sharp rain.
//It wasn't a dark and stormy night.
It should have been, but that's the weather for you. For every mad scientist who's had a convienient thunderstorm just on the night his Great Work is finished and lying on the slab, there have been dozens who've sat around aimlessly under the peaceful stars while Igor racks up the overtime.
But don't let the fog (with rain later, temperatures dropping to around forty-five degrees) give anyone a false sense of security. Just because it's a mild night doesn't mean that dark forces aren't abroad. They're abroad all the time. They're everywhere.
They always are. That's the whole point.
Two of them lurked in a ruined graveyard. Two shadowy figures, one hunched and squat, the other lean and menacing, both of them Olympic-grade lurkers. If Bruce Springsteen had ever recorded "Born to Lurk," these two would have been on the album cover. They had been lurking in the fog for over an hour now, but they had been pacing themselves and could lurk for the rest of the night if necessary, with still enough sullen menace left for a final burst of lurking around dawn.
Finally, after another twenty minutes, one of them said: "Bugger this for a lark. He should have been here hours ago."
The speaker's name was Hastur. He was a Duke of Hell.
"What's this Crowley like?" said Ligur.
Hastur spat. "He's been up here too long," he said. "Right from the Start. Gone native, if you ask me. Drives a car with a telephone in it."
Ligur pondered this. Like most demons, he had a very limited grasp of technology, and so he was just about to say something like, I bet it needs a lot of wire, when the Bentley rolled to a halt at the cemetery gate.//
Dry olibanum, black moss, soggy ti, khus, and opoponax.
//Mother of Demons, Vengeful Fury, Darkest Seductress, Queen of the Djinn, Goddess of the Gate.//
Red wine, myrrh, black musk, and attar of rose.
//And still she sits, young while the earth is old,
And, subtly of herself contemplative,
Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave,
Till heart and body and life are in its hold.
The rose and poppy are her flower; for where
Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent
And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?
Lo! as that youth's eyes burned at thine, so went
Thy spell through him, and left his straight neck bent
And round his heart one strangling golden hair.//
Snake Oil blended with Dorian, plus soft vanilla flower, lily of the valley, lavender, and fennel.
June 2009
//In the past eight months since Lilith was born, Ted and I have had many moments of unutterable joy. There is one, in particular, that stands out from the rest as perfect.
Our daughter loves music… everything from the clank of her toy piano, to unending looped choruses of "You Are My Sunshine" (with Moonshine variants) and "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" (or Bat) sung by her mother at naptime, to a rousing round of "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" belted out by her father at playtime, to all the hair band videos she watches on Metal Mania.
This kid LOVES music.
On the last Saturday in April, Ted and I took Lilith to Olvera Street, and stopped at the El Paseo Inn for lunch. While we were waiting for our food, the band came to stand behind our table, and Lili was riveted by their music. At the end of the first song, she clapped! Holy hell, that was adorable. The singer saw Lilith clapping and staring, and walked over to us. This sweet, wonderful man serenaded her.
There was a Perfect Moment -- the kindness on the singer’s face as he sang to my baby, Lilith’s eyes as wide as saucers, her hands in prayer position, and the joy radiating from my husband -- this was a moment that brought me to tears.
This scent is a swirl of everything I felt, sensed, smelled, and saw right then, at that perfect point in time:// __Jasmine, vanilla, Spanish cedar, moss, marigold, purple verbena, candied tamarind, lime rind, a splash of margaritas on a nearby table, a little bit of Dorian, a little bit of Snake Oil, and a bright bouquet of mal de ojo.__
//Downtown LA is a magical place, I tell ya!//
//The first scent in the Bean Birthday update was created by her Uncle Brian…
I made this scent to commemorate the first time I played hooky with the Little Bean. I took her to the Long Beach Aquarium, where she battled a giant crab with her bare chubby fists. Needless to say, my niece was victorious. Deadliest Catch ain't got nothin' on her!//
Tangerine cream, benzoin, white sandalwood, white pear, tonka, and ambergris accord.
//I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.
As a lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, his fruit was sweet to my taste.
He brought me to the banquet hall. His banner over me is love.
Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples; For I am faint with love.
His left hand is under my head. His right hand embraces me.
I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, or by the hinds of the field, that you not stir up, nor awaken love, until it so desires.
The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes, leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills.
My beloved is like a roe or a young hart. Behold, he stands behind our wall! He looks in at the windows. He glances through the lattice.
My beloved spoke, and said to me, "Rise up, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.
For, behold, the winter is past. The rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth. The time of the singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
The fig tree ripens her green figs. The vines are in blossom. They give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away."
My dove in the clefts of the rock, In the hiding places of the mountainside, Let me see your face. Let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.
Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards; for our vineyards are in blossom.
My beloved is mine, and I am his. He browses among the lilies.
Until the day is cool, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be like a roe or a young hart on the mountains of Bether.//
Hibiscus syriacus, white sandalwood, lily of the valley, apple blossom, and green fig.
[[A Demon in My View]]
[[A Little Lunacy]]
[[April Fool]]
[[ Anniversary]]
[[Bards of Ireland]]
[[Black Phoenix Trading Post]]
[[Chaos Theory]]
[[ Carnaval Noir]]
[[Friday the 13th]]
[[ Elemental]]
[[Forum Exclusive]]
[[Halloween]]
[[ Lupercalia]]
[[ Maelstrom]]
[[ Oblation]]
[[Order of the Dragon]]
[[Retail Exclusive]]
[[Springtime in Arkham]]
[[Summer]]
[[ Yule]]
[[ Zodiac]]
[[Other Limited Editions]]
//Senseless is the breast and cold
Which relenting love would fold;
Bloodless are the veins and chill
Which the pulse of pain did fill;
Every little living nerve
That from bitter words did swerve
Round the tortur'd lips and brow,
Are like sapless leaflets now
Frozen upon December's bough.//
Skin musk, white sandalwood, balsam fir, frozen black berries, cedar, winter rose, and white amber.
//Midsummer, Ukon Juhla, Alban Heruin, the Light of the Shore. This is the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, marking the sun’s highest path across the sky. The Sun God and the Lord of the Forest are at the apex of their strength, and the Holy Day itself is a celebration of light’s triumph over darkness. The world around us is teeming with light and life, and on this day fertility rituals for both the land and its people are observed.//
Honey mead with honeysuckle, oak wood, ivy leaf, wild thyme, carnation, daisy, vervain, gum arabic, frankincense, yauhtli, and liquid copal.
//Midsummer, Ukon Juhla, Alban Heruin, the Light of the Shore. This is the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, marking the sun's highest path across the sky. The Sun God and the Lord of the Forest are at the apex of their strength, and the Holy Day itself is a celebration of light's triumph over darkness. The world around us is teeming with light and life, and on this day fertility rituals for both the land and its people are observed. //
Golden honey and moss, with honeysuckle, chamomile, parsley, white gardenia, frankincense, carnation, vervain, gum arabic, yarrow, and liquid copal.
A light, feminine vanilla floral perfume and a swirl of smoke and leather.
Voodoo Blends
Discontinued 2004
//A wonderfully potent spiritual purification blend.//
Bright, sweet and youthful, but swelling with a poisonous sexuality.
Glittering heliotrope, honeysuckle, orange blossom and lemon verbena.
Venerable Victorian Tea Rose… twisted, blackened and emboldened with wickedness.
November 2007
//The nights are at their longest, the sky is at its darkest. The air is still with reflective silence.//
A bouquet of night-blooming flowers, petals dusted with frost. Cereus, moonflower accord, night phlox, honeysuckle, silver thyme, white mint, and blue musk.
Love Poems
Matthew Arnold
//Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me.
Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth.
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say My love! why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.//
Rose geranium, frankincense, Ceylon cinnamon, golden musk, bay rum, and bois du rose.
//A tragic heroine from German lore. In despair over a faithless lover, she threw herself into the Rhine. In death, she has become a siren that haunts that river to this day, luring sailors to their doom.//
Neroli, sandalwood, ylang ylang.
(the Vampyre, John Polidori)
//It happened that in the midst of the dissipations attendant upon London winter, there appeared at the various parties of the leaders of the ton a nobleman more remarkable for his singularities, than his rank. He gazed upon the mirth around him, as if he could not participate therein. Apparently, the light laughter of the fair only attracted his attention, that he might by a look quell it and throw fear into those breasts where thoughtlessness reigned. Those who felt this sensation of awe, could not explain whence it arose: some attributed it to the dead grey eye, which, fixing upon the object's face, did not seem to penetrate, and at one glance to pierce through to the inward workings of the heart; but fell upon the cheek with a leaden ray that weighed upon the skin it could not pass. His peculiarities caused him to be invited to every house; all wished to see him, and those who had been accustomed to violent excitement, and now felt the weight of ennui, were pleased at having something in their presence capable of engaging their attention. In spite of the deadly hue of his face, which never gained a wanner tint, either from the blush of modesty, or from the strong emotion of passion, though its form and outline were beautiful, many of the female hunters after notoriety attempted to win his attentions, and gain, at least, some marks of what they might term affection: Lady Mercer, who had been the mockery of every monster shewn in drawing-rooms since her marriage, threw herself in his way, and did all but put on the dress of a mountebank, to attract his notice -- though in vain; -- when she stood before him, though his eyes were apparently fixed upon hers, still it seemed as if they were unperceived; -- even her unappalled impudence was baffled, and she left the field. But though the common adultress could not influence even the guidance of his eyes, it was not that the female sex was indifferent to him: yet such was the apparent caution with which he spoke to the virtuous wife and innocent daughter, that few knew he ever addressed himself to females. He had, however, the reputation of a winning tongue; and whether it was that it even overcame the dread of his singular character, or that they were moved by his apparent hatred of vice, he was as often among those females who form the boast of their sex from their domestic virtues, as among those who sully it by their vices.//
The father of all dandy aristocrat vampires: Aqua Admirabilis with polished boot leather and blood.
//Lot and His Daughters, Hendrik Goltzius.//
Indonesian black patchouli, petitgrain, brandewijn, incense, saffron, lemon peel, myrrh, skin musk, bourbon geranium, and tangerine.
June 2006
//"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land,
"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
In the afternoon they came unto a land
In which it seemed always afternoon.
All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;
And some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke,
Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
They saw the gleaming river seaward flow
From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,
Stood sunset-flush'd: and, dew'd with showery drops,
Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.
The charmed sunset linger'd low adown
In the red West: thro' mountain clefts the dale
Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
Border'd with palm, and many a winding vale
And meadow, set with slender galingale;
A land where all things always seem'd the same!
And round about the keel with faces pale,
Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,
The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.
Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
To each, but whoso did receive of them,
And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
Far far away did seem to mourn and rave
On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,
His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;
And deep-asleep he seem'd, yet all awake,
And music in his ears his beating heart did make.
They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
Between the sun and moon upon the shore;
And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland,
Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore
Most weary seem'd the sea, weary the oar,
Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
Then some one said, "We will return no more";
And all at once they sang, "Our island home
Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam."//
Soporose and lenitive: opium-laced golden lotus with rich amber, pine resin, and rose otto.
The wild, untamed essence of lycanthropy. Primeval in its raw power and insatiable hunger.
Juniper, cypress and galangal with the barest touch of eucalyptus.
A commanding, dominant oil that increases sexual magnetism, creates an intense and irresistible air of attraction, and amplifies potency.
//Love and Pain, Edvard Munch.//
Lavender, Balkan tobacco, black musk, dark vanilla, and golden copaifera.
June 2005
//A stranger has come
To share my room in the house not right in the head,
A girl mad as birds
Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume.
Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds
Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,
At large as the dead,
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.
She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall,
Possessed by the skies
She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.
And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.
A song of love and madness.//
Two roses, tolu balsam and ambergris with vanilla, labdanum, tobacco leaf, carnation and tonka.
Love Poems
Percy Bysshe Shelley
//The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever,
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle; --
Why not I with thine?
See! the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven,
If it disdained it's brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea; --
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?//
Vanilla, saffron, and cream.
//Love's torments sought a place of rest,
Where all might drear and lonely be;
They found ere long my desert breast,
And nestled in its vacancy.//
White sandalwood, neroli, and vetiver.
The velvet flower.
A lush, thick, luxuriant bloom, bold and red.
//Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell:
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before, milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
And maidens call it love-in-idleness.//
Tangerine, pikaki, tonka, ti leaf, jasmine, opoponax, and benzoin.
Plum blossom, vanilla sandalwood, nutmeg, and wild rice.
Vanilla, red ginger, oakmoss, palm date, and oud.
//The Finnish Goddess of Agony, Torment and the joy found in inflicting pain on others. The Mistress of Torture, she has transformed in the modern era into the patron Goddess of Dominatrixes.//
The slap of slick, hot leather punctuates the warm, sensual embrace of black amber, red musk and dark, lascivious myrrh.
Patchouli, golden amber, deep woods, fig, and vetiver.
//Lucretia, Albrecht Dürer.//
Iris, black amber, sage, Kashmir wood, vanilla musk, mandarin and violet.
//When Lucy, I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it bore her shape, saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a cat gives when taken unawares, then her eyes ranged over us. Lucy's eyes in form and color, but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of hell fire, instead of the pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant of my love passed into hate and loathing. Had she then to be killed, I could have done it with savage delight. As she looked, her eyes blazed with unholy light, and the face became wreathed with a voluptuous smile. Oh, God, how it made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion, she flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to now she had clutched strenuously to her breast, growling over it as a dog growls over a bone. The child gave a sharp cry, and lay there moaning. There was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur. When she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his face in his hands.
She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous grace, said, "Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!"//
A wanton beauty, corrupt, hypnotic, seductive, and feral: magnolia, iris, Moroccan rose, frankincense, crushed jasmine blossom, blood orange, tobacco flower and white musk.
Created to represent the essence of Bram Stoker's tragic heroine, Lucy Westenra. Seductive, wanton and deadly, but underscored with a soft, wistful innocence.
The gentle scent of rose and a blend of Victorian spices.
Wanton Voluptuousness: the Lucy Westenra Collection
September 2009
//There was a long spell of silence, big, aching, void, and then from the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s!" He pointed, and far down the avenue of yews we saw a white figure advance, a dim white figure, which held something dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of moonlight fell upon the masses of driving clouds, and showed in startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of the grave. We could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we saw to be a fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and dreams. We were starting forward, but the Professor's warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew tree, kept us back. And then as we looked the white figure moved forwards again. It was now near enough for us to see clearly, and the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognized the features of Lucy Westenra. Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed. The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness. Van Helsing stepped out, and obedient to his gesture, we all advanced too. The four of us ranged in a line before the door of the tomb.
Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide. By the concentrated light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the lips were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her chin and stained the purity of her lawn death-robe.//
Diabolical voluptuousness, a siren song from the grave: juniper and yew brushing against blackened violets and funeral roses, red musk and hot blood, veined white marble and icy, brittle musk, all pulsing with the sinister, hypnotic scent of patchouli, amber, oude, and cubeb.
2004
//The first of the year's Harvest Festivals. Lughnasadh represents a rest from toil and a time of reflection. Fertility magick is practised, as is agricultural magick used to ensure a bountiful Autumn harvest. The holy day is named after the Celtic deity Lugh, God of Skill in All Things, Patron of the Arts and Sciences. Though he and Rosmerta, his consort and the Goddess of Nature, are venerated at this time, the holy day was created out of respect for his foster mother Tailtiu, one of the ~Earth-Goddesses. Though she was a Lady of the Fir Bolg, she was a good, loving and honorable being, and cared for Lugh well. After her people were defeated by the Tuatha Dé Danann she was forced to clear a vast forest for the purpose of planting grain, and sadly, she perished from exhaustion in the process. The Hill of Tailte in Ireland was named in her honor, and legend states it was there that the first festival of Lughnasadh took place. To some outside of the Celtic mythos, this holy day also marks the annual death of the Sun God or the God of the Grain. The holiday is celebrated with contests of skill and cunning, feasting, oath-making, and agricultural competitions.//
//Ok, fine. It isn't really a lump of coal, but brownies and coal are vaguely similar in color! -- and you know you could never be naughty enough for us to really toss a coal at you! After all, we specialize in sin at Black Phoenix.//
This is the truly sinful scent of a sticky, thick, dark and rich fudge brownie.
//Cleansing - Purification - Imagination - Dream Work - Emotional Growth and Healing - Mystery - Veiling - Deception - Impulse - Capriciousness - Bewitchments - Glamor - Delight - Pleasure//
//Skoll the wolf who shall scare the Moon
Till he flies to the ~Wood-of-Woe:
Hati the wolf, Hridvitnir's kin,
Who shall pursue the Sun.//
Red musk, black currant, violet leaf, wild frankincense, lavender, black orchid, Darjeeling tea, vetiver, red moss, myrrh, Moroccan spices, blackened fruit gums, and tobacco.
Beth's Creation: July 2008
The encroaching darkness: black orchid, jonquil, white pear, white amber, gardenia, olibanum, champaca, sweet clove, tonka, oakmoss, and blue musk.
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[[Ashtanyika: The Faces of the Heroine]]
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[[Novel Ideas for Secret Amusements]]
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[[Novel Ideas for Secret Amusements II]]
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'tiddler.title'>>
Lupercalia 2006, 2007, 2008
//Piss off, Saint Valentine! Lupercalia is an ancient Roman celebration, held on February 15th, that kicked in the advent of Spring with a very, very festive purification, fertility and sexuality ritual. The ritual began near the cave of Lupercal on the Palatine, an area sacred to Faunus, as well as Ruminia, Romulus and Remus. During Lupercalia, Vestal Virgins first made offerings of sacred cakes to the fig tree under which the she-wolf suckled the Sacred Twins. A dog and two goats were then offered in sacrifice to Faunus. The blood of the sacrifice was smeared onto two naked patrician youths, who were assisted by the Virgins, and the blood was wiped clean with sacred wool dipped in milk. The youths donned the skins of the sacrificial goats, wielding whips made from the goat skins, and then led the priests and the Virgins around the pomarium, and around the base hills of Rome. This was a ceremony of great happiness and merriment, and was of particular interest to young women: being touched by the goat-whips young men that led the procession ensured their fertility in the coming year. It is believed that, after the initial rite, male participants would draw the name of an available maiden, with whom he spent the rest of the night. This scent is for the Luperci, the Chosen of Faunus, the Brothers of the Wolf.//
Raw, down and dirty patchouli, Gurjam balsam, and essence of Sampson Root sweetened with the heightened sexuality of beeswax, virile juniper, oakmoss, ambrette seed over honey and East African musk.
Shocking, horrific, fierce, savage, sensationalized, luminous and hazy.
Black currant, Bulgarian lavender and white musk with a dollop of thick resin and a voltaic charge of ozone notes.
Uncontrollable passion and insatiable sexual desire.
Red musk, patchouli, ylang ylang and myrrh.
January 2007
//Lycaon was the first king of Arcadia, and though his country prospered under his rule, he possessed a streak of viciousness that earned him the great god Zeus’ ire. Zeus had heard tales of Lycaon’s impiety and cruelty, and in order to find out the truth about the King of Arcadia, he disguised himself as a beggar and sought hospitality in the king’s court. Lycaon and his fifty equally sadistic sons discovered the identity of their guest, and foolishly served Zeus a meal of soup that contained sheep and goat entrails, and the flesh of Lycaon’s fifty-first son, Nictimos. Zeus, consumed with rage and disgust, struck the king’s home with a lightning bolt, and transformed Lycaon and his sons into creatures more suited to their savage natures: werewolves.//
A monstrous, brutal, and bloodthirsty blend: blackened myrrh, crushed olive leaf, black musk, spikenard, frankincense, cypress wood, opoponax, white ginger, and patchouli.
Convergence XIII
May 2007
//no scent description given//
//Then rose the King and moved his host by night
And ever pushed Sir Mordred, league by league,
Back to the sunset bound of Lyonesse --
A land of old upheaven from the abyss
By fire, to sink into the abyss again;
Where fragments of forgotten peoples dwelt,
And the long mountains ended in a coast
Of ever-shifting sand, and far away
The phantom circle of a moaning sea.//
Golden vanilla and gilded musk, stargazer lily, white sandalwood, grey amber, elemi, orris root, ambergris and sea moss.
//The course of true love never did run smooth.//
Lilac musk, tonka, wood violet, and urbane lime rind, with a Venus-kissed tangle of myrtle, blackberry leaf, and benzoin.
A languid and loathsome blend of dead wildflowers and smoky, sun-baked grass under a hot, humid blanket of summer gloom.
Buttermilk pancakes with boysenberry syrup and goat butter!
Since 1928, Mother Shub and her brood have been providing the snack shacks of the Miskatonic Valley with a bevy of otherworldly sweets and baked treats. This year, Mother Shub has created a promotional perfume oil that embodies the scent of her famous __Peanut Brittle Caramel Popcorn.__ Iä! Shub-Niggurath! Thank you for an eon of community support!
Scorched baseball fields, black glots of incense, spilled coffee, and pancake residue.
2004
//The Autumnal Equinox. The Second Harvest of the witches: a celebration of rest after labor, and repose after the rigors of Initiation. This is the mark of the completion of the Harvest and giving thanks for the previous season's abundance. In ceremonial magick, this is a time to begin the search for one's Higher Self anew, to celebrate rebirth and new life, and to revitalize the spirit. It is an Osirian time, contractive and catabolic. At this time, the Eleusinian mysteries were observed, celebrating the drama of Kore and Demeter.//
Blackberry wine and apple cider with hops, apple blossom, English ivy, hazel, sage, oak bark and myrrh.
//Macbeth and the Witches, Henri Fuseli.//
Lightning-charged ozone, steel, myrrh, mugwort, colophony, ajowan, and leather.
Sweet tropical fruits burst through deep, wet rainforest boughs, enormous steamy blossoms, over thin mountaintop breezes, mingled with the soft, rich golden scent of Peruvian amber.
A gentlemen's lavender-citron cologne unhinged by the feral pungence of black musk and a paroxysm of pennyroyal.
Honeycomb, red currant, freesia, vanilla, rose geranium, thyme, and gardenia.
//Mad Meg, Pieter Bruegel the Elder.//
Fire-scorched earth, black mandarin, cinnamon bark, bitter almond, sage, vetiver, and balsam of peru.
//"Coin tricks is it?" asked Sweeney, his chin raising, his scruffy beard bristling. "Why, if it's coin tricks we're doing, watch this."
He took an empty glass from the table. Then he reached out and took a large coin, golden and shining, from the air. He dropped it into the glass. He took another gold coin from the air and tossed it into the glass, where it clinked against the first. He took a coin from the candle flame of a candle on the wall, another from his beard, a third from Shadow's empty left hand, and dropped them, one by one, into the glass. Then he curled his fingrs over the glass, and blew hard, and several more golden coins dropped into the glass from his hand. He tipped the glass of sticky coins into his jacket pocket, and then tapped the pocket to show, unmistakably, that it was empty.
"There," he said. "That's a coin trick for you."//
Barrel-aged whiskey and oak.
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''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):The Garden of Live Flowers@@''
//This time she came upon a large flower-bed, with a border of daisies, and a willow-tree growing in the middle.//
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''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):Moral Hymnody and Nonsense@@''
//Lewis Carroll used the Looking Glasses and Rabbit Holes of his fantasy world to mock many contemporary conventions and demonstrate, through nonsense, the strangeness of the human condition. The madness of Wonderland illustrated the absurdities he perceived in the strict, orderly world he lived in.
In the first perfumes of this subseries, our scents parallel the poetic parodies: Lewis Carroll versus Isaac Watts.//<<forEachTiddler
where
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//Newt had been amazed to find that Madam Tracy was a middle-aged, motherly soul, whose gentleman callers called as much for a cup of tea and a nice chat as for what little discipline she was still able to exact.//
A coquettish blend of tea rose, ume blossom, geranium, lily of the valley, violet, and heliotrope.
//He admitted, however, although with hesitation, that much of the peculiar gloom which thus afflicted him could be traced to a more natural and far more palpable origin, to the severe and long-continued illness, indeed to the evidently approaching dissolution-of a tenderly beloved sister, his sole companion for long years, his last and only relative on earth. "Her decease," he said, with a bitterness which I can never forget, "would leave him (him the hopeless and the frail) the last of the ancient race of the Ushers." While he spoke, the lady Madeline (for so was she called) passed slowly through a remote portion of the apartment, and, without having noticed my presence, disappeared. I regarded her with an utter astonishment not unmingled with dread, and yet I found it impossible to account for such feelings. A sensation of stupor oppressed me, as my eyes followed her retreating steps. When a door, at length, closed upon her, my glance sought instinctively and eagerly the countenance of the brother, but he had buried his face in his hands, and I could only perceive that a far more than ordinary wanness had overspread the emaciated fingers through which trickled many passionate tears.//
The mockery of a faint blush upon the bosom and the face, and that suspiciously lingering smile upon the lip which is so terrible in death: white rose, calla lily, ti leaf, myrrh, stephanotis, casket wood, upturned earth, and wilted ivy.
//Madonna, Edvard Munch.//
Hyssop, pomegranate, Angel’s Trumpet, Indonesian patchouli, iris, white orchid, and frankincense.
Wanderlust
Discontinued 2009
//Swarthy and vibrant! An elegant, full-bodied scent that ignites all the darkest passions.//
Bold red wine, mimosa, and a trickle of clove.
Orgiastic mayhem in the extreme.
Sweet strawberry and orange blossom distorted by carnation, black poppy and hibiscus.
//The Plane of Joy, eternal reward for a lifetime of valor and glory. A place of eternal youth and beauty, strength and honor, music and revelry.//
The warmth of amber, the puissance of white ginger and the clarity of verbena, with fresh green grass, lush sage and cleansing droplets of summer rain.
A stirring yet gentle perfume. The scent of love and devotion mingled with an undercurrent of heart-rending sorrow.
A bouquet of white roses, labdanum, and wild orchid.
An ancient blend, swollen with arcane power.
Galangal, high john essence, frankincense, cedar, and sandalwood.
A gentle vision of purity, goodness and virtue.
White tea, carnation and Damask Rose.
[[General Catalogue]]
[[A Picnic in Arkham]]
[[Ars Amatoria]]
[[Ars Draconis]]
[[Ars Moriendi]]
[[Bewitching Brews]]
[[ Diabolus]]
[[ Excolo]]
[[ Illyria]]
[[Mad Tea Party]]
[[ Marchen]]
[[ Panacea]]
[[Pharmacopoeia]]
[[Rappaccini's Garden]]
[[Sin & Salvation]]
[[ Somnium]]
[[Steamworks]]
[[ Wanderlust]]
[[The Salon]]
[[Neil Gaiman]]
[[Hellboy]]
[[Gris Grimly]]
[[Carnaval Diabolique]]
[[Limited Edition]]
[[ Discontinued]]
[[Event Exclusive]]
[[ Unreleased]]
GettingStarted
MainMenu
ShowAllByTags
Ode to Aphrodite
Deviser, contriver.
Black plum, burgundy wine, sandalwood, and champaca.
//Evil incarnate. Revel in your dark side with this romantically cruel scent.//
Contains red patchouli and vetivert.
A profound, complex scent that encapsulates the joy one finds in another's pain.
Ylang ylang, clove, Indonesian red patchouli, and dark myrrh.
//The Kingdom, Shekhinah, God’s Presence in the World, the Throne of Glory.//
//Shadow saw the old woman, her dark face pinched with age and disapproval, but behind her he saw something huge, a naked woman with skin as black as a new leather jacket, and lips and tongue the bright red of arterial blood. Around her neck were skulls, and her many hands held knives, and swords, and severed heads.//
Spices, cardamom, nutmeg, and flowers.
Smoky musk, ambergris, tonka bean, brown sandalwood, daemonorops, black currant, and honey.
//Also called Djinn’s Eggs and the Weed of Ill Omen. Distinctive bifurcations shape this magickal plant into the form of human men and women. It is believed that mandrake grows where the semen of a hanged man has fallen onto the earth, and that when it is plucked from the earth, the plant itself shrieks in agony://
//Alack, alack, is it not like that I,
So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad.//
//A plant of true arcane power, mandrake has been used in a multitude of ways by witches, magicians and thaumaturgists for eons to many, many vastly different ends. Whole pieces are carried for protection, or are used in poppet magick. Ground herb can be utilized in spells for money, lust or defense.
The lore of the mandrake does not limit it to magickal use. The root was chewed as a simple anasthesia, and it has been widely employed as a sleep drug://
//''Cleopatra'': Ha, ha!
Give me to drink mandragora.
''Charmian'': Why, madam?
''Cleopatra'': That I might sleep out this great gap of time
My Antony is away. //
//Sexuality, power, confidence. A meeting of modern, sleek elegance and rich, passionate history.//
Sheer amber, black leather, white mint, lemon peel, white tea, grapefruit, kush, teakwood and orchid.
//The personification of insanity, Mother of Manes, Goddess of Night Spirits, Mistress of Undeath, She Who Gives Life to the Dead. With Mantus, she rules the Etruscan underworld, and her scent is roiling chaos and churning madness, but because she is the mother of the Lares, benevolent household spirits, her perfume also bears an underlying gentleness, and, like madness, a strange sweetness.//
Screeching white musk collides with a howl of red musk, with sharp white grapefruit and pale strawberry leaf.
//A tropical, humid, lush scent, with a faint echo of Pacific breezes, jungle blossoms, and deep wet woods.//
Sampaguita blossoms, banana leaf, palm, and narra.
//The Howl of Rudra, The City of Jewels
The ~Ten-Petaled Lotus.
Dynamic energy, willpower, autonomy, self-esteem, self-expression, ambition, analytical thought, intellectual activity, astral force, the fire of the spirit, assertiveness, laughter, rage.
Manipura controls the radiation and distribution of prana throughout the system, and contains a protective energy that helps shield the soul from negative activity that may occur in the other chakras.//
Sake, apricot, and blonde wood.
Rappaccini's Garden
Discontinued 2007
Crushed herbs and sweet amber resin with a streak of patchouli, neroli and golden musk.
Weeds, dirt, red clay, scattered groceries, inked fabric ribbon, machine oil, and cast steel.
Flotsam
Vanilla orchid, Monoi tiare, gardenia, and light incense.
A twisted teatime tart: Apricot and sweet clove.
Blue lilac, lily of the valley, golden musk, beeswax, white ginger, bergamot, green tea, and nectarine.
Red musk, bergamot, black currant, mimosa, orchid, patchouli, and lotus root.
The chosen scent of France's Demigoddess of Debauch: Marie Antoinette.
A blend of sinuous violet and elegant tea rose.
Le Mat
Golden pear, amber, fig leaf, oakmoss, bronze musk, mahogany, patchouli, and a smattering of glittering pyrite.
Rose, rose geranium, myrrh, ylang ylang, French gardenia, tuberose, red sandalwood, and palmarosa.
Stately, bold, aristocratic and cruel.
Opulent galbanum and amber, glistening peach, and a bouquet of French florals, with a merciless undertone of jonquil and heartless vetiver.
//Dynamic energy - Lust - Enthusiasm - Resolution - Courage - Physical strength - Mental acuity - Comraderie - Engineering - Any work with metals - Victory - Conquest - War - Power - Domination - Military matters - Daring deeds//
A gooey mound of white fluffiness! And yes, it is vegan!
Salt air, ocean mist, aged patchouli, sarsaparilla, watered-down rum, leather-tinged musk, and a spray of gunpowder.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2009
//Masabakes is a Cantabrian demoness that governs lustfulness and lechery. In order to tempt virgins to corruption she employs the aid of her lackey, the imp Tentirujo. Under the cover of magickal invisibility, the imp caresses maidens with mandrake root, instilling uncontrollable passion and wantonness in the unsuspecting girls.//
Thick black currant with the darkest, deepest myrrh, a drop of bitter mimosa and the slightest touch of mandrake dust.
A festive, dazzling blend, layered in mystery and intrigue.
Patchouli, ambergris, carnation and orange blossom.
//A renowned exotic dancer and courtesan, possessed of aristocratic elegance, matchless charm, an iron will and a streak of fearlessness. The actual events of her life have met with much speculation, and to this day it is unclear whether or not she was truly a German spy. Despite shaky evidence of her guilt, she was tried for espionage by a closed court-martial and was executed by a French firing squad in 1917.//
Her scent is striking and bold with a delicate yet dark undertone: five roses with soft jasmine, warmed by vanilla, fig, tonka bean and mahogany, spiced with a drop of coffee bean.
//How marvellously lie our anxieties, in filmy layers, one over the other! Take away that which has lain on the upper surface for so long—the care of cares—the only one, as it seemed to you, between your soul and the radiance of Heaven—and straight you find a new stratum there.//
Fresh wheat, honeycomb, rosehips, nectarine, climbing roses, and myrrh.
June 2008
//The moon was but a chin of gold
A night or two ago,
And now she turns her perfect face
Upon the world below.
Her forehead is of amplest blond;
Her cheek like beryl stone;
Her eye unto the summer dew
The likest I have known.
Her lips of amber never part;
But what must be the smile
Upon her friend she could bestow
Were such her silver will!
And what a privilege to be
But the remotest star!
For certainly her way might pass
Beside your twinkling door.
Her bonnet is the firmament,
The universe her shoe,
The stars the trinkets at her belt,
Her dimities of blue.//
Golden mead, fermented with gruit, nutmeg, clove, cinnamon, ginger root, sweet-briar, rosemary, and lemon.
2007
//A mechanical construct: illustrating strong work ethic, determination, creativity, and innovation.//
Copper gears, brass cogs, fused wiring, scorched iron, and motor oil.
//Granddaughter of Helios, Hecate's chosen: Medea was one of the greatest sorceresses of the ancient world. She is the embodiment of ruthless power, indomitable will and furious vengeance.//
Night-blooming cereus, black orchid, black currant and myrtle leaf enshrouded in the incense of Hecate's cypress and myrrh, and the dark rage of magickal labdanum and intoxicating poppy.
//A veritable miracle, I tell you! A scent that soothes the spirit and stimulates both the libido and the mind.//
Tobacco, balsam, ginger, elemi and rosewood, with a touch of opium to fuddle your senses.
//Withered vines, gnarled trees, twilight crows, river flowing beneath the little bridge, past someone's home. The wind blows from the west where the sun sets, it blows across the ancient road, across the bony horse across the despairing man who stands at heaven's edge.//
A desolate scent, dusty, bleak, and withered: old wood, burnt brown sandalwood, and twisted vines.
//The Unwilling, The Jealous One//
Orris, black amber, bergamot, plum and grapefruit.
Note: Reformulated 5/1/2005.
Ode to Aphrodite
The dark, of night.
Teak, frankincense, caramel, oakmoss, red currant, labdanum absolute, bitter clove, patchouli, star anise, tobacco, and black musk.
//Melancholia, Albrecht Dürer.//
Blue lilac, white sandalwood, stargazer lily, paperwhite narcissus, ylang ylang, delphinium, and cypress.
//Behind the diminutive stage, the puppet mistress stands, a pale and grinning Professor, the Lady of Chaos. Her hands are tangled in web-like strings; a swazzle peeks through her violet lips. Behind her, you see a wavering image, with all the vague haziness of a mirage: a leaping coyote, a flame-haired and scarred Norseman, a glittering golden spider, a laughing monkey, a leering satyr, a shadowy flutist, and an African youth dressed in black and red.//
Jasmine sambac, dark musk, violet water, vanilla bean and mimosa.
Excolo, Muses
Discontinued 2008
//But oh Melpomene! thy lyre of wo --
To what a mournful pitch its keys were strung,
And when thou badest its tones of sorrow flow,
Each weeping Muse, enamoured, o'er thee hung:
How sweet-- how heavenly sweet, when faintly rose
The song of grief, and at its dying close
The soul seemed melting in the trembling breast;
The eye in dews of pity flowed away,
And every heart, by sorrow's load opprest,
To infant softness sunk, as breathed thy mournful lay.
Melpomene is Tragedy, and the sound of Her voice is filled with beauty, power and strength. She is crowned in cypress branches, holds the mask of tragedy, wears the cothurnus and wields a knife or club. Her scent is rife with pathos, and inspires us with the ability to express our grief, loss, and the pain in our souls in a cathartic, creative fashion.//
Dark cypress with mint, geranium, Bulgar lavender, orange blossom and passion flower.
Green sandalwood, rice wine, black tea, tonka, and moss.
//Expanding the Intellect - Quick Wit - Mental Agility - Communication - Travel - Calculation - Analysis - Learning - Teaching - Gambling - Study - Creativity - Magickal Acumen - Good Conversation - Chance Happenings - Adaptability//
//The ringing of a gong seizes your attention, and you follow the sound to the next stage. It is empty, devoid of any backdrop, and the platform is dark. A haze blankets your vision, like heat radiating off of the desert floor. You hear the sound of hands clapping a steady rhythm, and within moments, the haze begins to coalesce into the forms of a troupe of ghostly women, clad in linen shifts. Their wraithlike hands pluck at the strings of translucent zithers and harps, shake spectral sistrums, and their pallid lips blow upon ethereal flutes. The music that they play is discordant, otherworldly, and seems to be at once a funeral dirge and a paean to life: a triumphant lamentation. As the sound swells, you hear the beating of wings in the distance, and a keen, a siren’s ululation, joins the haunting melody. As the song reaches its eerie crescendo, a beautiful winged woman alights on the stage, summoned by the phantom song. Her skin is dusky brown, and the vigor of her youthful body seems in conflict with the depth of grief reflected in her eyes. Her wings spread out behind her in morbid majesty, and she takes flight. Her dance is, itself, a visible act of mourning, and is almost sensual in its sorrow.//
Frankincense, hyssop, hibiscus, river reeds, orris root, palm frond, and olibanum.
2008
Tenacity, force, strength, stability, and determination: Chinese musk and gleaming white metal with honeysuckle, rose mallow, verbena, and carnation
April 2005
//They were pinkish things about five feet long; with crustaceous bodies bearing vast pairs of dorsal fins or membraneous wings and several sets of articulated limbs, and with a sort of convoluted ellipsoid, covered with multitudes of very short antennae, where a head would ordinarily be.... As it was, nearly all the rumours had several points in common; averring that the creatures were a sort of huge, light-red crab with many pairs of legs and with two great bat-like wings in the middle of their back. They sometimes walked on all their legs, and sometimes on the hindmost pair only, using the others to convey large objects of indeterminate nature. On one occasion they were spied in considerable numbers, a detachment of them wading along a shallow woodland watercourse three abreast in evidently disciplined formation. Once a specimen was seen flying—launching itself from the top of a bald, lonely hill at night and vanishing in the sky after its great flapping wings had been silhouetted an instant against the full moon.
The Mi-Go are the Fungi from Yuggoth [the planet we naïvely dubbed Pluto], a crustacean-like, winged humanoid race that travel to the highest mountain peaks on Earth to mine for minerals. They do pick up the occasional human brain during their trips to Earth, which they transport back to Yuggoth in a canister. While in this brain jar, the transported brain is fully-conscious, and, thanks to the miracles of modern Mi-Go technology, is possessed of all its faculties and the power of speech.//
In an effort to create a pleasing environment during a surprise trip to Yuggoth, we have created a soothing yet stimulating blend of pink pepper, peony, jasmine, mango, kiwi, pomegranate, pineapple, white ginger, serene white tea and light musks. Bon voyage!
//Known as the Mistress of Bones and the Lady of the Dead, she is the Queen of Mictlan, the Aztec Underworld, who still presides over today's Day of the Dead rituals. Sometimes known now as La Huesuda, she brings peace and joy to the spirits of the deceased, and blesses the living who do honor to those who have passed before them.//
Copal, precious woods, South American spices, agave nectar, cigar tobacco, and roses.
An ethereal bouquet of night-blooming flowers.
Evening primrose, ruellia, flowering nicotiana, wild petunia, panani-o-kai, night phlox, night gladiolus, moonflower and the elusive scent of Nottingham Catchfly.
Shojo Beat
//Eternal desire, unquenchable passion.//
Red musk, cocoa absolute, Nepalese amber, red sandalwood, aged patchouli, nicotiana, and blood wine.
//I will wash my hands among the innocent; and will compass thy altar, O Lord: That I may hear the voice of thy praise: and tell of all thy wondrous works. I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house; and the place where thy glory dwelleth. Take not away my soul, O God, with the wicked: nor my life with bloody men: In whose hands are iniquities: their right hand is filled with gifts.
But as for me, I have walked in my innocence: redeem me, and have mercy on me. My foot hath stood in the direct way: in the churches I will bless thee, O Lord.
In Roman Catholic tradition, the Christmas season begins liturgically on Christmas Eve, though it is forbidden to celebrate the Christmas Mass before midnight. The most devout attend Midnight Mass, celebrating both the Eucharist and the drama of the Nativity.//
__This perfume is a traditional Roman Catholic sacramental incense, most often used during a Solemn Mass.__ //Traditionally, five tears of this incense, each encased individually in wax that has been fashioned into the shape of a nail, are inserted into the paschal candle. This is, of course, represents the Five Wounds of Our Risen Savior. Symbolically, the burning of the incense signifies spiritual fervor, the fragrance itself inspires virtue, and the rising smoke carries our prayers to God.
Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, factorem caeli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium.
Et in unum Dominum Iesum Christum, Filium Dei unigenitum, et ex Patre natum ante omnia saecula. Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine, Deum verum de Deo vero, genitum non factum, consubstantialem Patri; per quem omnia facta sunt. Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem descendit de caelis. Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est. Crucifixus etiam pro nobis sub Pontio Pilato, passus et sepultus est, et resurrexit tertia die, secundum Scripturas, et ascendit in caelum, sedet ad dexteram Patris. Et iterum venturus est cum gloria, iudicare vivos et mortuos, cuius regni non erit finis.
Et in Spiritum Sanctum, Dominum et vivificantem, qui ex Patre procedit. Qui cum Patre et Filio simul adoratur et conglorificatur: qui locutus est per prophetas. Et unam, sanctam, catholicam et apostolicam Ecclesiam. Confiteor unum baptisma in remissionem peccatorum. Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum, et vitam venturi saeculi. Amen.//
//Lightning splits the sky, illuminating the skeletal skyline of the carnival rides.//
Sugared incense and night-blooming flowers.
//A bombardment of edible carnival indulgences.//
Funnel cake, caramel apple, cotton candy, salt water taffy and sugar tart.
Yule 2003, 2004, 2005, 2007
//A melancholy, deep scent, poignant and brimming with nostalgia.//
The perfume of sugared plums over a breeze of winter flowers.
Box of Chocolates
Milk chocolate buttercream
May 2005
//May marks the apex of the year’s fertility, expresses the reawakening of the sexuality of the Earth and her inhabitants, and May’s full moon celebrates both the fecundity of the creatures and flora of this world and the vibrancy, rejuvenation and life-affirming energy of Spring. Milk Moon is its warmer, gentler cousin; it is a scent that emulates the closeness of child and mother.//
Cream and warm honey soften our traditional blend of lunar oils.
May 2007
//And they came unto the brook of Eshcol, and cut down from thence a branch with one cluster of grapes, and they bare it between two upon a staff; and they brought of the pomegranates, and of the figs. The place was called the brook Eshcol, because of the cluster of grapes which the children of Israel cut down from thence. And they returned from searching of the land after forty days. And they went and came to Moses, and to Aaron, and to all the congregation of the children of Israel, unto the wilderness of Paran, to Kadesh; and brought back word unto them, and unto all the congregation, and shewed them the fruit of the land. And they told him, and said, We came unto the land whither thou sentest us, and surely it floweth with milk and honey; and this is the fruit of it. A fertile scent, generous, life-affirming, and swelling with a sense of triumph, warmth, and abundance.//
Sweet milk, golden honey, fig fruit, pomegranate, dates, and white grape.
May 2007
//The Bull of Minos, guardian of the Labyrinth in Knossos.//
A deep, swarthy black musk dusted by a dark, resinous blend of sacred bisabol myrrh, atramentous benzoin, tsori, balsam, and galbanum.
Carmilla, Sheridan ~LeFanu)
//Sometimes after an hour of apathy, my strange and beautiful companion would take my hand and hold it with a fond pressure, renewed again and again; blushing softly, gazing in my face with languid and burning eyes, and breathing so fast that her dress rose and fell with the tumultuous respiration. It was like the ardor of a lover; it embarrassed me; it was hateful and yet over-powering; and with gloating eyes she drew me to her, and her hot lips traveled along my cheek in kisses; and she would whisper, almost in sobs, "You are mine, you shall be mine, you and I are one for ever." Then she had thrown herself back in her chair, with her small hands over her eyes, leaving me trembling.//
Languid, melancholy fire: red musk, purple orchid, frankincense, smoky vanilla, Styrian herbs, peru balsam, tonka, Zanzibar clove, and patchouli.
2005 Springtime in Arkham Limited Edition
Reinstated as a General Catalogue Scent in 2006
//A venerable New England university, whose vast library holds many rare, diabolical and obscure arcane works, including one of the few surviving legitimate copies of the Necronomicon. Home to innumerable scholars of the esoteric and the occult, and the notorious Dr. Herbert West.//
The scent of Irish coffee, dusty tomes and polished oakwood halls
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("MVJBA")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//"Bod," said Silas. "This is Miss Lupescu."
Miss Lupescu was not pretty. Her face was pinched and her expression was disapproving. Her hair was grey, although her face seemed too young for grey hair. Her front teeth were slightly crooked. She wore a bulky mackintosh, and a man's tie around her neck.
"How do you do, Miss Lupescu?" said Bod.
Miss Lupescu said nothing. She sniffed. Then she looked at Silas and said, "So. This is the boy." She got up from her seat and walked all around Bod, nostrils flared, as if she were sniffing him. When she had made a complete circuit, she said, "You will report to me on waking, and before you go to sleep. I have rented a room in a house over there." She pointed to a roof just visible from where they stood. "However, I shall spend my time in this graveyard. I am here as a historian, researching the history of old graves. You understand, boy? Da?"
"Bod," said Bod. "It's Bod. Not boy."
"Short for Nobody," she said. "A foolish name. Also, Bod is a pet name. A nickname. I do not approve. I will call you 'boy'. You will call me 'Miss Lupescu'."
Bod looked up at Silas, pleadingly, but there was no sympathy on Silas's face. He picked up his bag and said, "You will be in good hands with Miss Lupescu, Bod. I am sure that the two of you will get on."
"We won't!" said Bod. "She's horrible!"
"That," said Silas, "Was a very rude thing to say. I think you should apologise, don't you?"
Bod didn't, but Silas was looking at him and he was carrying his black bag, and about to leave for no-one knew how long, so he said, "I'm sorry Miss Lupescu."
At first she said nothing in reply. She merely sniffed. Then she said, "I have come a long way to look after you, boy. I hope you are worth it."//
Animalic musk, with amber, patchouli, ho wood, cypress, almond blossom, golden sandalwood, and strange spices.
Yule 2004, 2005, 2007
//The plant of peace in Norse tradition. If enemies met in the forest and came upon a sprig, they laid down their arms and observed a truce until the next sunrise.//
//A sweet reward for a worthy deed.//
Caramelized sugar and sweet cream.
//Several weeks ago, I (the Mom, not the Uncle) was working on my computer at home (working on this update, actually), when I heard a commotion behind me. Lilith had somehow gotten a hold of one of my tarot decks and was going to town with them. A chip off the old block, right?//
Coconut and a bit of sugar with pomegranate, pink musk, orange blossom, cypress, honey myrtle, and incense.
//A colorless woman bursts from an elaborate gold and ruby tent and faints dead at your feet. Soft laughter emits from the dark entrance to the tent, and the scent of musk, black fruits and incense touches your senses. Looking up, you see that the sign hovering above the unconscious woman is adorned with images of the Major Arcana’s Tower and reads:
“Mme. Moriarty, Misfortune Teller.
No fate too grim, no future too bleak.”
A tiny woman with floor-length black dreadlocks walks out of the tent, stepping over the prone body. She is clothed in deep red wrappings, and is bedecked in golden ornaments bearing alchemical symbols and charms representing eternity, chance, and wisdom. She pauses, looks you over slowly, and then flicks a tarot card at your feet.//
Red musk, vanilla bean, pomegranate, patchouli leaf and wild plum.
Flotsam
Volcanic ash and Easter Island palm.
Flotsam
Seaweed, awapuhi, and sea foam.
//The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.//
Antiqued sandalwood, patchouli, and soft mosses.
//Monna Vanna, Dante Gabriel Rossetti.//
Russian rose, mimosa, gardenia, bois du rose, parma violet, calla lily, red currant, ambergris, and bourbon vanilla.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("MonsterBait")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Why waste time chanting her name in the mirror 13 times? Bedevil your next slumber party the easy way!//
Chunky, glistening red fruits with sweet cream accord, black clotted cherry, and powdered sugar!
Bourbon blackberry buttercream over red velvet cake.
//Beckons all giant creatures from gargantuan reptiles and humongous moths! These babies are sure to crush everything from dollhouses to shopping malls! Can even be used to summon colossal robots in a pinch!//
A sweet and crisp vanilla mint!
Cassia-caked cocoa coconut over angel food cake.
//Who doesn't want a monster in their pants? This bit of cheekiness inspired by the mods on bpal.org!//
Sexy sugar-smeared saffron sandalwood over lickable vanilla cream with a splash of butter rum.
//Menacing, maniacal, and slick with the one-liners … this guy does it all with a wink and a smile! Be warned: this oil will instigate possession in most puppets, including some marionettes and the occasional finger puppet.//
Savage apricot, depraved dry woods, and psychopathic patchouli covered by a disarmingly sweet mishmosh of caramel, brown sugar, hazelnut, and butterscotch.
//Monster Bait: biggerCritters -- a deceptively sweet scent; just like the Critters themselves, the perfume is fluffy, poofy, soft, snuggly, and googly!//
Five vanillas with Moroccan jasmine, white gardenia, and pink grapefruit.
//"Drink,"I said, presenting him the wine.
He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly, while his bells jingled.
"I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us."
"And I to your long life."//
The black fruit and vanilla oaken notes of fine Medoc and De Grâve, but not a hint of the elusive Amontillado.
A crisp, pale, almost translucent rose dusted by moonflower and midnight dew.
January 2008
//The Moon of Ice shines its pale white light on snow-blanketed hills and barren fields. Icicles dangle from skeletal branches, and the desperate howl of starving men and beasts echo through the darkness.//
Frost-crusted winter flowers, white pine, eucalyptus, and traditional lunar oils.
December 2008
//The baby moon, a canoe, a silver papoose canoe, sails and sails in the Indian west.
A ring of silver foxes, a mist of silver foxes, sit and sit around the Indian moon.
One yellow star for a runner, and rows of blue stars for more runners, keep a line of watchers.
O foxes, baby moon, runners, you are the panel of memory, fire-white writing to-night of the Red Man's dreams.
Who squats, legs crossed and arms folded, matching its look against the moon-face, the star-faces, of the West?
Who are the Mississippi Valley ghosts, of copper foreheads, riding wiry ponies in the night?-no bridles, love-arms on the pony necks, riding in the night a long old trail?
Why do they always come back when the silver foxes sit around the early moon, a silver papoose, in the Indian west?//
Snow-blanketed wild grasses, sage, swamp tea, cedar, giniminagawunj, copal, rosehip, juniper, clover, elderberry, sweet flag, butterfly weed, wood sorrel, and pine.
January 2009
//On New Year's Day
each thought a loneliness
as winter dusk descends//
Desolation at the last moment in the gloaming on New Year's Day: winter snow with lavender, benzoin, lychee, white resins, and a cluster of melancholy, lachrymose lunar herbs and florals
Discontinued 2004
Revisted in Maelström
//It is a day of days, a day of all days either to live or die. It is a fair day for the sons of earth and life - ah! more fair for the daughters of heaven and death.//
Sage with orris, Florentine iris and a drop of civet.
//Earth sorceress and mother of Mordred, she is, in essence, the harbinger of King Arthur's doom and the downfall of Camelot. She is a sister, or sister-self, to Morgan Le Fay.//
A bouquet of five night-blooming flowers deepened by dusky violet, purple fruits and the barest breath of medieval incenses.
//The intoxicating perfume of exotic incenses wafting on warm desert breezes.//
Arabian spices wind through a blend of warm musk, carnation, red sandalwood and cassia.
Ode to Aphrodite
Of shapely form.
Jasmine, honey, labdanum, rosehip, ambrette seed, delphinium, and white ginger.
February 2009
The essence of intrigue, betrayal, and impending doom.
//Well, then, Antony, who was a friend of Caesar's and a robust man, was detained outside by Brutus Albinus, who purposely engaged him in a lengthy conversation; but Caesar went in, and the senate rose in his honour. Some of the partisans of Brutus took their places round the back of Caesar's chair, while others went to meet him, as though they would support the petition which Tillius Cimber presented to Caesar in behalf of his exiled brother, and they joined their entreaties to his and accompanied Caesar up to his chair. But when, after taking his seat, Caesar continued to repulse their petitions, and, as they pressed upon him with greater importunity, began to show anger towards one and another of them, Tillius seized his toga with both hands and pulled it down from his neck. This was the signal for the assault. It was Casca who gave him the first blow with his dagger, in the neck, not a mortal would, nor even a deep one, for which he was too much confused, as was natural at the beginning of a deed of great daring; so that Caesar turned about, grasped the knife, and held it fast. At almost the same instant both cried out, the smitten man in Latin: "Accursed Casca, what does thou?" and the smiter, in Greek, to his brother: "Brother, help!"
So the affair began, and those who were not privy to the plot were filled with consternation and horror at what was going on; they dared not fly, nor go to Caesar's help, nay, nor even utter a word. But those who had prepared themselves for the murder bared each of them his dagger, and Caesar, hemmed in on all sides, whichever way he turned confronting blows of weapons aimed at his face and eyes, driven hither and thither like a wild beast, was entangled in the hands of all; for all had to take part in the sacrifice and taste of the slaughter. Therefore Brutus also gave him one blow in the groin. And it is said by some writers that although Caesar defended himself against the rest and darted this way and that and cried aloud, when he saw that Brutus had drawn his dagger, he pulled his toga down over his head and sank, either by chance or because pushed there by his murderers, against the pedestal on which the statue of Pompey stood. And the pedestal was drenched with his blood, so that one might have thought that Pompey himself was presiding over this vengeance upon his enemy, who now lay prostrate at his feet, quivering from a multitude of wounds. For it is said that he received twenty-three; and many of the conspirators were wounded by one another, as they struggled to plant all those blows in one body.//
Conspiracy and murder in the Theatre of Pompey: balsam of Peru, bitter clove, motia attar, amber musk, opoponax, cypress, red wine grapes, tagetes, spikenard, and blood accord.
A rich, bold blend of imperial rose, carnation, lush jasmine, lily of the valley, dark musk, amber, bergamot and gilded tangerine.
Le Mat
Black currant, rhubarb, mushroom, champaca, and myrrh.
November 2008
//As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls, to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
'The breath goes now,' and some say, 'No:'
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.
Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears;
Men reckon what it did, and meant;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary lovers' love
(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.
But we by a love so much refin'd,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to airy thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if the' other do.
And though it in the centre sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must
Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end, where I begun.//
Ethereal, somber, and woeful: Chinese musk, wisteria, white grapefruit, calla lily, violet leaf, orange, gaiac wood, balsam of Peru, and Florentine iris.
//<< 'Fury said to a
mouse, That he
met in the
house,
"Let us
both go to
law: I will
prosecute
YOU. -- Come,
I'll take no
denial; We
must have a
trial: For
really this
morning I've
nothing
to do."
Said the
mouse to the
cur, "Such
a trial,
dear Sir,
With
no jury
or judge,
would be
wasting
our
breath."
"I'll be
judge, I'll
be jury,"
Said
cunning
old Fury:
"I'll
try the
whole
cause,
and
condemn
you
to
death."<<//
Vanilla, two ambers, sweet pea and white sandalwood.
//Hence it came about that I concealed my pleasures; and that when I reached years of reflection, and began to look round me, and take stock of my progress and position in the world, I stood already committed to a profound duplicity of life.//
A discreet men’s cologne of juniper, cumin, verbena, bergamot, mint, and basil splattered with dregs from apothecary bottles. That selfsame gentlemen’s cologne corrupted by base, dissolute musk, bitter tobacco, sour bourbon, sweat, and a splatter of blood.
//The smoke stung Shadow’s eyes. He wiped the tears away with his hand, and, through the smoke, he thought he saw a tall man in a suit, with gold-rimmed spectacles. The smoke cleared and the boatman was once more a half-human creature with the head of a river bird.//
Papyrus, vanilla flower, Egyptian musk, African musk, aloe ferox, white sandalwood.
//Shadow looked up at the creature. "Mr. Jacquel?" he said.
The hands of Anubis came down, huge dark hands, and they picked Shadow up and brought him close.
The jackal head examined him with bright and glittering eyes; examined him as dispassionately as Mr. Jacquel had examined the dead girl on the slab. Shadow knew that all his faults, all his failings, all his weaknesses were being taken out and weighed and measured; that he was, in some way, being dissected, and sliced, and tasted.
We do not remember the things that do no credit to us. We justify them, cover them in bright lies or with the thick dust of forgetfulness. All of the things that Shadow had done in his life of which he was not proud, all the things he wished his had done otherwise or left undone, came at him then in a swirling storm of guilt and regret and shame, and he had nowhere to hide from them. He was as naked and as open as a corpose on a table, and dark Anubis the jackal god was his prosector and his prosecutor and his persecutor.
"Please," said Shadow. "Please stop."
But the examination did not stop. Every lie he had ever told, every object he had stolen, every hurt he had inflicted on another person, all the little crimes and the tiny murders that make up the day, each of these things and more were extracted and held up to the light by the jackal-headed judge of the dead.//
Golden amber, hyssop, North African patchouli, and embalming spices.
//Before Fat Charlie's father had come into the bar, the barman had been of the opinion that the whole karaoke evening was going to be an utter bust; but then the little old man had sashayed into the room, walked past the table of several blonde women with the fresh sunburns and smiles of tourists...He had tipped his hat to them, for he wore a hat, a spotless green fedora, and lemon-yellow gloves, and then he walked over to their table. They giggled....He was older than they were, much, much older; but he was charm itself, like something from a bygone age when fine manners and courtly gestures were worth something. The barman relaxed. With someone like this in the bar, it was going to be a good evening.//
Sugar cookies with bay rum, tobacco, and lime.
//The Thunderbolt of Indra, The Hand of Brahma
The ~Four-Petaled Lotus.
Security, stability, courage, manifestation, survival.
Muladhara is the root of all matter, the basis of physical existence.
Through this chakra, you draw down spiritual energy and cause it to take physical form. In this chakra, the three primary psychic channels materialize.
Within Muladhara, sleeps the Coiled Snake, your spiritual potential, and here it remains, sleeping, until you arouse and it work to bring it back to Brahman.
All of your samskaras take physical form in this chakra.//
A light, invigorating floral and citrus blend.
Tuberose, lotus and jasmine with a hint of lime.
Shiny black leather jackets, gleaming silver studs, black pepper, pungent lime, and hellfire
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2004
A swirl of shadowy incense smoke and the lingering perfume of cloaked strangers.
//Avarice, inertia, materialism, animal consciousness, despair and cruelty.//
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2004
//A soft, beguiling, seductive scent.//
Lotus, lavender and neroli.
//A Sanskrit blessing and word of greeting that bears a powerful symbolism. It represents the Oneness of all of existence, the union of matter and spirit, perfect wholeness. It is accompanied by a gesture: Anjali -- hands pressed together, fingertips heavenward, pressed together over the heart's chakra. This oil blend is a serene, soothing Indian blend, created to bring calm and joy to the heart and peace to the spirit.//
Sandalwood, jasmine, rose, patchouli, cedarwood and lemongrass.
//She wore a knit tweed suit and discreet pearl earrings. Something about her might have said nanny, but it said it in an undertone of the sort employed by British butlers in a certain type of American film. It also coughed discreetly and muttered that she could well be the sort of nanny who advertises unspecified but strangely explicit services in certain magazines.//
Middle Eastern flowers, amber, honey, blood red-berries, whip leather, and polished paddle wood.
''@@color(#00B379):Yule 2005@@''
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("NaughtyorNice")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Gift with purchase of a full set of the 2008 Pumpkin Patch (imp only)
Hay absolute, sun-baked pumpkin rind, twisting vines, and the tiniest sparkle of gleaming metal
//“The Beautiful One Is Come”.//
Egyptian iris and olibanum with red and white sandalwood, soft myrrh and a breath of North African herbs.
//The Neil Gaiman Collection.
This series is a tribute to the literary corpus of the inimitable Neil Gaiman. His works have been an enormous influence on our lives, and we are honored to be able to present our interpretations of the characters, locations, and concepts within the worlds that he has created.//
[[Fifteen Painted Cards from a Vampire Tarot]]
[[American Gods]]
[[Anansi Boys]]
[[Good Omens]]
[[ Stardust]]
[[The Graveyard Book]]
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("NeilGaiman")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//The whip-wielding Goddess of Divine Retribution, Justice and Vengeance, and is the force that balances the scales of Tyche's fortune. She is also called Adrasteia, 'she whom none can escape', and Erinys, 'implacable'. Nemesis is the executrix of Olympian justice, and her primary duty is to punish hubris and mankind's offenses against the natural order with inflexible, remorseless and raging fury. Her symbols are a sword and scourge, a measuring rod and scales.//
Cypress, ginger, fig, dried rose, red patchouli, tonka bean and cyclamen.
Wanderlust
Discontinued 2007
//This scent was created for a very dear friend in Kyoto, with love, admiration and continent-spanning affection. The name itself was inspired by Vladimir. A scent that captures a meeting of the serenity and elegance of ancient Japan, the vibrant, shining, neon-lit and ultra-modern splendor of today's Tokyo and the fantastic electric fantasyland of post-modern manga fantasy.//
Urban metallics and an ozone-tinged breath of electric light mingled with reedy bamboo, crisp mountain air, cherry blossoms, delicate orchid and a splash of playful, wet fruits.
//Dark children conceived from the union of Fallen Angels and the Daughters of Men. According to lore, the angel Shemhazai led a group of his angels to earth to instruct mankind in the ways of piety and righteousness. After a time, the angels became prey to earthly desires and began to lust after the daughters of man, and thus they fell. They instructed their mortal mates in the arts of conjuration, summoning, necromancy and other magickal arts. The fruits of their union are the Nephilim: possessed of superhuman strength, cunning, and infinite capacity, and hunger for, sin. Venerated as heroes by some, vilified by most, the Nephilim eventually annihilated one another in a cataclysmic civil war instigated by the angel Gabriel as punishment for their transgressions.//
Holy frankincense and hyssop in union with earthy fig, defiled by black patchouli and vetiver, with a chaotic infusion of lavender, cardamom, tamarind, rosemary, oakmoss and cypress.
//Abstract Ideas - Dreams - Scandal - Glamour - Idealism - Hallucinations - Imagination - Mediumistic Power - Poetry - Receptivity - Spirituality - Visionaries - Weirdness - Seduction - Prophecy - Fantasy - Perception//
//The pinnacle of power, poisoned by sin and indulgence - this is our homage to Classical Roman debauch.//
Rosemary, bay, pine and a touch of lemon.
//Victory, Eternity, Endurance, God’s Grace.//
//Reminiscent of hothouse blooms on a humid night, ripe, but touched with decay.//
Sweet honeysuckle and jasmine with a hint of lemon and spice.
//New Year's Eve in Dogville, C.M. Coolidge.//
Flirty perfume, dapper cologne, and effervescent champagne.
//The House of Mists, a land of icy fog, shadowy darkness and soul-chilling cold.//
Dark, damp blossoms winding through an impenetrable, murky gloom.
Live Poems
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
//Stars, you are unfortunate, I pity you,
Beautiful as you are, shining in your glory,
Who guide seafaring men through stress and peril
And have no recompense from gods or mortals,
Love you do not, nor do you know what love is.
Hours that are aeons urgently conducting
Your figures in a dance through the vast heaven,
What journey have you ended in this moment,
Since lingering in the arms of my beloved
I lost all memory of you and midnight.//
Lilac, blue musk, dianthus, cedar, neroli, ozone, and luminous Eastern herbs.
Lupercalia 2006, 2007
//I worship you like night's pavilion,
O vase of sadness, o great silent one,
And love you more since you escape from me,
And since you seem, my night's sublimity,
To mock me and increase the leagues that lie
Between my arms and blue immensity.
I move to attack, beseige, assail,
Like eager worms after a funeral.
I even love, o beast implacable,
The coldness which makes you more beautiful.
Not the desperation, desolation and anguish of unrequited love, but the distant, chill and pitiless scent of the object of that doomed desire.//
White musk, osmanthus, Nile lily and frankincense.
//No one ever found what the night-gaunts took, though those beasts themselves were so uncertain as to be almost fabulous. Carter asked them if night-gaunts sucked blood and liked shiny things and left webbed footprints, but they all shook their heads negatively and seemed frightened at his making such an inquiry. When he saw how taciturn they had become he asked them no more, but went to sleep in his blanket.//
Their scent of their slick, rubbery hides is bittersweet, ticklish, and skin-creeping: something akin to yuzu, white grapefruit, and kumquat mixed with the snow-dusted flowers of Mount Ngranek.
//Beeswax candles reflect flickering light onto a brass-coated boiler engraved with the words “Solve Et Coagula”. The gargantuan boiler sends torrents of steam into rigid pipes that exert force onto innumerable pistons and turbine blades. The motion is harnessed to propel energy into gargantuan cogs and gears that move liquid metals, herbs, and resins into a series of alembics.//
Balm of Gilead, benzoin, frankincense, balsam of peru, beeswax, saffron, galbanum, calamus, hyssop, mastic, lemon balm, and white sage.
A celebration of the Nativity: the light, uplifting incense of the Misa de Noche Buena, purple sage, and a vibrant bouquet of plumeria, chrysanthemum, tuberose, Angel's Trumpet, Mexican tiger lily, dahlia, and azucenas.
A//lso known as Krisky, Plaksy and Gorska Makua, she is a nightmare spirit, the Night Hag of the Woods, who haunts Polish, Russian, Bulgarian and Slovak children during the darkest hours. The only protection against her torments is a circle drawn around a child’s cradle with a knife, or an axe or protective poppet hidden under the floorboards beneath where a child sleeps.//
Her scent is that of a lightless fir wood, nighttime air, wet forest mosses and upturned earth.
An olfactory serenede. A somber, contemplative scent -- dreamy and subdued.
Deepest violet touched with lilac and tuberose.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
//Our olfactory tribute to the film genre: a dark, moody, brooding scent that embodies moral ambiguity, alienation, and soul-wrenching cynicism.//
A complex, seamy blend of Lily of the Valley, opoponax, myrrh, black rose and plum with a slithering twist of clove, deep plum and star jasmine.
//The Nones of the Wild Fig, held on the 7th of July and celebrated only by women, is a festival of fertility honoring Juno Caprotina. Both goats and figs are sacred to Juno in this aspect, goats being notoriously randy, and figs being prolifically seedy. The milky sap of the fig tree also links to the concept of fertility, and to Juno as Mother Goddess.//
The scent is of goat’s milk, ripe fig, and a hint of sweet myrrh.
Please note: no goats were milked in the process of creating this scent. It is an accord, and this scent is vegan.
//We've finally caved in to years of requests for vampiric scents.// As soft as grave dust and as dry as a breath drawn within a long forgotten crypt, this is Nosferatu.
Desiccated herbs and gritty earth brought to life with a swell of robust and sanguineous red wines.
//A Universal Panacea!
Revitalizes the spirit and balances the humors! Prolongs life indefinitely! //
__Black tea leaf, invigorating wasabi extract, sweetened by honey.__
//Much despair and suffering can be prevented by the discreet use of Doc Constantine’s remedies!//
//A limited edition Salon series celebrating the joy, humor, playfulness, and thrill of sexual intercourse through scent interpretations of Edo era Japanese erotic art.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SecretAmusements")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//A limited edition Salon series celebrating the joy, humor, playfulness, and thrill of sexual intercourse through scent interpretations of Edo era Japanese erotic art.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SecretAmusementsII")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Yet one smile more, departing, distant sun!
One mellow smile through the soft vapoury air,
Ere, o'er the frozen earth, the loud winds ran,
Or snows are sifted o'er the meadows bare.
One smile on the brown hills and naked trees,
And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast,
And the blue Gentian flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee
Shall murmur by the hedge that skim the way,
The cricket chirp upon the russet lea,
And man delight to linger in thy ray.
Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear
The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened air.//
Autumn leaves damp beneath the first snowfall.
//Late in the evening, tired and happy and miles from home, they drew up on a remote common far from habitations, turned the horse loose to graze, and ate their simple supper sitting on the grass by the side of the cart. Toad talked big about all he was going to do in the days to come, while stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow moon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came to keep them company and listen to their talk.//
The scent of a moonlit night on the road, orchards in the distance, and swirling dust.
//Annihilation.//
The ice, desolation and barrenness of nuclear devastation shot through by a beam of radioactive mints.
//She is the Goddess of the Sky, one of the Ennead, daughter of the air [Shu] and water [Tefnut], lover of Geb and Hadit, the Eternal Mother, and the Receiver, Reviver and Protector of the Dead, whose loving, divine embrace shields our souls from annihilation. She is love, rapture, splendor, continuous and eternal birth and rebirth, infinite space, and the “the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night”. Nuit is Earth’s guardian, and shields her lover and her mortal children from the primeval chaos that threatens Existence.//
Her perfume is starry and crystalline, a jewel-clad and glittering paean to night: dazzling white musks, white rose and night-blooming jasmine with the soft moss of moonlit meadows, a waft of Egyptian incense, and a gentle breath of moonflower.
2005
//I don’t know about the weather where you’re at, but here in L.A… it is brain-frying’ly, grr-stickity hot. This icy blend was something that we were saving for the upcoming [not soon enough!] winter months, but since Brian and I watched the thermometer slap 107 today, we decided that there’s no better time than the present to introduce a singularly chilly, delectably ice-rimmed perfume. Revel in the gelid polar frostiness that is Numb, and forget about the heat for a moment. This scent is extremely limited, and will be available until all the bottles are spoken for.//
//And it was then that Nyarlathotep came out of Egypt. Who he was, none could tell, but he was of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not say why. He said he had risen up out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet. Into the lands of civilisation came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. He spoke much of the sciences - of electricity and psychology - and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, and shuddered. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; for the small hours were rent with the screams of a nightmare.//
Brooding, yet electric: the scent of buried secrets, roiling nightmares, the essence of the Crawling Chaos, the Father of Knives and Locusts, the Hunter in the Dark. This is the blackest of ritual incenses charged with flashes of ozone.
//Named in honor of the primeval Greek Goddess of Night. A scent reflecting inky black skies and eternal desolation.//
Night-blooming jasmine, warmed by myrrh, lifted by the promise of rose.
The scent of sexual obsession, slavery to sensual pleasure, and the undercurrent of innocence defiled utterly.
Amber and honey with a touch of vanilla.
//The King of the White Cloth, King of the Orishas, the First Among Equals. He is the King of Power, and his weapon is wisdom. He is the essence of honored maturity, wisdom through age and experience, purity of intention, virtue, humility, tolerance, judicious use of power, the knowledge of what is truly right and wrong, the moral code, and the obligation to do what is right. Obatala is the Creator God, who first fashioned mankind from clay; thus, he is also the first sculptor and potter. The human head itself is Obatala’s creation, and it is through it that he grants us the ability to discern genuine morality as opposed to oppressive, mistaken and arrogant self-righteousness. His is not the falsehood of societal boundaries, His Truth is the understanding of one’s own character and the obligations that we all have to our world, our Gods, and one another. He is the Benevolent Judge, calm and lucid, and he governs rational deliberation. His color is white, as His spirit is free from any soil or stain, and His energy radiates sanctified purity, great wisdom, happiness and internal peace. He is associated with cloth, as that was one of His gifts to mankind. The aspects of Obatala are symbolized by the chameleon, boa constrictor, elephant, gorilla, and snail. Obatala is the Lord of Laughter, for it is through wisdom that one may see the joy in life, and through laughter we are able to see the follies of mankind not with cynicism and derision, but with humor, compassion and understanding. Obatala’s Laughter helps soothe the pain of life’s rigors, and takes the sting out of the harshest of life’s lessons.//
Obatala’s ofrenda is soft, white and pure: milk, coconut meat, shea butter and cool, refreshing water.
Orchid, white musk, and bergamot wafting over juniper berries, with a gentle touch of soft, earthy patchouli.
//Salvation found in darkness beyond darkness, the blessed sleep of nothingness.//
Dark musk, wood spice, labdanum, patchouli, dark African woods, and saffron.
March 2007
//A scent of transformation.
He who desires to become an oborot, let him seek in the forest a hewn-down tree; let him stab it with a small copper knife, and walk round the tree, repeating the following incantation:
On the sea, on the ocean, on the island, on Bujan,
On the empty pasture gleams the moon, on an ashstock lying
In a green wood, in a gloomy vale.
Towards the stock wandereth a shaggy wolf,
Horned cattle seeking for his sharp white fangs;
But the wolf enters not the forest,
But the wolf dives not into the shadowy vale,
Moon, moon, gold-horned moon,
Check the flight of bullets, blunt the hunters' knives,
Break the shepherds' cudgels,
Cast wild fear upon all cattle,
On men, all creeping things,
That they may not catch the grey wolf,
That they may not rend his warm skin!
My word is binding, more binding than sleep,
More binding than the promise of a hero!
Then he springs thrice over the tree and runs into the forest, transformed into a wolf.//
Balkan fir sap, dark mosses, Greek Mountain tea flower, black pine, salty ocean spray, deep black earth, and a moon-touched magickal incense of sandarac, frankincense, and ravensara.
House salad, no dressing.
//The Archer, Lord of the Bow and Arrow. To know Ochosi is to know the movement of the arrow into prey and the whistle of the arrow in flight. He is the transference of energy over a distance, and His is the speed of light, sound and thought, though he is not merely though, he is the stroke of instant understanding or realization. Ochosi is the ~Hunter-Wizard, skilled in the use of magickal potions and poisons, silent, dangerous and possessed of a cool, calm, sharp intelligence. He is the calculated extension of the mind, the Tracker, the Ranger, and he governs the changing of the seasons, stealth, guerilla warfare, and He alone acts as a buffer and shield between reason and insanity. He is the protector of children, the weak, the helpless, and the aged.//
His ofrenda is the soft shea he shares with Obatala, forest herbs, and sprucewood arrow shafts.
//AY, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to a good old age released from care,
Journeying, in long serenity, away.
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks
And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And music of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.//
Dry, cold autumn wind. A rustle of red leaves, a touch of smoke and sap in the air.
//No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
She dwells with Beauty -- Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.//
Beauty, joy, pleasure and delight: devastated. This is the scent of the hopelessness, torment and despair of love.
Lavender and wisteria, heart-wrenching pale rose, desolate white sandalwood and thin, tear-streaked white musk.
//Odin is highest and eldest of the Æsir: he rules all things, and mighty as are the other gods, they all serve him as children obey a father. The All-Father, Lord of Wisdom and War. Odin’s name itself translates to "fury", "excitation" and "poetry"and that is the core of His essence. He is the God of Victory, and holds sway over hunting, verse, war-lust and berserkers, magic, illumination, foresight, death, plots and machinations, and He dispenses the Mead of Inspiration to poets from his sacred vessel, Óð-rœri. He gifted mankind with runes, both sacred and mundane, and the ability to use them for both communication and magical work. He grants glory and madness, inspiration and courage, power and wisdom. He commands the einheriar of his Hall, Valhalla, and the Valkyries that claim the souls of valiant warriors. Lord Odin’s favored weapon is the spear Gugnir, which he uses to claim those chosen to die in battle. He is accompanied by his ravens, Hugin and Munin [thought and memory], and his wolves, Geri and Freki [the Greedy], and rides an eight-legged horse, Sleipner, that is, in itself, symbolic of death.//
His scent is dry elm bark, amaranth, warrior’s musk, and Odin’s Nine Herbs of Power.
//Ogun is the Master of Iron, Lord of the Knife, the Toolmaker, the Supreme Hunter, the God of War. He is primal instinct, energy and motion, strife and resolution, effort and perspiration, locomotion, force, contraction and expansion. He is the lord of all mines and mineral wealth, and his energy is expressed in the transformation of sandstone into marble and carbon into diamonds. His control over transformation transcends this into the metaphorical: Ogun helps to shape the spirit, and hone it into something finer, and He compels us to look deep inside ourselves, searching for our true potential. He is physical might, ruler of the heart, giver of courage and sustainer of war, and is the bond that men fashion with one another during battle. He is gunpowder. Ogun is responsible for teaching mankind to fashion tools and weapons from iron, and his primary implements are the anvil, hammer, machete, rake, hoe, shovel, pick and pry. His favored animal is the dog, who shares his loyalty and unflagging strength.//
Ogun’s ofrenda is heavy and dark cigar tobacco, gin and juniper, melon, chili pepper and a touch of honey.
//On to Pieria he stepped from the upper air, and swooped down upon the sea, and then sped over the wave like a bird, the cormorant, which in quest of fish over the dread gulfs of the unresting sea wets its thick plumage in the brine. In such wise did Hermes ride upon the multitudinous waves. But when he had reached the island which lay afar, then forth from the violet sea he came to land, and went his way until he came to a great cave, wherein dwelt the fair-tressed nymph; and he found her within. A great fire was burning on the hearth, and from afar over the isle there was a fragrance of cleft cedar and juniper, as they burned; but she within was singing with a sweet voice as she went to and fro before the loom, weaving with a golden shuttle. Round about the cave grew a luxuriant wood, alder and poplar and sweet-smelling cypress, wherein birds long of wing were wont to nest, owls and falcons and sea-crows with chattering tongues, who ply their business on the sea. And right there about the hollow cave ran trailing a garden vine, in pride of its prime, richly laden with clusters. And fountains four in a row were flowing with bright water hard by one another, turned one this way, one that. And round about soft meadows of violets and parsley were blooming. There even an immortal, who chanced to come, might gaze and marvel, and delight his soul; and there the messenger Argeiphontes stood and marvelled.//
Sea air, kelp, and climbing vines, flame-singed cedarwood and juniper branches, cypress boughs, alder wood, violets, selino, parsley, glistritha, and white sage.
//The Comic Book Legal Defense Fund
A legendary warrior bard from Irish lore and a renowned member of the Fianna. His saga is detailed in two of the four great Cycles of Celtic legend: the Fenian and Ossianic Cycles.//
A lyric, wistful blend of summertime Irish blossoms and herbs, glistening with vibrant white musk.
Dirty South ~Will-Call, February 2009
A blend of native Georgian flowers, graveyard dirt and loam.
December 2007
//The cold earth slept below;
Above the cold sky shone;
And all around,
With a chilling sound,
From caves of ice and fields of snow
The breath of night like death did flow
Beneath the sinking moon.
The wintry hedge was black;
The green grass was not seen;
The birds did rest
On the bare thorn's breast,
Whose roots, beside the pathway track,
Had bound their folds o'er many a crack
Which the frost had made between.
Thine eyes glow'd in the glare
Of the moon's dying light;
As a fen-fire's beam
On a sluggish stream
Gleams dimly-so the moon shone there,
And it yellow'd the strings of thy tangled hair,
That shook in the wind of night.
The moon made thy lips pale, belov'd;
The wind made thy bosom chill;
The night did shed
On thy dear head
Its frozen dew, and thou didst lie
Where the bitter breath of the naked sky
Might visit thee at will.//
A dark, still winter's night. The cold, white moon shines on frozen ground dusted with silent snow: evergreen, juniper, winterberry holly, bayberry, Viking black chokeberry, hemlock, and yew, ice-rimed, gilded by traditional lunar herbs and flowers.
//Old Nick, the Devil himself, as seen through the eyes of Victorian New England. A jaunty, dapper scent, deceptively genteel.//
A lavender fougere with tonka, amber, rosewood and a whiff of diabolical patchouli.
//The Lord of All Waters, Master of Wealth, Keeper of the Secrets in the Depths of the Ocean, Lord of the Lightless Deep, God of the Unknown. This secretive and enigmatic Orisha is symbolized by the Seven Seas, and the vast riches and unplumbed mysteries of the ocean are His. Though His reach extends over three-quarters of earth’s surface, He concedes the right to rule to Obatala out of respect for the age, wisdom and discretion of the venerable King of the White Cloth. Olokun is the depth of the ocean at which the sun’s light fails to penetrate. He is perpetual darkness, incomprehensible pressure, and his abode is the birthplace of mythical monsters. The ocean floor is also a Land of the Dead: in its darkness, all will fall to rest, and in this darkness is the Home of the Spirits, souls that, in the cold and dark, rest awaiting reincarnation. Olokun represents all things that remain unknown to man, and all questions may be answered in the halls of His Kingdom. In this, he holds sway over the power of divination. Though decaying matter settles in His home, the Kingdom itself does not decay or erode. He is represented by the mudfish and his favor is shown through red coral and shark spines.//
His ofrenda is the scent of the lightless deep: __the glorious, unknowable gloom of the ocean floor.__
Deep, mysterious, and full of dark portents.
Oakmoss, juniper berry, myrrh and patchouli.
//You darkness, that I come from,
I love you more than all the fires
that fence in the world,
for the fire makes
a circle of light for everyone,
and then no one outside learns of you.
But the darkness pulls in everything;
shapes and fires, animals and myself,
how easily it gathers them! --
powers and people --
and it is possible a great energy
is moving near me.
I have faith in nights.//
An embrace: black poppy, lavender, thick black incense, black amber, rose geranium, Brazilian rosewood, and benzoin.
//One to Tie, Two to Win, C.M. Coolidge.//
Dewy grass, summer breezes, and dandelion clocks.
Wistful and vulnerable.
Lotus, water blossom ivy, stargazer lily and white rose.
//Opium teaches only one thing, which is that aside from physical suffering, there is nothing real.//
A bitter, soft, fragile flower.
Flotsam
Ginger blossom and vanilla orchid.
Gift for guests at an exclusive Neil Gaiman reading at Comic-Con 2008
//no scent description given//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("OrderOfTheDragon")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Orpheus, Franz von Stuck.//
Pale musk, green mandarin, neroli, benzoin, citrus peel, blue lavender, narcissus, stephanotis, crushed green stems, willow branch and cedar.
2007
//The Vernal Equinox. Also called Alban Eilir and the Festival of Trees. At this time, we welcome the reawakening of the Earth after winter’s long sleep. Sap flows, flowers bud, the world itself is exuberant, and the vitality of the universe’s life-force is palpable.
This is a day of rebirth, but it is also a day of balance. Equal parts masculine and feminine, light and dark, mercy and severity, surrender and contemplation.//
Our springtime celebratory perfume is crafted with orris root, bergamot, frankincense, daffodil, orange pulp, attar of rose, jonquil, strawberry leaf, benzoin, violet leaf, copal, honey cakes, sweet cream, and the blossoms of springtime.
//The Goddess of the Hand Mirror, Maiden of Love. Osun is the Goddess of beauty, love, enchantment, elegance, and pleasure. Her charm and incomparable lovliness is such that it can be felt, sensed, and not merely seen. Osun holds the secrets of our deepest and most complex feelings. She is intuition, pure and idealized love, the tingling sensation of pleasurable anticipation, the sensual movement of seduction and sexuality, and quick breath before climax. Osun is the pleasure of the senses, refinement, and the patroness of artistic endeavors that bring delight to the world. She compels us to express our deepest, truest feelings, and is the mother of our tears of happiness, tears of bitter grief, and the swelling of our hearts with love, hate, lust and fierce joy. She is the harlot and the virgin, who bestows unbridled carnal pleasure and also shows the path to purity of the spirit and virtuous intentions. She represents tenacity, the will to live and the drive to acquire, and the desire for achievement and fine possessions. She is the sublimely sweet and the revolting sour that we taste in life. She is charm used to every conceivable end, and is credited with bringing currency and the concept of money into the world, and is therefore the Patroness of Prostitutes and Courtesans. She is a great Witch, and has a multitude of brews, charms, and potions and always has a trick up her billowing, beautiful yellow sleeves. She is the youngest of the Orishas, and is a symbol of the most recent of nature’s evolutions: civilization. She teaches us to take care of ourselves, to pamper ourselves, and to find and express the beauty in ourselves, in others, and in our world. She is the sweet water of the stream, sustaining life. She is the Goddess of fine art, debate, sanitation, grooming, oratory arts, and temples and theatres. She is the act of landing the settlement that becomes a nation. She shows us that time must be made for leisure, amusement and contemplation, for a life of unending toil is an affront to her gifts, and diminishes the quality of life itself, and cripples our ability to conceive new, innovative ideas and create compelling works of art. All work and no play is not an option. It is Osun that provides us with the security, safety, comfort and prosperity that we require in order to make time for leisurely pursuits. Osun is the mirror that mankind holds up to itself, and she is the principle upon which all art is born. Osun’s symbols are hand mirrors, brass fans, brass needles, brass bells, sunflowers, and her creatures are the cricket and the peacock.//
Her ofrenda is thick with honey and herbs of love, passion and desire.
Arabian musk with two roses and a bevy of Middle Eastern and Indian spices.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("OtherLE")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Lush parlor rooms draped in thick velvets and gilded in gold, unearthly whispering in the distance, fleeting flashes of wraithlike figures rushing just outside your vision, the chill of a phantom presence brushing by your cheek, the inscrutable knowledge that disembodied eyes are peering at you from darkened corners… this is the essence of Victorian-era spiritualism.//
Rosewood, oak and teak notes with wispy blue lilac, tea rose, dried white rose and ethereal osmanthus.
//Lady of the Wind, Goddess of the Nine Skirts, the Lady of War, the Bearded Amazon, the Thundermaiden. Beautiful, tempestuous, elegant and graceful, She is the fury of the hurricane, the breath in our lungs, the air that cools us, the breeze that chills us, the winds that blow seeds that fertilize the land, the winds that pass disease throughout villages and townships, the moan of the wind within the cemetery, and the fury of the tempest that tears the landscape asunder. Oya is the sweeping wind of change and upheaval, She is revolution and progress, and She forces the destruction of old ideals while sweeping away our useless baggage; the broom is a symbol of Her force for change. As the Mistress that commands hurricanes, cyclones, and tornados, she tears down that which is old and decaying, compelling Her children to begin building anew. In Her hands She holds a mask, as Her presence is most often felt and not seen, and none have seen Oya’s true face. She is the moment at which the seasons change, the transition from life to death, and as the Lady of the Cemetery, it is to Her that we commit our final breath. Her closest friend is Iku, the Orisha of Death, and it is their responsibility to see to it that the natural order remains undisturbed. Once a man’s final breath is expelled, Oya takes it to Iku, who brings the spirit to the cemetery gates and then to its next passage. One of her symbols is the bed, as nightly we imitate death in sleep. Because of her close relationship with Death, the Goddess is very close to the Egungun, the spirits of our ancestors. Oya is the Goddess of the Marketplace in which fortunes and goods spin in a never-ending whirlwind of exchange, change, and flux. She is the wind that precedes the thunderstorm, and it is in this that She is seen as Shango’s companion and partner in battle, and without Oya, there is little that Shango can accomplish. She fans the fires of Shango’s blazes, and is the forked lightning that touches the treetops. Proud and willful, Oya is also a Goddess of War. Her wrath is so terrible and so devastating that none may behold her rage and survive. Oya has nine children and nine colors, and her symbols are weathervanes, windmills, kites, balloons, propeller planes, wind instruments, pinwheels, two naked swords, and buffalo horns.//
Oya’s ofrenda is a Nigerian potion of love and war, sweetened by darkest plum. Oya winiwini!
//I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.//
Desolation. The remnants of an empire, shivering with forgotten glories, a monument to megalomania, sundered power, and colossal loss.
Dry desert air, dry and hot, passing over crumbling stone megaliths and plundered golden monuments, bearing a hint of the incense of lost Gods on its winds.
//Such glorious faith as fills your limpid eyes,
Dear little friend of mine, I never knew.
All-innocent are you, and yet all-wise.
(For Heaven's sake, stop worrying that shoe!)
You look about, and all you see is fair;
This mighty globe was made for you alone.
Of all the thunderous ages, you're the heir.
(Get off the pillow with that dirty bone!)
A skeptic world you face with steady gaze;
High in young pride you hold your noble head,
Gayly you meet the rush of roaring days.
(Must you eat puppy biscuit on the bed?)
Lancelike your courage, gleaming swift and strong,
Yours the white rapture of a winged soul,
Yours is a spirit like a Mayday song.
(God help you, if you break the goldfish bowl!)
"Whatever is, is good" - your gracious creed.
You wear your joy of living like a crown.
Love lights your simplest act, your every deed.
(Drop it, I tell you- put that kitten down!)
You are God's kindliest gift of all - a friend.
Your shining loyalty unflecked by doubt,
You ask but leave to follow to the end.
(Couldn't you wait until I took you out?)
-- Verse For a Certain Dog, Dorothy Parker
~Pa-Pow, Ted’s best friend and companion for 17 years, passed away on September 1st, 2009. To celebrate her life and the joy she brought to all of us, we have created a scent evocative of// __ bright days running through the grass and sun-warmed puppy fur dusted with California wildflowers.__ //The proceeds from the sale of this scent will go to the Pasadena Humane Society so she can help care for the animals that were displaced and injured during [[http://www.pasadenahumane.org/site/PageServer?pagename=about_news_disaster_fire]].
To find out more about the Pasadena Humane Society, please visit: [[http://www.pasadenahumane.org/]].
~Pa-Pow, we love you so much.//
Wicked and vicious!
A sharp, cruel blend of lavender and pennyroyal.
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2004
//Charming, mischevious, and ultimately chaotic! An armoatic paean to discord.//
Lotus and gardenia spiked with mint.
//An attendant of the Goddess Venus. She presides over nocturnal pleasure, nighttime festivities, and all the joy and delight that can be found in the darkness. In later ages, it became the name of the all-night festival that closed the Eleusinian Mysteries.//
Night-blooming jasmine, moonflower, cardamom, sandalwood, black currant, ylang ylang, frankincense and lily.
2008
//The Day of the Fathers. A festival of remembrance, honoring family that has passed into the next life.//
Cypress, rose, violet, frankincense, ambrette, marjoram, and Lebanese cedar.
//Sensual, decadent, and enigmatic.//
Lavender, softly underscored by lotus and spice.
CBLDF Exclusive Scent
Only 26 bottles were created. Sold with a lettered edition of the Strangers in Paradise Omnibus and an original drawing by Terry Moore. The price of the set was $500
//no scent description given//
Lupercalia 2006, 2007, 2008
For the Valentine's Day purists.
//For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his mate.//
Medieval romance and courtly love. White rose and soft resins.
Paperwhite narcissus, petitgrain, rosemary, cyclamen, and ozone accord.
Honeysuckle, orris, moss, musk, benzoin, oakmoss, and star jasmine.
PasswordOptionPlugin extends the core Options with a non encrypted password type.
Notice:
*How a style can be specified for a specific option in StyleSheet
----
Test Password: <<option pasPassword myPasOptionInput >>
/***
|''Name:''|PasswordOptionPlugin|
|''Description:''|Extends TiddlyWiki options with non encrypted password option.|
|''Version:''|1.0.2|
|''Date:''|Apr 19, 2007|
|''Source:''|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#PasswordOptionPlugin|
|''Author:''|BidiX (BidiX (at) bidix (dot) info)|
|''License:''|[[BSD open source license|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#%5B%5BBSD%20open%20source%20license%5D%5D ]]|
|''~CoreVersion:''|2.2.0 (Beta 5)|
***/
//{{{
version.extensions.PasswordOptionPlugin = {
major: 1, minor: 0, revision: 2,
date: new Date("Apr 19, 2007"),
source: 'http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#PasswordOptionPlugin',
author: 'BidiX (BidiX (at) bidix (dot) info',
license: '[[BSD open source license|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#%5B%5BBSD%20open%20source%20license%5D%5D]]',
coreVersion: '2.2.0 (Beta 5)'
};
config.macros.option.passwordCheckboxLabel = "Save this password on this computer";
config.macros.option.passwordInputType = "password"; // password | text
setStylesheet(".pasOptionInput {width: 11em;}\n","passwordInputTypeStyle");
merge(config.macros.option.types, {
'pas': {
elementType: "input",
valueField: "value",
eventName: "onkeyup",
className: "pasOptionInput",
typeValue: config.macros.option.passwordInputType,
create: function(place,type,opt,className,desc) {
// password field
config.macros.option.genericCreate(place,'pas',opt,className,desc);
// checkbox linked with this password "save this password on this computer"
config.macros.option.genericCreate(place,'chk','chk'+opt,className,desc);
// text savePasswordCheckboxLabel
place.appendChild(document.createTextNode(config.macros.option.passwordCheckboxLabel));
},
onChange: config.macros.option.genericOnChange
}
});
merge(config.optionHandlers['chk'], {
get: function(name) {
// is there an option linked with this chk ?
var opt = name.substr(3);
if (config.options[opt])
saveOptionCookie(opt);
return config.options[name] ? "true" : "false";
}
});
merge(config.optionHandlers, {
'pas': {
get: function(name) {
if (config.options["chk"+name]) {
return encodeCookie(config.options[name].toString());
} else {
return "";
}
},
set: function(name,value) {config.options[name] = decodeCookie(value);}
}
});
// need to reload options to load passwordOptions
loadOptionsCookie();
/*
if (!config.options['pasPassword'])
config.options['pasPassword'] = '';
merge(config.optionsDesc,{
pasPassword: "Test password"
});
*/
//}}}
The legendary Valley of Cinnamon located east of Quito, deep in the Selva Amazónica. A thick tangle of deep green leaves, wild orchids, soft lichen, Patauá and Babassu palm spiced by the scent of deep, rich cinnamon.
Asian pear, white musk, bamboo pulp, violet, ambergris, sugar cane, night-blooming jasmine, plum, freesia, and moss.
//The Goddess of Persuasion, Seduction and Sexual Wiles. A member of Aphrodite’s retinue, she is also Aphrodite’s daughter and sister to Tyche and Eunomia.//
Lusty myrtle and jasmine with red sandalwood, stargazer lily, and clove over an opulent, rich bed of warm musk and bourbon vanilla.
//Whimsical, temperamental, radiant and ravishingly beautiful Goddess of Volcanoes, Fire, Lightning and Dance. She is the Mother of Eruptions and the personification of destructive power. Volcanic eruptions are said to be a side-effect of her jealous rages and her epic quarrels with her siblings are legendary.//
This perfume embodies her gentler, benign aspect as the capricious Goddess of Dance: muguet and Hawaiian white ginger enveloped by warm, damp tropical blooms.
Smell sanctified!
A blend of pure, pious frankincense and graceful myrrh.
//Also called Gallows Literature. A dime novel rife with melodrama, horror, madness and cruelty; a ten cent analogy of vice and virtue in conflict.//
Soft perfume evocative of noir heroines over rich red grave loam.
Excolo
Discontinued 2008
//The Greek God of Tears, Patron of Mourners, who dictates and accepts honors paid to the dead. He is the personification of grief and the sorrow and emptiness that comes from loss. Weeping is his hymnal, and this is his perfume.//
Salt tears over white roses, the fumes of thin funereal incense and the hollowness of calamus.
2008
The observer's space within a partial eclipse.
Rich purple musk, moonflower, red sandalwood, black amber, oakmoss, copal, lavender, neroli, tobacco, and pomegranate.
April 2006
//The year is ended, and it only adds to my age;
Spring has come, but I must take leave of my home.
Alas, that the trees in this eastern garden,
Without me, will still bear flowers.//
Peony, plum blossom, water reeds and soft Asian woods.
She herself had short red hair and a face which was not so much freckled as one big freckle with occasional areas of skin.
Pepper's given first names were Pippin Galadriel Moonchild. She had been given them in a naming ceremony in a muddy valley field that contained three sick sheep and a number of leaky polythene teepees. Her mother had chosen the Welsh valley of Pant y Gyrdl as the ideal site to Return to Nature. (Six months later, sick of the rain, the mosquitoes, the men, the tent trampling sheep who ate first the whole commune's marijuana crop and then its antique minibus, and by now beginning to glimpse why almost the entire drive of human history has been an attempt to get as far away from Nature as possible, Pepper's mother returned to Pepper's surprised grandparents in Tadfield, bought a bra, and enrolled in a sociology course with a deep sigh of relief.)
There are only two ways a child can go with a name like Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, and Pepper had chosen the other one: the three male Them had learned this on their first day of school, in the playground, at the age of four.
They had asked her her name, and, all innocent, she had told them.
Subsequently a bucket of water had been needed to separate Pippin Galadriel Moonchild's teeth from Adam's shoe. Wensleydale's first pair of spectacles had been broken, and Brian's sweater needed five stitches.
The Them were together from then on, and Pepper was Pepper forever, except to her mother, and (when they were feeling especially courageous, and the Them were almost out of earshot) Greasy Johnson and the Johnsonites, the village's only other gang.
//Wild English roses, French gardenia, vanilla, honey, golden ginger, blood orange, tuberose, bergamot, and geranium.//
//Perchta, the Shining One, is the Lady of the Beasts, an incarnation of the goddess Holda. She, too, leads the Wild Hunt, and is the protectress of wild animals, and appears to mortals as either a white-clad, white-skinned, white-haired beauty, or as a brutish, bestial hag. She is called Berhte Mit Dem Fuoze; one of her feet is shaped like a beast's, which gives away her superhuman nature no matter how she is disguised. She is also called Perchta the ~Belly-Slitter, for, at Yuletide, she castigates the wicked, slovenly, and idle, and rewards those that are generous, good-natured, and kind. The ~Belly-Slitter enforced community taboos, punishing those that spun during holy days and those who failed to partake in sacred feasts, thus jeopardizing the next year's harvest. Her punishments can be a bit over-the-top, though: they include disemboweling the transgressor and filling the empty cavity with refuse.//
Her scent is a blend of wild musk, snow, and alpine flora: Nigritella lithopolitanica, aconite, crocus, touch-me-not, edelweiss, Iris variegate, and violet.
(Revelations in Black, Carl Jacobi)
//I stumbled forward, my eyes quickly accustoming themselves to the half-light from the almost opaque windows.
At the end of the corridor a second door barred my passage. I thrust it open - and stood swaying there on the sill staring inward.
Beyond was a small room, barely ten feet square, with a low-raftered ceiling. And by the light of the open door I saw side by side in the center of the floor - two white wood coffins.
How long I stood there leaning weakly against the stone wall I don't know. There was an odor drifting from out of that chamber. Heliotrope! But heliotrope defiled by the rotting smell of an ancient grave.
Then suddenly I leaped to the nearest coffin, seized its cover and ripped it open.
Would to heaven I could forget that sight that met my eyes. There the woman in black - unveiled.
That face - it was divinely beautiful, the hair black as sable, the cheeks a classic white. But the lips - ! I grew suddenly sick as I looked upon them. They were scarlet.... and sticky with human blood.//
Heliotrope, grave soil, and blood.
//Beautiful, radiant daughter of Demeter... her loveliness was so exquisite that even Hell itself could not resist her.//
Pomegranate and rose.
The perfect scent to wear to your next bondage ball, dungeon adventure or sojourn to your favorite pleasure dome.
Smoky rum and black tobacco with a whisper of steamy leather with a splash of crystalline chardonnay, layered over a sensual, sweet, and deceptively magnetic base of tonka.
This delicate, spectral perfume gives rise to an eerie distortion of of the senses. It bestows an ephemeral, ghostly, and truly haunting quality to your presence.
Green tea, lemon verbena, jasmine and neroli.
//All look and likeness caught from earth,
All accident of kin and birth,
Had pass'd away. There was no trace
Of aught on that illuminated face,
Upraised beneath the rifted stone
But of one spirit all her own;--
She, she herself, and only she,
Shone through her body visibly.//
Myrrh, dark musk, attar of rose and ylang ylang.
//An epithet of the Morrigan, crow-winged Celtic goddess of war, strife and fertility. Adoration of this Goddess is expressed both through the ecstasy of battle lust and the ecstasy of sexual regeneration.//
Black orchid, apple blossom, meadowsweet, and rue over Irish moss, hawthorn and red clover.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("DocConstantine")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Ode to Aphrodite
Laughter loving.
Peach wine, carnation, lemon peel, osmanthus, blood orange, wood violet, and tuberose.
//Philosopher in Meditation, Rembrandt van Rijn.//
Smoldering woodfire embers, Galen’s Kyphi, and Abramelin incense.
//Twin to Deimos and child of War, Phobos is the embodiment of terror and mortal fear.//
Chilling white musk, lemon verbena, white grapefruit and lemongrass.
//Glowing liquid passes through the fogged retorts of ancient alembics, sparks fly from behind a massive workbench, and a cloud of thick incense smoke hangs low, all casting strange and surreal flashes of light and shadow on tall bolted-steel walls. The chug and hum of gargantuan machines echo through the chamber.//
Burnished gold and oiled bronze notes with Abramelin incense and sage.
//By God, what floats in this ghastly jar?//
Cinnamon, clove, vanilla, and pine sap.
//Pinched With Four Aces, C.M. Coolidge.//
Colorado Maduro tobacco wrappers, cinnamon bark, coffee bean husk, and dry woods.
April 2005
//The name of this moon refers to the color of wild ground phlox, a primary component of this Lunacy Blend, which is one of the most widespread floral signposts of springtime in North America.//
This Lunar blend is soft with phlox, tulip, daffodil, dogwood and muscari, dusted with pink sugar, carnation and honey, and a touch of the first strawberries of the season.
April 2007
//A sweet and silly compliment to the first breath of Spring!//
Sugared carnation and phlox!
2005
//Silliness in the extreme.//
Vanilla bean, honeycomb, sugared pear, sweet pea and a dribble of strawberry.
//Avast thar! On Octobree th' 31st, Pirate Moon be hangin' high in th' sky! Mad Bess Moriarty, Scourge o` th' Se`en Seas, an' Captain T.J. Barrial wi' be joinin' the'r spirits in unholy matrimony! This scent be created t' commemorate th' union o' these two scurrilous sea dogs.
So, splice th' mainbrace an' get thee loaded t' th' gunwales, me buckos, 'tis a time o' celebration!//
Red musk, ambergris, coconut palm, red sandalwood, balsam, date, warm leather, tobacco, ebony, lingum vitae wood, pandanus grass, an' a touch o' lime.
//20 Dubloons, ya swabbie!//
//February 19 - March 20//
//Mutable water: the essence of faith.//
Hemp, opium poppy, sarsaparilla, grains of paradise, passion flower, wisteria, Irish moss, and gentian.
May 2009
//As is the garden such is the gardener,
A man’s nature runs either to herbs or to weeds.
– Francis Bacon
This Full Moon marks a time for new growth, both within nature and within our spirits. It is a time of fertility and fruitfulness, for sowing seeds to ensure blessings and bounty later in the year.//
Budding summer squashes and pole beans, tomato leaves, upturned earth, May's wildflowers, and sun-warmed herbs.
Summer Garden Miniseries 2009
//vigilant day-glo guardians of lawn and patio, stalwart protectors of the home.//
Pink sugar-crusted marshmallow, dandelion, and sap.
The scent of a pirate's bumboat, overflowing with stolen wares.
Tea leaf, cassia, cinnamon bark, clove, allspice, sandalwood, tobacco, peppercorn, and nutmeg.
//Covert Operations - Enigmas - Defiance - Psychoanalysis - Terror - Anonymity - Immortality - Sadism - Transformation - The Unknown - Discovery of Error - Detection of Injustice //
Gift with purchase of Gris Grimly, Edgar Allan Poe's Tales at the August 2009 Death & Dementia Launch Party held at Dark Delicacies (imp only)
A melancholy, manic gentleman’s cologne: incense and tobacco, opium tar, juniper berry, bourbon vanilla, patchouli, bergamot, and mossy leather
November 2007 Dark Delicacies Exclusive Collection
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("PoeDD")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//The queen stepped before her mirror:
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?
The mirror answered:
You, my queen, are fair; it is true.
But Little ~Snow-White with the seven dwarfs
Is a thousand times fairer than you.
When the queen heard this, she shook and trembled with anger, "~Snow-White will die, if it costs me my life!" Then she went into her most secret room -- no one else was allowed inside -- and she made a poisoned, poisoned apple. From the outside it was red and beautiful, and anyone who saw it would want it. Then she disguised herself as a peasant woman, went to the dwarfs' house and knocked on the door.
~Snow-White peeped out and said, "I'm not allowed to let anyone in. The dwarfs have forbidden it most severely."
"If you don't want to, I can't force you," said the peasant woman. "I am selling these apples, and I will give you one to taste."
"No, I can't accept anything. The dwarfs don't want me to."
"If you are afraid, then I will cut the apple in two and eat half of it. Here, you eat the half with the beautiful red cheek!" Now the apple had been so artfully made that only the red half was poisoned. When ~Snow-White saw that the peasant woman was eating part of the apple, her desire for it grew stronger, so she finally let the woman hand her the other half through the window. She bit into it, but she barely had the bite in her mouth when she fell to the ground dead.
The queen was happy, went home, and asked her mirror:
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?
And it answered:
You, my queen, are fairest of all.//
A perfect, lovely, gleaming red apple whose sweetness masks a swirl of narcotic opium, oleander, and hemlock.
April Fools 2007
//Not at all fishy; rather, quite Springy! Innocence spiked with a little bit of foolishness.//
Lenten rose, crested iris, Virginia bluebell, primrose, moss phlox, blue crocus, daffodil, and dewy tulip with a touch of sugar blossom and honey.
//"Excuse me," barked Tyler. "Is that your crisp packet?"
"Oh, it's not just mine," said the boy. "It's everybody's."
R.P. Tyler drew himself up to his full height. "Young man,' he said, "how would you feel if I came over to your house and dropped litter everywhere?"
Pollution smiled, wistfully. 'Very, very pleased,' he breathed.
"Oh, that would be wonderful."
Beneath his bike an oil slick puddled a rainbow on the wet road.//
A toxic chypre: radioactive green musk, davana, and oozing white amber.
Excolo, Muses
Discontinued 2008
//The rage of Pindar filled the sounding air,
As Polyhymnia tried her skill divine;
The shaggy lion roused him from his lair,
And bade his blood-stained eyes in fury shine;
The famished eagle poised his waving wings,
Whetting his thirsty beak-- while murder rose,
With hand that grasps a dirk, with eye that glows.
She of Many Hymns governs Sacred Poetry and the Gift of Eloquence, and brought the gift of Geometry to the world. The most introspective one of the Sisters, she is contemplative, withdrawn and brooding. The Solemn One is veiled, garbed in long, somber robes, and is shown either resting her arm upon a pillar, or with her finger to her mouth in a gesture of silence. Polyhymnia grants fame and glory to writers, brings inspiration and immortality through one’s written work.//
Orris root, white sage, rowan bark and red sandalwood, with myrrh, rosemary, lemon balm and honeysuckle.
//I am the ancient apple-queen.
As once I was so am I now --
For evermore a hope unseen
Betwixt the blossom and the bough.
Ah, where's the river's hidden gold!
And where's the windy grave of Troy?
Yet come I as I came of old,
From out the heart of summer's joy.
The Roman festival for Pomona, Goddess of fruit, orchards, and gardens, was celebrated on November 1. On this day, the stores amassed during summer were opened for winter.//
Azaroles, nuts, and apple blossoms with red apple pulp, mulberry, blackberry, and pomegranate juice.
//The legendary birthplace of the Green Fairy.//
Swiss ferns, lilac, blackcurrant, Gallic rose and lavender with a dollop of sugar and absinthe.
Ode to Aphrodite
Of the sea.
Bergamot and French lavender.
//The Sodom of the New World! -- touted as the richest and wickedest city in all creation! Port Royal was the center of 17th century Caribbean commerce, a notorious safe harbor for pirates, and the site of our third flagship store, which was, sadly, destroyed in the earthquake of 1692.//
Spiced rum and ship’s wood mixed with the body-warmed trace of a prostitute’s perfume and a hint of salty sea air on the dry-down.
//Dark, decadent and incomparably exotic.//
The rich scent of buttered rum flavored with almond, bay, clove and sassafras.
Ode to Aphrodite
Mother of Desire.
Rose absolute, caramel, ripe red berries, pink pepper, Balsam of Peru, cognac, and benzoin.
//For Jenny, with love.//
Crocus with snowdrop and three lilies.
//As you come to the final stage, you see a spotlight focused upon a large pile of pitch-black ashes on the center of the floor. A parchment scroll has been tacked to the foot of the stage. It reads:
Now I will believe
That there are unicorns; that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phoenix’ throne; one phoenix
At this hour reigning there.
You catch a whiff of burnt cinnamon, and a whirlwind begins to form within the center of the cold pyre. The ashes rise, condense, and coalesce into the dusky form of a woman. She shakes her body gently, tossing her hair, and the ashes fall from her skin. She is perfect, radiant: not a single cinder mars the flawlessness of her countenance. Her body seems to cast a shadow shaped like a triumphant bird, wings outstretched, onto the blank taupe canvas behind her. Her eyes are closed, and her head is bowed; her expressionless face is enigmatic. Her dark eyes begin to glow, and her mouth turns up in a secretive, intimate smile. She throws back her head and extends her arms, and suddenly the scent of smoldering myrrh assails you. Within moments, the woman explodes into flame, and you see that her face is now a vision of passionate ecstasy. The turbulence of the conflagration whips around her violently, and gouts of flame burst from her body, igniting the canvas behind her. She raises her arms in exultation, and through the flames, you see both the outline of her scorched black skeleton and the shadow of the phoenix triumphant.//
Three deep, dark myrrhs, smoke, and cinnamon bark.
Vanity in extremis. The scent of rabid hauteur.
Moroccan rose and narcissus.
June 2007
//Polished party-girl sleaze. This is a shameless scent, devoid of caution, regret, or introspection. This perfume reeks of tabloid glamour, and has no substance whatsoever. Although this scent originated with fine plants and the pure essences, the final result is a grotesque, eerily empty caricature of a debauched, narcissistic would-be debutante.//
Armoise, tuberose, white citrus, rose absolute, oakmoss, tiare, tuberose, vanilla, linden, and lemon tree blossom.
//Her lover is away on a long journey, and she is pining for him. Sleepless and disconsolate, she counts the days until he returns.//
Blue iris, fennel, dark musk, verbena, and a drop of star anise.
//The "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avator and its seal - the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.
But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."//
There was beauty, there was wine: a rich Sangiovese vintage swirled through opulent amber, rich plum, champaca flower, and arrogant white musk.
Prunella
//There was once upon a time a woman who had an only daughter. When the child was about seven years old she used to pass every day, on her way to school, an orchard where there was a wild plum tree, with delicious ripe plums hanging from the branches. Each morning the child would pick one, and put it into her pocket to eat at school. For this reason she was called Prunella. Now, the orchard belonged to a witch. One day the witch noticed the child gathering a plum, as she passed along the road. Prunella did it quite innocently, not knowing that she was doing wrong in taking the fruit that hung close to the roadside. But the witch was furious, and next day hid herself behind the hedge, and when Prunella came past, and put out her hand to pluck the fruit, she jumped out and seized her by the arm.
'Ah! you little thief!' she exclaimed. 'I have caught you at last. Now you will have to pay for your misdeeds.'//
Ripe purple plums, wildflowers, and cream.
June 2007
//Jailhouse hooch.//
Distilled in toilets, this vintage is comprised of chow line droppings, including oranges, apples, ketchup, and sugar.
An unwholesome scent. A craving, an itch.
This scent smoulders with a lust that singes the edge of your nerves and leaves your soul chilled: red amber and scorched musk with voluptuous carnation, charred vetiver, sensuous tonka, and orris.
Ode to Aphrodite
Whispering.
Lily of the valley, tea rose, orris, ambergris, and plumeria.
//The tale of Cupid and Psyche is both a perfect love story and an allegory for the soul's search to reunite with Deity.//
This is the scent of true love, your heart's deepest, purest desires. Bulgar rose, Chinese white musk, lavender, orchid and frankincense.
//This is not the Monstrous Other; this is the fiend next door.
Examples: Psycho, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, the Collector, and Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte//
It smells perfectly normal: a lovely, unassuming, traditional mid-20th century musk with something not quite right lying underneath.
Illyria
Discontinued 2004
Resurrected November 2005
Oakmoss, sweet sage, juniper berry, civet and a drop of grape.
//Your eyes are drawn to a gilded miniature stage whose sign reads: "All Praises to the Lord of Misrule!" Upon the platform, a sneering wooden jester waltzes with a hollow-eyed and bleeding wooden maiden, while a wooden devil floats above them.//
Labdanum, cedar, teak and red rose.
Ars Amatoria
Discontinued 2007
//A profoundly erotic, lascivious scent.//
Black poppy, narcissus and civet.
Graham crackery and cream cheesy! Cinnamon brown sugary! Just a little carroty!
Pumpkin with pear, white wine grapes, and jasmine-laced tea.
Pumpkin with mango, persimmon, coconut, and myrrh.
Pumpkin, almond, brown musk, and honey.
Pumpkin with tobacco, champaca flower, carnation, and tonka.
Pumpkin with black musk, leather accord, tonka, teak, orange wood, and opoponax.
Pumpkin, rosewood, red sandalwood, and tea rose
Pumpkin with white chocolate, caramel, pomegranate, and cream.
Pumpkin with pink grapefruit, lemon verbena, yuzu, lime, parsley, and mint.
Pumpkin, fir needle, pitch, rosemary, and tomato.
Pumpkin with cactus blossom, sage, and sweetgrass.
Pumpkin with white sage, cherry tobacco, honey, smoky vanilla, cedar, and pine.
Pumpkin, black musk, tobacco, myrrh, and clove.
Convergence XI
April 2005
//no scent description given//
Pumpkin Patch 2005, 2006
Pumpkin with apple cider and mulling spice.
Pumpkin Patch 2005, 2006
Pumpkin with cocoa, hazelnut and walnut.
Pumpkin Patch 2005, 2006
Pumpkin and pomegranate.
Pumpkin Patch 2005, 2006
Pumpkin with sandalwood and orris.
Pumpkin Patch 2005, 2006
Pumpkin with five woods, English ivy and galangal root.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("PumpkinPatch05")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("PumpkinPatch06")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("PumpkinPatch07")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("PumpkinPatch08")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//The Glorious Grand Dame of the Pumpkin Patch!//
Regal Egyptian Amber, red ginger, orange peel, mandarin, cardamom, fig leaf and warm pumpkin.
Pumpkin pulp, beeswax candles, smoke, asphalt, and beer!
Pumpkin with benzoin, bourbon vanilla, lemon peel, neroli, blood orange, and red ginger.
Pumpkin with cranberry, strawberry, red musk, red rose, rosehip, frankincense, fig, jasmine, and carnation.
Pumpkin, chocolate, coffee bean, vanilla bean, and hazelnut.
//Once upon a time, on a wild October night many years ago, a fair took place at Chiselborough. The men of the village of Hinton St. George made their way to the fair, and spent the night in revelry, drinking and carrying on, far into the darkest hours. Their wives grew concerned, and went looking for their unruly husbands. In order to see their way through the autumn gloom, they hollowed out mangel-wurzels and crafted them into makeshift lanterns. The drunken men, in their sloshy haze, saw the ghostly lights approaching, and believed them to be goolies – the furious spirits of unbaptized children. In terror, they fled in panic from their bemused, bewildered wives. To this day, that night of foolishness is still celebrated!//
This is a light-hearted scent: apple orchards, bright cranberries, and a touch of warm cider.
2006
//Porphyrogenitus, indeed; we worked for it! Not simply the color of royalty, purple is also the color of sorrow and mourning, reconciliation and forgiveness.//
A regal, majestic, and somber blend of myrrh, plum blossom, African violet, cognac, fig, orris, lilac, wisteria, black plum, and Burgundy wine grapes.
For use only by women. An extremely potent passion blend, used to great effect when you're converting feminine sexual energy into power.
//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.
Imperial violet softened by wisteria and chrysanthemum, but edged with the regal iciness of delphinium.
//Warrior, Trickster and Goddess of Magic and Poets, she is one of the Tuatha De Danaan and the Queen of the Faeries.//
A very complex scent, both shadowy and fierce: black orchid, sandalwood, night-blooming jasmine, osmanthus, Somalian rose, and Chinese musk.
//A modern incarnation of the Queen of Pentacles, or Disks, the Queen of the Thrones of Earth. Nurturing, warm and kind, she is practical, quiet and domesticated, and yet still ambitious, and possessed of the sensual lushness of Mother Earth.//
Soft, deep earth notes with myrrh, amber, pomegranate, dark incense, red currant, rose and vanilla.
//A glittering icicle of a woman, regal, proud and cold.//
Shimmering white grapefruit, pale flowers and lemon bark with orchid, rose and a dash of mandarin.
//A woman of exquisite, unearthly beauty, profound intelligence, wit, and exceeding wealth, the Queen of Sheba - called Bilquis by the Muslims and Makeda by the ancient Abyssinians - traveled by caravan to Solomon's realm seeking proof of the king's reputed wisdom. Bearing gifts of exotic spices, a veritable mountain of gold, hearty camels and precious stones, she presented herself to the king and, bearing her heart to him, asked him a series of challenging questions, and was ultimately convinced of the truth of his wisdom, knowledge and judiciousness. In the end, the great king and queen conquered each other's hearts and fell breathlessly in love: the perfect marriage of equals.//
Her scent is a bounty of golden honeyed almonds and a whisper of African and Middle Eastern spices.
//A contemporary incarnation of the tarot’s Queen of Swords. A card of decisive action, strength of Will, progressive action, justice, and, sometimes, revenge. The scent is a sophisticated, deep, and smoky floral with a decidedly exotic spice.//
Moroccan myrrh and black amber, with muguet, opoponax, deep black plum, cyclamen, galbanum, and wild blackberry softened by pear blossom and a swirl of exotic wood notes.
Bat's Day Exclusive, August 2007
//It is a lovely scent based on the ghost who inhabits The Queen's Salon on The Queen Mary. It is an ethereal dark floral blend, perfect for the ghostly woman dancing in the dark, or any woman of mystery.//
//Well, my dear, number Two came after lunch. He is such a nice fellow, an American from Texas, and he looks so young and so fresh that it seems almost impossible that he has been to so many places and has such adventures… I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him. I know now what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't, for there was Mr. Morris telling us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and yet…
My dear, I am somewhat previous. Mr. Quincy P. Morris found me alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could, I am not ashamed to say it now. I must tell you beforehand that Mr. Morris doesn't always speak slang, that is to say, he never does so to strangers or before them, for he is really well educated and has exquisite manners, but he found out that it amused me to hear him talk American slang, and whenever I was present, and there was no one to be shocked, he said such funny things. I am afraid, my dear, he has to invent it all, for it fits exactly into whatever else he has to say. But this is a way slang has. I do not know myself if I shall ever speak slang. I do not know if Arthur likes it, as I have never heard him use any as yet.
Well, Mr. Morris sat down beside me and looked as happy and jolly as he could, but I could see all the same that he was very nervous. He took my hand in his, and said ever so sweetly…
"Miss Lucy, I know I ain't good enough to regulate the fixin's of your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that is you will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you quit. Won't you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the long road together, driving in double harness?"//
Rough on the edges, but possessing the true essence of valor and nobility of spirit: tobacco, vanilla, white pear, cedar, rugged musk and saddle leather.
//Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. The sunken city of the Great God Cthulhu.//
A hellishly dark aquatic scent, evocative of fathomless oceanic deeps, the mysteries of madness buried under crushing black waters, and the brooding eternal evil that lies beneath the waves.
//R. M, Renfield, age 59. Sanguine temperament, great physical strength, morbidly excitable, periods of gloom, ending in some fixed idea which I cannot make out. I presume that the sanguine temperament itself and the disturbing influence end in a mentally-accomplished finish, a possibly dangerous man, probably dangerous if unselfish. In selfish men caution is as secure an armour for their foes as for themselves. What I think of on this point is, when self is the fixed point the centripetal force is balanced with the centrifugal. When duty, a cause, etc., is the fixed point, the latter force is paramount, and only accident or a series of accidents can balance it.//
Unhinged: moss, cumin, patchouli, Balsam of Peru, and neroli.
Stations of the Sun: The Rising Sun
Excolo
Discontinued 2008
//Hail unto Thee who art Ra in Thy rising, even unto Thee who art Ra in Thy strength, who travellest over the Heavens in Thy bark at the Uprising of the Sun. Tahuti standeth in His splendour at the prow, and ~Ra-Hoor abideth at the helm. Hail unto Thee from the Abodes of Night!//
Diabolus
Discontinued 2008
Black amber erupting with a dark volcanic surge of fiery dragon's blood and a burst of melati, rose geranium, mandarin and black currant.
This haunting, exotic scent is named in honor of the shapeshifting demons from Hindu mythology.
Sandalwood with rose and patchouli.
The Bar
Pineapple, mandarin orange, raspberry, passion fruit, and rum.
//Ascending to his chamber, he seated himself near the window, but within the shadow thrown by the depth of the wall, so that he could look down into the garden with little risk of being discovered. All beneath his eye was a solitude. The strange plants were basking in the sunshine, and now and then nodding gently to one another, as if in acknowledgment of sympathy and kindred.//
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Sensual ecstasy, the blinding red fire of the apex of sexual pleasure.
Moroccan rose, Sumatran rose, mandarin, Egyptian myrrh, night-blooming jasmine, bergamot and neroli thrust into Arabian musk.
//Rapunzel was the most beautiful child under the sun. When she was twelve years old the Witch shut her up in a tower, in the middle of a great wood, and the tower had neither stairs nor doors, only high up at the very top a small window. When the old Witch wanted to get in she stood underneath and called out:
`Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your golden hair,'
for Rapunzel had wonderful long hair, and it was as fine as spun gold. Whenever she heard the Witch's voice she unloosed her plaits, and let her hair fall down out of the window about twenty yards below, and the old Witch climbed up by it.//
Angel's trumpet, bois de rose, orris, and wild lettuce.
//During luncheon -- which was excellent, of course, as everything at Toad Hall always was -- the Toad simply let himself go. Disregarding the Rat, he proceeded to play upon the inexperienced Mole as on a harp. Naturally a voluble animal, and always mastered by his imagination, he painted the prospects of the trip and the joys of the open life and the roadside in such glowing colours that the Mole could hardly sit in his chair for excitement. Somehow, it soon seemed taken for granted by all three of them that the trip was a settled thing; and the Rat, though still unconvinced in his mind, allowed his good-nature to override his personal objections. He could not bear to disappoint his two friends, who were already deep in schemes and anticipations, planning out each day's separate occupation for several weeks ahead.//
Orangewood, pine, wood moss, and vetiver.
November 2009
//The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?//
Mournful and Never-ending Remembrance: shining, moonlit ebony musk with benzoin, myrrh, smoky vanilla, patchouli, nutmeg, and dried red chili.
An utterly feral, thoroughly rousing perfume.
Red patchouli sweetened by orange blossom.
A sinfully playful lust blend. Inspires sexual spontaneity, a little bit of kinkiness, and new and inventive ways to get dirty.
Lupercalia 2006, 2007, 2008
//A tribute to the opium den cum bawdyhouses of Shanghai in the 1930's.//
Golden amber, blonde tobacco, Sudanese black coconut, rich caramel, black currant, white opium and delphinium laced with a sensual blend of Asian spice.
August 2004
//August is a month of reflection. It is the month of rest before the harvest, and it holds for us a time between toils, a brief period of relaxation before we take up the burden of our work again. It is the Time of the Phoenix, a season of celebrating health, vitality, warmth and joy, but it is also the time at which the Corn God dies for the sake of the land, his blood soaking the earth to ensure a bountiful harvest in the fall.
The Full Red Moon of August was named thus by some Native American tribes because as the moon rises, it dons a reddish veil, visible through the hot, sweltering summer evening haze.//
Our blend for this Moon mixes traditional lunar oils with the warmth of amber and heliotrope, the russet haze of dragon's blood resin and crushed orange peel, and a swirl of summertime herbs: chamomile, rue, elder flower and marigold.
July 2007
//August is a month of reflection. It is the month of rest before the harvest, and it holds for us a time between toils, a brief period of relaxation before we take up the burden of our work again. It is the Time of the Phoenix, a season of celebrating health, vitality, warmth and joy, but it is also the time at which the Corn God dies for the sake of the land, his blood soaking the earth to ensure a bountiful harvest in the fall.
The Full Red Moon of August was named thus by some Native American tribes because as the moon rises, it dons a reddish veil, visible through the hot, sweltering summer evening haze.//
Our blend for this Moon mixes traditional lunar oils with the warmth of amber, red musk, and heliotrope, the russet haze of dragon's blood resin, sunflower, and crushed orange peel, with a dusting of summertime herbs: chamomile, rue, elder flower and marigold.
2005
//A celebration of three years of decadence, determination, death and rebirth.//
Red musk, tonka, Chinese cassia, mandarin, patchouli, benzoin, wild plum and tobacco.
Lupercalia 2009
Red rose buds, with amber, clove, tonka, Indian musk, fir, and tobacco.
A deceptively sweet orchid vanille with a faint trace of stephanotis.
Gift with purchase at December 2007 will-call, and again at December 2008 will-call (imp only)
//no scent description given//
//Resurrection of the Flesh, Luca Signorelli.//
Frankincense, hyssop, heliochrysum, ylang ylang, copal, angelica, and rose geranium. Featured in the Salon: detail of the fresco.
[[B Movies]]
[[Great Duets in Horror]]
[[Poe: Dark Delicacies]]
[[Summer Blockbusters]]
[[Who Killed Amanda Palmer?]]
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//Riding the Goat, C.M. Coolidge.//
A rich Masonic incense coupled with mahogany wood, ebony, and pipe smoke.
Truck stop sleaze.
Weedy dandelion and hops with a whiff of tobacco and hemp and a swirl of booziness.
//Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic: not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.//
Dark musk, moss-covered wood, ragwort, heather, and sage.
//Refined, austere and graceful. A recipe gleaned from Classical Rome.//
Cypress, juniper, chamomile and rose.
Dew-covered berries and fresh green grasses with a faint breath of spring flowers.
//A profound symbol of an individual’s personal initiatic process, spiritual refinement and evolution, synthesis, grace found as a result of trial and suffering, and the alchemical process by which we transform the raw essence of our souls through light in extension. This is a holy oil, a representation of the triumph of spirit over matter.//
Purest rose with sacred frankincense.
May 2007
//Since friendships fade like the flow'rs of June,
I will leave her in charge of the stable moon."
Then he said to the moon: "O dear old moon,
Who for years and years from thy throne above
Hast nurtured and guarded young lovers and love,
My heart has but come to its waiting June,
And the promise time of the budding vine;
Oh, guard thee well this love of mine."
And he harked him then while all was still,
And the pale moon answered and said, "I will."
And he sailed in his ship o'er many seas,
And he wandered wide o'er strange far strands:
in isles of the south and in Orient lands,
Where pestilence lurks in the breath of the breeze.
But his star was high, so he braved the main,
And sailed him blithely home again;
And with joy he bended his footsteps soon
To learn of his love from the matron moon.
She sat as of yore, in her olden place,
Serene as death, in her silver chair.
A white rose gleamed in her whiter hair,
And the tint of a blush was on her face.
At sight of the youth she sadly bowed
And hid her face 'neath a gracious cloud.
She faltered faint on the night's dim marge,
But "How," spoke the youth, "have you kept your charge?"
The moon was sad at a trust ill-kept;
The blush went out in her blanching cheek,
And her voice was timid and low and weak,
As she made her plea and sighed and wept.
"Oh, another prayed and another plead,
And I couldn't resist," she answering said;"
But love still grows in the hearts of men:
Go forth, dear youth, and love again."
But he turned him away from her proffered grace.
"Thou art false, O moon, as the hearts of men,
I will not, will not love again."
And he turned sheer 'round with a soul-sick face
To the sea, and cried: "Sea, curse the moon,
Who makes her vows and forgets so soon."
And the awful sea with anger stirred,
And his breast heaved hard as he lay and heard.
And ever the moon wept down in rain,
And ever her sighs rose high in wind;
But the earth and sea were deaf and blind,
And she wept and sighed her griefs in vain.
And ever at night, when the storm is fierce,
The cries of a wraith through the thunders pierce;
And the waves strain their awful hands on high
To tear the false moon from the sky.
Thou art false, O moon, as the hearts of men. I will not, will not love again.//
Bulgarian rose, tea rose, violet leaf, opium poppy, Bois de Jasmin, patchouli leaf, honey, blue lilac, balsam, woodruff, and lemon peel.
Yule 2003, 2004, 2005, 2007, 2008
The perfected winter rose, dew covered and freshly cut.
April 2007
//Just in time for Lent, cher! A native of Louisiana, this Cajun lycanthrope stalks the swamps, forests, and fields of Acadiana and New Orleans in search of prey. It is believed that if one breaks Lent by failing to give alms, fast, or pray for seven years in a row, she will be God-cursed, and will transform into this snarling beast at every sunset, a slave to her desperate, mindless hunger until dawn.//
Spanish moss, swamp jessamine, bog water, cypress, hickory wood, lobelia, sweet flag, wisteria, and marsh milkweed.
Blue and white musks, moonflower, rose, magnolia, lemon verbena, and lychee.
//I have not been able to find a single new name; but as I came over a high mountain by a wood, where the fox and the hare bid each other good-night, I saw a little house, and before the house was burning a little fire, and round the fire danced a very funny little man, who hopped upon one leg, and cried out: –
“To-day I brew, to-morrow I bake,
Next day the queen’s child I shall take;
How glad I am that nobody knows;
My name is Rumpelstilzchen!”//
Firewood and ash with an oddly otherworldly blend of patchouli, cardamom, nutmeg, black pepper, tonka, vetiver, and myrrh.
Hero Initiative: Wizard World Chicago
2009
A sensual scent, compelling and passionate, that stays close to the skin: Roman chamomile, bourbon vanilla, and smoky vanilla bean.
//And upon her forehead was a name written, Mystery, Babylon the Great, the Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth.//
An ancient formula that inspires unrepentant decadence, lechery and debauch.
~Vampire-Con 2009 exclusive
Based on Del Howison's short story The Lost Herd
The scent of a vampire cowboy: Sweetgrass and tumbleweeds, cedar and white sage, dusty, wet leather, woodsmoke, and blood.
//November 22 - December 21//
//Mutable Fire: the essence of striving.//
Sage, clove, dandelion, balm of gilead, fig, and chamomile.
//The Glory of Shiva
The ~Thousand-Petaled Lotus.
Inspiration, consciousness, thought, understanding, transcendence, consciousness beyond reason, bliss.
Spiritual, emotional, mental and physical perfection.
Sahasrara grants us a glimpse of our greater Self, our destiny, and our real responsibilities in this lifetime.
This is the pursuit and realization of truth.
This is the quest for Samadhi.//
//"A man who knows everything and who never dies." Said to have lived for centuries, the Comte de Saint-Germain is truly a man of legend and mystery. He was an aristocrat, master alchemist, adventurer, magician, artist, and seer with a lust for exquisite jewels, and was reputed to have attained knowledge of the Elixer of Life. His knowledge was so vast and all-encompassing that his claim to have lived hundreds of years - he allegedly knew Jesus and was present at the Council of Nicea - was widely accepted as true. He is a Hermetic Magician's hero for the ages, and his scent is an elegant, timeless, truly refined cologne, bold yet classic.//
Gilded amber, hypnotic lavender, brash carnation and deep mosses.
Fire
Sexuality :: Vigor :: Force :: Energy :: Will
Destruction :: Change :: Passion :: Courage
Enthusiasm :: Revenge :: Daring :: Domination
//And when a convenient day was come, that Herod on his birthday made a supper to his lords, high captains, and chief estates of Galilee; And when the daughter of the said Herodias came in, and danced, and pleased Herod and them that sat with him, the king said unto the damsel, Ask of me whatsoever thou wilt, and I will give it thee. And he sware unto her, Whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I will give it thee, unto the half of my kingdom. And she went forth, and said unto her mother, What shall I ask? And she said, The head of John the Baptist.
And she came in straightway with haste unto the king, and asked, saying, I will that thou give me by and by in a charger the head of John the Baptist. And the king was exceeding sorry; yet for his oath's sake, and for their sakes which sat with him, he would not reject her. And immediately the king sent an executioner, and commanded his head to be brought: and he went and beheaded him in the prison, and brought his head in a charger, and gave it to the damsel: and the damsel gave it to her mother. And when his disciples heard of it, they came and took up his corpse, and laid it in a tomb.//
A scent that is both coquettish and sinister. Exotic and lush, brimming with grace and viciousness.
Almond with star jasmine, oakmoss, red sandalwood and Egyptian musk.
//Lies, falsehood, dishonesty, glib tongues, over-rationalization, skepticism, cynicism, denial of faith.//
Halloween 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009
Truly the scent of autumn itself -- damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.
Halloween 2006, 2007
//The fear of Halloween.//
Menacing Haitian vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.
Piquant citrus tempered by jasmine, soft Mediterranean herbs, lavender and orange blossom.
//Santa Muerte, Saint Death, is not a harbinger of doom and symbol of entropy. She is the Queen of Mercy, a source of motherly comfort, and a symbol to all sweethearts that love lasts even beyond death. She is a vision of beauty in her own right: glittering rings adorn every bony finger, she is draped in a cloak of the finest satin, and her grinning skull, beneath her cowl, is crowned by a bejeweled tiara.//
A deep, resonant scent, both comforting and soft: lovers’ roses, solemn chrysanthemum, dark vetiver and dazzling cactus flowers.
An exotic, sultry blend of tobacco leaf, bay rum and heady Caribbean blossoms.
Love Poems
Algernon Charles Swinburne
//All the night sleep came not upon my eyelids,
Shed not dew, nor shook nor unclosed a feather,
Yet with lips shut close and with eyes of iron
Stood and beheld me.
Then to me so lying awake a vision
Came without sleep over the seas and touched me,
Softly touched mine eyelids and lips; and I too,
Full of the vision,
Saw the white implacable Aphrodite,
Saw the hair unbound and the feet unsandalled
Shine as fire of sunset on western waters;
Saw the reluctant
Feet, the straining plumes of the doves that drew her,
Looking always, looking with necks reverted,
Back to Lesbos, back to the hills whereunder
Shone Mitylene;
Heard the flying feet of the Loves behind her
Make a sudden thunder upon the waters,
As the thunder flung from the strong unclosing
Wings of a great wind.
So the goddess fled from her place, with awful
Sound of feet and thunder of wings around her;
While behind a clamour of singing women
Severed the twilight.
Ah the singing, ah the delight, the passion!
All the Loves wept, listening; sick with anguish,
Stood the crowned nine Muses about Apollo;
Fear was upon them,
While the tenth sang wonderful things they knew not.
Ah the tenth, the Lesbian! the nine were silent,
None endured the sound of her song for weeping;
Laurel by laurel,
Faded all their crowns; but about her forehead,
Round her woven tresses and ashen temples
White as dead snow, paler than grass in
Ravaged with kisses,
Shone a light of fire as a crown for ever.
Yea, almost the implacable Aphrodite
Paused, and almost wept; such a song was that song.
Yea, by her name too
Called her, saying, "Turn to me, O my Sappho;"
Yet she turned her face from the Loves, she saw not
Tears for laughter darken immortal eyelids,
Heard not about her
Fearful fitful wings of the doves departing,
Saw not how the bosom of Aphrodite
Shook with weeping, saw not her shaken raiment,
Saw not her hands wrung;
Saw the Lesbians kissing across their smitten
Lutes with lips more sweet than the sound of lute-strings,
Mouth to mouth and hand upon hand, her chosen,
Fairer than all men;
Only saw the beautiful lips and fingers,
Full of songs and kisses and little whispers,
Full of music; only beheld among them
Soar, as a bird soars
Newly fledged, her visible song, a marvel,
Made of perfect sound and exceeding passion,
Sweetly shapen, terrible, full of thunders,
Clothed with the wind's wings.
Then rejoiced she, laughing with love, and scattered
Roses, awful roses of holy blossom;
Then the Loves thronged sadly with hidden faces
Round Aphrodite,
Then the Muses, stricken at heart, were silent;
Yea, the gods waxed pale; such a song was that song.
All reluctant, all with a fresh repulsion,
Fled from before her.
All withdrew long since, and the land was barren,
Full of fruitless women and music only.
Now perchance, when winds are assuaged at sunset,
Lulled at the dewfall,
By the grey sea-side, unassuaged, unheard of,
Unbeloved, unseen in the ebb of twilight,
Ghosts of outcast women return lamenting,
Purged not in Lethe,
Clothed about with flame and with tears, and singing
Songs that move the heart of the shaken heaven,
Songs that break the heart of the earth with pity,
Hearing, to hear them.//
Tonka, oakmoss, tolu balsam, grey amber, myrrh, and muguet.
(The Tomb of Sarah, F.G. Loring)
//By half-past ten we were both getting very tired, and I began to think that perhaps after all we should see nothing that night. However, soon after eleven we observed a light mist rising from the 'Sarah Tomb'. It seemed to scintillate and sparkle as it rose, and curled in a sort of pillar or spiral.
I said nothing, but I heard the Rector give a sort of gasp as he clutched my arm feverishly.
'Great Heaven!' he whispered, 'it is taking shape.'
And, true enough, in a very few moments we saw standing erect by the tomb the ghastly figure of the Countess Sarah!
She looked thin and haggard still, and her face was deadly white; but the crimson lips looked like a hideous gash in the pale cheeks, and her eyes glared like red coals in the gloom of the church.//
Unholy mist congealing into soft, white flesh, with black marble, remnants of liturgical incense, wolf's fur, and black flecks of froth.
//Satan and Death with Sin Intervening, John Henry Fuseli.//
Opoponax, benzoin, orange blossom, mahogany, karakarounde, white tea and vetiver.
//Ruthlessness, seclusion, matter without spirit, denial of the love of God.//
//Discipline - Crystallization - Control - Constriction - Banishing - Destruction - Sowing discord - Death - Reverence - Endurance//
Unrestrained revelry, unchained licentiousness!
Violet deepened with vetiver.
Unleash the bawdy, unrestrained passion of the satyr!
A ferociously masculine scent: sexual, vigorous, and truly wild.
[[Snake Oil]] with cinnamon, cassia, and red ginger.
//An agricultural gargoyle. Though he is the Guardian of the Crops and Keeper of the Fields, his visage is still the stuff of nightmares.//
The scent of a hot wind blowing through desolate, scorched, barren fields.
Dry olibanum, opoponax, mandrake accord, black currant, and opium pod
//A master storyteller who possessed unfailing courage and compassion, a sharp, quick wit, and a true understanding of human nature.//
Saffron and Middle Eastern spices swirled through sensual red musk.
//Schlafende Baigneuse, Pierre-Auguste Renoir.//
Skin musk, white cream, honeycomb, yellow rose, King mandarin, chrysanthemum, golden amber, honeysuckle, and wide-throated yellow monkey-flower accord.
//One can even set up quite ridiculous cases. A cat is penned up in a steel chamber, along with the following diabolical device (which must be secured against direct interference by the cat): in a Geiger counter there is a tiny bit of radioactive substance, so small that perhaps in the course of one hour one of the atoms decays, but also, with equal probability, perhaps none; if it happens, the counter tube discharges and through a relay releases a hammer which shatters a small flask of hydrocyanic acid. If one has left this entire system to itself for an hour, one would say that the cat still lives if meanwhile no atom has decayed. The first atomic decay would have poisoned it. The Psi function for the entire system would express this by having in it the living and the dead cat (pardon the expression) mixed or smeared out in equal parts. It is typical of these cases that an indeterminacy originally restricted to the atomic domain becomes transformed into macroscopic indeterminacy, which can then be resolved by direct observation. That prevents us from so naively accepting as valid a "blurred model" for representing reality. In itself it would not embody anything unclear or contradictory. There is a difference between a shaky or out-of-focus photograph and a snapshot of clouds and fog banks.//
No cats were mistreated during the formulation of this paradox, or in the process of creating this perfume.
A paradoxical scent experiment! - tangerine, sugared lime, pink grapefruit, oakmoss, lavender, zdravetz, and chocolate peppermint.
Brian's Creation: September 2006, Revisited July 2008
//The keeper of secrets.//
Opoponax, Tunisian black amber, night musk, antique patchouli, zdravetz, terebinth, myrrh, and Pimenta racemosa.
//October 23 - November 21//
//Fixed Water: the essence of passion.//
Dark musk, wormwood, basil, dragon's blood resin, galangal, and opoponax.
The Bar
Golden rum, apricot liquor, pineapple, pomegranate, ginger, brandy, grapefruit, and pink lime.
//Upon the Sea of Glass, glowing with the perfection of spiritual union and the radiance of true wisdom, rests the throne of God.//
A scent of inimitable purity, crystalline grace, and limitless light.
December 2007
//Look how the pale Queen of the silent night
doth cause the ocean to attend upon her,
and he, as long as she is in sight,
with his full tide is ready here to honor;
But when the silver waggon of the Moon
is mounted up so high he cannot follow,
the sea calls home his crystal waves to morn,
and with low ebb doth manifest his sorrow.//
Silver-dusted lotus, white amber, rose otto, passion flower, white sandalwood, buttonweed, and white poppy.
A mysterious, enigmatic blend of dry, mellow rosewood, crushed rose leaf and the slightest touch of warm hazel.
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|Version|3.0.5|
|Author|Eric Shulman|
|License|http://www.TiddlyTools.com/#LegalStatements|
|~CoreVersion|2.1|
|Type|plugin|
|Requires||
|Overrides|Story.prototype.search, TiddlyWiki.prototype.search, config.macros.search.onKeyPress|
|Options|##Configuration|
|Description|extend core search function with additional user-configurable options|
Adds extra options to core search function including selecting which data items to search, enabling/disabling incremental key-by-key searches, and generating a ''list of matching tiddlers'' instead of immediately displaying all matches. This plugin also adds syntax for rendering 'search links' within tiddler content to embed one-click searches using pre-defined 'hard-coded' search terms.
!!!!!Documentation
>see [[SearchOptionsPluginInfo]]
!!!!!Configuration
<<<
Search in:
<<option chkSearchTitles>> titles <<option chkSearchText>> text <<option chkSearchTags>> tags <<option chkSearchFields>> fields <<option chkSearchShadows>> shadows
<<option chkSearchHighlight>> Highlight matching text in displayed tiddlers
<<option chkSearchList>> Show list of matches
<<option chkSearchListTiddler>> Write list to [[SearchResults]] tiddler
<<option chkSearchTitlesFirst>> Show title matches first
<<option chkSearchByDate>> Sort matching tiddlers by modification date (most recent first)
<<option chkIncrementalSearch>> Incremental key-by-key search: {{twochar{<<option txtIncrementalSearchMin>>}}} or more characters, {{threechar{<<option txtIncrementalSearchDelay>>}}} msec delay
<<option chkSearchOpenTiddlers>> Search only in tiddlers that are currently displayed
<<option chkSearchExcludeTags>> Exclude tiddlers tagged with: <<option txtSearchExcludeTags>>
<<<
!!!!!Revisions
<<<
2009.01.16 [3.0.5] added chkSearchOpenTiddlers option to limit searches to displayed tiddlers only
|please see [[SearchOptionsPluginInfo]] for additional revision details|
2005.10.18 [1.0.0] Initial Release
<<<
!!!!!Code
***/
//{{{
version.extensions.SearchOptionsPlugin= {major: 3, minor: 0, revision: 5, date: new Date(2009,1,16)};
var co=config.options; // abbrev
if (co.chkSearchTitles===undefined) co.chkSearchTitles=true;
if (co.chkSearchText===undefined) co.chkSearchText=true;
if (co.chkSearchTags===undefined) co.chkSearchTags=true;
if (co.chkSearchFields===undefined) co.chkSearchFields=true;
if (co.chkSearchTitlesFirst===undefined) co.chkSearchTitlesFirst=true;
if (co.chkSearchList===undefined) co.chkSearchList=true;
if (co.chkSearchHighlight===undefined) co.chkSearchHighlight=true;
if (co.chkSearchListTiddler===undefined) co.chkSearchListTiddler=false;
if (co.chkSearchByDate===undefined) co.chkSearchByDate=false;
if (co.chkIncrementalSearch===undefined) co.chkIncrementalSearch=true;
if (co.chkSearchShadows===undefined) co.chkSearchShadows=true;
if (co.txtIncrementalSearchDelay===undefined) co.txtIncrementalSearchDelay=500;
if (co.txtIncrementalSearchMin===undefined) co.txtIncrementalSearchMin=3;
if (co.chkSearchOpenTiddlers===undefined) co.chkSearchOpenTiddlers=false;
if (co.chkSearchExcludeTags===undefined) co.chkSearchExcludeTags=true;
if (co.txtSearchExcludeTags===undefined) co.txtSearchExcludeTags="excludeSearch";
if (config.macros.search.reportTitle==undefined)
config.macros.search.reportTitle="SearchResults"; // note: not a cookie!
config.macros.search.label+="\xa0"; // a little bit of space just because it looks better
//}}}
// // searchLink: {{{[search[text to find]] OR [search[text to display|text to find]]}}}
//{{{
config.formatters.push( {
name: "searchLink",
match: "\\[search\\[",
lookaheadRegExp: /\[search\[(.*?)(?:\|(.*?))?\]\]/mg,
prompt: "search for: '%0'",
handler: function(w)
{
this.lookaheadRegExp.lastIndex = w.matchStart;
var lookaheadMatch = this.lookaheadRegExp.exec(w.source);
if(lookaheadMatch && lookaheadMatch.index == w.matchStart) {
var label=lookaheadMatch[1];
var text=lookaheadMatch[2]||label;
var prompt=this.prompt.format([text]);
var btn=createTiddlyButton(w.output,label,prompt,
function(){story.search(this.getAttribute("searchText"))},"searchLink");
btn.setAttribute("searchText",text);
w.nextMatch = this.lookaheadRegExp.lastIndex;
}
}
});
//}}}
// // incremental search uses option settings instead of hard-coded delay and minimum input values
//{{{
var fn=config.macros.search.onKeyPress;
fn=fn.toString().replace(/500/g, "config.options.txtIncrementalSearchDelay||500");
fn=fn.toString().replace(/> 2/g, ">=(config.options.txtIncrementalSearchMin||3)");
eval("config.macros.search.onKeyPress="+fn);
//}}}
// // REPLACE story.search() for option to "show search results in a list"
//{{{
Story.prototype.search = function(text,useCaseSensitive,useRegExp)
{
var co=config.options; // abbrev
var re=new RegExp(useRegExp ? text : text.escapeRegExp(),useCaseSensitive ? "mg" : "img");
if (config.options.chkSearchHighlight) highlightHack=re;
var matches = store.search(re,co.chkSearchByDate?"modified":"title","");
if (co.chkSearchByDate) matches=matches.reverse(); // most recent first
var q = useRegExp ? "/" : "'";
clearMessage();
if (!matches.length) {
if (co.chkSearchListTiddler) discardSearchResults();
displayMessage(config.macros.search.failureMsg.format([q+text+q]));
} else {
if (co.chkSearchList||co.chkSearchListTiddler)
reportSearchResults(text,matches);
else {
var titles = []; for(var t=0; t<matches.length; t++) titles.push(matches[t].title);
this.closeAllTiddlers(); story.displayTiddlers(null,titles);
displayMessage(config.macros.search.successMsg.format([matches.length, q+text+q]));
}
}
highlightHack = null;
}
//}}}
// // REPLACE store.search() for enhanced searching/sorting options
//{{{
TiddlyWiki.prototype.search = function(searchRegExp,sortField,excludeTag)
{
var co=config.options; // abbrev
var tids = this.reverseLookup("tags",excludeTag,false,sortField);
var opened=[]; story.forEachTiddler(function(tid,elem){opened.push(tid);});
// eliminate tiddlers tagged with excluded tags
if (co.chkSearchExcludeTags&&co.txtSearchExcludeTags.length) {
var ex=co.txtSearchExcludeTags.readBracketedList();
var temp=[]; for(var t=tids.length-1; t>=0; t--)
if (!tids[t].tags.containsAny(ex)) temp.push(tids[t]);
tids=temp;
}
// scan for matching titles first...
var results = [];
if (co.chkSearchTitles) {
for(var t=0; t<tids.length; t++) {
if (co.chkSearchOpenTiddlers && !opened.contains(tids[t].title)) continue;
if(tids[t].title.search(searchRegExp)!=-1) results.push(tids[t]);
}
if (co.chkSearchShadows)
for (var t in config.shadowTiddlers) {
if (co.chkSearchOpenTiddlers && !opened.contains(t)) continue;
if ((t.search(searchRegExp)!=-1) && !store.tiddlerExists(t))
results.push((new Tiddler()).assign(t,config.shadowTiddlers[t]));
}
}
// then scan for matching text, tags, or field data
for(var t=0; t<tids.length; t++) {
if (co.chkSearchOpenTiddlers && !opened.contains(tids[t].title)) continue;
if (co.chkSearchText && tids[t].text.search(searchRegExp)!=-1)
results.pushUnique(tids[t]);
if (co.chkSearchTags && tids[t].tags.join(" ").search(searchRegExp)!=-1)
results.pushUnique(tids[t]);
if (co.chkSearchFields && store.forEachField!=undefined)
store.forEachField(tids[t],
function(tid,field,val) {
if (val.search(searchRegExp)!=-1) results.pushUnique(tids[t]);
},
true); // extended fields only
}
// then check for matching text in shadows
if (co.chkSearchShadows)
for (var t in config.shadowTiddlers) {
if (co.chkSearchOpenTiddlers && !opened.contains(t)) continue;
if ((config.shadowTiddlers[t].search(searchRegExp)!=-1) && !store.tiddlerExists(t))
results.pushUnique((new Tiddler()).assign(t,config.shadowTiddlers[t]));
}
// if not 'titles first', or sorting by modification date,
// re-sort results to so titles, text, tag and field matches are mixed together
if(!sortField) sortField = "title";
var bySortField=function(a,b){
if(a[sortField]==b[sortField])return(0);else return(a[sortField]<b[sortField])?-1:+1;
}
if (!co.chkSearchTitlesFirst || co.chkSearchByDate) results.sort(bySortField);
return results;
}
//}}}
// // HIJACK core {{{<<search>>}}} macro to add "report" and "simple inline" output
//{{{
config.macros.search.SOP_handler=config.macros.search.handler;
config.macros.search.handler = function(place,macroName,params)
{
// if "report", use SearchOptionsPlugin report generator for inline output
if (params[1]&¶ms[1].substr(0,6)=="report") {
var keyword=params[0];
var options=params[1].split("=")[1]; // split "report=option+option+..."
var heading=params[2]?params[2].unescapeLineBreaks():"";
var matches=store.search(new RegExp(keyword.escapeRegExp(),"img"),"title","excludeSearch");
if (matches.length) wikify(heading+window.formatSearchResults(keyword,matches,options),place);
} else if (params[1]) {
var keyword=params[0];
var heading=params[1]?params[1].unescapeLineBreaks():"";
var seperator=params[2]?params[2].unescapeLineBreaks():", ";
var matches=store.search(new RegExp(keyword.escapeRegExp(),"img"),"title","excludeSearch");
if (matches.length) {
var out=[];
for (var m=0; m<matches.length; m++) out.push("[["+matches[m].title+"]]");
wikify(heading+out.join(seperator),place);
}
} else
config.macros.search.SOP_handler.apply(this,arguments);
};
//}}}
// // SearchResults panel handling
//{{{
setStylesheet(".searchResults { padding:1em 1em 0 1em; }","searchResults"); // matches std tiddler padding
config.macros.search.createPanel=function(text,matches,body) {
function getByClass(e,c) { var d=e.getElementsByTagName("div");
for (var i=0;i<d.length;i++) if (hasClass(d[i],c)) return d[i]; }
var panel=createTiddlyElement(null,"div","searchPanel","searchPanel");
this.renderPanel(panel,text,matches,body);
var oldpanel=document.getElementById("searchPanel");
if (!oldpanel) { // insert new panel just above tiddlers
var da=document.getElementById("displayArea");
da.insertBefore(panel,da.firstChild);
} else { // if panel exists
var oldwrap=getByClass(oldpanel,"searchResults");
var newwrap=getByClass(panel,"searchResults");
// if no prior content, just insert new content
if (!oldwrap) oldpanel.insertBefore(newwrap,null);
else { // swap search results content but leave containing panel intact
oldwrap.style.display='block'; // unfold wrapper if needed
var i=oldwrap.getElementsByTagName("input")[0]; // get input field
if (i) { var pos=this.getCursorPos(i); i.onblur=null; } // get cursor pos, ignore blur
oldpanel.replaceChild(newwrap,oldwrap);
panel=oldpanel; // use existing panel
}
}
this.showPanel(true,pos);
return panel;
}
config.macros.search.renderPanel=function(panel,text,matches,body) {
var wrap=createTiddlyElement(panel,"div",null,"searchResults");
wrap.onmouseover = function(e){ addClass(this,"selected"); }
wrap.onmouseout = function(e){ removeClass(this,"selected"); }
// create toolbar: "open all", "fold/unfold", "close"
var tb=createTiddlyElement(wrap,"div",null,"toolbar");
var b=createTiddlyButton(tb, "open all", "open all matching tiddlers", function() {
story.displayTiddlers(null,this.getAttribute("list").readBracketedList()); return false; },"button");
var list=""; for(var t=0;t<matches.length;t++) list+='[['+matches[t].title+']] ';
b.setAttribute("list",list);
var b=createTiddlyButton(tb, "fold", "toggle display of search results", function() {
config.macros.search.foldPanel(this); return false; },"button");
var b=createTiddlyButton(tb, "close", "dismiss search results", function() {
config.macros.search.showPanel(false); return false; },"button");
createTiddlyText(createTiddlyElement(wrap,"div",null,"title"),"Search for: "+text); // title
wikify(body,createTiddlyElement(wrap,"div",null,"viewer")); // report
return panel;
}
config.macros.search.showPanel=function(show,pos) {
var panel=document.getElementById("searchPanel");
var i=panel.getElementsByTagName("input")[0];
i.onfocus=show?function(){config.macros.search.stayFocused(true);}:null;
i.onblur=show?function(){config.macros.search.stayFocused(false);}:null;
if (show && panel.style.display=="block") { // if shown, grab focus, restore cursor
if (i&&this.stayFocused()) { i.focus(); this.setCursorPos(i,pos); }
return;
}
if(!config.options.chkAnimate) {
panel.style.display=show?"block":"none";
if (!show) { removeChildren(panel); config.macros.search.stayFocused(false); }
} else {
var s=new Slider(panel,show,false,show?"none":"children");
s.callback=function(e,p){e.style.overflow="visible";}
anim.startAnimating(s);
}
return panel;
}
config.macros.search.foldPanel=function(button) {
var d=document.getElementById("searchPanel").getElementsByTagName("div");
for (var i=0;i<d.length;i++) if (hasClass(d[i],"viewer")) var v=d[i]; if (!v) return;
var show=v.style.display=="none";
if(!config.options.chkAnimate)
v.style.display=show?"block":"none";
else {
var s=new Slider(v,show,false,"none");
s.callback=function(e,p){e.style.overflow="visible";}
anim.startAnimating(s);
}
button.innerHTML=show?"fold":"unfold";
return false;
}
config.macros.search.stayFocused=function(keep) { // TRUE/FALSE=set value, no args=get value
if (keep===undefined) return this.keepReportInFocus;
this.keepReportInFocus=keep;
return keep
}
config.macros.search.getCursorPos=function(i) {
var s=0; var e=0; if (!i) return { start:s, end:e };
try {
if (i.setSelectionRange) // FF
{ s=i.selectionStart; e=i.selectionEnd; }
if (document.selection && document.selection.createRange) { // IE
var r=document.selection.createRange().duplicate();
var len=r.text.length; s=0-r.moveStart('character',-100000); e=s+len;
}
}catch(e){};
return { start:s, end:e };
}
config.macros.search.setCursorPos=function(i,pos) {
if (!i||!pos) return; var s=pos.start; var e=pos.end;
if (i.setSelectionRange) //FF
i.setSelectionRange(s,e);
if (i.createTextRange) // IE
{ var r=i.createTextRange(); r.collapse(true); r.moveStart("character",s); r.select(); }
}
//}}}
// // SearchResults report generation
// note: these functions are defined globally, so they can be more easily redefined to customize report formats//
//{{{
if (!window.reportSearchResults) window.reportSearchResults=function(text,matches)
{
var cms=config.macros.search; // abbrev
var body=window.formatSearchResults(text,matches);
if (!config.options.chkSearchListTiddler) // show #searchResults panel
window.scrollTo(0,ensureVisible(cms.createPanel(text,matches,body)));
else { // write [[SearchResults]] tiddler
var title=cms.reportTitle;
var who=config.options.txtUserName;
var when=new Date();
var tags="excludeLists excludeSearch temporary";
var tid=store.getTiddler(title); if (!tid) tid=new Tiddler();
tid.set(title,body,who,when,tags);
store.addTiddler(tid);
story.closeTiddler(title);
story.displayTiddler(null,title);
}
}
if (!window.formatSearchResults) window.formatSearchResults=function(text,matches,opt)
{
var body='';
var title=config.macros.search.reportTitle
var q = config.options.chkRegExpSearch ? "/" : "'";
if (!opt) var opt="all";
var parts=opt.split("+");
for (var i=0; i<parts.length; i++) { var p=parts[i].toLowerCase();
if (p=="again"||p=="all") body+=window.formatSearchResults_again(text,matches);
if (p=="summary"||p=="all") body+=window.formatSearchResults_summary(text,matches);
if (p=="list"||p=="all") body+=window.formatSearchResults_list(text,matches);
if (p=="buttons"||p=="all") body+=window.formatSearchResults_buttons(text,matches);
}
return body;
}
if (!window.formatSearchResults_again) window.formatSearchResults_again=function(text,matches)
{
var title=config.macros.search.reportTitle
var body='';
// search again
body+='{{span{<<search "'+text.replace(/"/g,'"')+'">> /%\n';
body+='%/<html><input type="button" value="search again"';
body+=' onclick="var t=this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName(\'input\')[0];';
body+=' config.macros.search.doSearch(t); return false;">';
body+=' <a href="javascript:;" onclick="';
body+=' var e=this.parentNode.nextSibling;';
body+=' var show=e.style.display!=\'block\';';
body+=' if(!config.options.chkAnimate) e.style.display=show?\'block\':\'none\';';
body+=' else anim.startAnimating(new Slider(e,show,false,\'none\'));';
body+=' return false;">options...</a>';
body+='</html>@@display:none;border-left:1px dotted;margin-left:1em;padding:0;padding-left:.5em;font-size:90%;/%\n';
body+=' %/<<option chkSearchTitles>>titles /%\n';
body+=' %/<<option chkSearchText>>text /%\n';
body+=' %/<<option chkSearchTags>>tags /%\n';
body+=' %/<<option chkSearchFields>>fields /%\n';
body+=' %/<<option chkSearchShadows>>shadows\n';
body+=' <<option chkCaseSensitiveSearch>>case-sensitive /%\n';
body+=' %/<<option chkRegExpSearch>>text patterns /%\n';
body+=' %/<<option chkSearchByDate>>sorted by date\n';
body+=' <<option chkSearchHighlight>> highlight matching text in displayed tiddlers\n';
body+=' <<option chkIncrementalSearch>>incremental key-by-key search: /%\n';
body+=' %/{{twochar{<<option txtIncrementalSearchMin>>}}} or more characters, /%\n';
body+=' %/{{threechar{<<option txtIncrementalSearchDelay>>}}} msec delay\n';
body+=' <<option chkSearchOpenTiddlers>> search only in tiddlers that are currently displayed\n';
body+=' <<option chkSearchExcludeTags>>exclude tiddlers tagged with:\n';
body+=' {{editor{<<option txtSearchExcludeTags>>}}}/%\n';
body+='%/@@}}}\n\n';
return body;
}
if (!window.formatSearchResults_summary) window.formatSearchResults_summary=function(text,matches)
{
// summary: nn tiddlers found matching '...', options used
var body='';
var co=config.options; // abbrev
var title=config.macros.search.reportTitle
var q = co.chkRegExpSearch ? "/" : "'";
body+="''"+config.macros.search.successMsg.format([matches.length,q+"{{{"+text+"}}}"+q])+"''\n";
var opts=[];
if (co.chkSearchTitles) opts.push("titles");
if (co.chkSearchText) opts.push("text");
if (co.chkSearchTags) opts.push("tags");
if (co.chkSearchFields) opts.push("fields");
if (co.chkSearchShadows) opts.push("shadows");
if (co.chkSearchOpenTiddlers) body+="^^//search limited to displayed tiddlers only//^^\n";
body+="~~ searched in "+opts.join(" + ")+"~~\n";
body+=(co.chkCaseSensitiveSearch||co.chkRegExpSearch?"^^ using ":"")
+(co.chkCaseSensitiveSearch?"case-sensitive ":"")
+(co.chkRegExpSearch?"pattern ":"")
+(co.chkCaseSensitiveSearch||co.chkRegExpSearch?"matching^^\n":"");
return body;
}
if (!window.formatSearchResults_list) window.formatSearchResults_list=function(text,matches)
{
// bullet list of links to matching tiddlers
var body='';
var pattern=co.chkRegExpSearch?text:text.escapeRegExp();
var sensitive=co.chkCaseSensitiveSearch?"mg":"img";
var link='{{tiddlyLinkExisting{<html><nowiki><a href="javascript:;" onclick="'
+'if(config.options.chkSearchHighlight)'
+' highlightHack=new RegExp(\x27'+pattern+'\x27.escapeRegExp(),\x27'+sensitive+'\x27);'
+'story.displayTiddler(null,\x27%0\x27);'
+'highlightHack = null; return false;'
+'" title="%2">%1</a></html>}}}';
for(var t=0;t<matches.length;t++) {
body+="* ";
if (config.options.chkSearchByDate)
body+=matches[t].modified.formatString('YYYY.0MM.0DD 0hh:0mm')+" ";
var title=matches[t].title;
var fixup=title.replace(/'/g,"\\x27").replace(/"/g,"\\x22");
var tid=store.getTiddler(title);
var tip=tid?tid.getSubtitle():''; tip=tip.replace(/"/g,""");
body+=link.format([fixup,title,tip])+'\n';
}
return body;
}
if (!window.formatSearchResults_buttons) window.formatSearchResults_buttons=function(text,matches)
{
// embed buttons only if writing SearchResults to tiddler
if (!config.options.chkSearchListTiddler) return "";
// "open all" button
var title=config.macros.search.reportTitle;
var body="";
body+="@@diplay:block;<html><input type=\"button\" href=\"javascript:;\" "
+"onclick=\"story.displayTiddlers(null,[";
for(var t=0;t<matches.length;t++)
body+="'"+matches[t].title.replace(/\'/mg,"\\'")+"'"+((t<matches.length-1)?", ":"");
body+="],1);\" accesskey=\"O\" value=\"open all matching tiddlers\"></html> ";
// "discard SearchResults" button
body+="<html><input type=\"button\" href=\"javascript:;\" "
+"onclick=\"discardSearchResults()\" value=\"discard "+title+"\"></html>";
body+="@@\n";
return body;
}
if (!window.discardSearchResults) window.discardSearchResults=function()
{
// remove the tiddler
story.closeTiddler(config.macros.search.reportTitle);
store.deleteTiddler(config.macros.search.reportTitle);
store.notify(config.macros.search.reportTitle,true);
}
//}}}
/***
|Name|SearchOptionsPluginInfo|
|Source|http://www.TiddlyTools.com/#SearchOptionsPlugin|
|Documentation|http://www.TiddlyTools.com/#SearchOptionsPluginInfo|
|Version|3.0.5|
|Author|Eric Shulman|
|License|http://www.TiddlyTools.com/#LegalStatements|
|~CoreVersion|2.1|
|Type|documentation|
|Requires||
|Overrides||
|Description|Documentation for SearchOptionsPlugin|
Extend core search function with additional user-configurable options including selecting which data items to search, enabling/disabling incremental key-by-key searches, and generating a ''list of matching tiddler'' instead of immediately displaying all matches. This plugin also adds syntax for rendering 'search links' within tiddler content to embed one-click searches using pre-defined 'hard-coded' search terms.
!!!!!Search link Syntax
<<<
To insert a 'search link' into tiddler content, you can write:
{{{
[search[text to find]]
}}}
or
{{{
[search[text to display|text to find]]
}}}
Clicking on the resulting search link will trigger the search functionality, just as if the specified 'text to find' had been entered into the standard search input field usually displayed in the document sidebar.
<<<
!!!!!Inline output: search macro syntax
<<<
Alternatively, to embed search results lists directly into your tiddler content, you can use:
{{{
<<search "text" report>> (report is a literal keyword)
<<search "text" "heading" "separator">> (simple inline generator)
}}}
<<<
!!!!!Inline output examples:
<<<
*+++*[<<search "wood">>]>...
<<search "wood">>
===
*+++*[<<search "wood" "/%%/">>]>...
<<search "wood" "/%%/">>
===
*+++*[<<search "wood" "See also: ">>]>...
<<search "wood" "See also: ">>
===
*+++*[<<search "wood" "See also:\n*" "\n*">>]>...
<<search "wood" "See also:\n*" "\n*">>
===
*+++*[<<search "wood" report=list "See also:">>]>...
<<search "wood" report=list "See Also:" >>
===
*+++*[<<search "wood" report>>]>...
<<search "wood" report>>
===
*+++*[<<search "wood" report=>>]>...
<<search "wood" report=>>
===
*+++*[<<search "wood" report=all>>]>...
<<search "wood" report=all>>
===
*+++*[<<search "wood" report=summary+buttons+again+list>>]>...
<<search "wood" report=summary+buttons+again+list>>
===
*+++*[<<search "wood" report=summary+again>>]>...
<<search "wood" report=summary+again>>
===
*+++*[<<search "wood" report=summary>>]>...
<<search "wood" report=summary>>
===
<<<
!!!!!Configuration
<<<
Search in:
<<option chkSearchTitles>> titles <<option chkSearchText>> text <<option chkSearchTags>> tags <<option chkSearchFields>> fields <<option chkSearchShadows>> shadows
{{{<<option chkSearchTitles>> <<option chkSearchText>> <<option chkSearchTags>>}}}
{{{<<option chkSearchFields>> <<option chkSearchShadows>>}}}
<<option chkSearchHighlight>> Highlight matching text in displayed tiddlers {{{<<option chkSearchHighlight>>}}}
<<option chkSearchList>> Show list of matches {{{<<option chkSearchList>>}}}
<<option chkSearchListTiddler>> Write list to [[SearchResults]] tiddler {{{<<option chkSearchListTiddler>>}}}
<<option chkSearchTitlesFirst>> Show title matches first {{{<<option chkSearchTitlesFirst>>}}}
<<option chkSearchByDate>> Sort matching tiddlers by date {{{<<option chkSearchByDate>>}}}
<<option chkIncrementalSearch>> Incremental key-by-key search: {{twochar{<<option txtIncrementalSearchMin>>}}} or more characters, {{threechar{<<option txtIncrementalSearchDelay>>}}} msec delay
{{{<<option chkSearchIncremental>> <<option txtSearchIncrementalMin>> <<option txtSearchIncrementalDelay>>}}}
<<option chkSearchOpenTiddlers>> Search only in tiddlers that are currently displayed {{{<<option chkSearchOpenTiddlers>>}}}
<<option chkSearchExcludeTags>> Exclude tiddlers tagged with: <<option txtSearchExcludeTags>>
{{{<<option chkSearchExcludeTags>>}}} {{{<<option txtSearchExcludeTags>>}}}
<<<
!!!!!Revisions
<<<
2009.01.16 [3.0.5] added chkSearchOpenTiddlers option to limit searches to displayed tiddlers only
2009.01.15 [3.0.4] in formatSearchResults_list(), corrected link generation to properly handle single-quotes and double-quotes in tiddler titles
2009.01.09 [3.0.3] added chkSearchHighlight to optionally disable highlighting of matched text
2009.01.05 [3.0.2] in formatSearchResults_list(), set/clear 'highlightHack' via HTML links so that search term will be highlighted when displaying tiddlers.
2008.10.14 [3.0.1] changed panel class from "tiddler" to "searchPanel" and added style definition for "searchPanel". Fixes ticket #771 (in IE, links from search results were reporting errors due to "fake" tiddler class wrapper)
2008.10.02 [3.0.0] added optional list of tags to use for excluding tiddler from searches (default="excludeLists").
2008.09.24 [2.9.9] performance improvment to reportSearchResults(): when rendering a real SearchResults tiddler, store.notify() isn't needed since the results tiddler is always explicitly closed and redrawn each time.
2008.09.20 [2.9.8] corrected createPanel() and renderPanel() so toolbar will be correctly shown/hidden on mouseover/mouseout.
2008.09.19 [2.9.7] fixes to panel handling for IE, Safari, and others. Changed panel id to #searchPanel and added .searchResults CSS class wrapper around panel content. Fixed fold/unfold handling.
2008.09.18 [2.9.6] refactored panel handling code, added 'fold/unfold' panel toolbar command, added dynamic 'title' (shows search term), added txtIncrementalSearchMin option
2008.09.17 [2.9.5] added focus and cursor handling for 'search again' field in #searchResults DIV report so that an incremental key-by-key search doesn't interfere with continuous typing into the field.
2008.09.17 [2.9.4] fix 'flicker' when updating #searchResults DIV by wikify()ing to an 'offscreen' DIV and then using replaceChild() instead of using removeChildren() followed by wikify()
2008.09.16 [2.9.3] changed report layout, added "search again" and collapsible 'options' section with incremental search checkbox and "txtIncrementalSearchDelay" timer tweak to onKeyPress()
2008.08.25 [2.9.2] added animation to search results DIV. Also, the #searchResults DOM element is only auto-created if it does not exist ... and when closed, the DIV is simply hidden rather than removed. This allows custom placement of search results report in the PageTemplate definition.
2008.08.23 [2.9.1] story column search results uses {{{<<moveablePanel>>}}}
2008.08.22 [2.9.0] default is now to show search results at top of story column, similar to FND's SimpleSearchPlugin display, with an option to generate SearchResults tiddler as before. Also changed 'chkSearchIncremental' to 'chkIncrementalSearch' to match core option variable
2008.08.12 [2.8.2] change default for chkSearchByDate back to FALSE, and adjusted "list" and "again" output formats (minor tweaks requested by PhilWhitehouse for use on TiddlyWiki.com)
2008.08.11 [2.8.1] changed defaults for chkSearchTitlesFirst, chkSearchList and chkSearchShadows to TRUE to enable enhanced search results output as soon as plugin is installed.
2008.06.21 [2.8.0] added extended syntax for {{{<<search "text" report heading>> and <<search "text" "heading" "seperator">>}}}
2008.05.03 [2.7.1] in searchLink formatter handler(), use separate setAttribute() call instead of passing attribs to createTiddlyButton(). Avoids conflict with errant code in TiddlerNotesPlugin (v2.1 26/10/07)
2008.04.29 [2.7.0] added searchLink formatter (syntax: {{{[search[text]]}}} or {{{[search[display|text]]}}})
2008.04.08 [2.6.2] don't automatically add options to AdvancedOptions shadow tiddler
2007.02.17 [2.6.1] added redefinition of config.macros.search.onKeyPress() to restore check to bypass key-by-key searching (i.e., when chkSearchIncremental==false), which had been unintentionally removed with v2.6.0
2007.02.13 [2.6.0] remove redefinition of config.macros.search.handler since core now includes handling for ENTER key.
2007.02.08 [2.5.1] include 'temporary' tag when creating SearchResults (for use with TemporaryTiddlersPlugin)
2007.01.29 [2.5.0] added support for "sort results by date". Default is to sort alphabetically (standard). When sorted by dates, most recent changes are shown first
2006.10.10 [2.4.0] added support for "search in tiddler data" (tiddler.fields) Default is to search extended data.
2006.04.06 [2.3.0] added support for "search in shadow tiddlers". Default is *not* to search in the shadows (i.e. standard TW behavior). Note: if a shadow tiddler has a 'real' counterpart, only the real tiddler is searched, since the shadow is inaccessible for viewing/editing.
2006.02.03 [2.2.1] rewrite timeout clearing code and blank search text handling to match 2.0.4 core release changes. note that core no longer permits "blank=all" searches, so neither does this plugin. To search for all, use "." with text patterns enabled.
2006.02.02 [2.2.0] in search.handler(), KeyHandler() function clears 'left over' timeout when search input is < 3 chars. Prevents searching on shorter text when shortened by rapid backspaces (<500msec)
2006.02.01 [2.1.9] in Story.prototype.search(), correct inverted logic for using/not using regular expressions when searching
also, blank search text now presents "No search text. Continue anyway?" confirm() message box, so search on blank can still be processed if desired by user.
2006.02.01 [2.1.8] in doSearch(), added alert/return if search text is blank
2006.01.20 [2.1.7] fixed setting of config.macros.search.reportTitle so that Tweaks can override it.
2006.01.19 [2.1.6] improved SearchResults formatting, added a "search again" form to the report (based on a suggestion from MorrisGray)
define results report title using config.macros.search.reportTitle instead of hard-coding the tiddler title
2006.01.18 [2.1.5] Created separate functions for reportSearchResults(text,matches) and discardSearchResults(), so that other developers can create alternative report generators.
2006.01.17 [2.1.4] Use regExp.search() instead of regExp.test() to scan for matches. Correctd the problem where only half the matching tiddlers (the odd-numbered ones) were being reported.
2006.01.15 [2.1.3] Added information (date/time, username, search options used) to SearchResults output
2006.01.10 [2.1.2] use displayTiddlers() to render matched tiddlers. This lets you display multiple matching tiddlers, even if SinglePageModePlugin is enabled.
2006.01.08 [2.1.1] corrected invalid variable reference, "txt.value" to "text" in story.search()
2006.01.08 [2.1.0] re-write to match new store.search(), store.search.handler() and story.search() functions.
2005.12.30 [2.0.0] Upgraded to TW2.0. When rendering SearchResults tiddler, closeTiddler() first to ensure display is refreshed.
2005.12.26 [1.4.0] added option to search for matching text in tiddler tags
2005.12.21 [1.3.7] use \\ to 'escape' single quotes in tiddler titles when generating "Open all matching tiddlers" link. Also, added access key: "O", to trigger "open all" link. Based on a suggestion by UdoBorkowski.
2005.12.18 [1.3.6] call displayMessage() AFTER showing matching tiddlers so message is not cleared too soon
2005.12.17 [1.3.5] if no matches found, just display message and delete any existing SearchResults tiddler.
2005.12.17 [1.3.4] use {/%%/{/%%/{ and }/%%/}/%%/} to 'escape' display text in SearchResults tiddler to ensure that formatting contained in search string is not rendered. Based on a suggestion by UdoBorkowski.
2005.12.14 [1.3.3] tag SearchResults tiddler with 'excludeSearch' so it won't list itself in subsequent searches. Based on a suggestion by UdoBorkowski.
2005.12.14 [1.3.2] added "open all matching tiddlers..." link to search results output. Based on a suggestion by UdoBorkowski.
2005.12.10 [1.3.1] added "discard search results" link to end of search list tiddler output for quick self-removal of 'SearchResults' tiddler.
2005.12.01 [1.3.0] added chkSearchIncremental to enable/disable 'incremental' searching (i.e., search after each keystroke) (default is ENABLED).
added handling for Enter key so it can be used to start a search. Based on a suggestion by LyallPearce
2005.11.25 [1.2.1] renamed from SearchTitleOrTextPlugin to SearchOptionsPlugin
2005.11.25 [1.2.0] added chkSearchList option. Based on a suggestion by RodneyGomes
2005.10.19 [1.1.0] added chkSearchTitlesFirst option. Based on a suggestion by ChristianHauck
2005.10.18 [1.0.0] Initial Release. Based on a suggestion by LyallPearce.
<<<
June 2009
Hail to thee, O Nile! Who manifests thyself over this land, and comes to give life to Egypt!
Come and prosper!
Come and prosper!
O Nile, come and prosper!
O you who make men to live through his flocks and his flocks through his orchards!
Come and prosper, come,
O Nile, come and prosper!
Akhet: the advent of the rising of the Nile floods -- the heart of the fertility and prosperity of Egypt. As Sirius climbs the horizon, Hapi begins to collect the tears of Isis, causing the waters of the Nile to rise. As the flood ebbed, the waters left a rich, black silt that was integral to the fecundity of the land.
Sweet, black silt mingled with holy myrrh, melilot, hyssop, spikenard, balsam, cedar, and a hint of melting snow from the Abyssinian hills.
//Strange goddess, brown as evening to the sight,
Whose scent is half of musk, half of havanah,
Work of some obi, Faust of the Savanah,
Ebony witch, and daughter of the night.
By far preferred to troth, or opium, or sleep,
Love vaunts the red elixir of your mouth.
My caravan of longings seeks in drouth
Your eyes, the wells at which my cares drink deep.
Through those black eyes, by which your soul respires,
Pitiless demon! pour less scorching fires.
I am no Styx nine times with flame to wed.
Nor can I turn myself to Proserpine
To break your spell, Megera libertine!
Within the dark inferno of your bed.//
A pounding heartbeat coalesced into scent: demonic passion and brutal sexuality manifested through myrrh, red patchouli, cognac, honey, and tuberose and geranium in a breathy, panting veil over the darkest body musk.
June 2007
//In Norway land there lived a maid,
'Hush bee loo lillie' this maid began;
'I know not where my baby's father is,
Whether by land or sea he does travel in.'
It happened on a certain day
When this fair lady fell fast asleep,
That in cam' a good greay selchie
And set him down at her bed feet,
Sayin' 'Awak, awak, my pretty maid,
For oh, how sound as thou dost sleep!
An' I'll tell thee where thy baby's father is -
He's sittin' close at thy bed feet!'
'I pray, come tell to me thy name,
Oh, tell me where does thy dwelling be?'
'My name it is good Hein Mailer
An' I earn my livin' oot o' the sea.
I am a man upo' the land,
I am a selchie in the sea,
And when I'm far frae every strand
My dwellin' is in Sule Skerrie.'
'Alas, alas, this woeful fate! -
This weary fate that's been laid for me,
That a man should come from the Wast o' Hoy
To the Norway lands to have a bairn wi' me!'
'My dear, I'll wed thee with a ring,
With a ring, my dear, I'll wed with thee.'
'Thoo may go wed thee weddens wi' whom thoo wilt,
For I'm sure thoo'll never wed none wi' me!'
'Thoo wilt nurse my little wee son
For seven long years upo' thy knee,
An' at the end o' seven long years
I'll come back and pay the norish fee.'
Now he had ta'en a purse of guld
And he has put it upon her knee,
Saying 'Gi'e to me my little young son,
And take thee up thy nourrice fee.'
She says 'My dear, I'll wed thee wi' a ring,
Wi' a ring, my dear, I'll wed wi' thee!'
Thoo may go wed these [thee's] weddens wi' whom thoo wilt,
For I'm sure thoo'll never wed none wi' me!
But I'll put a gold chain around his neck
An' a gey good gold chain it'll be,
That if ever he comes to the Norway lands
Thoo may have a gey good guess on he,
An' thoo will get a gunner good,
An' a gey good gunner it will be,
An' he'll gae oot on a May mornin'
An' shoot the son an' the grey selchie.'
Oh, she has got a gunner good,
An' a gey good gunner it was he,
An' he went out on a May mornin'
An' he shot the son and the grey selchie.
Alas, alas this woeful fate
This weary fate that's been laid for me.'
And once or twice she sobbed and sighed,
An' her tender heart did brak' in three.
-- A traditional Scottish ballad. This is a variant of the one collected by Francis James Child.//
The chill waters of the Orkney coast, tea-leaved willow, honey-touched ~Grass-of-Parnassus, sea aster, and Scottish Primrose.
//A legendary Assyrian queen, often identified with ~Sammu-Ramat, the wife of ~Shamshi-Adad V, she was believed to be the daughter of the goddess Atargatis. Her youth was filled with mythic adventure, and her otherworldly beauty and voluptuous sexuality ensured her two advantageous marriages. When she took the reins of power of Empress of Assyria, she expanded her kingdom by conquering much of Mesopotamia and Asia. She beautified and revitalized Babylon, and implemented improvements in Nineveh that helped to moderate the flow of the Tigris. She was renowned for her military and political prowess, as well as her ferocious and merciless sexual appetite.//
Red musk, pomegranate, orange blossom, and melon.
Ars Moriendi
Discontinued 2004
Resurrected November 2005
//"And so sepulchered in such pomp dost lie
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die."
-- Milton//
Austere, majestic, and coldly beautiful. The scent of funereal blooms laid gently on cold marble. Calla lilies wrapped in rose and gladiola with the barest touch of sweetgrass and juniper.
//In long-ago Arabia, harem girls rubbed an herbal poultice formed from a blend of sensual, luxuriant herbs and oils onto their bodies to prepare themselves for the Sultan's pleasure. This lush, indulgent perfume is based on that ancient formula.//
Sweet almond and Mysor sandalwood enveloped by a heady veil of Bulgarian Rose, neroli, nutmeg, clove and orange peel.
//A perfume sacred to the highest of the angelic hosts.//
Calla lily, wisteria, white sandalwood, Damascus rose and frankincense.
Seething with passion, yet utterly cold-blooded.
Dragon's blood, vetivert and spice.
The Sparrow with the Slit Tongue
//It was a long way to her own house, and the chest seemed to grow heavier at every step. Sometimes she felt as if it would be impossible for her to get on at all, but her greed gave her strength, and at last she arrived at her own door. She sank down on the threshold, overcome with weariness, but in a moment was on her feet again, fumbling with the lock of the chest. But by this time night had come, and there was no light in the house, and the woman was in too much hurry to get to her treasures, to go and look for one. At length, however, the lock gave way, and the lid flew open, when, O horror! instead of gold and jewels, she saw before her serpents with glittering eyes and forky tongues. And they twined themselves about her and darted poison into her veins, and she died, and no man regretted her.//
Serpentine green herbs, glistening red currant, sparkling yellow lemon rind, green musk, lime, and snakeskin.
Ars Amatoria
Discontinued 2009
//Leopold von ~Sacher-Masoch, the Father of Masochism and sexual surrender, had planned on writing six volumes of erotic literature entitled The Heritage of Cain. Only the first two volumes were completed, the more famous of the two being the notorious Venus in Furs. This novel tells the tale of a man, Severin, that enters into a relationship of slavery and increasingly debauched degradation with his mistress, Wanda.//
Dry black teas, Earl Gray, and leather.
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2006
A subtly menacing blend of lemon verbena, white sandalwood and cedar, dimmed by droplets of the darkest patchouli.
//Orchid tubers have been used extensively by witches in their love philtres, both to promote amorous attention and the attainment of true love, and, conversely, to wither misplaced passions and sever romantic bonds.//
This perfume is a dusky orchid, subdued and ethereal.
//I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like Silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;
Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright
With tangled gossamer that fell by night,
Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
Where are the songs of Summer? With the sun,
Oping the dusky eyelids of the south,
Till shade and silence waken up as one,
And Morning sings with a warm odorous mouth.
Where are the merry birds? Away, away,
On panting wings through the inclement skies,
Lest owls should prey
Undazzled at noonday,
And tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes.
Where are the blooms of Summer? In the west,
Blushing their last to the last sunny hours,
When the mild Eve by sudden Night is prest
Like tearful Proserpine, snatch'd from her flow'rs
To a most gloomy breast.
Where is the pride of Summer, the green prime,
The many, many leaves all twinkling? Three
On the moss'd elm; three on the naked lime
Trembling, and one upon the old oak-tree!
Where is the Dryad's immortality?
Gone into mournful cypress and dark yew,
Or wearing the long gloomy Winter through
In the smooth holly's green eternity.
The squirrel gloats on his accomplish'd hoard,
The ants have brimm'd their garners with ripe grain,
And honey bees have stored
The sweets of Summer in their luscious cells;
The swallows all have wing'd across the main;
But here the Autumn melancholy dwells,
And sighs her tearful spells
Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain.
Alone, alone,
Upon a mossy stone,
She sits and reckons up the dead and gone
With the last leaves for a love-rosary,
Whilst all the wither'd world looks drearily,
Like a dim picture of the drowned past
In the hush'd mind's mysterious far away,
Doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the last
Into that distance, gray upon the gray.
O go and sit with her, and be o'ershaded
Under the languid downfall of her hair:
She wears a coronal of flowers faded
Upon her forehead, and a face of care;
There is enough of wither'd everywhere
To make her bower, and enough of gloom;
There is enough of sadness to invite,
If only for the rose that died, whose doom
Is Beauty's,she that with the living bloom
Of conscious cheeks most beautifies the light:
There is enough of sorrowing, and quite
Enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear,
Enough of chilly droppings for her bowl;
Enough of fear and shadowy despair,
To frame her cloudy prison for the soul!//
Dry leaves and white sandalwood, rock moss, cypress, and dry, lifeless roses.
//Shadwell had turned out to be about five feet high and wore clothes which, no matter what they actually were, always turned up in your short-term memory as an old mackintosh. The old man may have all his own teeth, but only because no-one else could possibly have wanted them; just one of them, placed under the pillow, would have made the Tooth Fairy hand in its wand.
He appeared to live entirely on sweet tea, condensed milk, hand-rolled cigarettes, and a sort of sullen internal energy. Shadwell had a Cause, while he followed with the full resources of his soul and his Pensioner's Concessionary Travel Pass. He believed in it. It powered him like a turbine.//
Roll-ups, mildewed raincoat, sweet tea, and condensed milk.
The crisp, clean scent of green tea touched with lemon verbena and honeysuckle.
From Convergence XIII
May 2007
//no scent description given//
//The Wrath of God, the Most Beautiful Lord of Lightning, the Owner of All Palaces. He is the illumination of a lightning strike in the night sky, and is the retributive strike of the rightful king. Shango punishes those who are not living up to their responsibilities. He gives insight to the truth in all circumstances, and is the essence of the thrill and excitement in life that makes every day worth living. To love Shango is to live life to the fullest, no matter what pains the world inflicts upon you. He is Wrath, and his lightning bolts and gouts of fire remind all of his strength and power. It is said that Lord Shango only speaks to his children once; when the God illuminates an answer for you, you had best understand with no further questions. Shango is trial by fire, the honing and refinement of the spirit, the ability to distinguish between truth and lies. He is a dual-faced God: King and Exile, miser and philanthropist, just and ruthless, honest and devious. Shango is the Lord of Persuasion, and his glib tongue can intimidate, coerce, sway and seduce. He is quick wit, articulate words, and the ability to think on one’s feet. He is the King that can incite and enflame the masses with the power of his speech. His words are the sensual murmurs of the lothario, the slick wheedle of the grifter, the convincing argument of the barrister, the dangerous charm of the pimp, the inspiration of the warrior general, and the invigorating exhortations of the monarch. The Roar of Shango is a Universal Truth. Shango governs all professions that cater to the needs and weaknesses of the people. He is the absolute and perfect Male creature, and the rain that falls to earth is His blessed, sublime semen, giving life to the world. His abundant seed washes the land and replenishes Earth’s seas, rivers and oceans. He sneers at cowardice, and demands that all of his children have daring spirits, strength of will, nerve and *balls*. Courage is of the utmost importance, as it empowers us to face adversity with dignity and enables us to act decisively and with resourcefulness. Live, don’t simply exist. Shango’s gifts make it possible for us to find the shortest distance between two points, wring out the best from every situation, recover from every seeming loss and every defeat, and defy all odds to reach our goals. He teaches us wily strategies, masterful tactics, and shows us the value of friendship and camaraderie. His is the comfortable, casual friendship found in just hanging out and having a good time with the guys. Shango is Challenge, the concept of finding the best parts of yourself through conflict and adversity. Shango’s weapon is the double-headed axe, and His animals are the black cat and the leopard.//
The Master of Lightning’s ofrenda contains red apples, banana, chili pepper, coconut, pineapple, pomegranate and sugar cane.
//A scent as sharp as glass shards, and as brittle as a broken heart. The formula came to me - quite literally - in a dream, and is named after, and created in memory of, the last poem that I ever wrote… almost ten years ago to the day.//
A blend of white champagne notes, grapefruit, lotus, slivered mint and crystalline aquatic blooms.
//The next morning the old horse was found without his saddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping the grass at his master's gate. Ichabod did not make his appearance at breakfast-dinner-hour came, but no Ichabod. The boys assembled at the schoolhouse, and strolled idly about the banks of the brook; but no school-master. Hans Van Ripper now began to feel some uneasiness about the fate of poor Ichabod, and his saddle. An inquiry was set on foot, and after diligent investigation they came upon his traces. In one part of the road leading to the church was found the saddle trampled in the dirt; the tracks of horses' hoofs deeply dented in the road, and evidently at furious speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond which, on the bank of a broad part of the brook, where the water ran deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it a shattered pumpkin.//
Soil-covered crushed pumpkin, water-weeds, saddle-leather, and pine pitch.
A sensual hazelnut vanilla with ylang ylang, angelica, knotted clover, and pearly everlasting.
The Hebrew Underworld, the Abode of the Dead, the Pit. It is as forbidding as the grave itself: a joyless and dolorous cave deep with the bowels of Earth that every man, saint or sinner, must travel to upon death, where his soul finds rest in the silence and dust.
//For the living know that they will die, but the dead don’t know anything, neither do they have any more a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten. Also their love, their hatred, and their envy has perished long ago; neither have they any more a portion forever in anything that is done under the sun. Go your way—eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has already accepted your works. Let your garments be always white, and don’t let your head lack oil. Live joyfully with the wife whom you love all the days of your life of vanity, which he has given you under the sun, all your days of vanity: for that is your portion in life, and in your labor in which you labor under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in Sheol, where you are going.
Ecclesiastes 9:5 - 10//
The final burst of the soul’s light and joy before passing into the depths of the earth, and into the cords of Sheol; Sheol, who is never satisfied, and who makes wide her soul to all.
Vibrant gladiola, graceful stargazer lily, triumphant iris and bright heliotrope flare, and is finally made somber by heavy copal, a drop of labdanum, and tonka.
//Gloriously innocent and guileless.//
Pure buttered popcorn!
//It was a terrible, indescribable thing vaster than any subway train – a shapeless congerie of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and un-forming as pustules of greenish light all over the tunnel-filling front that bore down upon us, crushing the frantic penguins and slithering over the glistening floor that it and its kind had swept so evilly free of all litter.//
An amorphous, radiant, incandescent scent. Ever changing, protoplasmic and primordial: white amber, green coconut meat, iris, palmarosa, Chinese peony, lime, water lily, snowdrop, muguet, lemongrass, osmanthus, wisteria, glassy musk, and hinoki.
<script>
var tags = store.getTags();
if(tags.length == 0) return "no tags in document";
var out="";
for(var t=0; t<tags.length; t++) {
out+="*[["+tags[t][0]+"]] ("+tags[t][1]+")"+"\n";
var tids=store.getTaggedTiddlers(tags[t][0]);
for (i=0; i<tids.length; i++) out+="##[["+tids[i].title+"]]\n";
}
return out;
</script>
Ars Moriendi
Discontinued 2008
Dry white sandalwood wrapped in thin woods, soft grasses and the lightest white flowers layered over cajeput and the warm, deep scent of embalming herbs.
//Appalling that they seem to watch me as I sketch, even through eyes sewn shut.//
Leather tanned with the pulp of Amazon ferns and rainforest herbs.
2005 Springtime in Arkham Limited Edition
Reinstated as a General Catalogue Scent in 2006
//Iä! ~Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young, the ~All-Mother and wife of the ~Not-to-Be-Named-One. The lust incense of a corrupted Astarte.//
A blend of ritual herbs and dark resins, shot through with three gingers and aphrodisiacal spices.
//How marvellously lie our anxieties, in filmy layers, one over the other! Take away that which has lain on the upper surface for so long—the care of cares—the only one, as it seemed to you, between your soul and the radiance of Heaven—and straight you find a new stratum there.//
Opium smoke, opium tar, mandarin, dark musk, patchouli, tonka, vetiver, and frankincense.
//Silence, Lucien ~Lévy-Dhurmer.//
White sandalwood, iris, blue musk, lotus root, moonflower, plum blossom, green tea, white mint and white peach.
Ars Moriendi
Discontinued 2004
Resurrected November 2006
//As oftentimes the too resplendent sun
Hurries the pallid and reluctant moon
Back to her sombre cave, ere she hath won
A single ballad from the nightingale,
So doth thy Beauty make my lips to fail,
And all my sweetest singing out of tune.
And as at dawn across the level mead
On wings impetuous some wind will come,
And with its too harsh kisses break the reed
Which was its only instrument of song,
So my too stormy passions work me wrong,
And for excess of Love my Love is dumb.
But surely unto Thee mine eyes did show
Why I am silent, and my lute unstrung;
Else it were better we should part, and go,
Thou to some lips of sweeter melody,
And I to nurse the barren memory
Of unkissed kisses, and songs never sung.//
Unspoken love. Inspired by Oscar Wilde's poem. A scent brimming with pathos and memories of longing and loss. Rose touched with ylang ylang.
//A panoply of cultural treasures, spanning the herbs, flowers, oils and balms of the Romans, the Byzantines, the Mediterranean, the Levant, Northern China, Eastern Europe, Iran, the ~Bulgar-Kypchak, Mesopotamia, the Crimean Peninsula, Anatolia, Antioch, and North Africa.//
Thoroughly corrupted.
Amber, sandalwood, black patchouli and cinnamon.
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where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Sin&Salvation")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):The Seven Deadly Sins@@''
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SevenDeadlySins")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
''@@color(#00B379):font-size(120%):Come and See@@''
//And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see.//<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("ComeandSee")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
August 2007
//Green, in the wizard arms
Of the foam-bearded Atlantic,
An isle of old enchantment,
A melancholy isle,
Enchanted and dreaming lies;
And there, by Shannon's flowing,
In the moonlight, spectre-thin,
The spectre Erin sits.
An aged desolation,
She sits by old Shannon's flowing,
A mother of many children,
Of children exiled and dead,
In her home, with bent head, homeless,
Clasping her knees she sits,
Keening, keening!
And at her keen the fairy-grass
Trembles on dun and barrow;
Around the foot of her ancient crosses
The grave-grass shakes and the nettle swings;
In haunted glens the meadow-sweet
Flings to the night wind
Her mystic mournful perfume;
The sad spearmint by holy wells
Breathes melancholy balm.
Sometimes she lifts her head,
With blue eyes tearless,
And gazes athwart the reek of night
Upon things long past,
Upon things to come.
And sometimes, when the moon
Brings tempest upon the deep,
The roused Atlantic thunders from his caverns in the west,
The wolfhound at her feet
Springs up with a mighty bay,
And chords of mystery sound from the wild harp at her side,
Strung from the hearts of poets;
And she flies on the wings of tempest
With grey hair streaming:
A meteor of evil omen,
The spectre of hope forlorn,
Keening, keening!
She keens, and the strings of her wild harp shiver
On the gusts of night:
O'er the four waters she keens—over Moyle she keens,
O'er the Sea of Milith, and the Strait of Strongbow,
And the Ocean of Columbus.
And the Fianna hear, and the ghosts of her cloudy hovering heroes;
And the swan, Fianoula, wails o'er the waters of Inisfail,
Chanting her song of destiny,
The rune of weaving Fates.
And the nations hear in the void and quaking time of night,
Sad unto dawning, dirges,
Solemn dirges,
And snatches of bardic song;
Their souls quake in the void and quaking time of night,
And they dream of the weird of kings,
And tyrannies moulting, sick,
In the dreadful wind of change.
Wail no more, lonely one, mother of exiles, wail no more,
Banshee of the world—no more!
The sorrows are the world's, though art no more alone;
Thy wrongs, the world's.//
Moonlight over grave grass, meadowsweet, marsh hellebore, rock sea-lavender, Irish Lady's-tresses, melancholy thistle, and wood bitter-vetch, with the scent of autumn fires in the distance, sprayed by wind howling over the Atlantic.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SingleNote")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//No single thing holds secrets so well as one's shroud.//
Rotting linen, white sandalwood, hyssop, and dust.
Bewitching, tantalizing and dangerously seductive. A thrilling, exotic blend -- deceptively sweet, but spiked with malice.
White ginger, jasmine, and a touch of vanilla and apricot.
a tagged and searchable list of perfume oils by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab
//Sitting Up With a Sick Friend, C.M. Coolidge.//
Tobacco smoke and leather bowled over by a powerful smack of heady, classic perfume and a whiff of rose water.
//The ~Snow-Shoe Goddess, Giantess, the Norse embodiment of winter.//
Frost-rimed winter berries, crisp pine needle, and a slush of bright snowy notes.
//Being//
Ylang ylang, honey, Egyptian and Arabian musks and labdanum.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SleepyHollow")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
March 2006
//A nearly-narcotic blend of opiate-touched bark and blossom reflective of the bleakness and solitude of winter, the quietest point of the year.//
Black opium poppy, bamboo pulp, ylang ylang, lavender, chamomile and white sandalwood.
//Supports psychic health and strengthens the astral body! Dissolves and expels telepathic blockage!
Every medium should have it! Use before every séance!//
Poppy flowers, acai berry, and honey.
Dewy, wet, whiplike and sticky.
Thick, dark, sluggish and heavy with indolence.
Vetiver over black myrrh.
//Grey-brown flue gasses belch from colossal steel and concrete monoliths, forming bloated clouds in the dusk-dark sky.//
Creosote, coal, and industrial waste.
July 2009
//The ~Smoke-Veiled Moon of July brought a poem of Baudelaire’s to my mind:
Ce soir, la lune rêve avec plus de paresse;
Ainsi qu'une beauté, sur de nombreux coussins,
Qui d'une main distraite et légère caresse
Avant de s'endormir le contour de ses seins,
Sur le dos satiné des molles avalanches,
Mourante, elle se livre aux longues pâmoisons,
Et promène ses yeux sur les visions blanches
Qui montent dans l'azur comme des floraisons.
Quand parfois sur ce globe, en sa langueur oisive,
Elle laisse filer une larme furtive,
Un poète pieux, ennemi du sommeil,
Dans le creux de sa main prend cette larme pâle,
Aux reflets irisés comme un fragment d'opale,
Et la met dans son coeur loin des yeux du soleil.
- - -
Tonight the moon dreams with more indolence,
Like a lovely woman on a bed of cushions
Who fondles with a light and listless hand
The contour of her breasts before falling asleep;
On the satiny back of the billowing clouds,
Languishing, she lets herself fall into long swoons
And casts her eyes over the white phantoms
That rise in the azure like blossoming flowers.
When, in her lazy listlessness,
She sometimes sheds a furtive tear upon this globe,
A pious poet, enemy of sleep,
In the hollow of his hand catches this pale tear,
With the iridescent reflections of opal,
And hides it in his heart afar from the sun's eyes.//
(English translation by William Aggeler, 1954)
Soft sandalwood, nicotiana, and velvety orris drifting over lustrous pale musks, stephanotis, elemi, and cyclamen.
Lupercalia 2006, 2007, 2008
//What a great freakin’ word. BPAL LOVES SMUT!//
Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.
2005, 2006 Carnaval Noir Limited Edition
Resurrected November 2008
//Sensual, sibilant, sexual and hypnotic.//
Arabian musk and exotic spices slinking through Egyptian amber, enticing vanilla, and a serpentine blend of black plum, labdanum, ambrette, benzoin and black coconut.
By far, our most popular scent! Magnetic, mysterious, and exceedingly sexual in nature.
A blend of exotic Indonesian oils sugared with vanilla.
//`It isn't manners for us to begin, you know,' said the Rose, `and I really was wondering when you'd speak! Said I to myself, "Her face has got some sense in it, thought it's not a clever one!" Still, you're the right colour, and that goes a long way.'
`I don't care about the colour,' the Tiger-lily remarked. `If only her petals curled up a little more, she'd be all right.'//
__Red rose, oud, plum, bergamot, and red sandalwood__
//Alice didn't like being criticised, so she began asking questions. `Aren't you sometimes frightened at being planted out here, with nobody to take care of you?'
`There's the tree in the middle,' said the Rose: `what else is it good for?'
`But what could it do, if any danger came?' Alice asked.//
Naughty or Nice Inquisition, Yule 2005
Resurrected for Storytime Inquisition, Yule 2008
Cherubic spun sugar with a hint of lemon, sparkling peach, and floral tea.
Yule 2005, 2008
//I don’t always have to be sinister, do I? Here’s to finally being able to hit the slopes again!//
Soft white powder snow with a touch of youthful girlie perfume.
December 2005
//In December, the skeletal, ice-rimmed fingers of winter take hold, and the nights are long, chill and dark. The first flurries of snow touch the land, and the earth itself becomes quiet. A scent of purity and silence, soft with falling snow, as dark as Midwinter.//
An icy flurry over the winter blooms of narcissus, pansy crocus, dahlia, tulip, chrysanthemum and white rose, with a hint of fir and birch.
Yule 2003, 2004, 2005, 2007, 2008
//A chilly, bright perfume.//
Flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers.
//She said nothing. Her eyes were black as coal, black as her hair; her lips were redder than blood. She looked up at me and smiled. Her teeth seemed sharp, even then, in the lamplight.
"What are you doing away from your room?"
"I'm hungry," she said, like any child.
It was winter, when fresh food is a dream of warmth and sunlight; but I had strings of whole apples, cored and dried, hanging from the beams of my chamber, and I pulled an apple down for her.
"Here."
Autumn is the time of drying, of preserving, a time of picking apples, of rendering the goose fat. Winter is the time of hunger, of snow, and of death; and it is the time of the midwinter feast, when we rub the goose-fat into the skin of a whole pig, stuffed with that autumn's apples, then we roast it or spit it, and we prepare to feast upon the crackling.
She took the dried apple from me and began to chew it with her sharp yellow teeth.
"Is it good?"
She nodded. I had always been scared of the little princess, but at that moment I warmed to her and, with my fingers, gently, I stroked her cheek. She looked at me and smiled -- she smiled but rarely -- then she sank her teeth into the base of my thumb, the Mound of Venus, and she drew blood.
I began to shriek, from pain and from surprise; but she looked at me and I fell silent.//
Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is thrilled to present a numbered, limited edition chapbook of Neil Gaiman's acclaimed short story, Snow, Glass, Apples, beautifully illustrated by Julie Dillon. Each package includes a 5ml bottle of perfume, created by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, that was inspired by the tale. In Neil's words, 'It smells like green apples and like sex and vampires, all at the same time. (Actually, it smells like sexy vampire apples.)' This set is a limited run of 1000. 250 were sold by CBLDF at San Diego Comic Con 2008, and the remainder are available through the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab web site. Snow, Glass, Apples will be available on the BPAL site as long as supplies last. This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture: proceeds from every single set go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, which works to preserve and protect the First Amendment rights of the comics community.
A million thanks and all our love to Neil, and to Charles Brownstein and his staff at the CBLDF!
//Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.//
The radiance and desolation of winter.
Naughty or Nice Inquisition, Yule 2005
Resurrected for Storytime Inquisition, Yule 2008
The perfect vanilla mint.
//Authority - Creativity - Courage - Leadership - Abundance - Good Health & Healing - Illumination - Truth - Honesty - Wise Counsel - Prophecy - Pride - Revelation - Equilibrium - Mediation - Nobility - Generosity//
//Sane, sol et in cloacam radios suos defert nec inquinatur.//
A radiant blend of solar oils: golden amber, saffron, heliotrope, hibiscus, citron, frangipani, frankincense, tangerine, mock orange, and orange blossom.
//Inspired by Gris Grimly's illustrations for the System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether.//
A lunatic’s vintage cabernet.
//The Gnostic goddess of Wisdom.//
A solemn, deeply profound draught of lavender, soft musks, star jasmine, black rose, delphinium, and gentle spice.
//Sado-masochistic holiday cheer.//
Whip leather, cardamom, patchouli and bourbon.
Diabolical red and black musk with rooibos and mango tea
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
//A wispy, ethereal perfume with a touch of menace.//
Lilac, tuberose, Lily of the Valley, palmarosa, and white sandalwood.
Perfectly enchanting!
An irresistibly sexual, utterly rapturous blend of three roses, radiant amber, and sensual red musk.
//There was a family resemblance between the two men. That was unarguable, although that alone did not explain the intense feeling of familiarity that Fat Charlie felt on seeing Spider. His brother looked like Fat Charlie wished he looked in his mind...Spider was taller, and leaner, and cooler. He was wearing a black-and-scarlet leather jacket, and black leather leggings, and he looked at home in them...There was something larger-than-life about him: simply being on the other side of the table to this man made Fat Charlie feel awkward and badly consructed, and slightly foolish. It wasn't the clothes Spider wore, but the knowledge that if Fat Charlie put them on he would look as if he were wearing some kind of unconvincing drag. It wasn't the way Spider smiled--casually, delightedly--but Fat Charlies's cold, incontrovertible certainty that he himself could practice smiling in front of a mirror from now until the end of time and never manage a single smile one half so charming, so cocky, or so twinklingly debonair.//
White ginger, artemesia, vetiver, nutmeg, King mandarin, bergamot, and lime.
Chunky fruit punch with a generous splash of booze!
Summer Garden Miniseries 2009
//Polycarbonate and metallic film monuments to domestic whimsy, whirling merrily in the summer breeze.//
Raspberry, lime, blueberry, tangerine, lemon, juniper, and white grape.
//Spirit of the Komachi Cherry Tree, Yoshitoshi.//
Cherry blossom, blue lilac, lavender monofloral honey, white sandalwood, and Asian pear.
//A shuddering white scent, of ghostly breath and stony silence.//
Dry tea leaf, linden blossom, papyrus, orris and coffin wood.
//Campy, over-the-top gore, full of gleeful self-mockery.
Examples: the Evil Dead series, Return of the Living Dead, Toxic Avenger//
A bit of blood and chainsaw grease underneath a banana cream pie.
Yule 2003, 2005
A maddeningly festive blend of warm, buttery rum, cocoa, coconut, vanilla and a jolt of peppermint. It’s a sweet, decadent, slightly silly scent, reminicent of rum-laced holiday cookies.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SpringtimeInArkham")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Yikes!//
A spurt of wet, grassy greenness.
Indian sandalwood and cedar, and the dry incense smoke of olibanum, gum mastic, patchouli and myrrh.
2009
//Verily I say unto you, Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist: notwithstanding he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.
-- Matthew 11:11
The birth of John the Baptist coincides with the Summer Solstice, and in keeping with the eternal rhythm of the universe, John understood that as the sun’s strength begins to wane after the Summer Solstice, so did he move aside after preparing the way for the Winter King, Christ.
Ye yourselves bear me witness, that I said, I am not the Christ, but that I am sent before him.
He that hath the bride is the bridegroom: but the friend of the bridegroom, which standeth and heareth him, rejoiceth greatly because of the bridegroom's voice: this my joy therefore is fulfilled.
He must increase, but I decrease.
-- John 3:28-30
St. John’s holy day is full of holy significance that is so primal and archetypal that it transcends any one faith. It is a merging of the rituals of Midsummer with symbols of Biblical faith. On this eve, prayers to God for bountiful harvests and fertility are said over St. John’s blessed bonfires, a leap over the sacred flames brings good fortune in new undertakings and unions, and the waters of rivers and lakes bring renewed strength, vitality, and spiritual cleansing.//
A summer bonfire, with frankincense and myrrh, bay rum, and white rose.
Yule 2005, 2006
//When the holidays roll around, not everyone has mistletoe, caroling and cookies on their minds. This scent is a paean to celebrating hard: nights covered in glitter and dusted with cocaine, flutes of Cristal clutched in shaky hands, leather and lace, the Spiders From Mars in the background, and twisting, sweaty limbs entangled in dark corners. Hairspray and cigarette smoke is the incense in this temple to decadence, strobe and mirrors replace the devotional candles, and Bolan sings the hymns. This scent is for everyone that has every drifted off into Quaalude-induced reverie to the beat of a tribal 4-on-the-floor: the sound of Mott the Hoople, Sweet, Slade or the Dolls. This scent reflects the futurism, self-indulgence and excess of the Glitter 70’s.//
Champagne, hyacinth, tuberose, ylang ylang and flashing white musk with jonquil, tobacco flower, white sandalwood and a pale poppy.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Steampunk")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Terminal sugar rush. A little goblin's candy bag, upended.//
Smushed candy corn, rock candy dust, marshmallow gunk, strawberry goo, spun blue sugar, globs of salt water taffy, and lint.
//Valuable in relieving the vapors and in reversing depraved conditions of the system!
Doc Constantine’s tonics will make you happy, hale, and hearty!//
Sassafras, vanilla extract, oak leaf, CO2 butter extract, and onycha.
July 2009
A cure for sweaty bits and sticky wilting. Stinky is a summer refresher 'foom for people that don't dig run-of-the-mill "clean" scents: newly-washed skin with a dusting of milk, white honey, and baby powder.
Bewitching Brews
Discontinued 2004
A invigorating, tempestuous citrus and floral blend.
February 2005
//The Storm Moon marks the darkest portion of the year. A season of long, impenetrable nights and turbulent tempests. A raging, electric and wet scent.//
Slashing rain notes, rolling thunder, and sharp, cold winds layered by a breath of softly wafting lunar incense, a hint of Luna’s blooms, and the brittle herbs of winter.
//In your smoke-addled confusion, the Midway seems strangely empty and devoid of life. The tents that line the path appear distorted, out of proportion, and cartoonish, their angles arching menacingly.
For a moment, the only sound you hear is the soft squelch of your boots on the damp ground. As your eyes adjust, the tents right themselves, the sounds of the Midway swirl around you, and you feel the press of the crowd against your body. The Calliope's eerie drone lilts above the swelling chatter.
Wine-colored storm clouds are gathering, and the scent of incense and ozone is thick in the wet air.//
Thunder-charged ozone, plum-colored incense smoke, opium tar, and wormwood.
Yule 2008
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Storytime")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Convergence XII
April 2006
//no scent description given//
A glorious parasite! Once the seeds of the Strangler Fig find root in the bark of a tree, snakelike roots erupt and reach graspingly at the sky. The Strangler Fig then sprouts numerous epiphytic vines that strangles and surrounds its unwilling host, and finally snuffs the life from it.
Rooty, woody, with deep green tones.
June 2005
A blending of strawberries and cream with light, dry lotus, soft ylang ylang and a touch of green tea and sage to bring it closer to Earth.
June 2009
//Strawberries that in gardens grow
Are plump and juicy fine,
But sweeter far as wise men know
Spring from the woodland vine.
No need for bowl or silver spoon,
Sugar or spice or cream,
Has the wild berry plucked in June
Beside the trickling stream.
One such to melt at the tongue's root,
Confounding taste with scent,
Beats a full peck of garden fruit:
Which points my argument.
May sudden justice overtake
And snap the froward pen,
That old and palsied poets shake
Against the minds of men.
Blasphemers trusting to hold caught
In far-flung webs of ink,
The utmost ends of human thought
Till nothing's left to think.
But may the gift of heavenly peace
And glory for all time
Keep the boy Tom who tending geese
First made the nursery rhyme.//
Wild strawberries, strawberry flower, vanilla-infused sugar, early summer grasses, and milky dandelion sap.
Gift at December 2007 will-call
//no scent description given//
July 2008
//A month of bounty, when the fish are plentiful and the corn grows high. This is the scent of breezes passing over the Great Lakes, mingling gently with traditional lunar herbs.//
Sandy shores and sweet fresh water, lichen, green algae, and whitestem pondweed, with benzoin, cyclamen, moonlit musk, cucumber, blue poppy, and agave.
Ars Amatoria
Discontinued 2009
//Bat-winged, flame-eyed, and possessed of an unearthly, perfect beauty: the Daughters of Lilith, the Succubi, invade the dreams of men and lie with them in rapturous, unholy sexual union. The scent of their skin is bittersweet, dusky and terminally seductive.//
Mimosa, orange blossom, neroli and bergamot with a drop of sweet clove.
A companion to Bite Me. Layers well with Lick It.
Sexy and suckable: black cherry brandy.
Named after the primordial ocean of milk where Lord Vishnu reclines upon the thousand-headed Naga.
Sweet milk and warm, healing ginger with a touch of golden honey and our blend of Ambrosia.
Yule 2004, 2005, 2008
Affectionately nicknamed 'The Devil's Bake Sale'.
//No way to see him
on this moonless night
I lie awake longing, burning,
breasts racing fire,
heart in flames.//
Sugar cane, blue musk, mahogany, black orchid, black currant, violet, blackberry leaf, teak, strawberry, and dusky rose.
Halloween 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008
//Vibrant with the joy and sweetness of life in death!//
A blend of five sugars, lightly dusted with candied fruits.
With a dollop of caramel!
Summer 2009 Minicollections
''<html>
<style type="text/css">
p.ex {color:#00B379;font-size:120%}
</style>
<p class="ex">Summer Garden</p>
</html>''<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SummerGarden")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>''<html>
<style type="text/css">
p.ex {color:#00B379;font-size:120%}
</style>
<p class="ex">Summer's End</p>
</html>''<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SummersEnd")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
2009 Dark Delicacies Exclusive Collection
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SummerBlockbusters")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//What pleasure always lasts? No joy endures:
Summer I was, I am not as I was;
Harvest and age have whitened my green head;
On Autumn now and Winter must I lean.
Needs must he fall, whom none but foes uphold.
Thus must the happiest man have his black day:
Omnibus una manet nox, & calcanda semel via lethi.
This month have I lain languishing abed, ...
Looking each hour to yield my life and throne;
And died I had indeed unto the earth,
But that Eliza, England's beauteous Queen,
On whom all seasons prosperously attend,
Forbad the execution of my fate,
Until her joyful progress was expired.
For her doth Summer live, and linger here,
And wisheth long to live to her content;
But wishes are not had when they wish well.
I must depart, my death-day is set down; ...
To these two must I leave my wheaten crown.
So unto unthrifts rich men leave their lands,
Who in an hour consume long labor's gains.//
Doomed summer, supported on the shoulders of winter and autumn: citrus-infused Baltic amber, red valerian, marigold, blood orange, and sunflower subdued by somber myrrh and dry geranium alongside the leaves of autumn and a breath of winter wind.
Debuted at ~Comic-Con 2009
Later sold online at The Lab
//They were all so hungry the following morning. Zebediah T. Crawcrustle had a comedic apron on, with the words KISS THE COOK written upon it in violently green letters. He had already sprinkled the brandy-soaked raisins and grain beneath the stunted avocado tree behind the house, and he was arranging the scented woods, the herbs, and the spices on the bed of charcoal. Mustapha Stroheim and his family had gone to visit relatives on the other side of Cairo.
"Does anybody have a match?" Crawcrustle asked.
Jackie Newhouse pulled out a Zippo lighter, and passed it to Crawcrustle, who lit the dried cinnamon leaves and dried laurel leaves beneath the charcoal. The smoke drifted up into the noon air.
"The cinnamon and sandalwood smoke will bring the Sunbird," said Crawcrustle.
"Bring it from where?" asked Augustus ~TwoFeathers.
"Why, where it always is, third lane after the old market in the Suntown district, just before you reach the old drainage ditch that was once an irrigation canal, and if you find yourself outside One-eye Khayam's carpet shop you have gone too far, "began Crawcrustle. "But I see by the expressions of irritation upon your faces that you were expecting a less succinct, less accurate description. Very well. It is in Suntown, and Suntown is in Cairo, in Egypt, where it always is, or almost always."
Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is thrilled to present a numbered, limited edition chapbook of Neil Gaiman's acclaimed short story, Sunbird, beautifully illustrated by Julie Dillon. Each package includes a 5ml bottle of perfume, created by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, that was inspired by the tale. In Neil's words, "'Sunbird' smells like resin and deserts and the phoenix." This set is a limited run of 1000. 250 were sold by CBLDF at San Diego Comic Con 2009, and the remainder are available through the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab web site. Sunbird will be available on the BPAL site as long as supplies last. This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture: proceeds from every single set go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, which works to preserve and protect the First Amendment rights of the comics community.
A million thanks and all our love to Neil, and to Charles Brownstein and his staff at the CBLDF!//
A carnivorous enchantress: diverse, lovely and graceful, emitting a sticky, glowing golden, sweet and terminally inviting scent. Its dew is believed to grant eternal beauty and longevity, and restore vitality and vigor to the magician.
//Sunflower, Egon Schiele.//
Sunflower bouquet, black amber, creeping black moss, wilted greenery, and scorched, dry stems.
//Sunrise With ~Sea-Monsters, Joseph Mallord William Turner.//
Ocean mist, kelp, ambergris, amber, white pear, osmanthus, freesia, and seafoam accord.
A Latin word that means to sigh or draw a deep breath, that also suggests longing, desire, yearning, and a passionate wish.
Ylang ylang with white plum, white orchid, jasmine, calla lily and lily of the valley.
//Proud, contented, and aglow with joy, she has conquered her lover with her charms, and she knows with all her soul that he is completely and utterly devoted to her. In bliss, she basks in the blessings of the God of Love.//
Golden amber, oude, red sandalwood, massoia bark, honey, and currant.
//The Glory of Vishnu, The House of Varuna, One’s Own Abode
The ~Six-Petaled Lotus.
The unconscious, the sweetness of life, desire, pleasure, sexuality, procreation, emotion.
Swadhisthana is the manifestation of passion, the reconciliation, balance and union of the masculine and feminine within ourselves.
In Swadhisthana, we learn to give and receive pleasure. It is the stimulation of the life force, the basis for life itself, and our force on the physical plane.
In this chakra, our samskaras are cloistered, and in this chakra they find expression.
Because of the highly sexual identification of this chakra, many find its temptations and trials very difficult to overcome.//
Voodoo Blends
Discontinued 2004
//This formula is used to attract good fortune, peace of mind, safety and speed to travelers.//
October 2007
//Silent, 0 Moyle, be the roar of thy water;
Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose,
While, murmuring mournfully, Lir's lovely daughter
Tells to the night-star the tale of her woes.
When shall the swan, her death-note singing,
Sleep with wings in darkness furl'd?
When will heaven, its sweet bells ringing,
Call my spirit from this stormy world?
Sadly, 0 Moyle, to thy winter-wave weeping,
Fate bids me languish long ages away;
Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping,
Still doth the pure light its dawning delay.
When will that day-star, mildly springing,
Warm our isle with peace and love?
Call my spirit to the fields above?//
White gardenia, white iris, sandalwood, calla lily, French magnolia, muguet, jonquil, and orchid.
Simply cool, the essence of Lounge.
The scent of a crisp pomegranate martini.
//The pinnacle of wealth, luxury, self-indulgent pleasure, voluptuousness and sensuality.//
Bright violet with sweet clove, Mediterranean incense notes and tonka bean.
Air
The Superconscious :: Frivolity :: Knowledge
Instruction :: Study :: The Life Principle
The Intellect :: Optimism :: Dexterity :: Theorizing
Persuasion :: Glibness :: Visualization
Concentration :: Travel :: Investigation :: Analysis
Gossip :: Freedom
From Encyclopedia Mythica: A sylph is an immortal yet soulless (elemental) being that inhabits the air.
Ode to Aphrodite
Ally in love.
Vanilla, heliotrope, red sandalwood, pear, black lily, white wine grape, and white rose.
//The Fair Lady, Winter Witch, White Maiden of the Storm. Szepasszony is a Hungarian demoness that appears as a stunningly beautiful woman with long, silver-white hair and a blinding white dress. She revels in storms, particularly when hail rains down on her. Water dripping down eaves into a puddle is an invitation for her to cause mischief: she uses the puddle as a magickal tool for casting her wicked spells. It is considered foolhardy to step into a circle of short grass ringed by taller grasses, as those mark the circles where the Fair Lady dances.//
A chilly, tempestuous whirlwind of clear, airy notes, slashing rain, and a thin undercurrent of white flowers.
Cypress, oak, and pine covered in 2-ply!
The voting tablet. Herbs and flowers that represent democracy, justice, leadership, and power: olive blossom, frankincense, tobacco flower, benzoin, Little John, bergamot, galangal, angelica, fig, sage, and ginger.
//True, without error, certain and most true.//
Rosicrucian incense.
//Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings
To his strong bones, strides o'er the groaning rocks:
He withers all in silence, and his hand
Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.//
Skeletal limbs of birch and fir coated in a thick, impenetrable blanket of snow. This is the death of the year personified.
May 2007
//One day, a courtesan of unearthly beauty appeared at the Emperor’s court. Her skin was like silk and porcelain, and her eyes gleamed like polished onyx. Her body exuded an enchanting scent, and her robes were immaculate. She quickly endeared herself to the Emperor and his concubines; her unequaled grace was matched by a glittering wit and astonishing intellect, and though she appeared to be no older than twenty, there was no question that she could not answer. There seemed to be no limit to her knowledge and strange wisdom, and she was well-versed on every topic, from astronomy to Buddhist teachings. So profound was the Emperor’s fascination with this woman that he kept her by his side, day and night. One night, the Emperor and his court attended a performance of poetry and music at the serene Seiryoden. A strong gust of wind suddenly tore through the Leaping Tiger Garden into the performance hall, shaking the bamboo reeds and extinguishing the lanterns. The room was plunged into darkness, save for a warm, golden light that emanated from within the mysterious woman’s robes. She was aglow like the rising sun. Enthralled, the Emperor declared to his ministers that this woman must be an incarnation of the Buddha, and he named her ~Tamamo-no-Mae. Deeply in love and profoundly devoted, the Emperor exchanged weighty vows with his favored mistress, and showered her with gifts and affection.
Within months, the Emperor became ill. He was listless, his sword-hand faltered, his skin took on a grey cast, and his muscles began to sag. Horrified, his ministers went to all the priests and soothsayers in the land, begging them for answers. They had none. The ministers appealed to the people, begging them to raise their voices in prayer. The people loved the Emperor, and sent their prayers to the Gods. The Emperor’s condition did not change. Finally, the renowned astrologer, Abe no Yasuchika, divined the cause of the Emperor’s infirmity: ~Tamamo-no-Mae. She was not born of woman; her true form was that of a hundred-year-old, forty-two-foot-tall, two-tailed fox demon. Disguised as a beautiful courtesan, the demoness hoped to slowly kill the Emperor, and then take his place. Knowing that she was exposed, ~Tamamo-no-Mae fled the palace.
Horrified, the Emperor sent the greatest warriors in the land, ~Kazusa-no-Suke and ~Miura-no-Suke, to pursue and slay his former mistress. The creature was wily and elusive, and after many weeks of hunting, the warriors began to fear that they would be unable to bring the demon to justice, thus shaming themselves and their families. They vowed that they would commit suicide if they failed in their quest, and they prayed to the Gods for assistance. That night, a beautiful woman appeared to ~Miura-no-Suke in his dreams. Her lovely face was marred by weeping, and she begged the warrior to spare her life. He refused, and cut the woman down. Upon waking, he realized that the dream was an omen – they would find and kill the foxwoman this day – and the warriors resumed their hunt with renewed enthusiasm. The hunters spotted the fox on the Plains of Nasu, and ~Miura-no-Suke fired an arrow into her heart. She fell, and her body transformed into the ~Sessho-seki, the Killing Stone.//
Tamamo-no-Mae’s scent is soft skin musk, brushed by white tea leaf, rice flower, black locust flower, white sandalwood kodo soke, dry ginger, benzoin gum, and Amacha.
Amber, heliotrope, golden sandalwood, peach blossom and vanilla bean.
Ars Draconis
Discontinued 2009
Lilith’s monstrous dragon steed.
Dragon’s blood resin, patchouli, pomegranate, myrrh, mimosa, cassia, blood musk and smoke.
December 2007
//Tan Tan Tanuki no kintama wa,
Kaze mo nai no ni,
Bura bura!
The mischievous sake-swigging, debt-riddled shapeshifting raccoon dog. These creatures carry a fistfuls of counterfeit cash and wear leaves from Buddha's sacred lotus atop their heads. Their kin-tama -- golden balls -- are so large that they can swing them over their shoulders like backpacks, and are so taut that they can play them like drums. They are masters at the art of transformation, and live to overindulge in wine and women.//
A scent of hedonistic, uninhibited joy: bamboo reed, plum blossom, persimmon, magnolia, black pine, sweet osmanthus, flowering cherry, mandarin orange, wisteria, and yuzu.
Gift with purchase of a full set of the 2009 Pumpkin Patch (imp only)
//Alane upon the field she stood,
The tattie-bogle, tall an' prood.
But certie, she wis smairt an' braw,
A bonnie lass, tho' made o' straw.
Her gowden hair wis made o' oo.
Her dentie goon when it wis new
Langsyne, hid been the guidwife's best.
Sae trigly wis the bogle drest!
The beasts they cam' frae a' the airts.
(The tod ran tours frae furrin' pairts.)
They cam' by day, they cam' by nicht,
To see a maist byordnar sicht.
An' craws an sparras by the score,
A wale o' burds, mair nor afore.
The fermer roared an' raged aboot.
'A'll cast yon tattie-bogle oot!'
Pair tattie-bogle, she wis wae.
'Eh!' said the houlet, 'Whits a dae?'
He flew doon frae the elder tree.
'Noo, dry yer e'en an' herk tae me.
'See, lassie, tak ma guid advice.
There is nae yiss ye bein' nice.
Can ye nae glower an' skreich an' a'
Tae sen' thae cooardie burds awa'?'
The bogle grat nae mair: instead
'A'm much obleeged tae ye,' she said
'Ma voice is lood - jist like the craik!'
'Then sing,' he said, ' for ony sake!'
It chilled the verra bluid tae hear
The bogle's sang : frae far an' near
The burds rose up, a' frichtit sair
An' nivver cam back ony mair.
Sae should ye pass at skreich o' day
Alang the road frae Auchenblae,
An' hear a strange uncanny soun,
That scares the burds for miles aroon,
A soon like pincils on a sclate,
Be on yer way an' dinna wait.
Ye can be shair as onything
Ye've heard the tattie-bogle sing.//
Hay, gunpowder, patchouli, autumn herbs, and sun-baked wood.
//April 20 - May 20//
Oakmoss, rose, sandalwood, ylang ylang.
//Fixed Earth: the essence of possession.//
Rose, daisy, apple blossom, violet, poppy, columbine, thyme, and mint.
//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.
The Bar
Jamaican rum, almond liquor, orange water, sugar syrup, lime peel, black cherry, vodka, and mint.
Ars Moriendi
Discontinued 2004
The distillate of grief and loss. A clean, cathartic fragrance.
A crisp ozone-tinged breeze. The scent of the first gentle rain before the storm.
[[Snake Oil]] with sugar cane, frankincense, champaca, opoponax, labdanum, and hyssop.
//The greatest of all Aztec cities, and capital of their empire.//
Amber, hyssop, coriander, epazote, Mexican sage, prickly pear and Mexican tulip poppy.
Excolo, Muses
Discontinued 2008
//And when Terpsichore, with iris-plume,
Bade o'er her lute her rosy fingers fly;
'T was pleasure all -- the fawns in mingled choirs,
Glanced on the willing nymphs their wanton fires,
Joy shook his glittering pinions as he flew;
The shout of rapture and the song of bliss,
The sportive titter and the melting kiss,
All blended with the smile, that shone like early dew.
The Whirler! She is the Muse of Dance and the Dramatic Chorus. She holds both a lyre and a plectrum. Terpsichore is the mother of the Sirens by Achelous, the River God. Bright, joyful and expressive, her scent is kinetically charged, graceful, and an inspiration to all dancers.
Vanilla and carnation with neroli, iris, stephanotis, sweet pea, apple blossom and palmarosa.
//Lord of the Smoking Mirror, god of sorcery, nighttime, darkness, beauty, war, heroic men, beautiful women, and all material concerns. Tezcatlipoca is the Master Magician, a trickster god and shapeshifter, governing all worldly matters, and is also the Great Tempter, seducing men into evil acts and subsequently punishing them for their transgressions.//
Deep cocoa laced with patchouli, leather armor, ritual incense, and a touch of Xochiquetzal’s flowers.
//Pride, stress and disorder, strain, contention, conflict, futility.//
//A massive glass tank is positioned on the stage, decorated with a rough canvas painting of sand and sea. Within the tank, you see a swirl of ivory, coral, and russet. After a few rushed passes, the furiously moving creature slows and makes her way towards the glass. As she approaches, you see that her features are lovely and delicate, and though her pearl-adorned torso is that of a beautiful, slender woman, her bewitching face is crowned by lethal spikes and instead of legs she has a writhing serpentine tail. Upon spotting you, her dorsal spikes flare, and she sneers maliciously. She slaps the face of the tank with her powerful tail, and you hear the distinctive sound of the glass cracking under the strain.//
Seaweed, kelp, salty ocean spray, bitter almond, night-blooming jasmine, frankincense, and benzoin.
Excolo, Muses
Discontinued 2008
//How light the strain when, decked in vernal bloom,
Thalia tuned her lyre of melody.
Thaleia the Flourishing is the Muse of Comedy and Pastoral Poetry, and shares the same name as one of the Gratiæ. She is a very down-to-Earth Goddess, and has a special fondness for rural folk. She wears a crown of ivy leaves and carries the Mask of Comedy and a shepherd’s crook. The Blooming One is the Goddess of Comedians and inspires creativity in wit and the joy and release we have in laughter.//
A vivacious, dazzling, merry scent: honey, ylang ylang, apricot, ciste, blood orange and gardenia with earthy, warm tonka.
//Good Cheer//
Plumeria, pear and white champagne.
A meditation upon death. Inspired by William Cullen Bryant's poem.
A deep, solemn earthen scent containing pine, juniper and musk.
//One of the horrible, painful, cruel, brooding, mocking and malignant children of Nyx, he is Death Incarnate, and is seen as a willowy young man, accompanied by a butterfly, bearing an inverted torch and funeral wreath in his hands. In modern thought, thanks to Sigmund Freud, it is the Death Instinct: love of death, destruction and decay, and the desire to embrace the quiescence, silence and peace of the grave.//
Dry white sandalwood and soft Siamese benzoin over a lugubrious blend of myrrh, Moroccan rose, mastic, tomb moss and a thin whiff of Greek incense.
A swarm of chittering greens, smooshy kiwi, and wasabi
//Spiritual pride, arrogance, denial of the sacredness of every spirit, duality, the denial of the Great Work, the basest and most profane aspects of Nature.//
//Bronze gears spin inside a polished wooden case, and an entire universe dances within.//
Teakwood, oak, black vanilla, and tobacco.
Tea leaf with three mosses, green grass, a medley of herbal notes, and a drop of ginger and fig.
//…their vine is of the vine of Sodom, and of the fields of Gomorrah: their grapes are grapes of gall, their clusters are bitter. The tree’s bark is grey and cork-like, and the fruit, when ripe, is bright yellow, comely and sweet-scented.
After their success in tempting Adam and Eve to the knowledge of sin, Satan and his cronies celebrated by partaking of the Apple:
There stood
A Grove hard by, sprung up with this thir change,
His will who reigns above, to aggravate
Thir penance, laden with Fruit like that
Which grew in Paradise, the bait of Eve
Us'd by the Tempter: on that prospect strange
Thir earnest eyes they fix'd, imagining
For one forbidden Tree a multitude
Now ris'n, to work them furder woe or shame;
Yet parcht with scalding thurst and hunger fierce,
Though to delude them sent, could not abstain,
But on they rould in heaps, and up the Trees
Climbing, sat thicker then the snakie locks
That curld Megæra: greedily they pluck'd
The Frutage fair to sight, like that which grew
Neer that bituminous Lake where Sodom flam'd;
This more delusive, not the touch, but taste
Deceav'd; they fondly thinking to allay
Thir appetite with gust, instead of Fruit
Chewd bitter Ashes, which th' offended taste
With spattering noise rejected: oft they assayd,
Hunger and thirst constraining, drugd as oft,
With hatefullest disrelish writh'd thir jaws
With soot and cinders fill'd; so oft they fell
Into the same illusion, not as Man
Whom they triumph'd once lapst. Thus were they plagu'd
And worn with Famin, long and ceasless hiss,
Till thir lost shape, permitted, they resum'd,
Yearly enjoynd, some say, to undergo
This annual humbling certain number'd days,
To dash thir pride, and joy for Man seduc't.//
Native to the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, this fruit turns to ashes when plucked as a sign of God’s displeasure.
//The Arrival at the Sabbath and Homage to the Devil, ~Antoine-François de ~Saint-Aubert.//
Bourbon vanilla, benzoin, caramel, Mysore sandalwood, aged black patchouli, carnation, and iris florentina.
//A shadowy shrine filled with forgotten toys, broken dolls. The altar: a collapsing trunk distended by a rotted wedding gown. The air of the room is dusty, laced with the scent of a child's perfume and the remnants of a dried, crumbling bridal bouquet.//
Tea rose, violet, white sandalwood, French lavender, and Calla lily.
Vasilissa the Beautiful
//As she stood there a third man on horseback came galloping up. His face was black, he was dressed all in black, and the horse he rode was coal-black. He galloped up to the gate of the hut and disappeared there as if he had sunk through the ground and at that moment the night came and the forest grew dark.
But it was not dark on the green lawn, for instantly the eyes of all the skulls on the wall were lighted up and shone till the place was as bright as day. When she saw this Vasilissa trembled so with fear that she could not run away.//
Black leather, oppoponax, tobacco, and black amber.
Water lily, peony, seaweed absolute, lotus, Spanish moss, violet leaf, and marine accord.
//Say that the men of the old black tower,
Though they but feed as the goatherd feeds,
Their money spent, their wine gone sour,
Lack nothing that a soldier needs,
That all are oath-bound men:
Those banners come not in.
There in the tomb stand the dead upright,
General Catalogue
Bewitching Brews
But winds come up from the shore:
They shake when the winds roar,
Old bones upon the mountain shake.
Those banners come to bribe or threaten,
Or whisper that a man's a fool
Who, when his own right king's forgotten,
Cares what king sets up his rule.
If he died long ago
Why do you dread us so?
There in the tomb drops the faint moonlight,
But wind comes up from the shore:
They shake when the winds roar,
Old bones upon the mountain shake.
The tower's old cook that must climb and clamber
Catching small birds in the dew of the morn
When we hale men lie stretched in slumber
Swears that he hears the king's great horn.
But he's a lying hound:
Stand we on guard oath-bound!
There in the tomb the dark grows blacker,
But wind comes up from the shore:
They shake when the winds roar,
Old bones upon the mountain shake.//
A sepulchral, desolate scent. Long-dead soldiers, oath-bound; the perfume of their armor, the chill wind that surges through their tower, white bone and blackened steel: white sandalwood, ambergris, wet ozone, galbanum and leather with ebony, teak, burnt grasses, English ivy and a hint of red wine.
//But, which saint's remains does this vessel hold//
Ethiopian myrrh, Damascus rose, boswellia, galbanum, and copal.
B//ack out on the Midway, a huge, leather-clad man leans against a post. He smiles at you, guilelessly, baring a mouthful of sharpened teeth as he hammers huge rusted nails into his skull.//
Rusted metal, leather, and a pop of pink bubblegum.
//Vast open tents have been erected further down the lane. Ornately carved wooden poles support swaths of drooping black lace and blood-crusted burgundy velvet. Grapevines and ivy creep over the beams in the tent and curl like cocoons around bodies that hang upside-down in the caliginous gloom of the tents. Within the shadows, pale figures recline on divans covered in moldering, frayed fabric. As you pass, a feral, white-haired man hoists a tall-stemmed crystal glass of deep red liquid in a toast to you.//
Blood accord, bitter clove, English ivy, Tempranillo grape, red currant, oak, leather, blackberry leaf, and ginger lily.
//Blood is too precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace, and the glories of the great races are as a tale that is told. A distillation of force, conquest, power and fury.//
Dragon’s blood, myrrh, black pepper, labdanum, benzoin, leather, fire, and steel.
//And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.//
Nobility and haughtiness befitting the Antichrist: sage, carnation and cedar with lavender, vanilla, white musk and leather.
//n the moonlight opposite me were three young women, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought at the time that I must be dreaming when I saw them, they threw no shadow on the floor. They came close to me, and looked at me for some time, and then whispered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes, that seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The other was fair, as fair as can be, with great masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the moment how or where. All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips. It is not good to note this down, lest some day it should meet Mina's eyes and cause her pain, but it is the truth. They whispered together, and then they all three laughed, such a silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have come through the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable, tingling sweetness of waterglasses when played on by a cunning hand.
I lay quiet, looking out from under my eyelashes in an agony of delightful anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bent over me till I could feel the movement of her breath upon me. Sweet it was in one sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through the nerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood.
I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal, till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining on the scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it lapped the white sharp teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed to fasten on my throat. Then she paused, and I could hear the churning sound of her tongue as it licked her teeth and lips, and I could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then the skin of my throat began to tingle as one's flesh does when the hand that is to tickle it approaches nearer, nearer. I could feel the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the super sensitive skin of my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there. I closed my eyes in languorous ecstasy and waited, waited with beating heart.//
Unquenchable desire, seething lust, malevolent sexuality, and voracious hunger lurking beneath a shimmering veil of unearthly beauty: gleaming skin musk, honey and white amber, plum blossom, osmanthus, sandalwood, calla lily, and a light, sensual blend of Eastern spices.
//The book was commonly known as the Buggre Alle This Bible. The lengthy compositor's error, if such it may be called, occurs in the book of Ezekiel, chapter 48, verse five:
2. And bye the border of Dan, fromme the east side to the west side, a portion for Afher.
3. And bye the border of Afhter, fromme the east side even untoe the west side, a portion for Naphtali.
4. And bye the border of Naphtali, from the east side untoe the west side, a portion for Manaffeh.
5. Buggre all this for a Larke. I amme sick to mye Hart of typefettinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges noe more than a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne a daye laike thif Ennywone half an oz. of Sense should bee oute in the Sunneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the liuelong daie inn thif mowldey olde ~By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe. @*"AE@;!*
6. And bye the border of Ephraim, from the east fide even untoe the west fide, a portion for Reuben.
[The Buggre Alle This Bible was also noteworthy for having twenty seven verses in the third chapter of Genesis, instead of the more usual twenty four.
They followed verse 24, which in the King James version reads:
"So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life," and read:
25 And the Lord spake unto the Angel that guarded the eastern gate, saying Where is the flaming sword which was given unto thee?
26 And the Angel said, I had it here only a moment ago, I must have put it down some where, forget my own head next.
27 And the Lord did not ask him again.
It appears that these verses were inserted during the proof stage. In those days it was common practice for printers to hang proof sheets to the wooden beams outside their shops, for the edification of the populace and some free proofreading, and since the whole print run was subsequently burned anyway, no one bothered to take up this matter with the nice Mr. A. Ziraphale, who ran the bookshop two doors along and was always so helpful with the translations, and whose handwriting was instantly recognizable.//
Crumbling paper and ancient cracked leather with a touch of tobacco leaf and incense.
Discontinued September 2008
//An exquisite, enigmatic woman sidles up to you, bearing a tray of strange, dusty curios, chocolate creatures, serpentine taffy, and candied skulls. Her skin is dusky, her eyes are heavy-lidded and sensual, her hair is the fine, soft white of spun sugar, and her skin is softly scented with cocoa. She holds a shrunken head aloft, and beckons.//
Dark chocolate with a heavy cream undertone.
//The Neil Gaiman Collection.
This series is a tribute to the literary corpus of the inimitable Neil Gaiman. His works have been an enormous influence on our lives, and we are honored to be able to present our interpretations of the characters, locations, and concepts within the worlds that he has created.//
[[American Gods]]
[[Anansi Boys]]
//Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Right and left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing out all the glorious colours of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and brown where grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains, through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm as we swept round the base of a hill and opened up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as we wound on our serpentine way, to be right before us.
"My friend. -- Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land. -- Your friend, Dracula."//
Mountain air and the scent of crisp snow blanketing the mountain’s flora: Scottish fir, beech, cembra and mugho pine, rhododendron, currant, honeysuckle, raspberry leaf, dwarf juniper, sedge, meadow grass, snowdrop, rose bay, lily of the valley, starwort, lichen and mosses.
//The view was magnificent, and from where I stood there was every opportunity of seeing it. The castle is on the very edge of a terrific precipice. A stone falling from the window would fall a thousand feet without touching anything! As far as the eye can reach is a sea of green tree tops, with occasionally a deep rift where there is a chasm. Here and there are silver threads where the rivers wind in deep gorges through the forests.
But I am not in heart to describe beauty, for when I had seen the view I explored further. Doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all locked and bolted. In no place save from the windows in the castle walls is there an available exit. The castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner!//
A distant whisper of pine, wet moss and dry leaves passing through vast halls and winding dungeons whose scent bears the memory of blood, faded splendor, imperial elegance and stunning violence.
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.
<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.title'>>
//You come to a building that seems to have been hastily erected from splintered wood, stone, and plaster. Flickering light from within sparkles out through blood-tinged chunks of glass that have been wedged into the arch entrance. You push open the thick velvet curtain that covers the mouth of the building and look inside. The chapel is small and cramped, and the air is thick with heavy incense, bitter wine, sulphur, and the coppery scent of blood. A massive stained glass window is set against the back wall, glowing brightly.
In the center of the room, a groveling figure is crouched before a woman draped in purple-black clerical robes. The woman's eyes are filled with righteous hellfire, and she extends a hand in benediction to the man who has fallen prostrate at her feet. He murmurs, "Libera Te Ex Caelum", and she gestures for him to rise. As he gets to his knees he winces in pain and moans in a strange expression of ecstasy, and you see small horns growing from his skull.//
Black incense, bitter wine, brimstone, and blood.
Vasilissa the Beautiful
//But at evening she came all at once to the green lawn where the wretched little hut stood on its hens' legs. The wall around the hut was made of human bones and on its top were skulls. There was a gate in the wall, whose hinges were the bones of human feet and whose locks were jaw-bones set with sharp teeth. The sight filled Vasilissa with horror and she stopped as still as a post buried in the ground.//
Creaky wood and sun-dried thatching, clacking bones, leering skulls, burnt herbs, and enormous magical chicken feet.
Wine just turning to vinegar, crumbling mortar, red clay, and the coppery tang of old blood.
//The sequestered situation of this church seems always to have made it a favorite haunt of troubled spirits. It stands on a knoll, surrounded by locust-trees and lofty elms, from among which its decent whitewashed walls shine modestly forth, like Christian purity beaming through the shades of retirement. A gentle slope descends from it to a silver sheet of water, bordered by high trees, between which, peeps may be caught at the blue hills of the Hudson. To look upon its grass-grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there at least the dead might rest in peace. On one side of the church extends a wide woody dell, along which raves a large brook among broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep black part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown a wooden bridge; the road that led to it, and the bridge itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which cast a gloom about it, even in the daytime; but occasioned a fearful darkness at night. This was one of the favorite haunts of the headless horseman; and the place where he was most frequently encountered.//
Overgrown dark green bullrush, midnight roses, dwarf St. John's Wort, frankincense, blackberry leaf, and moss-covered, half-buried tree bark.
//The scent of Death’s seaside throne.//
Luminous aquatic notes threaded through by creeping ivies, white woods, waving kelp and bruised violets.
Love Poems
William Blake
//Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.
So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet;
But a Pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet.
Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in anothers loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.//
Rose otto, clove, patchouli, Indian sandalwood, nutmeg, and cedar.
//The walls reverberate with a resounding boom as the mechanism is activated, and the boom settles into a hum with a deep, growling buzz. Purple-white and lightning-yellow streamers of electricity cavort over enameled copper wires and through gleaming glass globes; the room is set afire with corona spray, and bare fluorescent bulbs mounted on the walls blaze to life.//
Ozone, eucalyptus and mint with purple orchid, passionflower, white ginger, and purple lotus.
A potent yogic oil that stimulates the kundalini, provokes spiritual awakening, and releases the energy seated in your root chakra.
//I dare not open this scroll. Temptation is the plague of men's spirits.//
Parchment, Siamese benzoin, infernal incense, red musk, brimstone, and daemonorops.
//A small sign in the hotel lobby announced that the Washington Room was taken that night by a private function, although there was no information as to what kind of function this might be. Truthfully, if you were to look at the inhabitants of the Washington Room that night, you would have no clearer idea of what was happening, although a rapid glance would tell you that there were no women in there. They were all men, that much was clear, and they sat at round dinner tables, and they were finishing their dessert.
There were about a hundred of them, all in sober black suits, but the suits were all they had in common. They had white hair or dark hair or fair hair or red hair or no hair at all. They had friendly faces or unfriendly, helpful or sullen, open or secretive, brutish or sensitive. The majority of them were pink-skinned, but there were black-skinned men and brown-skinned. They were European, African, Indian, Chinese, South American, Filipino, American. They all spoke English when they talked to each other, or to the waiters, but the accents were as diverse as the gentlemen. They came from all across Europe and from all over the world.//
A macabre mélange of swanky men's colognes.
//How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire,
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
Rise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.
Lucky the bell -- still full and deep of throat,
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent --
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
Like an old soldier, wakeful, in his tent!
My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,
Pealing, it tries to fill the cold night air
With its lament, it often sounds, instead,
Like some poor wounded wretch -- long left for dead
Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed
By bloody pool -- rattling, gasping his last.//
A winter's horror: smoke and stillness, faded incense and the metallic tang of blood.
//The Cup of Death, Elihu Vedder.//
Peach blossom and peach tree leaf, Mysore sandalwood, French lavender, bois du rose, myrtle, and blue yarrow.
//I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fevourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
The hope of springtime penetrating winter darkness.//
Snow, darkness, and icy air illuminated by the thrush’s song: warm amber, soft orris, and melancholy violet.
//When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes,
And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wind
Like aged warriors westward, tragic, thinned
Of half their tribe, and over the flattened rushes,
Stripped of its secret, open, stark and bleak,
Blackens afar the half-forgotten creek, --
Then leans on me the weight of the year, and crushes
My heart. I know that Beauty must ail and die,
And will be born again, -- but ah, to see
Beauty stiffened, staring up at the sky!
Oh, Autumn! Autumn! -- What is the Spring to me?//
Dark amber, dead leaves, khus, saffron, bitter clove, chrysanthemum, camellia, galangal, and a drop of oud.
//The Death of Sardanapal, Eugene Delacroix.//
Red wine, gurjum balsam, dark myrrh, honey, cassia, lemongrass, palmarosa, elemi, cognac and olibanum.
//I think their predominant colour was a greyish-green, though they had white bellies. They were mostly shiny and slippery, but the ridges of their backs were scaly. Their forms vaguely suggested the anthropoid, while their heads were the heads of fish, with prodigious bulging eyes that never closed. At the sides of their necks were palpitating gills, and their long paws were webbed. They hopped irregularly, sometimes on two legs and sometimes on four. I was somehow glad that they had no more than four limbs. Their croaking, baying voices, clearly used for articulate speech, held all the dark shades of expression which their staring faces lacked.//
Black algae, drooping seaweed, salty brine, and crushed coral.
//… Good heaven! What sorrows gloomed that parting day,
That called them from their native walks away;
When the poor exiles, every pleasure past,
Hung round their bowers and fondly looked their last,
And took a long farewell, and wished in vain
For seats like these beyond the western main;
And shuddering still to face the distant deep,
Returned and wept, and still returned to weep.
The good old sire the first prepared to go
To new-found worlds, and wept for others' woe;
But for himself, in conscious virtue brave,
He only wished for worlds beyond the grave.
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her years,
Silent went next, neglectful of her charms,
And left a lover's for a father's arms.
With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes,
And blessed the cot where every pleasure rose;
And kissed her thoughtless babes with many a tear,
And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear;
Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief
In all the silent manliness of grief.
O luxury! thou cursed by heaven's decree,
How ill exchanged are things like these for thee!
How do thy potions with insidious joy
Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy!
Kingdoms, by thee to sickly greatness grown
Boast of a florid vigour not their own.
At every draught more large and large they grow,
A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe;
Till sapped their strength and every part unsound,
Down, down they sink and spread a ruin round.
Even now the devastation has begun,
And half the business of destruction done;
Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand,
I see the rural virtues leave the land.
Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail,
That idly waiting flaps with every gale,
Downward they move, a melancholy band,
Pass from the shore and darken all the strand.
Contented toil and hospitable care,
And kind connubial tenderness are there;
And piety, with wishes placed above,
And steady loyalty and faithful love.
And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid
Still first to fly where sensual joys invade;
Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame,
To catch the heart or strike for honest fame;
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried,
My shame in crowds, my solitary pride;
Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe,
That found'st me poor at first and keep'st me so;
Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel,
Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well!
Farewell, and oh, where'er thy voice be tried,
On Torno's cliffs or Pambamarca's side,
Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of the inclement clime;
Aid slighted truth; with thy persuasive strain
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain;
Teach him that states of native strength possessed,
Though very poor, may still be very blest;
That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay,
As ocean sweeps the laboured mole away;
While self-dependent power can time defy,
As rocks resist the billows and the sky.//
- OLIVER GOLDSMITH
Where wealth accumulates and men decay. A scent of opulence, luxury, depredation, and dissolusion: velvety orris root and glittering bergamot, ambergris, red currant, honey, and neroli, with red oakmoss, patchouli, labdanum, and black musk.
//‘In that case,’ said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, ‘I move that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies —’
‘Speak English!’ said the Eaglet. ‘I don’t know the meaning of half those long words, and, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!’ And the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds tittered audibly.
‘What I was going to say,’ said the Dodo in an offended tone, ‘was, that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.’
‘What is a Caucus-race?’ said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that somebody ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything.
‘Why,’ said the Dodo, ‘the best way to explain it is to do it.’ (And, as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell you how the Dodo managed it.)
First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (‘the exact shape doesn’t matter,’ it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no ‘One, two, three, and away,’ but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out ‘The race is over!’ and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking, ‘But who has won?’
This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, ‘everybody has won, and all must have prizes.’//
Red musk, lemon peel, sugar cane, cassia, white sandalwood, mango, and agarwood.
//Even stars in the still water,
And seven in the sky;
Seven sins on the King's daughter,
Deep in her soul to lie.
Red roses at her feet,
(Roses are red in her red-gold hair)
And O where her bosom and girdle meet
Red roses are hidden there.
Fair is the knight who lieth slain
Amid the rush and reed,
See the lean fishes that are fain
Upon dead men to feed.
Sweet is the page that lieth there,
(Cloth of gold is goodly prey,)
See the black ravens in the air,
Black, O black as the night are they.
What do they there so stark and dead?
(There is blood upon her hand)
Why are the lilies flecked with red?
(There is blood on the river sand.)
There are two that ride from the south to the east,
And two from the north and west,
For the black raven a goodly feast,
For the King's daughter to rest.
There is one man who loves her true,
(Red, O red, is the stain of gore!)
He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew,
(One grave will do for four.)
No moon in the still heaven,
In the black water none,
The sins on her soul are seven,
The sin upon his is one.//
- OSCAR WILDE
Red roses, blood-flecked lilies, upturned earth, yew branches, and blood mingled with river sand.
A dizzying eddy of four teas brushed with light herbs and a breath of peony.
Seaweed, honey, white mint, and ambergris.
//But there were times when the wind blew from beyond the wall, bringing with it the smell of mint and thyme and redcurrants, and at those times there were strange colors seen in the flames in the fireplaces in the village.//
The scent of the winds beyond the wall: bluebonnet, passion flower, freesia, jasmine tea, mint, thyme, and redcurrant.
//The Ecstacy of St. Theresa, Gianlorenzo Bernini.//
Frankincense, iris, white gardenia, Roman chamomile, amber, and agarwood.
August 2007
//The chosen Muse here ends her sacred lays;
The nymphs unanimous decree the bays,
And give the Heliconian Goddesses the praise.
Then, far from vain that we shou'd thus prevail,
But much provok'd to hear the vanquish'd rail,
Calliope resumes: Too long we've born
Your daring taunts, and your affronting scorn;
Your challenge justly merited a curse,
And this unmanner'd railing makes it worse.
Since you refuse us calmly to enjoy
Our patience, next our passions we'll employ;
The dictates of a mind enrag'd pursue,
And, what our just resentment bids us, do.
The railers laugh, our threats and wrath despise,
And clap their hands, and make a scolding noise:
But in the fact they're seiz'd; beneath their nails
Feathers they feel, and on their faces scales;
Their horny beaks at once each other scare,
Their arms are plum'd, and on their backs they bear
Py'd wings, and flutter in the fleeting air.
Chatt'ring, the scandal of the woods they fly,
And there continue still their clam'rous cry:
The same their eloquence, as maids, or birds,
Now only noise, and nothing then but words.//
Gleaming eyes, screeching voices, glistening wings: black amber, black orchid, black currant, olive blossom, wood violet, lavender, blue musk, rose attar, and cedar.
June 2009
//Huey Tecuilhuitl, the Great Festival of Lords, occurs on the 8th month of the 260-day Mexica sacred calendar of Tonalpualli. This festival honors Chicomecoatl, also known as Xilonen, the Goddess of Nourishment and Plenty, Seven Snakes. She represents the female aspect of corn, and she is the counterpart of Centeotl, -- the female sheath to his phallic cob.
The celebration of the Feast assured the return of the rains and a good corn harvest.//
Cacao mixed with ground maize, agave wine, and octli, mixed with herbs and spices native to central Mexico.
Love Poems
Unknown, Written during Egypt's New Kingdom
//To hear your voice is pomegranate wine to me:
I draw life from hearing it.
Could I see you with every glance,
It would be better for me
Than to eat or to drink.//
Pomegranate wine, lotus root, river reeds, hyssop, and barley.
//Thick shadows hang heavy across fungus-smeared, dilapidated wainscoting, cobwebs hang like fine lace across sagging mouldings, rats scuttle past gaping doorways.//
The faint scent of brimstone, ghostly breath laced with cognac, neglected mahogany panels, and rot.
//The Fox-woman Kuzunoha Leaving Her Child, Yoshitoshi Tsukioka.//
White tea, cherry blossom, wisteria, star jasmine, and teak.
//While Persephone visited the realm of Hades, she tasted one single pomegranate seed, an act which compelled her to remain connected to the Land of the Dead for all eternity. Demeter's grief over her beloved daughter's absence that brings on the bleakness and barrenness of the winter months.//
The Fruit of Paradise, the Nectar of Death: bittersweet pomegranate.
//Now the gaoler had a daughter, a pleasant wench and good-hearted, who assisted her father in the lighter duties of his post. She was particularly fond of animals, and, besides her canary, whose cage hung on a nail in the massive wall of the keep by day, to the great annoyance of prisoners who relished an after-dinner nap, and was shrouded in an antimacassar on the parlour table at night, she kept several piebald mice and a restless revolving squirrel. This kind-hearted girl, pitying the misery of Toad, said to her father one day, "Father! I can't bear to see that poor beast so unhappy, and getting so thin! You let me have the managing of him. You know how fond of animals I am. I'll make him eat from my hand, and sit up, and do all sorts of things."//
Gardenia, neroli, and white peach with vanilla amber, cream, and honey.
This time she came upon a large flower-bed, with a border of daisies, and a willow-tree growing in the middle.
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Overgrown oleander, marshy water hemlock, the sugared nectar of carnivorous blooms, putrefying wet greenery, oozing sap, crushed rosary peas, withered climbing roses, and nightshade berries.
//Softly as brown-eyed Angels rove
I will return to thy alcove,
And glide upon the night to thee,
Treading the shadows silently.
And I will give to thee, my own,
Kisses as icy as the moon,
And the caresses of a snake
Cold gliding in the thorny brake.
And when returns the livid morn
Thou shalt find all my place forlorn
And chilly, till the falling night.
Others would rule by tenderness
Over thy life and youthfulness,
But I would conquer thee by fright!//
A thin, sinuous, creeping chill, the scent of glee-filled undeath: white iris, osmanthus, Calla lily, tomb-crawling ivy and a coffin spray of gladiolus, lisianthus and delphinium.
Convergence XV
July 2007
//no scent description given//
June 2007
//Mine are the night and morning,
The pits of air, the gulf of space,
The sportive sun, the gibbous moon,
The innumerable days.
I hid in the solar glory,
I am dumb in the pealing song,
I rest on the pitch of the torrent,
In slumber I am strong.//
Moonflower, Madonna lily, orris, white ginger, cucumber, hyacinth, and Irish moss
(The Singular Death of Morton, Algernon Blackwood)
//Then, suddenly, as they had turned to go, after much vain shouting and knocking at the door, a face appeared for an instant at a window, the shutter of which was half open. His friend saw it first, and called aloud. The face nodded in reply, and presently a young girl came round the corner of the house, apparently by a back door, and stood staring at them both from a little distance.
And from that very instant, so far as he could remember, these queer feelings had entered his heart-fear, distrust, misgiving. The thought of it now, as he lay in bed in the darkness, made his hair rise. There was something about that girl that struck cold into the soul. Yet she was a mere slip of a thing, very pretty, seductive even, with a certain serpent?like fascination about her eyes and movements; and although she only replied to their questions as to refreshment with a smile, uttering no single word, she managed to convey the impression that she was a managing little person who might make herself very disagreeable if she chose. In spite of her undeniable charm there was about her an atmosphere of something sinister. He himself did most of the questioning, but it was his older friend who had the benefit of her smile. Her eyes hardly ever left his face, and once she had slipped quite close to him and touched his arm.
The strange part of it now seemed to him that he could not remember in the least how she was dressed, or what was the colouring of her eyes and hair. It was almost as though he had felt, rather than seen, her presence.//
A seductive, serpentine white scent, elusive, crystalline, and spellbinding: white amber, silver birch, immortelle, davana, pale musk, star jasmine, and ylang ylang.
Honeyed milk, baby powder, lavender, orris root, sage, carnation, angelica, frankincense, and rose otto.
//In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveller.
The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. What was to be done? To turn and fly was now too late; and besides, what chance was there of escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, which could ride upon the wings of the wind? Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he demanded in stammering accents-"Who are you?" He received no reply. He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgelled the sides of the inflexible Gunpowder, and, shutting his eyes, broke forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and, with a scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form of the unknown might now in some degree be ascertained. He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He made no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on one side of the road, jogging along on the blind side of old Gunpowder, who had now got over his fright and waywardness.
Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight companion, and bethought himself of the adventure of Brom Bones with the Galloping Hessian, now quickened his steed, in hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind-the other did the same. His heart began to sink within him; he endeavored to resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave. There was something in the moody and dogged silence of this pertinacious companion, that was mysterious and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellow-traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck, on perceiving that he was headless!-but his horror was still more increased, on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of the saddle; his terror rose to desperation; he rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder; hoping, by a sudden movement, to give his companion the slip-but the spectre started full jump with him. Away then they dashed, through thick and thin; stones flying, and sparks flashing at every bound. Ichabod's flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lanky body away over his horse's head, in the eagerness of his flight.//
The scent of fear, and terrifying pursuit: wind-whipped, chilly night air, oppressive black pine, globs of dark opopponax, and bleak cedar, and distant, unreachable church incense.
//'Abuiro' has been burned into the leather straps. My, they took such care in crafting these horrible instruments.//
Coppery dried blood, metal, vetiver, and bonfire smoke.
//The Graces, the Charities, the the Gratiæ: Goddesses of beauty, charm, celebration and merriment. They are the personification of all these aspects as found in both nature and mortal life. Daughters of Zeus and the oceanid Eurynome, they are Aphrodite’s attendants and work in harmony with the Muses as fountains of inspiration in the arts. In their aspect as fertility and nature deities, these Goddesses are associated with the Underworld and the Eleusinian Mysteries.//
<<forEachTiddler
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<<forEachTiddler
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//The Great ~He-Goat, Francisco Goya.//
Haitian vetiver, Egyptian amber, carnation, black musk, pomegranate, patchouli, and smoked ginger.
//The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed With the Sun, William Blake.//
Daemonorops, vanilla, Indian sandalwood, Mexican copal, hyssop, muguet, sweet pea, amber, hazelwood, galbanum, hiba wood, and orchid.
//And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.
And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.//
Mandarin, tonka, saffron, black tea, cocoa, tobacco leaf, sanguine red musk and five classical herbs of conflict.
//Throaty laughter captures your attention. Across the lane you see a buxom Venetian woman standing before a huge black and red striped tent. Her head is inclined towards a dapper, leering man, and they appear to be sharing a private joke. He reaches into his waistcoat and produces a gold coin. The woman plucks it from his fingers. He bows, and walks into the tent with a swagger. A sign flashes above the tent flap in letters that seem to be aflame: The Grindhouse, Dead or Live Girls.
The Madam turns towards you and smiles. As she approaches, someone within the tent strikes a few keys on a tuneless piano, and begins to play Jelly Roll Morton's 'the Crave'. The light within the tent illuminates the interior, shining behind the silhouettes of naked women gyrating lewdly upon raised stages, writhing in time with the music.
In the distance, behind the tent, you hear a whip crack, and a man's scream. Tittering laughter follows, and the screams continue.
"Voulez-vous un morceau de la boîte de bonbon?" she asks, gesturing gracefully towards the tent.
The Madam's perfume envelops you.//
Florentine iris, red musk, mimosa, magnolia, Damascus rose, clove, and vanilla bean.
//Diese Tage, die leer dir scheinen
und wertlos für das All,
haben Wurzeln zwischen den Steinen
und trinken dort überall.
...
But nothing's lost. Or else: all is translation
And every bit of us is lost in it
(Or found—I wander through the ruin of S
Now and then, wondering at the peacefulness)
And in that loss a self-effacing tree,
Color of context, imperceptibly
Rustling with its angel, turns the waste
To shade and fiber, milk and memory.//
The scent of a Cosmopolitan cocktail.
//The Hanging Gardens of Babylon, one of the Great Wonders of the World, were believed to be created by Nebuchadnezzar, possibly to honor the Assyrian princess Semiramis, or, more likely, to cheer up Nebuchadnezzar’s unhappy, homesick wife, Amyitis. If the latter is to be believed, it is speculated that Amyitis found the dry, arid landscape of Mesopotamia, in contrast to the lush greenery of her homeland, to be staggeringly depressing and bleak. To bolster her spirits, the king recreated a fascimile of her mountanous, green home with this fantastic terraced wonder filled with sparkling waterfalls, strange beasts, and exotic fruits, trees and flowers.
It consists of vaulted terraces raised one above another, and resting upon cube-shaped pillars. These are hollow and filled with earth to allow trees of the largest size to be planted. The pillars, vaults, and terraces are constructed of baked brick and asphalt.
The Garden is quadrangular, and each side is four plethra long. It consists of arched vaults which are located on checkered cube-like foundations.. The ascent of the uppermost terrace-roofs is made by a stairway...
The Hanging Garden has plants cultivated above ground level, and the roots of the trees are embedded in an upper terrace rather than in the earth. The whole mass is supported on stone columns... Streams of water emerging from elevated sources flow down sloping channels... These waters irrigate the whole garden saturating the roots of plants and keeping the whole area moist. Hence the grass is permanently green and the leaves of trees grow firmly attached to supple branches... This is a work of art of royal luxury and its most striking feature is that the labor of cultivation is suspended above the heads of the spectators.
This perfume is an interpretation of the Hanging Gardens by night, based on further accounts of its fruit and flora.//
Date palm, ebony, fir, pomegranate, plum, two pears, quince, fig, and grapevine with plumeria, three gardenias and dry rose.
//The moment before the ruin, frozen. The scent of captured glory, of glowing pearls and rubies, of golden sunlit joy and regal grandeur.//
Red rose, Tunisian amber, blood orange, toasted vanilla, heliotrope, gardenia and red musk.
//And when it was grown late, his servants made haste to their lodgings, and Vagao shut the chamber doors, and went his way.
And they were all overcharged with wine.
And Judith was alone in the chamber.
But Holofernes lay on his bed, fast asleep, being exceedingly drunk.
And Judith spoke to her maid to stand without before the chamber, and to watch:
And Judith stood before the bed praying with tears, and the motion of her lips in silence,
Saying: Strengthen me, O Lord God of Israel, and in this hour look on the works of my hands, that as thou hast promised, thou mayst raise up Jerusalem thy city: and that I may bring to pass that which I have purposed, having a belief that it might be done by thee.
And when she had said this, she went to the pillar that was at his bed's head, and loosed his sword that hung tied upon it.
And when she had drawn it out, she took him by the hair of his head, and said: Strengthen me, O Lord God, at this hour.
And she struck twice upon his neck, and out off his head, and took off his canopy from the pillars, and rolled away his headless body.
And after a while she went out, and delivered the head of Holofernes to her maid, and bade her put it into her wallet.
And they two went out according to their custom, as it were to prayer, and they passed the camp, and having compassed the valley, they came to the gate of the city.
And Judith from afar off cried to the watchmen upon the walls: Open the gates for God is with us, who hath shewn his power in Israel.
And it came to pass, when the men had heard her voice, that they called the ancients of the city.
And all ran to meet her from the least to the greatest: for they now had no hopes that she would come.
And lighting up lights they all gathered round about her: and she went up to a higher place, and commanded silence to be made. And when all had held their peace,
Judith said: Praise ye the Lord our God, who hath not forsaken them that hope in him.
And by me his handmaid he hath fulfilled his mercy, which he promised to the house of Israel: and he hath killed the enemy of his people by my hand this night.
Then she brought forth the head of Holofernes out of the wallet, and shewed it them, saying:
Behold the head of Holofernes the general of the army of the Assyrians, and behold his canopy, wherein he lay in his drunkenness, where the Lord our God slew him by the hand of a woman.//
Dried blood, boiled wine, leather, galbanum, onycha, tonka bean, and pomegranate.
//The Cave of Cruachan in Connaught, a province that was given to the Formorians after the Battle of Mag Tuired. On the first of November, a flock of malevolent copper-colored birds bursts forth from the mouth of the cave, ushering a host of restless ghosts and wicked goblins that torment the living by blighting crops, killing livestock, stealing away brides-to-be, and replacing infants with changelings.//
Smoldering brimstone, bitter labdanum, clove, black musk, and copper-colored feathers.
//The Hesperides are the Nymphs of the Evening who dwell in a verdant garden located in the Arcadian Mountains, guarded by the terrible three-headed dragon, Ladon. Within their garden lives the tree that bears Hera’s sacred Golden Apples.//
Their perfume is that of sturdy oak bark, dew-kissed leaves, twilight mist and crisp apple.
//The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of all the powers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on horseback without a head. It is said by some to be the ghost of a Hessian trooper, whose head had been carried away by a cannon-ball, in some nameless battle during the revolutionary war; and who is ever and anon seen by the country folk hurrying along in the gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind. His haunts are not confined to the valley, but extend at times to the adjacent roads, and especially to the vicinity of a church at no great distance. Indeed, certain of the most authentic historians of those parts, who have been careful in collecting and collating the floating facts concerning this spectre, allege that the body of the trooper, having been buried in the church-yard, the ghost rides forth to the scene of battle in nightly quest of his head; and that the rushing speed with which he sometimes passes along the Hollow, like a midnight blast, is owing to his being belated, and in a hurry to get back to the church-yard before daybreak.
Such is the general purport of this legendary superstition, which has furnished materials for many a wild story in that region of shadows; and the spectre is known, at all the country firesides, by the name of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.//
Grave moss and bone-white sandalwood, with vetiver, gunpowder, artillery shrapnel, and blood.
//...and there... sat a lumpish figure robed in yellow silk with red and having a yellow silken mask over its face. To this being the slant-eyed man made certain signs with his hands, and the lurker in the dark replied by raising a disgustingly carven flute of ivory in silk covered paws and blowing certain loathesome sounds from beneath its flowing silken mask.//
Monastic incense, blood musk, black leather, cypress, pimento, white pepper, and Roman chamomile.
//O'Driscoll drove with a song
The wild duck and the drake
From the tall and the tufted reeds
Of the drear Hart Lake.
And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,
And dreamed of the long dim hair
Of Bridget his bride.
He heard while he sang and dreamed
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
And he saw young men and young girls
Who danced on a level place,
And Bridget his bride among them,
With a sad and a gay face.
The dancers crowded about him
And many a sweet thing said,
And a young man brought him red wine
And a young girl white bread.
But Bridget drew him by the sleeve
Away from the merry bands,
To old men playing at cards
With a twinkling of ancient hands.
The bread and the wine had a doom,
For these were the host of the air;
He sat and played in a dream
Of her long dim hair.
He played with the merry old men
And thought not of evil chance,
Until one bore Bridget his bride
Away from the merry dance.
He bore her away in his arms,
The handsomest young man there,
And his neck and his breast and his arms
Were drowned in her long dim hair.
O'Driscoll scattered the cards
And out of his dream awoke:
Old men and young men and young girls
Were gone like a drifting smoke;
But he heard high up in the air
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.//
- WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
Peat and rolling grass-covered hills, with wine-dappled heather, white clover, cloudberry, juniper berry, bluebell, dandelion, and cross-leaved heath.
//Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream, I scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive antiquity. The discoloration of ages had been great. Minute fungi overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a fine tangled web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart from any extraordinary dilapidation. No portion of the masonry had fAllan; and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency between its still perfect adaptation of parts, and the crumbling condition of the individual stones. In this there was much that reminded me of the specious totality of old wood-work which has rotted for long years in some neglected vault, with no disturbance from the breath of the external air. Beyond this indication of extensive decay, however, the fabric gave little token of instability. Perhaps the eye of a scrutinising observer might have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which, extending from the roof of the building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag direction, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn.
Noticing these things, I rode over a short causeway to the house. A servant in waiting took my horse, and I entered the Gothic archway of the hall. A valet, of stealthy step, thence conducted me, in silence, through many dark and intricate passages in my progress to the studio of his master. Much that I encountered on the way contributed, I know not how, to heighten the vague sentiments of which I have already spoken. While the objects around me -- while the carvings of the ceilings, the sombre tapestries of the walls, the ebon blackness of the floors, and the phantasmagoric armorial trophies which rattled as I strode, were but matters to which, or to such as which, I had been accustomed from my infancy -- while I hesitated not to acknowledge how familiar was all this -- I still wondered to find how unfamiliar were the fancies which ordinary images were stirring up. On one of the staircases, I met the physician of the family. His countenance, I thought, wore a mingled expression of low cunning and perplexity. He accosted me with trepidation and passed on. The valet now threw open a door and ushered me into the presence of his master.//
Rotted ebony wood, faded incense, moldy earth, creeping moss, and blighted roses.
2005, 2007, 2009
//The Ides marked an auspicious time in the Roman calendar. Depending on the month in question, the Ides fell on the thirteenth or fifteenth, and usually marked the Full Moon. As we all know, it was not an auspicious day for Julius Caesar, nor was it fortuitous for H.P. Lovecraft, who also met his maker on this infamous day. Tu quoque, Brute, fili mi!//
A mixture of springtime greenery and classical Roman cologne: Rosemary, bergamot, lemon rind and vervain with costus, benzoin, gray amber, cardamom, white narcissus and iris.
//The taxi driver comes out of the shower, wet, with a towel wrapped around his midsection. He is not wearing his sunglasses, and in the dim room his eyes burn with scarlet flames.
Salim blinks back tears. “I wish you could see what I see,” he says.
“I do not grant wishes,” whispers the ifrit, dropping his towel and pushing Salim gently, but irresistibly, down onto the bed.//
Desert sand, red musk, blackened ginger, dragon’s blood resin, black pepper, cinnamon, and tobacco.
//A cluster of wooden wagons stands off to the side of the Midway, removed from the bustle of the dirt-caked makeshift street. A bonfire burns in the center of the lot, shining its light on a tattoo-covered woman. The images embedded in her skin writhe like living things, and the sigils that mark her glow faintly. She is filing her nails and smoking a cheroot while chatting idly with an impassive naked blonde who has been hoisted into the air by thick, gleaming meathooks. The blonde is pinioned; the blackened metal cables that bind her hang tightly from the branches of a massive grey oak. Her skin seems strangely translucent, and her veins and arteries are boldly visible. Two painted signs are propped, sideways, against the side of the tree:
THE ILLUSTRATED WOMAN
THE TORTURE QUEEN
The tattoo'd woman winks at you as you pass by. "Break time, honey," she growls, as she blows a smoke ring in your direction.//
Skin musk, smoky vanilla, pine pitch, patchouli, Indian resins, golden honey, and tobacco.
//Twin islands near Newfoundland, now lost, that were believed to be gateways to Hell.//
The scent is of wet, dark greenery, carnivorous flowers, volcanic gas, and the hot black musk of the demons and wild beasts that populated the islands.
//It was about three feet and half high, with a head like a collie dog and a face like a horse. It had a long neck, wings about two feet long, and its back legs were like those of a crane, and it had horse's hooves. It walked on its back legs and held up two short front legs with paws on them. It didn't use the front legs at all while we were watching. My wife and I were scared, I tell you, but I managed to open the window and say, "Shoo", and it turned around barked at me, and flew away.//
The scent of the wild, hauntingly beautiful Pine Barrens of New Jersey! Pitch pine with blackberry leaf, cranberry, cedar wood and tomato leaf.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("KindlyOnes")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//'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.
//'Herald, read the accusation!' said the King.
On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:--
'The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,
All on a summer day:
The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts,
And took them quite away!'//
Crushed roses and blackcurrant tarts.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Grindhouse")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.//
The scent of calm waters just before a raging storm, limned with achingly-beautiful blooms, an icy scent, but somehow warm, and mirror-bright.
Bold gardenia, crystalline musk, muguet, water blossoms, clear, slightly tart aquatic notes and a crush of white ginger.
//A huge white horse, of the kind that the people who know horses would call a "grey", came ambling up the side of the hill. The pounding of its hooves could be heard before it was seen, along with the crashing it made as it pushed through the little bushes and thickets, through the brambles and the ivy and the gorse that had grown up on the side of the hill. The size of a Shire horse it was, a full nineteen hands or more. It was a horse that could have carried a knight in full armour into combat, but all it carried on its naked back was a woman, clothed from head to foot in grey. Her long skirt and her shawl might have been spun out of old cobwebs.
Her face was serene, and peaceful.
They knew her, the graveyard folk, for each of us encounters the lady on the grey at the end of our days, and there is no forgetting her.
The horse paused beside the obelisk. In the east the sky was lightening gently, a pearlish, pre-dawn luminescence that made the people of the graveyard uneasy and made them think about returning to their comfortable homes. Even so, not a one of them moved. They were watching the lady on the grey, each of them half-excited, half-scared. The dead are not superstitious, not as a rule, but they watched her as a Roman Augur might have watched the sacred crows circle, seeking wisdom, seeking a clue.
And she spoke to them.
In a voice like the chiming of a hundred tiny silver bells she said only, "The dead should have charity." And she smiled.//
Ethereal, opalescent, and radiant: pearly sandalwood, white amber, tobacco flower, orris, castoreum bouquet, soft resins, and pale petals.
//The Lantern Ghost of Oiwa, Shunkosai Hokuei.//
Black tea, cherry blossom, ho wood, calla lily, rice wine, and white mint.
//'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
To give sigh for sigh.
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter,
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.
So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
From Love's shining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie withered
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit,
This bleak world alone?//
A quiet, solitary scent: white rose, frankincense, Arabian sandalwood, neroli, orris root, and patchouli.
Godfather Death
//When Death saw that for a second time he was defrauded of his own property, he walked up to the physician with long strides, and said, "All is over with thee, and now the lot falls on thee," and seized him so firmly with his ice-cold hand, that he could not resist, and led him into a cave below the earth. There he saw how thousands and thousands of candles were burning in countless rows, some large, others half-sized, others small. Every instant some were extinguished, and others again burnt up, so that the flames seemed to leap hither and thither in perpetual change. "See," said Death, "these are the lights of men's lives. The large ones belong to children, the half-sized ones to married people in their prime, the little ones belong to old people; but children and young folks likewise have often only a tiny candle." "Show me the light of my life," said the physician, and he thought that it would be still very tall. Death pointed to a little end which was just threatening to go out, and said, "Behold, it is there."//
The wax and smoke of millions upon millions of candles illuminating the walls of Death’s shadowy cave: some tall, straight, and strong, blazing with the fire of life, others dim and guttering.
The dry, glorious warmth of the Savannah.
A golden, spiced amber, proud, regal and ferocious.
The Sparrow with the Slit Tongue
//One day the old man was sitting in front of his cottage, as he was very fond of doing, when he saw flying towards him a little sparrow, followed by a big black raven. The poor little thing was very much frightened and cried out as it flew, and the great bird came behind it terribly fast, flapping its wings and craning its beak, for it was hungry and wanted some dinner. But as they drew near the old man, he jumped up, and beat back the raven, which mounted, with hoarse screams of disappointment, into the sky, and the little bird, freed from its enemy, nestled into the old man's hand, and he carried it into the house. He stroked its feathers, and told it not to be afraid, for it was quite safe; but as he still felt its heart beating, he put it into a cage, where it soon plucked up courage to twitter and hop about. The old man was fond of all creatures, and every morning he used to open the cage door, and the sparrow flew happily about until it caught sight of a cat or a rat or some other fierce beast, when it would instantly return to the cage, knowing that there no harm could come to it.//
Seeds, sedge, brown amber, and sandalwood.
Vasilissa the Beautiful
//"My little Vasilissa, my dear daughter, listen to what I say, remember well my last words and fail not to carry out my wishes. I am dying, and with my blessing, I leave to thee this little doll. It is very precious for there is no other like it in the whole world. Carry it always about with thee in thy pocket and never show it to anyone. When evil threatens thee or sorrow befalls thee, go into a corner, take it from thy pocket and give it something to eat and drink. It will eat and drink a little, and then thou mayest tell it thy trouble and ask its advice, and it will tell thee how to act in thy time of need." So saying, she kissed her little daughter on the forehead, blessed her, and shortly after died.
Little Vasilissa grieved greatly for her mother, and her sorrow was so deep that when the dark night came, she lay in her bed and wept and did not sleep. At length she be thought herself of the tiny doll, so she rose and took it from the pocket of her gown and finding a piece of wheat bread and a cup of kvass, she set them before it, and said: "There, my little doll, take it. Eat a little, and drink a little, and listen to my grief. My dear mother is dead and I am lonely for her."
Then the doll's eyes began to shine like fireflies, and suddenly it became alive. It ate a morsel of the bread and took a sip of the kvass, and when it had eaten and drunk, it said:
"Don't weep, little Vasilissa. Grief is worst at night. Lie down, shut thine eyes, comfort thyself and go to sleep. The morning is wiser than the evening." So Vasilissa the Beautiful lay down, comforted herself and went to sleep, and the next day her grieving was not so deep and her tears were less bitter.//
Gently carved wood warm with a maternal love that reaches beyond death: rose-infused amber and soft golden sandalwood.
February 2005
//They pass before me, these Eyes full of light,
Eyes made magnetic by some angel wise;
The holy brothers pass before my sight,
And cast their diamond fires in my dim eyes.
They keep me from all sin and error grave,
They set me in the path whence Beauty came;
They are my servants, and I am their slave,
And all my soul obeys the living flame.
Beautiful Eyes that gleam with mystic light
As candles lighted at full noon; the sun
Dims not your flame phantastical and bright.
You sing the dawn; they celebrate life done;
Marching you chaunt my soul's awakening hymn,
Stars that no sun has ever made grow dim!
A luminescent red scent: breathless with passion, flickering with desire, and glowing with ardent and reverential love.//
The incense-tinged scent of forbidden tomes and the musk-laden remnants of infernal servants.
//Mistress Owens pushed him out of the Owens's little tomb. "Get along with you," she said. "I've got business to attend to."
Bod looked at his mother. "But it's cold out there," he said.
"I should hope so," she said, "it being Winter. That's as it should be. Now," she said, more to herself than to Bod, "shoes. And look at this dress - it needs hemming. And cobwebs -- there are cobwebs all over, for heaven's sakes. You get along," this to Bod once more. "I've plenty to be getting on with, and I don't need you underfoot."
And then she sang to herself, a little couplet Bod had never heard before.
"Rich man, poor man, come away.
Come to dance the Macabray."
"What's that?" asked Bod, but it was the wrong thing to have said, for Mistress Owens looked dark as a thundercloud, and Bod hurried out of the tomb before she could express her displeasure more forcefully.
It was cold in the graveyard, cold and dark, and the stars were already out. Bod passed Mother Slaughter in the ivy-covered Egyptian Walk, squinting at the greenery.
"Your eyes are younger than mine, young man," she said. "Can you see blossom?"
"Blossom? In winter?"
"Don't you look at me with that face on, young man," she said. "Things blossom in their time. They bud and bloom, blossom and fade. Everything in its time." She huddled deeper into her cloak and bonnet and she said,
"Time to work and time to play,
Time to dance the Macabray. Eh, boy?"
"I don't know," said Bod. "What's the Macabray?"//
White winter flowers plucked from a snow-covered graveyard.
//Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem,
Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.
When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.
And when he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the people together, he demanded of them where Christ should be born.
And they said unto him, In Bethlehem of Judaea: for thus it is written by the prophet,
And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda: for out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rule my people Israel.
Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, inquired of them diligently what time the star appeared.
And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search diligently for the young child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship him also.
When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was.
When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.
And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.
And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way.
And when they were departed, behold, the angel of the Lord appeareth to Joseph in a dream, saying, Arise, and take the young child and his mother, and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I bring thee word: for Herod will seek the young child to destroy him.
When he arose, he took the young child and his mother by night, and departed into Egypt:
And was there until the death of Herod: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, Out of Egypt have I called my son.
Then Herod, when he saw that he was mocked of the wise men, was exceeding wroth, and sent forth, and slew all the children that were in Bethlehem, and in all the coasts thereof, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had diligently inquired of the wise men.
Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy the prophet, saying,
In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not.
But when Herod was dead, behold, an angel of the Lord appeareth in a dream to Joseph in Egypt,
Saying, Arise, and take the young child and his mother, and go into the land of Israel: for they are dead which sought the young child's life.
And he arose, and took the young child and his mother, and came into the land of Israel.
But when he heard that Archelaus did reign in Judaea in the room of his father Herod, he was afraid to go thither: notwithstanding, being warned of God in a dream, he turned aside into the parts of Galilee:
And he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, He shall be called a Nazarene.//
__An offering of frankincense, gold, and myrrh, with coriander, cumin, ambergris, white wine grape, and vanilla bean.__
//Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,
In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones
Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky
With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,
And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,
And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,
Being by Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied,
The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.//
//Could this contain the secret of eternal life?//
Golden amber, blood orange, ambergris, lilac, frankincense, and agarwood.
//He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm—much of what has been since seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these—the dreams—writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away—they have endured but an instant—and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments. But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who reveled.
And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise—then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.//
Bold and fiery, glowing with barbaric luster: this is the scent of the House of Prospero, the scent of hubris, mad revelry, folly and indifferent decadence, a measured passage through its lurid corridors and seven grotesque apartments. Honey and carnation, rich incense and rose accord, myrtle, red sandalwood, amber, jonquil and clove propel you through the revel, finally seating itself in the final, patchouli, tobacco and labdanum drenched darkness of the blood-tinged western chamber.
Rumpelstilzchen
//There was once a miller who was very poor, but he had a beautiful daughter. Now, it happened that he came to speak to the king, and, to give himself importance, he said to him, “I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold.”
The king said to the miller, “That is a talent that pleases me well; if she be as skilful as you say, bring her to-morrow to the palace, and I will put her to the proof.”
When the maiden was brought to him, he led her to a room full of straw, gave her a wheel and spindle, and said, “Now set to work, and if by the morrow this straw be not spun into gold, you shall die.” He locked the door, and left the maiden alone.//
Spun gold, tear-soaked straw, and rose-infused amber.
//The Mock Turtle went on.
'We had the best of educations -- in fact, we went to school every day-- '
'I've been to a day-school, too,' said Alice; 'you needn't be so proud as all that.'
'With extras?' asked the Mock Turtle a little anxiously.
'Yes,' said Alice, 'we learned French and music.'
'And washing?' said the Mock Turtle.
'Certainly not!' said Alice indignantly.
'Ah! then yours wasn't a really good school,' said the Mock Turtle in a tone of great relief. 'Now at ours they had at the end of the bill, "French, music, and washing -- extra."'
'You couldn't have wanted it much,' said Alice; 'living at the bottom of the sea.'
'I couldn't afford to learn it.' said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. 'I only took the regular course.'
'What was that?' inquired Alice.
'Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,' the Mock Turtle replied; 'and then the different branches of Arithmetic -- Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.'
'I never heard of "Uglification,"' Alice ventured to say. 'What is it?'
The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. 'What! Never heard of uglifying!' it exclaimed. 'You know what to beautify is, I suppose?'
'Yes,' said Alice doubtfully: 'it means -- to -- make -- anything -- prettier.'
'Well, then,' the Gryphon went on, 'if you don't know what to uglify is, you are a simpleton.'
Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so she turned to the Mock Turtle, and said 'What else had you to learn?'
'Well, there was Mystery,' the Mock Turtle replied, counting off the subjects on his flappers, ' -- Mystery, ancient and modern, with Seaography: then Drawling -- the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel, that used to come once a week: He taught us Drawling, Stretching, and Fainting in Coils.'
'What was that like?' said Alice.
'Well, I can't show it you myself,' the Mock Turtle said: 'I'm too stiff. And the Gryphon never learnt it.'
'Hadn't time,' said the Gryphon: 'I went to the Classics master, though. He was an old crab, he was.'
'I never went to him,' the Mock Turtle said with a sigh: 'he taught Laughing and Grief, they used to say.'
'So he did, so he did,' said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both creatures hid their faces in their paws.
'And how many hours a day did you do lessons?' said Alice, in a hurry to change the subject.
'Ten hours the first day,' said the Mock Turtle: 'nine the next, and so on.'
'What a curious plan!' exclaimed Alice.
'That's the reason they're called lessons,' the Gryphon remarked: 'because they lessen from day to day.'
This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a little before she made her next remark. 'Then the eleventh day must have been a holiday?'
'Of course it was,' said the Mock Turtle.
'And how did you manage on the twelfth?' Alice went on eagerly.
'That's enough about lessons,' the Gryphon interrupted in a very decided tone.//
Not quite Turtle Soup: blurry aquatic notes, with a confusing, contrary splort of iris, ambrette, green apple, vodka, white mint and a squish of lime.
//Sing in me, O Muse, and through me tell the tale.//
<<forEachTiddler
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'tiddler.tags.contains("Muses")'
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A Picnic in Arkham
Discontinued 2009
//Louder and louder, wilder and wilder, mounted the shrieking and whining of that desperate viol. The player was dripping with an uncanny perspiration and twisted like a monkey, always looking frantically at the curtained window. In his frenzied strains I could almost see shadowy satyrs and bacchanals dancing and whirling insanely through seething abysses of clouds and smoke and lightning. And then I thought I heard a shriller, steadier note that was not from the viol; a calm, deliberate, purposeful, mocking note from far away in the West.//
A ghoulish and tortured scent, suffused with the blackness of space illimitable: ajowan, vetiver, black musk, opoponax, mimosa, and tamarind.
//The farmhouse was dark and shut up. The meadows were overgrown and seemed abandoned. The farm roof was crumbling at the back; it was covered in black plastic sheeting. They jolted over a ridge and Shadow saw it there.
It was silver-gray and it was higher than the farm-house. It was the most beautiful tree Shadow had ever seen: spectral and yet utterly real and almost perfectly symmetrical. It also looked instantly familiar: he wondered if he had dreamed it, then he realized that no, he had seen it before, or a representation of it man, many times. It was Wednesday’s silver tie pin.
The VW bus jolted and bumped across the meadow, and it came to a stop about twenty feet from the trunk of the tree.
There were three women standing by the tree. At first glance Shadow thought they were the Zorya, but no, they were three women he did not know. They looked tired and bored, as if they had been standing there a long time. Each of them held a wooden ladder. The biggest also carried a brown sack. They looked like a set of Russian dolls: a tall one – she was Shadow’s height, or even taller – a middle-sized one, and a woman so short and hunched that at first glance Shadow wrongly supposed her to be a child. They looked so much alike that Shadow was certain the women must be sisters.
The smallest of the women dropped to a curtsey when the bus drew up. The other two just stared. They were sharing a cigarette, and they smoked it down to the filter before one of them stubbed it out against a root.//
Dusty, ancient wood, horehound, and sage, with viper’s bugloss, mugwort, chamomile, nettle, apple blossom, chervil, and ashes.
//The Norse ~Sister-Goddesses of destiny, who measure the lives and fortunes of both Gods and Men and hold steady the ineffable laws of the cosmos. They are preservers and protectors of the Tree of Life and the Well of Fate, and give assistance during the birth of every mortal and divine creature.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Norns")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Ask nothing more of me, sweet,
All I can give you I give
Heart of my heart, were it more,
More would be laid at your feet:
Love that should help you to live,
Song that should spur you to soar.
All things were nothing to give
Once to have sense of you more,
Touch you and taste of you, sweet,
Think you and breathe you and live,
Swept of your wings as they soar,
Trodden by chance of your feet.
I that have love and no more
Give you but love of you, sweet;
He that hath more, let him give;
He that hath wings, let him soar;
Mine is the heart at your feet
Here, that must love you to live.//
A stirring blend of dianthus, French lavender, blackberry, and white honey.
//Tinkling tiny feet scuttle across a massive oak desk, navigating through a flurry of papers and a maze of discarded books, wires, and bolts. Glistening green venom beads at its chelicerae, and a ruby hourglass flashes from the creature’s underbelly as it begins to weave.//
Pinot noir, dark myrrh, red sandalwood, black patchouli, night-blooming jasmine, and attar of rose.
//A handsome, dark-skinned man weaves and dances his way through the crowd. Veves have been burned into the face of his old acoustic guitar, which he strums casually as he strolls though the crowd. A winged Capuchin monkey is balanced on his shoulder, holding out a rusty metal cup. The guitar player’s melancholy chords begin to mingle strangely with a cacophonous jangling sound. The discordant symphony grows and swells as he moves toward a cloaked and hooded figure; this spectre’s skeletal hands operate a dilapidated barrel organ that stands at a crossroads in the midway. As they come together, the music hits a nightmarish crescendo; your heart heaves with longings unfulfilled, your vision swims, and your head is filled with whispered incantations and gallows secrets. In that instant, you suddenly understand the profundity of deals made in Heaven and Hell, and the price of desire.//
Almond milk, sarsaparilla, tobacco smoke, black patchouli and white pine bark.
//"She was a maiden of rarest beauty, and not more lovely than full of glee. And evil was the hour when she saw, and loved, and wedded the painter. He, passionate, studious, austere, and having already a bride in his Art; she a maiden of rarest beauty, and not more lovely than full of glee; all light and smiles, and frolicsome as the young fawn; loving and cherishing all things; hating only the Art which was her rival; dreading only the pallet and brushes and other untoward instruments which deprived her of the countenance of her lover. It was thus a terrible thing for this lady to hear the painter speak of his desire to pourtray even his young bride. But she was humble and obedient, and sat meekly for many weeks in the dark, high turret-chamber where the light dripped upon the pale canvas only from overhead. But he, the painter, took glory in his work, which went on from hour to hour, and from day to day. And be was a passionate, and wild, and moody man, who became lost in reveries; so that he would not see that the light which fell so ghastly in that lone turret withered the health and the spirits of his bride, who pined visibly to all but him. Yet she smiled on and still on, uncomplainingly, because she saw that the painter (who had high renown) took a fervid and burning pleasure in his task, and wrought day and night to depict her who so loved him, yet who grew daily more dispirited and weak. And in sooth some who beheld the portrait spoke of its resemblance in low words, as of a mighty marvel, and a proof not less of the power of the painter than of his deep love for her whom he depicted so surpassingly well. But at length, as the labor drew nearer to its conclusion, there were admitted none into the turret; for the painter had grown wild with the ardor of his work, and turned his eyes from canvas merely, even to regard the countenance of his wife. And he would not see that the tints which he spread upon the canvas were drawn from the cheeks of her who sate beside him. And when many weeks bad passed, and but little remained to do, save one brush upon the mouth and one tint upon the eye, the spirit of the lady again flickered up as the flame within the socket of the lamp. And then the brush was given, and then the tint was placed; and, for one moment, the painter stood entranced before the work which he had wrought; but in the next, while he yet gazed, he grew tremulous and very pallid, and aghast, and crying with a loud voice, 'This is indeed Life itself!' turned suddenly to regard his beloved: -- She was dead!//
Evil was the hour that she saw, and loved, the painter. Gentle beauty and innocent devotion: honeysuckle, carnation, stargazer lily, bluebonnet, vanilla musk, and rice flower.
//"I'll do no such thing, with Owens and me having a lovely little tomb over by the daffodil patch. Plenty of room in there for a little one."//
Marble and dust surrounded by burdock, knotweed, dandelions, daffodils, and long-dead calla lilies.
//You pass through the golden mouth, and find yourself inside a narrow, cramped corridor. Large wooden paintings of skeletal hands crook their bony fingers, leading you forwards. At the first turn, you hear a bizarre jumble of sounds: the high-pitched sound of gears grinding, metal on metal, the sound of sultry, low-pitched laughter, a clattering, wings flapping, soft hissing. Suddenly, a sharp howl pierces the darkness. As you make your way around the corner you are momentarily blinded as floodlights flicker to life, and thirteen gold-gilded stages are illuminated, bathed from beneath in sinister, caramel-colored light.//
Dust, incense, wet tobacco, and a curl of opium smoke.
Love Poems
Christopher Marlowe
//Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills and fields, Woods or steepy mountains yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle; A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold; A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning; If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love.//
Heather, clover, Irish moss, English ivy, tea rose, and carnation.
Yule 2005, 2007
//In dramatic contrast to the soft innocence of Snow White and the dew-kissed freshness of her sister, Rose Red, this is a blood red, voluptuous rose, velvet-petaled, at the height of bloom. Haughty and imperious, vain, yet incomparably lovely to the eye, but thick with thorns of jealousy, pride and hatred.//
//The Penitent Magdalen, Georges de la Tour.//
Immortelle, lily of the valley, gaiac, amber, honey, white sandalwood, almond flower, blonde musk, and hyssop.
Lupercalia 2006, 2007
//Under her neck my right hand
Has served her for a cushion,
And to draw her to me
I have sent out my left hand,
Which bore her up as a bed.
The Perfumed Garden for the Soul’s Recreation. This scent is based on a venerable Tunisian perfume that was used to excite the senses, inspire sensuality and inflame passion.//
Myrrh and Moroccan jasmine with apple peel, Indian sandalwood, myrtle, quince, citron, and thyme poured over soft musk.
//A memory of pleasure passed. A ghostly rendezvous, delight beyond death.//
Faint echoes of laughter and the distorted music of a harp drift by, along with the scent of soft white pear and sweet vanilla.
//Ghostly, glowing, sweet and dark.//
Black cherry, patchouli, cassis, cardamom and verbena.
Convergence XV
July 2009
//no scent description given//
//A ghost, that loved a lady fair,
Ever in the starry air
Of midnight at her pillow stood;
And, with a sweetness skies above
The luring words of human love,
Her soul the phantom wooed.
Sweet and sweet is their poisoned note,
The little snakes' of silver throat,
In mossy skulls that nest and lie,
Ever singing "die, oh! die."
Young soul, put off your flesh, and come
With me into the quiet tomb,
Our bed is lovely, dark, and sweet;
The earth will swing us, as she goes,
Beneath our coverlid of snows,
And the warm leaden sheet.
Dear and dear is their poisoned note,
The little snakes' of silver throat,
In mossy skulls that nest and lie,
Ever singing "die, oh! die."//
A lifeless love song: stargazer lily, bone dust, tomb mosses, buttonweed, moonflower, and honey myrtle.
//This naval galleon was boarded and commandeered in 1713 on the order of Mad Bess Moriarty, along with a fat fleet of ships bearing precious oils, rare resins, and exotic spices. Once the vessels were secured, Mad Bess selected the finest, fittest galleon from the ships that they had acquired, and chose it to be her flagship. Her crew set to work knocking down the cabins, making the ship flush fore and aft, and painting her low sides were painted black, with one thin riband of orange. They prepared black colors, and set bloodshot, glaring occuli along the entirety of the hull. A new figurehead was carved in the shape of a flame-wreathed, screaming bird, and the ship was sanctified with wine, rum, and the blood of their enemies.
Mounted with 52 guns, and manned with the fiercest pirates to sail the Seven Seas, she was rechristened "the Phoenix".//
Sea air, gunpowder, lime, salt-crusted wood, a splash of blood, and a dribble of Snake Oil.
//Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, though the piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed still dominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself waiting to strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on things rightly kept hidden. Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble head; and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while Nature, flushed with fullness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her breath for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper; saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growing daylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that were looking down on them humourously, while the bearded mouth broke into a half-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on the arm that lay across the broad chest, the long supple hand still holding the pan-pipes only just fallen away from the parted lips; saw the splendid curves of the shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last of all, nestling between his very hooves, sleeping soundly in entire peace and contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the baby otter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.//
Sublime peace, ecstatic joy, and thunderstruck awe: terebinth pine, patchouli, brown musk, linden blossom, honey, mallow, blood orange, heliotrope, and golden amber.
//I was sick—sick unto death with that long agony; and when they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that my senses were leaving me. The sentence—the dread sentence of death—was the last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears. After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in one dreamy indeterminate hum. It conveyed to my soul the idea of revolution—perhaps from its association in fancy with the burr of a mill wheel. This only for a brief period; for presently I heard no more. Yet, for a while, I saw; but with how terrible an exaggeration! I saw the lips of the black-robed judges. They appeared to me white—whiter than the sheet upon which I trace these words—and thin even to grotesqueness; thin with the intensity of their expression of firmness—of immoveable resolution—of stern contempt of human torture. I saw that the decrees of what to me was Fate, were still issuing from those lips. I saw them writhe with a deadly locution. I saw them fashion the syllables of my name; and I shuddered because no sound succeeded. I saw, too, for a few moments of delirious horror, the soft and nearly imperceptible waving of the sable draperies which enwrapped the walls of the apartment. And then my vision fell upon the seven tall candles upon the table. At first they wore the aspect of charity, and seemed white and slender angels who would save me; but then, all at once, there came a most deadly nausea over my spirit, and I felt every fibre in my frame thrill as if I had touched the wire of a galvanic battery, while the angel forms became meaningless spectres, with heads of flame, and I saw that from them there would be no help. And then there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the grave. The thought came gently and stealthily, and it seemed long before it attained full appreciation; but just as my spirit came at length properly to feel and entertain it, the figures of the judges vanished, as if magically, from before me; the tall candles sank into nothingness; their flames went out utterly; the blackness of darkness supervened; all sensations appeared swallowed up in a mad rushing descent as of the soul into Hades. Then silence, and stillness, night were the universe.//
The depths of despair, a dark Ecclesiatical triumph: the incense of the Inquisition.
//'I wish I hadn't cried so much!' said Alice, as she swam about, trying to find her way out. 'I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being drowned in my own tears! That will be a queer thing, to be sure! However, everything is queer to-day.'//
A sea of salty tears drowning out Alice's light floral perfume.
//Silas walked across the path without disturbing a fallen leaf, and sat down on the bench, beside Bod. "There are those," he said, in his silken voice, "who believe that all land is sacred. That it is sacred before we come to it, and sacred after. But here, in your land, they blessed the churches and the ground they set aside to bury people in, to make it holy. But they left land unconsecrated beside the sacred ground, potter's fields to bury the criminals and the suicides or those who were not of the faith."
"So the people buried in the ground on the other side of the fence are bad people?"
Silas raised one perfect eyebrow. "Mm? Oh, not at all. Let's see, it's been a while since I've been down that way. But I don't remember anyone particularly evil. Remember, in days gone by you could be hanged for stealing a shilling. And there are always people who find their lives have become so unsupportable they believe the best thing they could do would be to hasten their transition to another plane of existence."//
Rich loam, fragrant grasses, murky vetiver, wild herbs, and dry cedar bark.
//For some minutes after this fancy possessed me, I remained without motion. And why? I could not summon courage to move. I dared not make the effort which was to satisfy me of my fate—and yet there was something at my heart which whispered me it was sure. Despair—such as no other species of wretchedness ever calls into being—despair alone urged me, after long irresolution, to uplift the heavy lids of my eyes. I uplifted them. It was dark—all dark. I knew that the fit was over. I knew that the crisis of my disorder had long passed. I knew that I had now fully recovered the use of my visual faculties—and yet it was dark—all dark—the intense and utter raylessness of the Night that endureth for evermore.
I endeavored to shriek-, and my lips and my parched tongue moved convulsively together in the attempt—but no voice issued from the cavernous lungs, which oppressed as if by the weight of some incumbent mountain, gasped and palpitated, with the heart, at every elaborate and struggling inspiration.
The movement of the jaws, in this effort to cry aloud, showed me that they were bound up, as is usual with the dead. I felt, too, that I lay upon some hard substance, and by something similar my sides were, also, closely compressed. So far, I had not ventured to stir any of my limbs—but now I violently threw up my arms, which had been lying at length, with the wrists crossed. They struck a solid wooden substance, which extended above my person at an elevation of not more than six inches from my face. I could no longer doubt that I reposed within a coffin at last.
And now, amid all my infinite miseries, came sweetly the cherub Hope—for I thought of my precautions. I writhed, and made spasmodic exertions to force open the lid: it would not move. I felt my wrists for the bell-rope: it was not to be found. And now the Comforter fled for ever, and a still sterner Despair reigned triumphant; for I could not help perceiving the absence of the paddings which I had so carefully prepared—and then, too, there came suddenly to my nostrils the strong peculiar odor of moist earth. The conclusion was irresistible. I was not within the vault. I had fallen into a trance while absent from home-while among strangers—when, or how, I could not remember—and it was they who had buried me as a dog—nailed up in some common coffin—and thrust deep, deep, and for ever, into some ordinary and nameless grave.
As this awful conviction forced itself, thus, into the innermost chambers of my soul, I once again struggled to cry aloud. And in this second endeavor I succeeded. A long, wild, and continuous shriek, or yell of agony, resounded through the realms of the subterranean Night.//
Oppressive darkness, expressed through black orchid and patchouli, smothered by wet soil, a coffin’s teakwood, and the funereal gloom of cypress.
Love Poems
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
//And in Life's noisiest hour,
There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee,
The heart's Self-solace and soliloquy.
You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within;
And to the leading Love-throb in the Heart
Thro' all my Being, thro' my pulses beat;
You lie in all my many Thoughts, like Light,
Like the fair light of Dawn, or summer Eve
On rippling Stream, or cloud-reflecting Lake.
And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you,
How oft ! I bless the Lot, that made me love you.//
White musk, rose-swirled amber, pink grapefruit, and jasmine.
Lily of the Valley, Calla Lily, stephanotis and a drop of cherry.
Love Poems
William Butler Yeats
//O, hurry, where by water, among the trees,
The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh,
When they have looked upon their images
Would none had ever loved but you and I!
Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed
Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky,
When the sun looked out of his golden hood?
O, that none ever loved but you and I!
O hurry to the ragged wood, for there
I will drive all those lovers out and cry
O, my share of the world, O, yellow hair!
No one has ever loved but you and I.//
Lily of the Valley, star jasmine, benzoin, vanilla, plumeria, bergamot, Terebinth pine, juniper berry, and tea rose.
//The ~Nine-Headed nemesis of the Nutcracker Prince.//
Dust, wood and feral musk with a fang-sharp undertone.
Sleek, dark, and ominous.
Violet and neroli mingled with iris, white sandalwood and dark musk.
//There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.
"Shall I have naught that is fair?" Saith he;
"Having naught but the bearded grain?
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,
I will give them all back again,"
He gazed at the flowers with tearful eye,
He kissed their drooping leaves;
It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves.
"My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled:
"Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where he was once a child."
"They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,
And saints, upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear."
And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love:
She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.
O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;
'Twas an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.//
A funereal bouquet laid on cemetery grass: longiflorum lilies, white rose, chrysanthemum, and carnation.
Deep mahogany and rich, velvety woods lacquered with sweet, black-red cherries and currant.
Vasilissa the Beautiful
//She went a little further and again she heard the sound of a horse's hoofs and there came another man on horseback galloping past her. He was dressed all in red, and the horse under him was blood-red and its harness was red, and just as he passed her the sun rose.//
Red leather, red moss, and balsam.
//Pinpoints of red light beaming from its eyes scan the room, and in a flutter of leather wings, it scuttles across the wooden floorboards.//
Polished metallic notes, glossy leather, frankincense, star anise, and thin lubricating oils.
Beauty and the Beast
//When they found that their father must take a journey to the ship, the two eldest begged he would not fail to bring them back some new gowns, caps, rings, and all sorts of trinkets. But Beauty asked for nothing; for she thought in herself that all the ship was worth would hardly buy everything her sisters wished for. "Beauty," said the merchant, "how comes it that you ask for nothing: what can I bring you, my child?"
"Since you are so kind as to think of me, dear father," she answered, "I should be glad if you would bring me a rose, for we have none in our garden." Now Beauty did not indeed wish for a rose, nor anything else, but she only said this that she might not affront her sisters; otherwise they would have said she wanted her father to praise her for desiring nothing.//
The promise of a rose: red rose petals, fresh sap, and the sharp green scent of stem and leaf.
Convergence XV
July 2009
//no scent description given//
//The Sailor's Den, Félicien Rops.//
Orris, bay rum, palm, coconut meat, oak wood, tobacco, linen, blue lilac, and leather.
//Olfactory impressions of the visual arts.
While we have listed the notes of these scents for your edification and convenience, we prefer not to offer any descriptive passages for these scents.
L'art pour l'art.//
[[The Salon: Exhibit I]]
[[The Salon: Exhibit II]]
[[The Salon: Exhibit III]]
Retail Exclusive Collection
[[Traveling Salon]]
LE Collections
[[Dogs Playing Poker]]
[[Novel Ideas for Secret Amusements]]
[[Novel Ideas for Secret Amusements II]]
[[Velvet Paintings]]
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Salon")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Exhibit1")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Exhibit2")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Exhibit3")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.//
Thin, dark, and shadowed. A scent that offers no sustenance, comfort or satiety: lemon peel, white sage, frankincense, lavender fougere, sandalwood, vetiver and labdanum.
//His school-house was a low building of one large room, rudely constructed of logs; the windows partly glazed, and partly patched with leaves of old copy-books. It was most ingeniously secured at vacant hours, by a withe twisted in the handle of the door, and stakes set against the window shutters; so that, though a thief might get in with perfect ease, he would find some embarrassment in getting out; an idea most probably borrowed by the architect, Yost Van Houton, from the mystery of an eel-pot. The school-house stood in a rather lonely but pleasant situation just at the foot of a woody hill, with a brook running close by, and a formidable birch tree growing at one end of it. From hence the low murmur of his pupils' voices, conning over their lessons, might be heard in a drowsy summer's day, like the hum of a bee-hive; interrupted now and then by the authoritative voice of the master, in the tone of menace or command; or, peradventure, by the appalling sound of the birch, as he urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery path of knowledge.//
Dandelion, white clover, balsam fir logs, and birchwood switches
Egle, the Queen of the Serpents
//When you return go alone, just you and the children and when you approach the beach then call for me:
Zilvine, Zilvineli,
If alive, may the sea foam milk
If dead, may the sea foam blood...
And if you see coming towards you foaming milk then know that I am still alive, but if blood comes then I have reached my end. While you, my children, let not the secret out, do not let anyone know how to call for me.//
Blood rising through an ocean wave.
Egle, the Queen of the Serpents
//When you return go alone, just you and the children and when you approach the beach then call for me:
Zilvine, Zilvineli,
If alive, may the sea foam milk
If dead, may the sea foam blood...
And if you see coming towards you foaming milk then know that I am still alive, but if blood comes then I have reached my end. While you, my children, let not the secret out, do not let anyone know how to call for me.//
Milk cresting on an ocean wave.
//"Right," replied the stranger. "I'm a seafaring rat, I am, and the port I originally hail from is Constantinople, though I'm a sort of a foreigner there too, in a manner of speaking. You will have heard of Constantinople, friend? A fair city and an ancient and glorious one. And you may have heard too, of Sigurd, King of Norway, and how he sailed thither with sixty ships, and how he and his men rode up through streets all canopied in their honour with purple and gold; and how the Emperor and Empress came down and banqueted with him on board his ship. When Sigurd returned home, many of his Northmen remained behind and entered the Emperor's body-guard, and my ancestor, a Norwegian born, stayed behind too, with the ships that Sigurd gave the Emperor. Seafarers we have ever been, and no wonder; as for me, the city of my birth is no more my home than any pleasant port between there and the London River. I know them all, and they know me. Set me down on any of their quays or foreshores, and I am home again."
"I suppose you go great voyages," said the Water Rat with growing interest. "Months and months out of sight of land, and provisions running short, and allowanced as to water, and your mind communing with the mighty ocean, and all that sort of thing?"
"By no means," said the Sea Rat frankly. "Such a life as you describe would not suit me at all. I 'm in the coasting trade, and rarely out of sight of land. It's the jolly times on shore that appeal to me, as much as any seafaring. O, those southern seaports! The smell of them, the riding-lights at night, the glamour!"//
Seaweed, ambergris, and sea buckthorn berry with exotic herbs, incense smoke, ship wood, and Burmese musk.
//Cold, cold forever more. A winter storm roaring through empty stone halls, bearing echoes of despair, desolation, and death on its winds.//
The scent of frozen, dormant vineyards, bitter sleet, and piercing ozone, hurled through labdanum, benzoin, and olibanum.
Night-blooming jasmine, opium poppy, wild rosemary, Calla lily, oakmoss and crypt musk.
//'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain,
"You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again."
As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed,
Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy head.
"A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;"
Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without number,
And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands,
Or walks about sauntering, or trifling he stands.
I pass'd by his garden, and saw the wild brier,
The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher;
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags;
And his money still wastes till he starves or he begs.
I made him a visit, still hoping to find
That he took better care for improving his mind:
He told me his dreams, talked of eating and drinking;
But scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking.
Said I then to my heart, "Here's a lesson for me,"
This man's but a picture of what I might be:
But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding,
Who taught me betimes to love working and reading.//
Pious frankincense, angelic gardenia, unsoiled pear, and staunch ho wood conflict with prickly, overgrown thistle, idle labdanum, and lethargic lavender.
//The Smiling Spider, Odilon Redon.//
Bitter clove, black musk, mahogany wood, and patchouli.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("SnakePit")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//The Snow Maiden is the daughter of Spring and Frost: as lovely as the first snowfall, and as striking as a sliver of icicle. Isolated because of her chilly otherworldly nature, and unable to know love, she longed for the companionship and warmth of mortals. One bright, white winter’s day, the Snow Maiden came upon a gentle, handsome shepherd named Lel. She grows fond of him, and beseeches Mother Spring to grant her the ability to feel. Her mother is moved by her daughters plight, and blesses her, but the moment the Snow Maiden is struck by the depth of love she feels for Lel, her heart warms, and she melts.//
Ylang ylang, osmanthus, spring berries, and daffodil cloaked in hoarfrost.
//Announced by all the trumpets of the sky
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden's end.
The steed and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Come, see the north wind's masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer's sighs, and at the gate
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.//
Winter aconite, balsam fir, cedar leaf, and white mint.
Red currant, plum flowers, sake, green tea, and cherry blossom.
June 2007
//Mine are the night and morning,
The pits of air, the gulf of space,
The sportive sun, the gibbous moon,
The innumerable days.
I hid in the solar glory,
I am dumb in the pealing song,
I rest on the pitch of the torrent,
In slumber I am strong.//
Heliotrope, amber, almond flower, frangipani, cedar, and calamus.
//The Stormhold had been carved out of the peak of Mount Huon by the first lord of Stormhold, who reigned at the end of the First Age and into the beginning of the Second. It had been expanded, improved upon, excavated and tunneled into by successive Masters of Stormhold, until the original mountain peak now raked the sky like the ornately carved tusk of some great, grey, granite beast. The Stormhold itself was perched high in the sky, where the thunder clouds gathered before they went down to the lower air, spilling rain and lightning and devastation upon the place beneath.//
Creeping moss, slick granite, murky vetiver, lightning-charged ozone, and icy rain.
//No doubt I now grew very pale; -- but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased -- and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound -- much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath -- and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly -- more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men -- but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed -- I raved -- I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder -- louder -- louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! -- no, no! They heard! -- they suspected! -- they knew! -- they were making a mockery of my horror! -- this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now -- again! -- hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! -- tear up the planks! here, here! -- It is the beating of his hideous heart!"//
This is a swollen, pulsating, thudding scent, heavy with dread; a steady, unceasing, throbbing harbinger of retribution and doom: blood musk, cocoa, black pepper, allspice, dragon’s blood resin and vetiver.
//The Demon, in my chamber high,
This morning came to visit me,
And, thinking he would find some fault,
He whispered: "I would know of thee
Among the many lovely things
That make the magic of her face,
Among the beauties, black and rose,
That make her body's charm and grace,
Which is most fair?" Thou didst reply
To the Abhorred, O soul of mine:
"No single beauty is the best
When she is all one flower divine.
When all things charm me I ignore
Which one alone brings most delight;
She shines before me like the dawn,
And she consoles me like the night.
The harmony is far too great,
That governs all her body fair,
For impotence to analyse
And say which note is sweetest there.
O mystic metamorphosis!
My senses into one sense flow --
Her voice makes perfume when she speaks,
Her breath is music faint and low!"//
An expression of love, adoration, and desire, of beauty that transcends mortal desire and piques the interest of hell itself: attar of rose, calla lily, palmarosa, peach blossom, wisteria, rice flower, and black musk.
//A cluster of wooden wagons stands off to the side of the Midway, removed from the bustle of the dirt-caked makeshift street. A bonfire burns in the center of the lot, shining its light on a tattoo-covered woman. The images embedded in her skin writhe like living things, and the sigils that mark her glow faintly. She is filing her nails and smoking a cheroot while chatting idly with an impassive naked blonde who has been hoisted into the air by thick, gleaming meathooks. The blonde is pinioned; the blackened metal cables that bind her hang tightly from the branches of a massive grey oak. Her skin seems strangely translucent, and her veins and arteries are boldly visible. Two painted signs are propped, sideways, against the side of the tree:
THE ILLUSTRATED WOMAN
THE TORTURE QUEEN//
White amber, vanilla musk, white tea, ambergris, gardenia, and chrome.
//After these things, surveying the entrances of the north, above the mountains, I perceived seven mountains replete with pure nard, odoriferous trees, cinnamon and papyrus.
From there I passed on above the summits of those mountains to some distance eastwards, and went over the Erythraean sea. And when I was advanced far beyond it, I passed along above the angel Zateel, and arrived at the garden of righteousness.
In this garden I beheld, among other trees, some which were numerous and large, and which flourished there.
Their fragrance was agreeable and powerful, and their appearance both varied and elegant. The tree of knowledge also was there, of which if any one eats, he becomes endowed with great wisdom.
It was like a species of the tamarind tree, bearing fruit which
resembled grapes extremely fine; and its fragrance extended to a considerable distance.
I exclaimed, How beautiful is this tree, and how delightful is its appearance!
Then holy Raphael, an angel who was with me, answered and said, This is the tree of knowledge, of which your ancient father and your aged mother ate, who were before you; and who, obtaining knowledge, their eyes being opened, and knowing themselves to be naked, were expelled from the garden.//
Whiffs of cinnamon bark, almond, and spikenard surround a perfect fruit, whose scent is akin to a tamarind, with the grace of a fine grape, as warm and rich as a fresh fig, glistening red like pomegranate seeds, and as crisp as an apple.
Blackened, rotted oak wood blanketed in moss and choked by a cloak of grasping ivy.
//How gruesome and absurd!//
Dark musk, pimento berry, oakmoss, birch wood, and petitgrain.
Convergence XIII
May 2007
//no scent description given//
A misty, almost luminous perfume.
Wispy linden blossoms, white flowers, and a touch of sweet herbs.
//When used in conjunction with the oils that correspond to the four basic chakras [Muladhara, Swadhisthana, Manipura and Anahata] the Vortex helps one to reconcile, conquer and break free of the circular patterns of consciousness without knowledge that are associated with that chakra.//
Vasilissa the Beautiful
//The wood was very dark, and she could not help trembling from fear. Suddenly she heard the sound of a horse's hoofs and a man on horseback galloped past her. He was dressed all in white, the horse under him was milk-white and the harness was white, and just as he passed her it became twilight.//
White leather and sandalwood.
//You are shocked out of the torch song’s melancholy mood by shrieks, hoots, and yowls. You move to your left, and see that instead of a stage, a gigantic iron cage has been hung, hovering a few feet off of the ground. Elaborate, delicate silver sigils are engraved upon huge iron disks that have been mounted to the sides of the cage, and they flicker and spark whenever one of the wild men touches the iron bars that imprison them. The backdrop depicts a blistering volcanic eruption, spiked with thick luminescent bolts of lightning. Several beings are held within the cage, male and female, spanning every age. They flash their razor-fanged smiles at you malevolently as they anxiously crawl, pace, and stalk the length of their prison, stopping occasionally to pose and preen as they gossip with one another in an unrecognizable guttural, grinding language. Their tattooed skin glows an angry crimson, curving horns protrude from their skulls, and their eyes blaze with unholy light.//
Fiery, primal, and precociously diabolical: red amber, Spanish moss, Indonesian patchouli, ambergris, red pepper, two cloves, and vanilla flower.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("WindintheWillows")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Yule 2006, 2008
//Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, -- instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, --
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, -- that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; --
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, -- since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, --
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, --
About a prophecy which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul...//
Embrace your villainy: __balsam, myrrh, mandarin orange, bitter clove, artemesia, rosewood, nutmeg, dark musk, smoke and cypress.__
//On a rocky mountain pass, on the southernmost slopes of Mount Belly, the witch-queen reined in her goat-drawn chariot and stopped and sniffed the chilly air.
The myriad stars hung cold in the sky above her.
Her red, red lips curved up into a smile of such beauty, such brilliance, such pure and perfect happiness that it would have frozen your blood in your veins to have seen it. "There," she said. "She is coming to me."
And the wind of the mountain pass howled about her triumphantly, as if in answer.//
Wild plum, red musk, tuberose, calla lily, heliotrope, pimento, ylang ylang and beeswax beneath a dark haze of sinister purple-hued incense smoke.
Rapunzel
//`What ails you, dear wife?'
`Oh,' she answered, `if I don't get some rampion to eat out of the garden behind the house, I know I shall die.'
The man, who loved her dearly, thought to himself, `Come! rather than let your wife die you shall fetch her some rampion, no matter the cost.' So at dusk he climbed over the wall into the witch's garden, and, hastily gathering a handful of rampion leaves, he returned with them to his wife. She made them into a salad, which tasted so good that her longing for the forbidden food was greater than ever. If she were to know any peace of mind, there was nothing for it but that her husband should climb over the garden wall again, and fetch her some more. So at dusk over he got, but when he reached the other side he drew back in terror, for there, standing before him, was the old witch.//
Morning glory vines twisting around a patch of rampion, carrot, and parsley, with monkshood, hemlock, elfwort, sage, wormwood, and mandrake.
Vasilissa the Beautiful
//"Well," said the old witch, "I know them. But if I give thee the fire thou shalt stay with me some time and do some work to pay for it. If not, thou shalt be eaten for my supper." Then she turned to the gate and shouted: "Ho! Ye, my solid locks, unlock! Thou, my stout gate, open!" Instantly the locks unlocked, the gate opened of itself, and the Baba Yaga rode in whistling. Vasilissa entered behind her and immediately the gate shut again and the locks snapped tight.
When they had entered the hut the old witch threw her self down on the stove, stretched out her bony legs and said:
"Come, fetch and put on the table at once everything that is in the oven. I am hungry." So Vasilissa ran and lighted a splinter of wood from one of the skulls on the wall and took the food from the oven and set it before her. There was enough cooked meat for three strong men. She brought also from the cellar kvass, honey, and red wine, and the Baba Yaga ate and drank the whole, leaving the girl only a little cabbage soup, a crust of bread and a morsel of suckling pig.//
Kvass, honey-drizzled bread, roasted meat, and wine.
//It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod, heavy-hearted and crest-fallen, pursued his travel homewards, along the sides of the lofty hills which rise above Tarry Town, and which he had traversed so cheerily in the afternoon. The hour was dismal as himself. Far below him, the Tappan Zee spread its dusky and indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the tall mast of a sloop, riding quietly at anchor under the land. In the dead hush of midnight, he could even hear the barking of the watch dog from the opposite shore of the Hudson; but it was so vague and faint as only to give an idea of his distance from this faithful companion of man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off from some farmhouse away among the hills-but it was like a dreaming sound in his ear. No signs of life occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholy chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bull-frog, from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably, and turning suddenly in his bed.//
Moonflower, night-blooming cereus, white hellebore, English ivy, monkshood, angel's trumpet, oleander, and eastern hemlock.
//A massive tree that held, in its lowest boughs, a nest of bare-breasted men and women. The souls sprawled within the Zieba Tree's branches were trapped in reverie, lost for all eternity in their fantasies.//
A dreamlike, listless scent, misty and hazed, with wisps of white sandalwood, eddying musks the colors of eventide, shimmering pale resins, davana, lemon blossom, orange blossom, and white peach.
//Also called the Auroras. The Slavic Triple Goddesses of the Dawn, Sky and Light, who govern the paths of the day. The guard the constellation Ursa Minor from the chained Hound of Doomsday; should they ever fail in their duty, and the chain breaks, the universe will end.//
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Zorya")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//A flash of light and the smell of sulfur seize your attention. A vast black tent stands before you, subtly glowing with an unnatural, almost phosphorescent light. This tent has no pennants, no ornamentation, save for a carved ebony sign, lettered in silver:
“Master Theodosius
Legerdemain, Medium, Conjurer
One thousand years of marvels.
Enter at your peril.”
Another flash blinds you, and from a swirl of smoke a rakish, devilishly handsome man appears, long black hair falling down halfway to his waist, elegant and sinister in an inky silk tuxedo and a voluminous cape. The shadow he casts against the tent, oddly, seems to be that of an enormous corvus, and his eyes radiate a deep azure light. Staring fixedly at you, he snaps his fingers, and two bolts of violet lightning strike the ground on either side of him, blinding you momentarily. As your eyes adjust, you see that two lovely, slender, waiflike women now stand upon the scarred ground beside him, dressed in tattered ballerina costumes the nebulous color of smoke. Turning to his right, he touches the woman’s lips and says, “Seachd seachd uair!” She opens her mouth, and a flock of diminutive bats fly forth from her throat. Turning to his left, he touches the other woman’s hair and repeats, “Seachd seachd uair!” What once was a gleaming mane of stark white hair is now a nest of writhing vipers. She opens her mouth, baring fangs, and spits forth a thin stream of venom. The Master swirls his cape, which suddenly seems to grow and twist like a living shadow, and in a final flash of red lightning and a deafening thunderclap, he and both his assistants vanish.//
Earl Grey tea leaves, a white fougere, jasmine leaf, pearlescent white musk, and vanilla bean.
//There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons -
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes -
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us -
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are -
None may teach it - Any -
'Tis the Seal Despair -
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air -
When it comes, the Landscape listens -
Shadows - hold their breath -
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death -//
Thin, tinny ozone with frankincense, white sandalwood, white amber, hyssop, bitter violet leaf, and shadowy wisps of smoke.
Rapunzel
//`Ah, ah! you thought to find your lady love, but the pretty bird has flown and its song is dumb; the cat caught it, and will scratch out your eyes too. Rapunzel is lost to you for ever - you will never see her more.'
The Prince was beside himself with grief, and in his despair he jumped right down from the tower, and, though he escaped with his life, the thorns among which he fell pierced his eyes out. Then he wandered, blind and miserable, through the wood, eating nothing but roots and berries, and weeping and lamenting the loss of his lovely bride.//
Thorn-spiked vines, blood, and tears.
//Three Brides, Jan Toroop.//
Moroccan rose, king mandarin, red sandalwood, Egyptian amber, orchid, carnation, benzoin, tonka, calla lily, vanilla flower.
//Three Gorgons, Gustav Klimt.//
Detail of the Beethoven Frieze. Egyptian amber, mandarin, tangerine, black pepper, tobacco, and vetiver.
Voodoo Blends
Discontinued 2004
A slick gambling perfume. Brings good fortune when playing any card game.
Illyria
Discontinued 2005
Resurrected November 2005
Warm cinnamon, husky clove, and white pepper.
June 2007
//This is the scent of a summer storm: thick black clouds pass over this full moon, the Goddess roars, and Her Beloved hurls his forked bolts of lightning in the distant sky.//
Ozone deepened by liquid amber, and a spray of hot nighttime rain mingled with the scent of lightning-struck wood, water-soaked summer blooms, and sun-scorched grass.
//Native American Elders
Wakinyan, Hohoq, ~Kw-Uhnx-Wa. With eyes of fire, its glance is lightning, and thunder erupts as the great, sacred bird claps its mighty wings. A willing guardian and protector of mankind, a wise and benevolent teacher, and the creator of life-giving storms.//
The sharp tang of ozone and the deep bass growl of thunder over mountain trees.
Godfather Death
//When the boy had grown up, his godfather one day appeared and bade him go with him. He led him forth into a forest, and showed him a herb which grew there, and said, "Now shalt thou receive thy godfather's present. I make thee a celebrated physician. When thou art called to a patient, I will always appear to thee. If I stand by the head of the sick man, thou mayst say with confidence that thou wilt make him well again, and if thou givest him of this herb he will recover; but if I stand by the patient's feet, he is mine, and thou must say that all remedies are in vain, and that no physician in the world could save him. But beware of using the herb against my will, or it might fare ill with thee."//
A bruised purple bundle of herbs with hyssop and life-everlasting.
Mad Tea Party
Discontinued 2009
A feisty bouquet of golden, warm, gently honeyed lilies.
Black coconut, black musk, lemon blossom, and ironwood bark.
Monoi de Tahiti, vanilla, white coconut, tuberose, ylang ylang, white musk, red hibiscus, and neroli.
//According to legend, the birthplace of King Arthur. The scent of a castle's great hall in the midst of joyous feasting.//
Spicy mulled wine flowing through the musky heat, warm leather and bright clash of armor, the damp branches of Cornish hawthorn, blackthorn, juniper, English elm and bayberry, and the magical tingle of dragon's blood resin.
//Divine Beauty, Unity, the Balance of Justice and Mercy.//
//Upon the next stage, a spotlight is focused on a mammoth bronze sculpture of two snakes entwined. Their bodies are wrapped around each other in an intimate embrace, and their tongues touch suggestively. The deep, somber boom of a standing bass leads into a twelve-string guitar’s plaintive moan, and as the music swells, a stunning, statuesque woman steps out from behind the statue, her fierce and regal face in profile. The spotlight dims to a deep amber-red, and shines a dark, sanguine light onto her, tinting her long, wild hair the color of blood. She sings:
Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless.
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless.
Little white flowers will never awaken you,
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.
Angels have no thought of ever returning you.
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy Sunday.
She turns, and abruptly faces left. Her features are coarser, more masculine, and you notice the rough, dusky shadow of an evening beard on the singer’s face. On this side, the hair is cropped short, and as s/he sighs and begins the next verse, you hear the voice deepen to a weathered, sorrowful baritone.
Gloomy is Sunday; with shadows I spend it all.
My heart and I have decided to end it all.
Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are sad, I know.
Death is no dream, for in death I'm caressing you.
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you.
Gloomy Sunday.
The singer turns to face the audience, and your senses reel. On the left side, the features are sharp, but feminine. You can see the curve of her breast, the soft fullness of her hips, the arch of her fine brow. On the right, it is the body of an Adonis, muscular and commanding. You see that a thick seam runs down the center of the body, stitched roughly.
Though the vision is disconcerting, the warmth and passion in the singer’s voice swells inside your heart, and you are spellbound. Enraptured, you realize that though the gender is opposed on either side, one soul binds the whole.//
Dark, moody, and bittersweet: black currant, patchouli, tobacco, cinnamon leaf, caramel, muguet, and red sandalwood.
//The Avenger of Murder//
Oleander with black patchouli, ylang ylang, and neroli.
Rice paper, white gardenia, and raw honey.
A nocturnal bounty of fae dew-kissed petals and pale fruits.
White grape, white peach, iced pear, musk rose, sweet pea, moonflower and snapdragon.
Dark musk and black amber with frankincense, red sandalwood, neroli and bergamot.
//Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breat whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.//
Mist and mellow fruitfulness: mist-swirled, moss-covered bark and dry red leaves, apple pulp and knotty galangal, with poppy juice and nutmeat.
Love Poems
Edgar Allan Poe
//I saw thee once - once only - years ago:
I must not say how many - but not many.
It was a July midnight; and from out
A full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul, soaring,
Sought a precipitate pathway up through heaven,
There fell a silvery-silken veil of light,
With quietude, and sultriness, and slumber,
Upon the upturned faces of a thousand
Roses that grew in an enchanted garden,
Where no wind dared to stir, unless on tiptoe
Fell on the upturn'd faces of these roses
That gave out, in return for the love-light,
Their odorous souls in an ecstatic death
Fell on the upturn'd faces of these roses
That smiled and died in this parterre, enchanted
By thee, and by the poetry of thy presence.
Clad all in white, upon a violet bank
I saw thee half reclining; while the moon
Fell on the upturn'd faces of the roses,
And on thine own, upturn'd - alas, in sorrow!
Was it not Fate, that, on this July midnight
Was it not Fate, (whose name is also Sorrow,)
That bade me pause before that garden-gate,
To breathe the incense of those slumbering roses?
No footstep stirred: the hated world an slept,
Save only thee and me. (Oh, Heaven! oh, God!
How my heart beats in coupling those two words!)
Save only thee and me. I paused - I looked
And in an instant all things disappeared.
(Ah, bear in mind this garden was enchanted!)
The pearly lustre of the moon went out:
The mossy banks and the meandering paths,
The happy flowers and the repining trees,
Were seen no more: the very roses' odors
Died in the arms of the adoring airs.
All - all expired save thee - save less than thou:
Save only the divine light in thine eyes
Save but the soul in thine uplifted eyes.
I saw but them - they were the world to me!
I saw but them - saw only them for hours,
Saw only them until the moon went down.
What wild heart-histories seemed to he enwritten
Upon those crystalline, celestial spheres!
How dark a woe, yet how sublime a hope!
How silently serene a sea of pride!
How daring an ambition; yet how deep
How fathomless a capacity for love!
But now, at length, dear Dian sank from sight,
Into a western couch of thunder-cloud;
And thou, a ghost, amid the entombing trees
Didst glide away. Only thine eyes remained;
They would not go - they never yet have gone;
Lighting my lonely pathway home that night,
They have not left me (as my hopes have) since;
They follow me - they lead me through the years.
They are my ministers - yet I their slave.
Their office is to illumine and enkindle
My duty, to be saved by their bright light,
And purified in their electric fire,
And sanctified in their elysian fire.
They fill my soul with Beauty (which is Hope),
And are far up in Heaven - the stars I kneel to
In the sad, silent watches of my night;
While even in the meridian glare of day
I see them still - two sweetly scintillant
Venuses, unextinguished by the sun!//
Electric ozone, opaline notes, moonflower, white amber, beeswax, and three roses.
//Thy fatal shafts unerring move,
I bow before thine altar, Love.
I feel thy soft resistless flame
Glide swift through all my vital frame.
For while I gaze my bosom glows,
My blood in tides impetuous flows;
Hope, fear, and joy alternate roll,
And floods of transports whelm my soul.
My faltering tongue attempts in vain
In soothing murmurs to complain;
My tongue some secret magic ties,
My murmurs sink in broken sighs.
Condemned to nurse eternal care,
And ever drop the silent tear,
Unheard I mourn, unknown I sigh,
Unfriended live, unpitied die.//
Benzoin, cassis bud, patchouli, rose otto, and petitgrain.
//"…It's never the wrong time to call on Toad. Early or late, he's always the same fellow. Always good-tempered, always glad to see you, always sorry when you go!"
"He must be a very nice animal," observed the Mole, as he got into the boat and took the sculls, while the Rat settled himself comfortably in the stern.
"He is indeed the best of animals," replied Rat. "So simple, so good-natured, and so affectionate. Perhaps he's not very clever -- we can't all be geniuses; and it may be that he is both boastful and conceited. But he has got some great qualities, has Toady."//
Dapper cologne, scorched waistcoat, a bit of pipe tobacco, and motor oil.
2008 Bat's Day Exclusive
//no scent description given//
//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.
//A "warrior worth a thousand, ready to confront a demon or a god, mounted or on foot." Tomoe Gozen was a fierce, noble, and courageous samurai, first captain, as well as a renowned beauty. She was an excellent swordswoman, famed for her riding ability and her skill at archery. She fought for Minamoto no Yoshinaka at Battle of Awazu, and her forces were defeated. Legend says she was seen holding the severed head of one of her foes on the battlefield, and vanished, never to be seen again.//
Red currant, golden amber, blackberry, honey, and pink pepper.
Sin & Salvation
Discontinued 2004
//Visceral in the extreme. An aesthetic exercise in vice.//
The ominous scent of vetiver with a swirl of bay and gardenia.
//The King of Pain, the Famed Fakir.//
Frankincense and sweet clove, mandarin and bourbon, lemon peel and leather, grasses and smoke, lime and vetiver, ambergris and deep musk.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("TravelingSalon")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//A super-sweet, glittering mountain of crushed hard candy.//
Watermelon, pink lime, lemon, strawberry and piles upon piles of crystalline sugar.
//A fine confection for discriminating trick or treaters.//
A fig meat, coconut, and buttercream bonbon rolled in orange rind, mint leaf, cardamom, clove and ginger, dipped in milk chocolate.
A classic men’s cologne mixed with the scent of old, yellowed books, a splash of bay rum, and summoning incense.
//A double-dose of seedy that oozes rough-and-tumble sexuality while promoting vice-driven profitability!//
Volcanic red musk, vanilla bean, Queen Elizabeth root, red ginger, skin musk, black leather, honeycomb, honeysuckle, magnolia, and patchouli.
//Lurid, licentious, and lucrative.//
Pomegranate, tobacco leaf, patchouli, wild berries, pine pitch, oak-aged vanilla, and pink pepper.
The sticky sweet scent of candy corn!
The sticky sweet scent of candy corn! Even cornier for 2009! - cuz corny is how we roll at BPAL!
Halloween 2006
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("TrickorTreat06")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>Halloween 2007
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("TrickorTreat07")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Tristran put down his wooden cup of tea, and stood up, offended.
"What," he asked, in what he was certain were lofty and scornful tones, "would possibly make you imagine that my lady-love would have sent me on some foolish errand?"
The little man stared up at him with eyes like beads of jet. "Because that's the only reason a lad like you would be stupid enough to cross the border into Faerie. The only ones who ever come here from your lands are the minstrels, and the lovers, and the mad. And you don't look like much of a minstrel, and you're - pardon me saying so, lad, but it's true - ordinary as cheese-crumbs. So it's love, if you ask me."
"Because," announces Tristran, "every lover is in his heart a madman, and in his head a minstrel."//
Dust on your trousers, mud on your boots, and stars in your eyes: redwood, tonka bean, white sandalwood, lemon peel, patchouli, rosewood, coriander, and crushed mint.
//They call me Troll;
Gnawer of the Moon,
Giant of the Gale-blasts,
Curse of the rain-hall,
Companion of the Sibyl,
Nightroaming hag,
Swallower of the loaf of heaven.
What is a Troll but that?//
A lurching, hateful, bitter scent. This is a gruesome blend of ghastly greens and blacks: vetiver, pine pitch, troll musk, black basil, clove smoke, and scorched cumin.
/***
Description: Contains the stuff you need to use Tiddlyspot
Note, you also need UploadPlugin, PasswordOptionPlugin and LoadRemoteFileThroughProxy
from http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info for a complete working Tiddlyspot site.
***/
//{{{
// edit this if you are migrating sites or retrofitting an existing TW
config.tiddlyspotSiteId = 'surrealreality';
// make it so you can by default see edit controls via http
config.options.chkHttpReadOnly = false;
window.readOnly = false; // make sure of it (for tw 2.2)
window.showBackstage = true; // show backstage too
// disable autosave in d3
if (window.location.protocol != "file:")
config.options.chkGTDLazyAutoSave = false;
// tweak shadow tiddlers to add upload button, password entry box etc
with (config.shadowTiddlers) {
SiteUrl = 'http://'+config.tiddlyspotSiteId+'.tiddlyspot.com';
SideBarOptions = SideBarOptions.replace(/(<<saveChanges>>)/,"$1<<tiddler TspotSidebar>>");
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DefaultTiddlers = DefaultTiddlers.replace(/^/,"[[WelcomeToTiddlyspot]] ");
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"This document is a ~TiddlyWiki from tiddlyspot.com. A ~TiddlyWiki is an electronic notebook that is great for managing todo lists, personal information, and all sorts of things.",
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"@@font-weight:bold;font-size:1.3em;color:#444; //What now?// @@ Before you can save any changes, you need to enter your password in the form below. Then configure privacy and other site settings at your [[control panel|http://" + config.tiddlyspotSiteId + ".tiddlyspot.com/controlpanel]] (your control panel username is //" + config.tiddlyspotSiteId + "//).",
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"See also GettingStarted.",
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"",
"@@font-weight:bold;font-size:1.3em;color:#444; //Help!// @@ Find out more about ~TiddlyWiki at [[TiddlyWiki.com|http://tiddlywiki.com]]. Also visit [[TiddlyWiki.org|http://tiddlywiki.org]] for documentation on learning and using ~TiddlyWiki. New users are especially welcome on the [[TiddlyWiki mailing list|http://groups.google.com/group/TiddlyWiki]], which is an excellent place to ask questions and get help. If you have a tiddlyspot related problem email [[tiddlyspot support|mailto:support@tiddlyspot.com]].",
"",
"@@font-weight:bold;font-size:1.3em;color:#444; //Enjoy :)// @@ We hope you like using your tiddlyspot.com site. Please email [[feedback@tiddlyspot.com|mailto:feedback@tiddlyspot.com]] with any comments or suggestions."
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'TspotControls':[
"| tiddlyspot password:|<<option pasUploadPassword>>|",
"| site management:|<<upload http://" + config.tiddlyspotSiteId + ".tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi index.html . . " + config.tiddlyspotSiteId + ">>//(requires tiddlyspot password)//<br>[[control panel|http://" + config.tiddlyspotSiteId + ".tiddlyspot.com/controlpanel]], [[download (go offline)|http://" + config.tiddlyspotSiteId + ".tiddlyspot.com/download]]|",
"| links:|[[tiddlyspot.com|http://tiddlyspot.com/]], [[FAQs|http://faq.tiddlyspot.com/]], [[blog|http://tiddlyspot.blogspot.com/]], email [[support|mailto:support@tiddlyspot.com]] & [[feedback|mailto:feedback@tiddlyspot.com]], [[donate|http://tiddlyspot.com/?page=donate]]|"
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'TspotSidebar':[
"<<upload http://" + config.tiddlyspotSiteId + ".tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi index.html . . " + config.tiddlyspotSiteId + ">><html><a href='http://" + config.tiddlyspotSiteId + ".tiddlyspot.com/download' class='button'>download</a></html>"
].join("\n"),
'TspotOptions':[
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//}}}
//A belching column of sick greenish flame... spouting volcanically from depths profound and inconceivable, casting no shadows as healthy flame should, and coating the nitrous stone with a nasty, venomous verdigris. For in all that seething combustion no warmth lay, but only the clamminess of death and corruption.
A crystalline, cold green fire.//
Six mints with white pepper and cucumber.
Stations of the Sun: The Setting Sun
Excolo
Discontinued 2008
//Hail unto Thee who art Tum in Thy setting, even unto Thee who art Tum in Thy joy, who travellest over the Heavens in Thy bark at the Down-going of the Sun. Tahuti standeth in His splendour at the prow, and ~Ra-Hoor abideth at the helm. Hail unto Thee from the Abodes of Day!//
Flotsam
White sandalwood, pikaki, 'umi'umi-o-dole, and plumeria.
Pure internal harmony and spiritual bliss: the perfected meditation blend.
//Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle!
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
As black as a tar-barrel!
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.'//
Absurd! Green mango, fig, patchouli and green tea.
//Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle!
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
As black as a tar-barrel!
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.'//
Ridiculous! Kumquat, white pepper, white tea and orange blossom.
//I like to drink martinis
Two at the very most.
Three, I'm under the table,
Four, I'm under my host.//
-- Dorothy Parker
A tribute to New York’s 21 Club on West 52nd, formerly the speakeasy Jack & Charlie’s Puncheon Club. This is the scent of the perfect martini:
//The Perfect Martini, as an idea, has infinite possibilities. For me, the Dry Martini remains an American symbol of elusive perfection, a kind of pagan Holy Grail. The dedicated Martini drinker views this deceptively simple cocktail as a true if fleeting, salvation, ... As in religion, one may not have actually witnessed the Conception of the Perfect Martini, but one accepts on faith that it exists, and that it takes away the sins of the earth.//
-- The Martini, Barnaby Conrad III
This scent is dedicated to all the mods on the BPAL forum as thanks for their hard work, friendship, and for all they do to make the forum a pleasant, safe, and friendly place.
An enigmatic, otherworldly scent, brimming with power and mystery.
Lavender and jasmine, with a touch of glowing honeysuckle.
//Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!
Up above the world you fly,
Like a teatray in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!//
A sparkly, batty little scent: green tea, melon, mint, lime rind, and champagne grape with lemon balm, mullein, and toadflax.
//Two Monsters, Hieronymous Bosch.//
Oakmoss, vetiver, black musk, champaca flower, leather, patchouli, ginger, Japanese pittosporum, ambergris and white pepper.
//‘Would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, ‘why you are painting those roses?’
Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low voice, ‘Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a red rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see, Miss, we’re doing our best, afore she comes, to— ’//
A huge bouquet of squished rose petals: Bulgarian rose, Somalian rose, Turkish rose, Damascus rose, red and white rose, tea rose, wine rose, shrub roses, rose, rose, rose…
…and just an itty bitty bit of green grass.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
Resurrected November 2006
//A fearsome creature from Greek lore. Typhon was born from the marriage of Earth and Hell, and is said to be so terrible in aspect that even the gods themselves flee from his venomous gaze.//
Our own blend of Earth and Hell: red patchouli, sandalwood, black musk and vetiver.
//Also called the Lamed Vev, two letters in the Hebrew alphabet that translate to the number thirty-six. In this violent, ugly, strife-riddled world of ours there are thirty-six men, the Hidden Just Men or Hidden Saints, who bear on their shoulders the burden of all our pain, sorrows and sins. The Tzadikim Nistarim move in obscurity, and are usually found among the poor, the downtrodden and the meekest among us, and are chosen for this task because of their righteousness, stalwart sense of genuine justice, and the true goodness of their souls. When one of these men dies, God chooses another to take his place. It is for their sake and for love of them that God does not destroy His imperfect creation. As long as the Lamed Vav serves humanity, the world will continue to plod on, but once one of them dies and God cannot find another worthy to take his place, the world will be destroyed. In Qabala, the thirty-six men of the Tzadikim Nistarim together combine to symbolize the seventy-two bridges, corresponding to the seventy-two names of God, that connect the concealed and revealed worlds of our universe. The scent is one of unadulterated spiritual purity, with a taste of the world's eternal pathos, and the joy of suffering with grace.//
Frankincense, olive, spikenard, hyssop and galangal.
//The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere -
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year:
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir -
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.//
Starry white lilies lend an eerie brightness to the deep black wooded scents of cypress and oak, layered with a touch of crushed dried leaves and the faintest aquatic note.
Electrifying, mechanized and chilly -- the scent of crushed blooms strewn on cold metal.
Lush violet and neroli spiked hard with eucalyptus and a sliver of mint.
The deepest, darkest point in a shadow; the area contained within the shadow of an eclipse.
East African black patchouli, cedarwood, vetiver and a dribble of cinnamon.
Red patchouli, sage leaf, Darjeeling tea, smoke-scarred sandalwood, green tobacco, and oud
//Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.//
Blue and white musk, summer roses, wild crimson leaves, grey amber, carnation, lavender bud, and vanilla bean.
The Dark Side of Water.
Clean and purifying, yet menacing -- lotus and juniper with a hint of mint. A scent dragged up from the depths to the Stygian shore.
Water
Purification :: Healing :: Forgiveness
The Astral Body :: Emotional Health :: Compassion
Dream Work :: Divination :: Imagination :: Friendship
Spiritual Growth :: Tranquility :: Tenderness
Receptivity :: Creativity :: Illusion
A freshly mowed teeing ground.
Powder-coated steel, caster wheels, cling wrap, and blood.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
//The wicked, malicious dark side of the Court of Faerie, Unseelie literally translates to 'Unholy'. The Unseelie Court is ruled by Titania's corrupted twin sister, the Queen of Air and Darkness. The Court rides the nighttime winds spreading chaos and miscief, woe be to any mortal that crosses its path.//
A misty, otherworldly scent laced with ethereal florals, crushed herbs and soft, dew-covered grasses.
The Bar
Spiced rum, coconut, pineapple, and vanilla.
| !date | !user | !location | !storeUrl | !uploadDir | !toFilename | !backupdir | !origin |
| 14/09/2009 00:11:40 | SurrealReality | [[index.html|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |
| 17/09/2009 17:20:09 | SurrealReality | [[index.html|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |
| 05/10/2009 18:04:34 | SurrealReality | [[index.html|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . | ok |
| 05/10/2009 18:12:56 | SurrealReality | [[index.html|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |
| 05/10/2009 19:05:23 | SurrealReality | [[surrealreality(2).html|file:///Users/theresabrown/Desktop/surrealreality(2).html]] | [[store.cgi|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |
| 05/10/2009 19:10:28 | SurrealReality | [[index.html|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . | ok |
| 05/10/2009 19:11:09 | SurrealReality | [[index.html|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . | ok |
| 05/10/2009 19:47:33 | SurrealReality | [[index.html|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |
| 12/10/2009 23:17:43 | SurrealReality | [[index.html|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . | ok |
| 12/10/2009 23:25:34 | SurrealReality | [[index.html|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://surrealreality.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |
/***
|''Name:''|UploadPlugin|
|''Description:''|Save to web a TiddlyWiki|
|''Version:''|4.1.3|
|''Date:''|Feb 24, 2008|
|''Source:''|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#UploadPlugin|
|''Documentation:''|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#UploadPluginDoc|
|''Author:''|BidiX (BidiX (at) bidix (dot) info)|
|''License:''|[[BSD open source license|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#%5B%5BBSD%20open%20source%20license%5D%5D ]]|
|''~CoreVersion:''|2.2.0|
|''Requires:''|PasswordOptionPlugin|
***/
//{{{
version.extensions.UploadPlugin = {
major: 4, minor: 1, revision: 3,
date: new Date("Feb 24, 2008"),
source: 'http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#UploadPlugin',
author: 'BidiX (BidiX (at) bidix (dot) info',
coreVersion: '2.2.0'
};
//
// Environment
//
if (!window.bidix) window.bidix = {}; // bidix namespace
bidix.debugMode = false; // true to activate both in Plugin and UploadService
//
// Upload Macro
//
config.macros.upload = {
// default values
defaultBackupDir: '', //no backup
defaultStoreScript: "store.php",
defaultToFilename: "index.html",
defaultUploadDir: ".",
authenticateUser: true // UploadService Authenticate User
};
config.macros.upload.label = {
promptOption: "Save and Upload this TiddlyWiki with UploadOptions",
promptParamMacro: "Save and Upload this TiddlyWiki in %0",
saveLabel: "save to web",
saveToDisk: "save to disk",
uploadLabel: "upload"
};
config.macros.upload.messages = {
noStoreUrl: "No store URL in parmeters or options",
usernameOrPasswordMissing: "Username or password missing"
};
config.macros.upload.handler = function(place,macroName,params) {
if (readOnly)
return;
var label;
if (document.location.toString().substr(0,4) == "http")
label = this.label.saveLabel;
else
label = this.label.uploadLabel;
var prompt;
if (params[0]) {
prompt = this.label.promptParamMacro.toString().format([this.destFile(params[0],
(params[1] ? params[1]:bidix.basename(window.location.toString())), params[3])]);
} else {
prompt = this.label.promptOption;
}
createTiddlyButton(place, label, prompt, function() {config.macros.upload.action(params);}, null, null, this.accessKey);
};
config.macros.upload.action = function(params)
{
// for missing macro parameter set value from options
if (!params) params = {};
var storeUrl = params[0] ? params[0] : config.options.txtUploadStoreUrl;
var toFilename = params[1] ? params[1] : config.options.txtUploadFilename;
var backupDir = params[2] ? params[2] : config.options.txtUploadBackupDir;
var uploadDir = params[3] ? params[3] : config.options.txtUploadDir;
var username = params[4] ? params[4] : config.options.txtUploadUserName;
var password = config.options.pasUploadPassword; // for security reason no password as macro parameter
// for still missing parameter set default value
if ((!storeUrl) && (document.location.toString().substr(0,4) == "http"))
storeUrl = bidix.dirname(document.location.toString())+'/'+config.macros.upload.defaultStoreScript;
if (storeUrl.substr(0,4) != "http")
storeUrl = bidix.dirname(document.location.toString()) +'/'+ storeUrl;
if (!toFilename)
toFilename = bidix.basename(window.location.toString());
if (!toFilename)
toFilename = config.macros.upload.defaultToFilename;
if (!uploadDir)
uploadDir = config.macros.upload.defaultUploadDir;
if (!backupDir)
backupDir = config.macros.upload.defaultBackupDir;
// report error if still missing
if (!storeUrl) {
alert(config.macros.upload.messages.noStoreUrl);
clearMessage();
return false;
}
if (config.macros.upload.authenticateUser && (!username || !password)) {
alert(config.macros.upload.messages.usernameOrPasswordMissing);
clearMessage();
return false;
}
bidix.upload.uploadChanges(false,null,storeUrl, toFilename, uploadDir, backupDir, username, password);
return false;
};
config.macros.upload.destFile = function(storeUrl, toFilename, uploadDir)
{
if (!storeUrl)
return null;
var dest = bidix.dirname(storeUrl);
if (uploadDir && uploadDir != '.')
dest = dest + '/' + uploadDir;
dest = dest + '/' + toFilename;
return dest;
};
//
// uploadOptions Macro
//
config.macros.uploadOptions = {
handler: function(place,macroName,params) {
var wizard = new Wizard();
wizard.createWizard(place,this.wizardTitle);
wizard.addStep(this.step1Title,this.step1Html);
var markList = wizard.getElement("markList");
var listWrapper = document.createElement("div");
markList.parentNode.insertBefore(listWrapper,markList);
wizard.setValue("listWrapper",listWrapper);
this.refreshOptions(listWrapper,false);
var uploadCaption;
if (document.location.toString().substr(0,4) == "http")
uploadCaption = config.macros.upload.label.saveLabel;
else
uploadCaption = config.macros.upload.label.uploadLabel;
wizard.setButtons([
{caption: uploadCaption, tooltip: config.macros.upload.label.promptOption,
onClick: config.macros.upload.action},
{caption: this.cancelButton, tooltip: this.cancelButtonPrompt, onClick: this.onCancel}
]);
},
options: [
"txtUploadUserName",
"pasUploadPassword",
"txtUploadStoreUrl",
"txtUploadDir",
"txtUploadFilename",
"txtUploadBackupDir",
"chkUploadLog",
"txtUploadLogMaxLine"
],
refreshOptions: function(listWrapper) {
var opts = [];
for(i=0; i<this.options.length; i++) {
var opt = {};
opts.push();
opt.option = "";
n = this.options[i];
opt.name = n;
opt.lowlight = !config.optionsDesc[n];
opt.description = opt.lowlight ? this.unknownDescription : config.optionsDesc[n];
opts.push(opt);
}
var listview = ListView.create(listWrapper,opts,this.listViewTemplate);
for(n=0; n<opts.length; n++) {
var type = opts[n].name.substr(0,3);
var h = config.macros.option.types[type];
if (h && h.create) {
h.create(opts[n].colElements['option'],type,opts[n].name,opts[n].name,"no");
}
}
},
onCancel: function(e)
{
backstage.switchTab(null);
return false;
},
wizardTitle: "Upload with options",
step1Title: "These options are saved in cookies in your browser",
step1Html: "<input type='hidden' name='markList'></input><br>",
cancelButton: "Cancel",
cancelButtonPrompt: "Cancel prompt",
listViewTemplate: {
columns: [
{name: 'Description', field: 'description', title: "Description", type: 'WikiText'},
{name: 'Option', field: 'option', title: "Option", type: 'String'},
{name: 'Name', field: 'name', title: "Name", type: 'String'}
],
rowClasses: [
{className: 'lowlight', field: 'lowlight'}
]}
};
//
// upload functions
//
if (!bidix.upload) bidix.upload = {};
if (!bidix.upload.messages) bidix.upload.messages = {
//from saving
invalidFileError: "The original file '%0' does not appear to be a valid TiddlyWiki",
backupSaved: "Backup saved",
backupFailed: "Failed to upload backup file",
rssSaved: "RSS feed uploaded",
rssFailed: "Failed to upload RSS feed file",
emptySaved: "Empty template uploaded",
emptyFailed: "Failed to upload empty template file",
mainSaved: "Main TiddlyWiki file uploaded",
mainFailed: "Failed to upload main TiddlyWiki file. Your changes have not been saved",
//specific upload
loadOriginalHttpPostError: "Can't get original file",
aboutToSaveOnHttpPost: 'About to upload on %0 ...',
storePhpNotFound: "The store script '%0' was not found."
};
bidix.upload.uploadChanges = function(onlyIfDirty,tiddlers,storeUrl,toFilename,uploadDir,backupDir,username,password)
{
var callback = function(status,uploadParams,original,url,xhr) {
if (!status) {
displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.loadOriginalHttpPostError);
return;
}
if (bidix.debugMode)
alert(original.substr(0,500)+"\n...");
// Locate the storeArea div's
var posDiv = locateStoreArea(original);
if((posDiv[0] == -1) || (posDiv[1] == -1)) {
alert(config.messages.invalidFileError.format([localPath]));
return;
}
bidix.upload.uploadRss(uploadParams,original,posDiv);
};
if(onlyIfDirty && !store.isDirty())
return;
clearMessage();
// save on localdisk ?
if (document.location.toString().substr(0,4) == "file") {
var path = document.location.toString();
var localPath = getLocalPath(path);
saveChanges();
}
// get original
var uploadParams = new Array(storeUrl,toFilename,uploadDir,backupDir,username,password);
var originalPath = document.location.toString();
// If url is a directory : add index.html
if (originalPath.charAt(originalPath.length-1) == "/")
originalPath = originalPath + "index.html";
var dest = config.macros.upload.destFile(storeUrl,toFilename,uploadDir);
var log = new bidix.UploadLog();
log.startUpload(storeUrl, dest, uploadDir, backupDir);
displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.aboutToSaveOnHttpPost.format([dest]));
if (bidix.debugMode)
alert("about to execute Http - GET on "+originalPath);
var r = doHttp("GET",originalPath,null,null,username,password,callback,uploadParams,null);
if (typeof r == "string")
displayMessage(r);
return r;
};
bidix.upload.uploadRss = function(uploadParams,original,posDiv)
{
var callback = function(status,params,responseText,url,xhr) {
if(status) {
var destfile = responseText.substring(responseText.indexOf("destfile:")+9,responseText.indexOf("\n", responseText.indexOf("destfile:")));
displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.rssSaved,bidix.dirname(url)+'/'+destfile);
bidix.upload.uploadMain(params[0],params[1],params[2]);
} else {
displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.rssFailed);
}
};
// do uploadRss
if(config.options.chkGenerateAnRssFeed) {
var rssPath = uploadParams[1].substr(0,uploadParams[1].lastIndexOf(".")) + ".xml";
var rssUploadParams = new Array(uploadParams[0],rssPath,uploadParams[2],'',uploadParams[4],uploadParams[5]);
var rssString = generateRss();
// no UnicodeToUTF8 conversion needed when location is "file" !!!
if (document.location.toString().substr(0,4) != "file")
rssString = convertUnicodeToUTF8(rssString);
bidix.upload.httpUpload(rssUploadParams,rssString,callback,Array(uploadParams,original,posDiv));
} else {
bidix.upload.uploadMain(uploadParams,original,posDiv);
}
};
bidix.upload.uploadMain = function(uploadParams,original,posDiv)
{
var callback = function(status,params,responseText,url,xhr) {
var log = new bidix.UploadLog();
if(status) {
// if backupDir specified
if ((params[3]) && (responseText.indexOf("backupfile:") > -1)) {
var backupfile = responseText.substring(responseText.indexOf("backupfile:")+11,responseText.indexOf("\n", responseText.indexOf("backupfile:")));
displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.backupSaved,bidix.dirname(url)+'/'+backupfile);
}
var destfile = responseText.substring(responseText.indexOf("destfile:")+9,responseText.indexOf("\n", responseText.indexOf("destfile:")));
displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.mainSaved,bidix.dirname(url)+'/'+destfile);
store.setDirty(false);
log.endUpload("ok");
} else {
alert(bidix.upload.messages.mainFailed);
displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.mainFailed);
log.endUpload("failed");
}
};
// do uploadMain
var revised = bidix.upload.updateOriginal(original,posDiv);
bidix.upload.httpUpload(uploadParams,revised,callback,uploadParams);
};
bidix.upload.httpUpload = function(uploadParams,data,callback,params)
{
var localCallback = function(status,params,responseText,url,xhr) {
url = (url.indexOf("nocache=") < 0 ? url : url.substring(0,url.indexOf("nocache=")-1));
if (xhr.status == 404)
alert(bidix.upload.messages.storePhpNotFound.format([url]));
if ((bidix.debugMode) || (responseText.indexOf("Debug mode") >= 0 )) {
alert(responseText);
if (responseText.indexOf("Debug mode") >= 0 )
responseText = responseText.substring(responseText.indexOf("\n\n")+2);
} else if (responseText.charAt(0) != '0')
alert(responseText);
if (responseText.charAt(0) != '0')
status = null;
callback(status,params,responseText,url,xhr);
};
// do httpUpload
var boundary = "---------------------------"+"AaB03x";
var uploadFormName = "UploadPlugin";
// compose headers data
var sheader = "";
sheader += "--" + boundary + "\r\nContent-disposition: form-data; name=\"";
sheader += uploadFormName +"\"\r\n\r\n";
sheader += "backupDir="+uploadParams[3] +
";user=" + uploadParams[4] +
";password=" + uploadParams[5] +
";uploaddir=" + uploadParams[2];
if (bidix.debugMode)
sheader += ";debug=1";
sheader += ";;\r\n";
sheader += "\r\n" + "--" + boundary + "\r\n";
sheader += "Content-disposition: form-data; name=\"userfile\"; filename=\""+uploadParams[1]+"\"\r\n";
sheader += "Content-Type: text/html;charset=UTF-8" + "\r\n";
sheader += "Content-Length: " + data.length + "\r\n\r\n";
// compose trailer data
var strailer = new String();
strailer = "\r\n--" + boundary + "--\r\n";
data = sheader + data + strailer;
if (bidix.debugMode) alert("about to execute Http - POST on "+uploadParams[0]+"\n with \n"+data.substr(0,500)+ " ... ");
var r = doHttp("POST",uploadParams[0],data,"multipart/form-data; ;charset=UTF-8; boundary="+boundary,uploadParams[4],uploadParams[5],localCallback,params,null);
if (typeof r == "string")
displayMessage(r);
return r;
};
// same as Saving's updateOriginal but without convertUnicodeToUTF8 calls
bidix.upload.updateOriginal = function(original, posDiv)
{
if (!posDiv)
posDiv = locateStoreArea(original);
if((posDiv[0] == -1) || (posDiv[1] == -1)) {
alert(config.messages.invalidFileError.format([localPath]));
return;
}
var revised = original.substr(0,posDiv[0] + startSaveArea.length) + "\n" +
store.allTiddlersAsHtml() + "\n" +
original.substr(posDiv[1]);
var newSiteTitle = getPageTitle().htmlEncode();
revised = revised.replaceChunk("<title"+">","</title"+">"," " + newSiteTitle + " ");
revised = updateMarkupBlock(revised,"PRE-HEAD","MarkupPreHead");
revised = updateMarkupBlock(revised,"POST-HEAD","MarkupPostHead");
revised = updateMarkupBlock(revised,"PRE-BODY","MarkupPreBody");
revised = updateMarkupBlock(revised,"POST-SCRIPT","MarkupPostBody");
return revised;
};
//
// UploadLog
//
// config.options.chkUploadLog :
// false : no logging
// true : logging
// config.options.txtUploadLogMaxLine :
// -1 : no limit
// 0 : no Log lines but UploadLog is still in place
// n : the last n lines are only kept
// NaN : no limit (-1)
bidix.UploadLog = function() {
if (!config.options.chkUploadLog)
return; // this.tiddler = null
this.tiddler = store.getTiddler("UploadLog");
if (!this.tiddler) {
this.tiddler = new Tiddler();
this.tiddler.title = "UploadLog";
this.tiddler.text = "| !date | !user | !location | !storeUrl | !uploadDir | !toFilename | !backupdir | !origin |";
this.tiddler.created = new Date();
this.tiddler.modifier = config.options.txtUserName;
this.tiddler.modified = new Date();
store.addTiddler(this.tiddler);
}
return this;
};
bidix.UploadLog.prototype.addText = function(text) {
if (!this.tiddler)
return;
// retrieve maxLine when we need it
var maxLine = parseInt(config.options.txtUploadLogMaxLine,10);
if (isNaN(maxLine))
maxLine = -1;
// add text
if (maxLine != 0)
this.tiddler.text = this.tiddler.text + text;
// Trunck to maxLine
if (maxLine >= 0) {
var textArray = this.tiddler.text.split('\n');
if (textArray.length > maxLine + 1)
textArray.splice(1,textArray.length-1-maxLine);
this.tiddler.text = textArray.join('\n');
}
// update tiddler fields
this.tiddler.modifier = config.options.txtUserName;
this.tiddler.modified = new Date();
store.addTiddler(this.tiddler);
// refresh and notifiy for immediate update
story.refreshTiddler(this.tiddler.title);
store.notify(this.tiddler.title, true);
};
bidix.UploadLog.prototype.startUpload = function(storeUrl, toFilename, uploadDir, backupDir) {
if (!this.tiddler)
return;
var now = new Date();
var text = "\n| ";
var filename = bidix.basename(document.location.toString());
if (!filename) filename = '/';
text += now.formatString("0DD/0MM/YYYY 0hh:0mm:0ss") +" | ";
text += config.options.txtUserName + " | ";
text += "[["+filename+"|"+location + "]] |";
text += " [[" + bidix.basename(storeUrl) + "|" + storeUrl + "]] | ";
text += uploadDir + " | ";
text += "[[" + bidix.basename(toFilename) + " | " +toFilename + "]] | ";
text += backupDir + " |";
this.addText(text);
};
bidix.UploadLog.prototype.endUpload = function(status) {
if (!this.tiddler)
return;
this.addText(" "+status+" |");
};
//
// Utilities
//
bidix.checkPlugin = function(plugin, major, minor, revision) {
var ext = version.extensions[plugin];
if (!
(ext &&
((ext.major > major) ||
((ext.major == major) && (ext.minor > minor)) ||
((ext.major == major) && (ext.minor == minor) && (ext.revision >= revision))))) {
// write error in PluginManager
if (pluginInfo)
pluginInfo.log.push("Requires " + plugin + " " + major + "." + minor + "." + revision);
eval(plugin); // generate an error : "Error: ReferenceError: xxxx is not defined"
}
};
bidix.dirname = function(filePath) {
if (!filePath)
return;
var lastpos;
if ((lastpos = filePath.lastIndexOf("/")) != -1) {
return filePath.substring(0, lastpos);
} else {
return filePath.substring(0, filePath.lastIndexOf("\\"));
}
};
bidix.basename = function(filePath) {
if (!filePath)
return;
var lastpos;
if ((lastpos = filePath.lastIndexOf("#")) != -1)
filePath = filePath.substring(0, lastpos);
if ((lastpos = filePath.lastIndexOf("/")) != -1) {
return filePath.substring(lastpos + 1);
} else
return filePath.substring(filePath.lastIndexOf("\\")+1);
};
bidix.initOption = function(name,value) {
if (!config.options[name])
config.options[name] = value;
};
//
// Initializations
//
// require PasswordOptionPlugin 1.0.1 or better
bidix.checkPlugin("PasswordOptionPlugin", 1, 0, 1);
// styleSheet
setStylesheet('.txtUploadStoreUrl, .txtUploadBackupDir, .txtUploadDir {width: 22em;}',"uploadPluginStyles");
//optionsDesc
merge(config.optionsDesc,{
txtUploadStoreUrl: "Url of the UploadService script (default: store.php)",
txtUploadFilename: "Filename of the uploaded file (default: in index.html)",
txtUploadDir: "Relative Directory where to store the file (default: . (downloadService directory))",
txtUploadBackupDir: "Relative Directory where to backup the file. If empty no backup. (default: ''(empty))",
txtUploadUserName: "Upload Username",
pasUploadPassword: "Upload Password",
chkUploadLog: "do Logging in UploadLog (default: true)",
txtUploadLogMaxLine: "Maximum of lines in UploadLog (default: 10)"
});
// Options Initializations
bidix.initOption('txtUploadStoreUrl','');
bidix.initOption('txtUploadFilename','');
bidix.initOption('txtUploadDir','');
bidix.initOption('txtUploadBackupDir','');
bidix.initOption('txtUploadUserName','');
bidix.initOption('pasUploadPassword','');
bidix.initOption('chkUploadLog',true);
bidix.initOption('txtUploadLogMaxLine','10');
// Backstage
merge(config.tasks,{
uploadOptions: {text: "upload", tooltip: "Change UploadOptions and Upload", content: '<<uploadOptions>>'}
});
config.backstageTasks.push("uploadOptions");
//}}}
Excolo, Muses
Discontinued 2008
//Urania, o'er her star-bespangled lyre,
With touch of majesty diffused her soul;
A thousand tones, that in the breast inspire,
Exalted feelings, o er the wires 'gan roll --
She sang of night that clothed the infant world,
In strains as solemn as its dark profound --
How at the call of Jove the mist unfurled,
And o'er the swelling vault -- the glowing sky,
The new-born stars hung out their lamps on high,
And rolled their mighty orbs to music's sweetest sound.
The Heavenly One is the Muse of Astrology and Astronomy, and guides all those who look to the stars for knowledge. She wears a flowing cloak embroidered with her beloved stars, holds a staff and a globe, and her eyes are skyward.//
Her scent is that of endless, star-clad space: glittering, cool, vast. Moonflower, Moroccan jasmine, benzoin, white musk, iris, moss and a flash of ozone.
//Eccentricity - Adventure - Clairvoyance - Defiance - Humanitarianism - Lawlessness - Magnetism - Paradoxes - Astrology - Whimsy - Progress - Electricity - Invention - Satire //
//Fate//
Muscadine, black and red patchouli, cereus and nag champa.
//A city of mystery, wonder and majesty, said to have been built by order of Gilgamesh.//
Thick bitter almond and heady night-blooming jasmine with saffron, cinnamon leaf, red patchouli, river lilies, bergamot, fig leaf and the sacred incense of Inanna.
//Surely, man had never before so terribly altered, in so brief a period, as had Roderick Usher! It was with difficulty that I could bring myself to admit the identity of the wan being before me with the companion of my early boyhood. Yet the character of his face had been at all times remarkable. A cadaverousness of complexion; an eye large, liquid, and luminous beyond comparison; lips somewhat thin and very pallid, but of a surpassingly beautiful curve; a nose of a delicate Hebrew model, but with a breadth of nostril unusual in similar formations; a finely molded chin, speaking, in its want of prominence, of a want of moral energy; hair of a more than web-like softness and tenuity; these features, with an inordinate expansion above the regions of the temple, made up altogether a countenance not easily to be forgotten. And now in the mere exaggeration of the prevailing character of these features, and of the expression they were wont to convey, lay so much of change that I doubted to whom I spoke. The now ghastly pallor of the skin, and the now miraculous luster of the eye, above all things startled and even awed me. The silken hair, too, had been suffered to grow all unheeded, and as, in its wild gossamer texture, it floated rather than fell about the face, I could not, even with effort, connect its arabesque expression with any idea of simple humanity.//
This is Roderick Usher: a faded genteel light musk and fougere, heightened by hectic white mint, gleaming mandarin, ethereal tea leaf and gritty blackcurrant brushed by the scent of the tarn that surrounds the House, and the gloom and decay of the walls that hold him.
//The Morning Star//
Osmanthus, Damascus rose, violet, delphinium, white mint, palmarosa and white sandalwood.
//Many legends surround St. Valentine, and history has yet to show, conclusively, which ones are true and which are fiction. One tale claims that Valentine was a 3rd century Christian priest. When Emperor Claudius II declared that his soldiers were never to marry - the emperor believed that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and children - Valentine continued to perform wedding ceremonies in secret. When the emperor learned of Valentine's disobedience, he imprisoned the priest. The emperor chose to interrogate the priest himself, and despite his fury at his orders being flagrantly disobeyed, he was impressed with the priest's intelligence, wisdom, and passion. He attempted to convert the priest to the Roman faith, and was furious when he failed.
While incarcerated, Valentine fell in love with his jailor's blind daughter. Through God's grace and the power of Valentine's pure and true love for this woman, he was able to cure her blindness with a touch. Before he was beaten and beheaded, he sent her a letter expressing his feelings for her, signed 'From Your Valentine'.//
Ecclesiastical incense, Roman flora, and the fruits of martyrdom: cypress, olive blossom, frankincense, myrrh, and blood accord.
//The Fool premiered at San Diego Comic Con 2009 through the CBLDF, along with a Limited Edition variant of the Fool
He had stepped over the precipice. There was no going back. In his imagination, he could already feel the prick of needle-sharp fangs in his neck, a sharp prelude to eternal life.
The sound began. It was low and sad, like the rushing of an underground river. It took him several long seconds to recognize it as laughter.
“This is not life,” said the voice.
It said nothing more, and after a while the young man knew he was alone in the graveyard. //
The Fool's perfume: apple blossom, peppermint, allspice, and yellow sandalwood speckled with grave loam and clods of grave dirt.
Shojo Beat
//Regret born from ceaseless longing.//
Wisteria, white grapefruit, neroli, green tea, jasmine, white ginger, honeysuckle, iris, and tonka.
A venerable voodoo blend, used for purification of the spirit and to amplify positive personal power.
//Dressed seductively and sumptuously, reclining in a bed strewn with glorious, sensual blooms, she awaits the arrival of her lover. Her breath is quick with anticipation, and her cheeks are flushed with passion.//
Skin musk, wild orchid, champaca flower, amaranth, tonka bean, and French vanilla.
Vasilissa the Beautiful
//"Take it, then," the Tsar said, "and bid her do it for me." The old woman brought the linen home and told Vasilissa the Tsar's command: "Well I knew that the work would needs be done by my own hands," said Vasilissa, and, locking herself in her own room, began to make the shirts. So fast and well did she work that soon a dozen were ready. Then the old woman carried them to the Tsar, while Vasilissa washed her face, dressed her hair, put on her best gown and sat down at the window to see what would happen. And presently a servant in the livery of the Palace came to the house and entering, said: "The Tsar, our lord, desires himself to see the clever needlewoman who has made his shirts and to reward her with his own hands."
Vasilissa rose and went at once to the Palace, and as soon as the Tsar saw her, he fell in love with her with all his soul. He took her by her white hand and made her sit beside him. "Beautiful maiden," he said, "never will I part from thee and thou shalt be my wife."
So the Tsar and Vasilissa the Beautiful were married, and her father returned from the far-distant Tsardom, and he and the old woman lived always with her in the splendid Palace, in all joy and contentment. And as for the little wooden doll, she carried it about with her in her pocket all her life long.//
She herself had cheeks like blood and milk and grew every day more and more beautiful: creamy skin musk and blushing pink musk with soft sandalwood, white amber, dutiful myrrh, and star jasmine.
//The Evening Star//
Three white musks with poppy and patchouli.
A quiet scent, soft, calm and enigmatic. A perfume of mystery, of whispers, and of secrets behind secrets.
White sandalwood, lilac, gardenia, violet, orris, lavender and ylang ylang.
Envelop yourself in the soft, sensual embrace of gentle sandalwood warmed by cocoa vanilla and a veil of deep myrrh.
Dust, tumbleweeds, cedar, and tobacco.
Rum-soaked cotton candy, boot-stomped licorice whips and circus peanuts, scorched marshmallows, a dribble of corn whiskey, cigar smoke, and greasepaint.
Wasabi, pu-erh and Touareg teas, green cedar, myrrh, white sage, khus, frankincense, and coriander.
Smooth wood, sweet pipe smoke, tonka, and Irish coffee.
Skin musk and flowering sugar cane.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("VelvetPaintings")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Dark musk, star anise, agarwood, styrax, vetiver, gaiacwood, King mandarin, violet leaf, and black vanilla.
Pink rock candy, strawberry cream, and splashes of gin, vermouth, and grenadine.
Spiced Satsuma orange, tangerine, rich amber, black licorice, teak, cinnamon, and vetiver.
Gold-washed frangipani, vanilla flower, vanilla bean, coconut, hibiscus, papaya, pineapple, bouganvilla, passion fruit, and three orchids.
Spun sugar, sparkling rainbow candies, strawberries, merangue, and cherry fluff.
//A complex, voluptuous scent that captures the robust beauty and of the Italian Renaissance.//
Lemon, red currant, wisteria, red rose petals, heady jasmine, Florentine orris root, waterlily, red sandalwood, violet plum, and violet leaf.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2005
//Darkly seductive and lethally compelling.//
Sinuous opponax, galbanum, dark wild berries, a drop of lush jasmine and a sliver of lime.
//Blissful Love - Romance - Passion - Grace - Beauty - Joy - Good Luck in Love and Money - Kindness - Affection - Artistic Inspiration and Success - Harmony - Reconciliation - Sensuosity - Charm - Elegance - Delight//
//Necessity//
Deep herbs and apple with black amber.
//Grand, courtly and robust: a glittering, golden scent that would do Louis XIV proud.//
Gilded red and gold citrus with amber, ruby roses, jasmine and orris.
Voluptuous and indulgent!
A deep chocolate scent, with black cherry and orange blossom.
//I promised her my eternal love, and I actually thought that for a couple of hours.//
Rake, scoundrel, demon in a frock coat. Devilishly seductive, ultimately tragic; a villain undone and redeemed by love.
Based on an 18th century gentlemen's cologne: ambergris, white musk, white sandalwood, Spanish Moss, orange blossom, three mints, jasmine, rose geranium and a spike of rosemary.
//Every boy in the village was in love with Victoria Forester. And many a sedate gentleman, quietly married with grey in his beard, would stare at her as she walked down the street, becoming, for a few moments, a boy once more, in the spring of his years with a spring in his step//
Graceful vanilla musk, tea rose, and stargazer lily.
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A classic Victorian men's cologne.
A lavender fougere, with hints of lilac, lime, and citrus musk.
Wanderlust
Discontinued 2008
//The legendary site of the Viking colony in Newfoundland founded circa 985.//
Crisp northern wind blowing over loganberry, wild roses, prairie crocus, iris versicolor Linné, mountain avens, yellow birch bark, mayflower and maple leaf.
Gentle tea rose, lilac, Calla Lily, and Somalian Rose layered over golden Peruvian amber, Spanish moss, red sandalwood, rosewood, and myrrh, with the lightest touch of Mandarin.
Hero Initiative: Wizard World Chicago
2009
Rugged and understated: five sandalwoods, dusty leather, and light musk.
//Though the doctor continued to assure her that the treatment was therapeutic, her anxiety increased. Ignoring her feeble protestations, the doctor produced a pair of glass wands, and set to work.
As the machine hummed to life, her misgivings were dissolved in a haze of unexpected pleasure. Warmth, contrasted sharply with a million white-hot pinpricks and a strangely cooling blast of electricity, surged through her thighs. The metal electrodes secured beneath her corset flared as the electrical current swelled through her nerve endings. //
White mint, purple musk, violet, lilac, ylang ylang, lavender moss, and sandalwood.
//She is tearful and dejected: her lover has broken a promise, and did not arrive for their tryst. She feels that she has been deceived, and her heart is volleyed from misery, to anger, to resentment.//
Benzoin, Greek sage, hay, melaleuca ericifolia, oakmoss, and blue chamomile.
//The Wilted One. She who is separated from her lover, and because of the distance between them, she suffers from loneliness, longing, and sorrow.//
Blue lilac, snowdrop, bergamot, night-blooming cereus, frankincense, Himalayan cedar, and stargazer lily.
//August 23 - September 22//
Apple, white musk, rose, narcissus, oakmoss, patchouli.
//Mutable earth: the essence of analysis.//
Fennel, valerian, maidenhair fern, carrot seed, honeysuckle, and myrtle.
//The Joy of Sarasvati, The Akashic Essence
The ~Sixteen-Petaled Lotus.
Creativity, self-expression, communication, sound, vibration, and the wisdom to know right from wrong.
Vishuddha confers the gift of speech, and thereby the ability to determine and pursue your desires and aspirations.
The activity of this chakra also confers the ability to understand how to learn from life’s pain, suffering and hardship, and with work, grants the knowledge and strength to transform our trials into growth.
When Vishuddha is closed, we suffer from spiritual entropy. When it is open and utilized, our sorrow blossoms into wisdom.//
//Deep at the bottom of the well no warmth has yet returned,
The rain which sighs and feels so cold has dampened withered roots.
What sort of man at such a time would come to visit the teacher?
As this is not a time for flowers, I find I've come alone.//
Temple incense, rain, and dust.
Lascivious, flirtatious, and vampy as hell. A true heartbreaker’s perfume.
The innocence of orange blossom tainted by the beguiling scents of ginger and patchouli.
//A midnight scent, evoking images of flickering golden firelight reflecting off the sheen of glistening skin and the jerking shadows of bodies suffused with spiritual ecstasy.//
A deep, powerful, resonant blend of myrrh, patchouli, vetiver, lime, vanilla, pine, almond and clove.
//Amorphallus, indeed.//
A breathtakingly exotic, wild, and grossly erotic spicy gold, purple-black, and burgundy lily.
Convergence XII
April 2006
//no scent description given//
Soft moss, vanilla musk, and cherry blossom.
//"And yet a restless, always unsatisfied craving for the nudity of paganism," she interrupted, "but that love, which is the highest joy, which is divine simplicity itself, is not for you moderns, you children of reflection. It works only evil in you. As soon as you wish to be natural, you become common. To you nature seems something hostile; you have made devils out of the smiling gods of Greece, and out of me a demon. You can only exorcise and curse me, or slay yourselves in bacchantic madness before my altar. And if ever one of you has had the courage to kiss my red mouth, he makes a barefoot pilgrimage to Rome in penitential robes and expects flowers to grow from his withered staff, while under my feet roses, violets, and myrtles spring up every hour, but their fragrance does not agree with you. Stay among your northern fogs and Christian incense; let us pagans remain under the debris, beneath the lava; do not disinter us. Pompeii was not built for you, nor our villas, our baths, our temples. You do not require gods. We are chilled in your world."//
Along with Loviatar, she has become something of a Patron Goddess of all Dominatrixes, Wanda is the breathtakingly beautiful sable-wrapped marble queen of ~Sacher-Masoch's fantasies.
Her scent is a deep red merlot with a faint hint of leather, sexual musk and body heat over crushed roses, violets and myrtle.
Feminine sexuality in its rawest form.
Palmarosa, red sandalwood, attar of rose, patchouli.
//She finished the drink, hefted the sword over one shoulder, and looked around at the puzzled factions, who now encircled her completely. 'Sorry to run out on you, chaps,' she said. 'Would love to stay and get to know you better.'
The men in the room suddenly realized they didn't want to know her better. She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, but not up close.
And she held her sword, and she smiled like a knife.//
Red ginger, black spices, patchouli, honeysuckle, and three blood-soaked red musks.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("WarriorQueens")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
2008
Compassion, eloquence, introspection: Chinese musk and rain, with salty oceanic notes, frankincense, juniper berry, lily of the valley, lavender, cinquefoil, and sweet pea
Brings peace to the spirit, a sense of calm and fulfillment, and attracts the aid of beneficial spirits.
//"My father says there's no such thing as witches," said Wensleydale, who had fair, wavy hair, and peered seriously out at life through thick black rimmed spectacles. It was widely believed that he had once been christened Jeremy, but no one ever used the name, not even his parents, who called him Youngster. They did this in the subconscious hope that he might take the hint; Wensleydale gave the impression of having been born with a mental age of forty seven.//
An immaculately clean scent: well-scrubbed soapy skin and fresh cotton.
[[Snake Oil]] with leather, tonka bean, red sandalwood, and sage.
Hazelnut, vanilla bean, red sandalwood, amber, myrrh, and honey.
Agony and ecstasy.
Black leather and damp red rose.
//Then, too, the natives are mortally afraid of the numerous whippoorwills which grow vocal on warm night. It is vowed that the birds are psychopomps lying in wait for the souls of the dying, and that they time their eerie cries in unison with the sufferer's struggling breath. If they can catch the fleeing soul when it leaves the body, they instantly flutter away chittering in daemoniac laughter; but if they fail, they subside gradually into a disappointed silence.
A foreboding, tenebrific death rattle; the scent of a dying breath as it wafts into the marshland.//
Spanish moss, cedar, black pepper, oakmoss, juniper, bamboo reeds and cardamom.
Box of Chocolates
White chocolate and strawberry
Box of Chocolates
White chocolate and sugared violets
Box of Chocolates
White chocolate, marshmallow, and coconut
November 2006
//Look down, fair moon, and bathe this scene;
Pour softly down night’s nimbus floods, on faces ghastly, swollen, purple;
On the dead, on their backs, with their arms toss’d wide,
Pour down your unstinted nimbus, sacred moon.
The chill winds and dark skies of November mark a time of reflection and release, and though the sting of grief is oft-times most painful during this portion of the year, the icy air brings clarity and eases the burden of suffering.//
These are the blossoms of loss and liberation, soothed by the calm, comforting scent of sandalwood: lilac, calla lily, wisteria, white sandalwood, moonflower, night musk, phlox, and violet.
2007
//White, for acting in good conscience and doing our best to give back to the community.//
Frangipani, magnolia, cotton flower, osmanthus, crystal musk, ambrette, white orchid, sugar cane, davana, white sandalwood, petitgrain, lavender, and lotus root.
Strong black tea and milk with white pepper, ginger, honey and vanilla, spilled over the crisp scent of clean linen.
Le Mat
White rose buds, with vanilla tea, benzoin, orris, coconut meat, and frankincense.
//A gentlemen's blend, possessed of dignity, charm and refinement, but in truth masking a corrupted, hideous, soulless core.//
White musk, lime, lilac and citron.
~Post-War Trade Exclusive Collection
Debuted at ~Comic-Con 2009
<<forEachTiddler
where
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sortBy
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//Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind!
But as for me, alas, I may no more;
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,
I am of them that furthest come behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow; I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,
As well as I, may spend his time in vain.
And graven with diamonds in letters plain,
There is written her fair neck round about,
"Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame."//
Sensual brown musk, rich amber, English rose, oak bark, and moss.
//A paean to all the Wicked Queens, Evil Stepmothers, and other misunderstood villainesses throughout history and lore.// Lends an aura of majesty, refinement, strength, and a deep, brooding malice.
A sophisticated, womanly scent: rich myrrh and jasmine draped in the subtlest rose.
//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.
August 2004
A traditional blend of woods used in Celtic pyromantic divinatory practices, updated and contemporized with the addition of a fae blend of orris essence, dragon's blood, juniper berry, and red rose.
//A few rough logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream. On that side of the road where the brook entered the wood, a group of oaks and chestnuts, matted thick with wild grapevines, threw a cavernous gloom over it. To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was at this identical spot that the unfortunate André was captured, and under the covert of those chestnuts and vines were the sturdy yeomen concealed who surprised him. This has ever since been considered a haunted stream, and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who has to pass it alone after dark.//
Water-logged and rotting wood, fallen chestnuts, oak leaf, bog laurel, and Virginia creeper.
//With his left hand he held both Mrs. Harker's hands, keeping them away with her arms at full tension. His right hand gripped her by the back of the neck, forcing her face down on his bosom. Her white nightdress was smeared with blood, and a thin stream trickled down the man's bare chest which was shown by his torn-open dress. The attitude of the two had a terrible resemblance to a child forcing a kitten's nose into a saucer of milk to compel it to drink.
Van Helsing, Art, and I moved forward to Mrs. Harker, who by this time had drawn her breath and with it had given a scream so wild, so ear-piercing, so despairing that it seems to me now that it will ring in my ears till my dying day. For a few seconds she lay in her helpless attitude and disarray. Her face was ghastly, with a pallor which was accentuated by the blood which smeared her lips and cheeks and chin. From her throat trickled a thin stream of blood. Her eyes were mad with terror. Then she put before her face her poor crushed hands, which bore on their whiteness the red mark of the Count's terrible grip, and from behind them came a low desolate wail which made the terrible scream seem only the quick expression of an endless grief.//
Tea rose, white sandalwood and a flurry of pale, virginal blossoms, smeared with a smoky, blood-soiled blend of myrrh, hyacinth, Daemonorops resin, dark musk and blackcurrant.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("WillCall")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
//Breezes blowing off of the waters of the Caribbean.//
Marine accord, seaweed, and bladderwrack.
March 2009
//Stinging wind whips past the trees, stripping the dead and decaying bark from their trunks. This is a time of renewal, both earthly and spiritual.//
The scent of wind and wood, and the smoke of council fires burning in the distance.
//Azrael is the Angel of Death, marked as the last being to die in the Apocalypse. Though a harbinger of doom, his duties are an act of mercy: he curtails human life before world-weariness and despair destroys our spirits.//
Warm myrrh swirled with a bittersweet blend of violet, Lily of the Valley, juniper, cypess and cajeput.
January 2005
//This is the dead of winter, the year’s dark hibernation, the crystalline silence of the depths of the world’s darkness. It bears echoes of the time before time, of primordial gloom. This Moon harbors memories of man’s life before fire.//
January 2007
//This pale and glittering moon hangs high over the deep snows and freezing winds of midwinter. January’s full moon has been named the Wolf Moon by many cultures, as the nights are filled with the howls of ravenous wolf packs, and the danger of falling prey to the animal’s desperate hunger is at its peak.
This scent is that of unending, unquenchable hunger and feral madness. This is the dead of winter: a frozen night, chill wind, and the sharp, warm perfume of blood, fur, fang, and claw.//
Winter air, Terebinth pine, juniper berry, dusty orris, deep amber, white sandalwood, black musk, blue cedar, and tonka.
Grants courage under extreme conditions, helps overcome fear of death, and strengthens the fortitude of artists and businessmen, enabling them to further their goals.
//Notorious for its properties for protection against werewolves and curing lycanthropy, this nefarious plant also has a fine history of use as a virulent poison. Clasically, Medea employed it in her many works of vengeance.//
This concoction of ours has none of the lethal qualities, but still personifies all of the herb's dark history beautifully.
2008
Flexibility, cooperation, expansiveness, and altruism: Chinese musk and five woods with newly budding bamboo shoots, hyssop, chamomile, pink clove, magnolia, walnut, and fig.
March 2008
//Do not smirk as a hearse goes by,
For you may be the next to die.
They wrap you up in a big white sheet
And throw you down six feet deep.
They put you in a big black box,
And cover you up with dirt and rocks.
All goes well for a week or two,
Then things start changing; all is new.
The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
The worms play pinochle on your snout.
A big green worm with rolling eyes,
Crawls in your stomach and out your eyes.
Til your blood turns mossy green
And oozes out like Devonshire cream.
Worm Moon marks the season of rains, when the worms scuttle forth, aerating the earth with their movements and enriching the soil by digesting waste in organic material, which creates organic fertilizer.//
Since April is Black Phoenix's Month of Absurdity, we present a melding of Victorian Grotesquery and springtime fecundity: mold-crusted dirt, decomposing organic matter, coffin wood, drooping funeral flowers, congealed blood, gloomy lunar oils, cuckoo flower, and a gruesome burst of overripe red fruits.
A scent aflame with rage, swirling in the red haze of hatred.
Dragon's blood spiked with black pepper, clove, and cinnamon.
//A lively tune is being played nearby; it is syncopated, a disjointed song, but perky and upbeat. As you turn to the next stage, you see the broad back and shaggy hair of the next performer. He is seated on a stool in front of a battered upright piano. Wire pokes out from holes in the back of the decrepit beechwood, and broken pinblocks are scattered on the floor. A bowl of glistening viscera has been plopped on a small end table next to the pianist. You can see that the ivory keys of the piano are smeared with blood. He pounds and tinkles the keys merrily, and laughs to himself. The man turns to the audience, and his unkempt russet hair, feral yellow eyes, wild balbo, and chin curtain beard betray his lycanthropic nature. He smiles widely, innocently, and waves his red-stained, black-clawed paw in a genial welcome. He bellows cheerfully, “Hi there! Make yourself comfortable! Don’t you look absolutely necrolishious! HA! HAHA! I just made that word up!” He laughs again, turns, and resumes playing the piano. The rambling tune picks up pace, and he plays with a showman’s flourish. The song slows as he chats with the audience from over his shoulder. “You know, my ex-girlfriend was a real handful, but really… I’ve never known a woman that was as tender as she was. She was all gushy, and well… to be honest, she just fell to pieces for me. Eventually, things ran their course… three courses, really… and, as they say, nothing lasts forever. But I’ll always have a piece of her, here… close to my heart.” He chuckles, and pats the chest of his patchwork overcoat.
In the distance, possibly from Meskhenet’s stage, you hear one of the phantom musicians give Wulric a gratuitous rim shot.//
Friendly, charming, and cuddly, but possessing one hell of a mean streak: cocoa absolute, French vanilla, birch tar, lavender, bourbon vetiver, wild musk, clary sage, and cistus.
//From the corner of your eye, you see what seems to be a swirl of pale, translucent spirits. Ghostly in form, their faces are masks of pain and fury. Their insubstantial bodies churn and roil around a hissing, wailing clown. Her greasepaint is smeared with tears, and her fanged crimson mouth is turned down in a vicious scowl while blood drips from her lips. Her costume is torn and threadbare, and a steel-bright glint around her waist draws your eyes to an arsenal of razors, knives, and cleavers hanging from her belt. She swats futilely at the spirits as she shoves and scratches her way through the crowd.//
Guava, orange peel, white pepper, spun sugar and apple blossom.
//Patron of the Aztec pantheon, he is the personification of light within darkness, warmth in the cold, and life in, and after, death. He is a creative and destructive God of Fire and Light, and is appeased only by sacrifice, trial, and the slaughter of his people's enemies.//
Copal, plumeria and sweet orange and the smoke of South American incense and crushed jungle blooms.
//We shall swim out to that brooding reef in the sea and dive down through black abysses to Cyclopean and many-columned Y'ha-nthlei, and in that lair of the Deep Ones we shall dwell amidst wonder and glory for ever.//
A great undersea metropolis located below Devil's Reef. A swirling, lightless, effervescent scent: the deepest marine notes with bergamot, eucalyptus and foamy ambergris.
//Lady of the Ocean, Queen of Mothers, Mother of the Children of the Fishes. She is the River of Life, the ocean is her womb, and she is the mother of many of the Orishas. Yemaya shares the oceans with her lover / brother / son / brother-self, Olokun, and She governs the uppermost part of the waters where the sun’s rays mingle with Her waters to promote life and growth. Yemaya is everlasting, She is motherhood, the universal drive for the survival of a species, the procreative urge, the instinct of a mother protecting her young, and She is the governess of all life on Earth. She is the Most Fruitful of Women, and both She and Olokun are the protectors and benefactors of those who wish to conceive. Yemoya, being the mother of Shango, also has jurisdiction over rain and snow. She has seven roads and seven manifestations, all corresponding to the Seven Seas. She is the blood that pumps through our veins, and the sound of our blood rushing through our bodies is Her lullaby. She is in constant motion, never resting, ever vigilant and though she may seem calm on the surface, there is always activity within Her waters. The Great Mother possesses breathtaking beauty, patience and a gentle hand, yet She is also fearsome, temperamental, moody and stern. She nurtures her children, but She is also a disciplinarian. She is symbolized by the fish, mermaid, seagull, wharf rat, ibis, vulture and duck, and She shares the beauty of the peacock feather with Oshun.//
Her ofrenda is a bounty of melons and grapes, strewn with the petals of the flowers of motherhood, draped with sea mosses.
Wanderlust
Discontinued 2008
//Brimming with native fruits and flowers, but also imbued with the power of native earth magicks.//
Apricot and pomegranate with deep plum, wild roses, two Middle Eastern pale musks, white orchid, iris and sweet roots.
//Foundation, The Living God, Eternal Life, the Source of the Living Waters.//
//There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,
Which to this day stands single, in the midst
Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore:
Not loathe to furnish weapons for the Bands
Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched
To Scotland's heaths; or those that crossed the sea
And drew their sounding bows at Azincour,
Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers.
Of vast circumference and gloom profound
This solitary Tree! - a living thing
Produced too slowly ever to decay;
Of form and aspect too magnificent
To be destroyed. But worthier still of note
Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale,
Joined in one solemn and capacious grove;
Huge trunks! - and each particular trunk a growth
Of intertwisted fibres serpentine
Up-coiling, and inveteratley convolved, -
Nor uninformed with Fantasy, and looks
That threaten the profane; - a pillared shade,
Upon whose grassless floor of red-brown hue,
By sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged
Perennially - beneath whose sable roof
Of boughs, as if for festal purpose decked
With unrejoicing berries - ghostly Shapes
May meet at noontide: Fear and trembling Hope,
Silence and Foresight, Death the Skeleton
And Time the Shadow; there to celebrate,
As in a natural temple scattered o'er
With altars undisturbed of mossy stone,
United worship; or in mute repose
To lie, and listen to the mountain flood
Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves.//
Piercingly sweet berries over evergreen boughs, deepened by the tree’s sacred wood.
The World Ash.
Nine woods, nine leaves, and three herbs each for Ratatosk and Vidofnir, with three final herbs to placate Nidhogg.
//It was an ~All-in-One and ~One-in-All of limitless being and self -- not merely a thing of one ~Space-Time continuum, but allied to the ultimate animating essence of existence’s whole unbounded sweep -- the last, utter sweep which has no confines and which outreaches fancy and mathematics alike. It was perhaps that which certain secret cults of earth have whispered of as ~YOG-SOTHOTH, and which has been a deity under other names; that which the crustaceans of Yuggoth worship as the ~Beyond-One, and which the vaporous brains of the spiral nebulae know by an untranslatable Sign...
The perfume of eternity in vast, unknowable space.//
A glittering oil, ephemeral, iridescent, and horrifying in its immeasurable emptiness. This is the scent of air and darkness.
//Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now?//
Grave dirt, bone, decay, angel's trumpet, and moldering scraps of shroud: the essence of finality.
//Isabella I, Queen of Castile and León, was a proponent of education, establishing lasting institutions of higher learning, a patron of scholars and artists, and an enthusiastic sponsor of exploratory expeditions, including Christopher Columbus’ voyage to the New World. She possessed a great military mind, and was integral in the retaking of Grenada, thus sealing the Reconquista. With her husband, Ferdinand, she ruled with equal authority and power, unifying Spain and laying the foundations of the Spanish Empire. //
Red carnation, red roses, Spanish cedar, velvet musk, pomegranate, clove, and incense.
Diabolus
Discontinued 2004
Resurrected November 2006
//The Lady of the Snow, Winter Ghost, Snow Queen.//
A chilling, haunted blend of bergamot, lemon verbena, sandalwood and jasmine.
//The Holly King and Oak King each hold sway for half of the year, and engage in an epic, eternal battle at Litha and Yule. In truth, they are each a half of the whole – known by many names: Pashupati, Caerwiden, Herne, Pan, Puck, Cernunnos, the Green Man, the Horned God – and as the Holly and Oak Kings represent the light and dark halves of the year, thus do they also represent the light and dark halves of the deity, and thereby, of ourselves.
During the darkness of the year, though it seems cold, barren, and bleak, the earth holds the warmth of life deep within itself, and in the depth of its shadows is the eternal promise of renewal and rebirth.//
It is Yule, and the Holly King has slain the Oak: blood red holly berry, mistletoe, wild thyme, verbena, cinquefoil, hemp, winter rose, evergreen, frankincense, juniper, and myrrh.
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Yule03")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Yule04")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Yule05")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Yule06")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Yule07")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
[[The Wind In The Willows]]
<<forEachTiddler
where
'tiddler.tags.contains("Yule08")'
sortBy
'tiddler.title'>>
Yule 2003, 2004, 2005
The juice of ripe, bursting, blood red holly berries.
//She was sprawled, awkwardly, beneath the hazel tree, and she gazed up at Tristran with a scowl of complete unfriendliness.
She hefted another clod of mud at him, menacingly, but did not throw it.
Her eyes were red and raw. Her hair was so fair it was almost white, her dress was of blue silk which shimmered in the candlelight. She glittered as she sat there.//
The high, crystalline scent of a star-filled night with blue lavender and lush magnolia.
//A tiny woman stands in the center of the stage, the perfect woman in miniature, her copper hair bouncing in elegant curls. She is surrounded on all sides by a necropolis of maimed, mutilated stuffed animals, decapitated fashion dolls, and eviscerated wooden figures. It is a strangely ghastly tableau: the disemboweled toys ooze fiberfill, batting, and sawdust from their gaping wounds. In one dainty hand she clutches a shard of glass, and in the other she nimbly twirls a razor blade. Her face is twisted in a grimace of mad ferocity, and she hisses as she brandishes her makeshift weapons at you. “Play with me?” she growls.//
Soft, yet sociopathic: white carnation, iris, orange blossom, and sugared cream.
Zenobia was Queen of the Palmyrene Empire. She assumed leadership of her nomadic tribe after her father’s death, eventually marrying King Septimius Odaenathus. Zenobia seemed a contradiction: chaste, dark-eyed, and lovely, but able to drink, fight, and make war like a man. She fought, on horseback, alongside her husband in many battles, and ruled the Empire with a fair and just hand after her husband’s passing. To her people, she was the Lady of Victory, conquering several Roman provinces, including Egypt, and expelling the prefect, Tenagino Probus, who was beheaded after he led an attempt to seize back control of the territory for Rome. Her conquests enabled her to control many vital trade routes, further earning her the ire of the Romans. Unfortunately, she eventually overextended her reach. She was betrayed, and then captured by Emperor Aurelian, displayed in chains in a triumphal procession through Rome, her Empire dissolved. Rather than capitulate to misfortune, she made a new life for herself, and became a Roman matron, philosopher, and socialite.
Orris, clove, costus storax, patchouli, hyssop, frankincense, balsam, and saffron.
A gentle white scent, breezes laced with the scent of springtime blooms and citrus.
Lemon, lemon verbena, neroli, white musk, white florals, white sandalwood, China musk, bergamot and a drop of vanilla.
Dried roses, rose leaf, Spanish moss, oakmoss and deep brown earth.
//Brains? Brains.
Examples: Night of the Living Dead (and all things ~Romero-plus-Dead), 28 Days Later, Undead, Planet Terror //
Swirls of red jelly and sugary white ooze.
//The Midnight Star//
Spices of the Orient mingle with crystalline musk, midnight flowers and cereus, jasmine, primrose and vesper iris.