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Worm Moon is live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post! Gloriously ghoulish artwork by Julie Dillon! WORM MOON 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. This is a melding of Victorian Grotesquery and springtime fecundity: mold-crusted dirt, decomposing organic matter, coffin wood, drooping funeral flowers, congealed blood, gloomy lunar oils, and cuckoo flower with something moist lurking underneath. This month, we are introducing a Limited Edition series inspired by the vivid beauty of Yoshitoshi's imagery: Holding Back the Night. These Limited Edition scents were initially intended to be the introduction to a full Yoshitoshi Salon series at BPAL, and was slated for Summer of 2011. Because of recent events in Japan, we have pulled this series forward. Proceeds from these five scents benefit Doctors Without Borders. The Path of Dreams Atmosphere spray at Black Phoenix Trading Post, inspired by Ono No Komachi, also benefits Doctors Without Borders. In addition, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab will be donating proceeds from all March sales of their Shanghai and Kyoto perfumes to the American Red Cross. Black Phoenix Trading Post will be doing the same for all March sales of Shanghai bath oil and Glowing Vulva bath oil. This is a Limited Edition series that will run from 17 March 2011 until 19 May 2011. No imp's ears are available for this series. + HOLDING BACK THE NIGHT: SCENTS BENFITTING JAPAN RELIEF KUSUNOKI TAMONMARU MASATSURA SURPRISING A FOX GHOST Deep blue musk, olibanum, passion flower, galbanum, immortelle, and sweet myrrh. LORD TEISHIN WITH A DEMON BEHIND A SCREEN Blood red musk, Spanish mandarin, candied red fruits, Chinese geranium, red pepper, and effervescent tangerine pulp. II NO HAYATA KILLS THE NUE AT THE IMPERIAL PALACE Brown musk, antiqued amber, black pepper, tolu balsam, and West Indian Bay. MINAMOTO NO YORIMITSU CUTS AT THE EARTH SPIDER Toasted sandalwood, tobacco flower, teakwood, castoreum accord, bourbon vanilla, and patchouli. ENLIGHTENMENT OF THE COURTESAN JIGOKUDAYU Silken coconut, angelica, soft golden incense, tiare, carnation, and Asian pear. + THE PATH OF DREAMS: BPTP ATMOSPHERE SPRAY THE PATH OF DREAMS Although I come to you constantly over the roads of dreams, those nights of love are not worth one waking touch of you. Wisteria, ti, peach tree leaf, osmanthus, hinoki wood, bergamot, night-blooming jasmine, and ume blossoms. Also new this month: the next installation of our Last Unicorn series! THE HARPY CALANEO The unicorn began to walk toward the harpy's cage. Schmendrick the Magician, tiny and pale, kept opening and closing his mouth at her, and she knew what he was shrieking, though she could not hear him. "She will kill you, she will kill you! Run, you fool, while she's still a prisoner! She will kill you if you set her free!" But the unicorn walked on, following the light of her horn, until she stood before Celaeno, the Dark One. For an instant the icy wings hung silent in the air, like clouds, and the harpy's old yellow eyes sank into the unicorn's heart and drew her close. "I will kill you if you set me free," the eyes said. "Set me free." The unicorn lowered her head until her horn touched the lock of the harpy's cage. The door did not swing open, and the iron bars did not thaw into starlight. But the harpy lifted her wings, and the four sides of the cage fell slowly away and down, like the petals of some great flower waking at night. And out of the wreckage the harpy bloomed, terrible and free, screaming, her hair swinging like a sword. The moon withered and fled. The unicorn heard herself cry out, not in terror but in wonder, "Oh, you are like me!" She reared joyously to meet the harpy's stoop, and her horn leaped up into the wicked wind. The harpy struck once, missed, and swung away, her wings clanging and her breath warm and stinking. She burned overhead, and the unicorn saw herself reflected on the harpy's bronze breast and felt the monster shining from her own body. So they circled one another like a double star, and under the shrunken sky there was nothing real but the two of them. The harpy laughed with delight, and her eyes turned the color of honey. The unicorn knew that she was going to strike again. Clanging metal, smouldering hatred, and terror: vetiver, myrrh, patchouli, tolu balsam, black clove, bergamot, orange flower, and horseradish. ELLI'S SONG "Most shows," said Rukh after a time, "would end here, for what could they possibly present after a genuine unicorn? But Mommy Fortuna's Midnight Carnival holds one more mystery yet - a demon more destructive than the dragon, more monstrous than the manticore, more hideous than the harpy, and certainly more universal than the unicorn." He waved his hand toward the last wagon and the black hangings began to wriggle open, though there was no one pulling them. "Behold her!" Rukh cried. "Behold the last, the Very End! Behold Elli!" Inside the cage, it was darker than the evening, and cold stirred behind the bars like a live thing. Something moved in the cold, and the unicorn saw Elli - an old, bony, ragged woman who crouched in the cage rocking and warming herself before a fire that was not there. She looked so frail that the weight of the darkness should have crushed her, and so helpless and alone that the watchers should have rushed forward in pity to free her. Instead, they began to back silently away, for all the world as though Elli were stalking them. But she was not even looking at them. She sat in the dark and creaked a song to herself in a voice that sounded like a saw going through a tree, and like a tree getting ready to fall. What is plucked will grow again, What is slain lives on, What is stolen will remain - What is gone is gone. "She doesn't look like much, does she?" Rukh asked. "But no hero can stand before her, no god can wrestle her down, no magic can keep her out - or in, for she's no prisoner of ours. Even while we exhibit her here, she is walking among you, touching and taking. For Elli is Old Age." The cold of the cage reached out to the unicorn, and wherever it touched her she grew lame and feeble. She felt herself withering, loosening, felt her beauty leaving her with her breath. Ugliness swung from her mane, dragged down her head, stripped her tail, gaunted her body, ate up her coat, and ravaged her mind with remembrance of what she had once been. Somewhere nearby, the harpy made her low, eager sound, but the unicorn would gladly have huddled in the shadow of her bronze wings to hide from this last demon. Elli's song sawed away at her heart. What is sea-born dies on land, Soft is trod upon. What is given burns the hand - What is gone is gone. The horrors of entropy, death, and decay: desiccated black mosses, vetiver, olibanum, patchouli, and ashes. CAPTAIN CULLY "I'm merry twenty-four hours a day, Dick Fancy," Cully said coldly. "That is a fact." A cocky light musk with leather, tonka, a dusting of dry woods, and a splash of porter. MAGIC, DO AS YOU WILL Cully smiled impatiently, and Jack Jingly dozed, but it startled the magician to see the disappointment in Molly Grue's restless eyes. Sudden anger made him laugh. He dropped seven spinning balls that had been glowing brighter and brighter as he juggled them (on a good evening, he could make them catch fire), let go all his hated skills, and closed his eyes. "Do as you will," he whispered to the magic. "Do as you will." It sighed through him, beginning somewhere secret - in his shoulderblade, perhaps, or in the marrow of his shinbone. His heart filled and tautened like a sail, and something moved more surely in his body than he ever had. It spoke with his voice, commanding. Weak with power, he sank to his knees and waited to be Schmendrick again. I wonder what I did. I did something. He opened his eyes. Most of the outlaws were chuckling and tapping their temples, glad of the chance to mock him. Captain Cully had risen, anxious to pronounce that part of the entertainment ended. Then Molly Grue cried out in a soft, shaking voice, and all turned to see what she saw. The ecstasy of magic and the power of transformation: frankincense, guggul gum, onycha accord, styrax, and deep purple fruits. THE AMOROUS TREE "Gently, gently," he counseled himself. "No man with the power to summon Robin Hood - indeed, to create him - can be bound for long. A word, a wish, and this tree must be an acorn on a branch again, this rope be green in a marsh." But he knew before he called on it that whatever had visited him for a moment was gone again, leaving only an ache where it had been. He felt like an abandoned chrysalis. "Do as you will," he said softly. Captain Cully roused at his voice, and sang the fourteenth stanza. "There are fifty swords without the house, and fifty more within, And I do fear me, captain, they are like to do us in." "Ha' done, ha' done," says Captain Cully, "and never fear again, For they may be a hundred swords, but we are seven men." "I hope you get slaughtered," the magician told him, but Cully was asleep again. Schmendrick attempted a few simple spells for escaping, but he could not use his hands, and he had no more heart for tricks. What happened instead was that the tree fell in love with him and began to murmur fondly of the joy to be found in the eternal embrace of a red oak. "Always, always," it sighed, "faithfulness beyond any man's deserving. I will keep the color of your eyes when no other in the world remembers your name. There is no immortality but a tree's love." "I'm engaged," Schmendrick excused himself. "To a western larch. Since childhood. Marriage by contract, no choice in the matter. Hopeless. Our story is never to be." A gust of fury shook the oak, as though a storm were coming to it alone. "Galls and fireblight on her!" it whispered savagely. "Damned softwood, cursed conifer, deceitful evergreen, she'll never have you! We will perish together, and all trees shall treasure our tragedy!" Along his length Schmendrick could feel the tree heaving like a heart, and he feared that it might actually split in two with rage. The ropes were growing steadily tighter around him, and the night was beginning to turn red and yellow. He tried to explain to the oak that love was generous precisely because it could never be immortal, and then he tried to yell for Captain Cully, but he could only make a small, creaking sound, like a tree. She means well, he thought, and gave himself up for loved. A tree in love: misty, rose-flecked leaves, warm bark, and shuddering branches. SCHMENDRICK Wonder and love and great sorrow shook Schmendrick the Magician then, and came together inside him, and filled him, filled him until he felt himself brimming and flowing with something that was none of these. He did not believe it, but it came to him anyway, as it had touched him twice before and left him more barren than he had been. This time, there was too much of it for him to hold: it spilled through his skin, sprang from his fingers and toes, welled up equally in his eyes and his hair and the hollows of his shoulders. There was too much to hold, too much ever to use; and still he found himself weeping with the pain of his impossible greed. He thought, or said, or sang, I did not know that I was so empty, to be so full. A scent of unexplored potential: sweet, raw tobacco leaves, chamomile, clary sage, Mysore sandalwood, sultana raisins, and caramel. MOLLY GRUE Molly said something strange then, for a woman who never slept a night through without waking many times to see if the unicorn was still there, and whose dreams were all of golden bridles and gentle young thieves. "It's the princesses who have no time," she said. "The sky spins and drags everything along with it, princesses and magicians and poor Cully and all, but you stand still. You never see anything just once. I wish you could be a princess for a little while, or a flower, or a duck. Something that can't wait." She sang a verse of a doleful, limping song, halting after each line as she tried to recall the next. Who has choices need not choose. We must, who have none. We can love but what we lose - What is gone is gone. Schmendrick peered over the unicorn's back into Molly's territory. "Where did you hear that song?" he demanded. It was the first he had spoken to her since the dawn when she joined the journey. Molly shook her head. "I don't remember. I've known it a long time." The land had grown leaner day by day as they traveled on, and the faces of the folk they met had grown bitter with the brown grass; but to the unicorn's eyes Molly was becoming a softer country, full of pools and caves, where old flowers came burning out of the ground. Under the dirt and indifference, she appeared only thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old - no older than Schmendrick, surely, despite the magician's birthdayless face. Her rough hair bloomed, her skin quickened, and her voice was nearly as gentle to all things as it was when she spoke to the unicorn. The eyes would never be joyous, any more than they could ever turn green or blue, but they too had wakened in the earth. She walked eagerly into King Haggard's realm on bare, blistered feet, and she sang often. An angry little beetle with her own kitchen beauty: fig, sesame, hazelnut, and cooking spices softened by rice flower. UNICORN HORN: PACK OF SERIES II IMP'S EARS Imp's ears are not sold individually for this series. They must be purchased in a set. This set contains 7 imps for $38.50US, and contains samples of: The Harpy Calaneo Elli's Song Captain Cully Magic, Do As You Will The Amorous Tree Schmendrick Molly Grue Not-so-awesome news -- We grieve: Silk Road is being discontinued, effective immediately. Outstanding orders will be filled, but we cannot accept new orders for this scent. VERY awesome news -- Coming soon!

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab will be donating proceeds from all March sales of their Shanghai and Kyoto perfumes to the American Red Cross. Black Phoenix Trading Post will be doing the same for all March sales of Shanghai bath oil and Glowing Vulva bath oil. Text REDCROSS to 90999 to make a $10 donation to the American Red Cross Disaster Relief Fund. Love, hope, and wishes for safety to everyone imperiled by the earthquake.

Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs etsy site is now back from hiatus! -- http://www.etsy.com/shop/alchemylab Aaaaaaaaand… Black Phoenix Trading Post now has its own etsy site! -- http://www.etsy.com/shop/bptradingpost Please check in on our etsy sites for trunk show and Lunacy tee overstock, as well as limited run items and some general catalogue stuffz! We'll be adding as much as possible, time permitting!

Updated 17 February 2011: Lemon-Scented Sticky Bats have flown into the Lab! Inspired by Neil Gaiman's Blog! What's a lemon-scented sticky bat? Well... LEMON-SCENTED STICKY BAT ...last week Maddy woke me up early in the morning. "Daddy," she said, "There's a bat on the kitchen window." "Grumphle," I said and went back to sleep. Soon, she woke me up again. "I did a drawing of the bat on the kitchen window," she said, and showed me her drawing. For a five year old she's a very good artist. It was a schematic of the kitchen windows, showing a bat on one of the windows. "Very nice dear," I said. Then I went back to sleep. When I went downstairs... We have, instead of dangling fly papers, transparent strips of gluey clear plastic, about six inches long and an inch high, stuck to the windows on the ground floor. When they accumulate enough flies, you peel them off the window and throw them away. There was a bat stuck to one. He was facing out into the room. "I think he's dead," said my assistant Lorraine. I peeled the plastic off the window. The bat hissed at me. "Nope," I said. "He's fine. Just stuck." The question then became, how does one get a bat (skin and fur) off a fly-strip. Luckily, I bethought me of the Bram Stoker award. After the door had fallen off (see earler in this topic) I had bought some citrus solvent to take the old glue to reglue the door on. So I dripped citrus solvent onto the grumpy bat, edging him off the plastic with a twig, until a lemon-scented sticky bat crawled onto a newspaper. Which I put on the top of a high woodpile, and watched the bat crawl into the logs. With any luck he was as right as rain the following night... Sticky-sweet iced lemon sugar! This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture: proceeds from every single bottle go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, which works to preserve and protect the First Amendment rights of the comics community. Label artwork by Alicia Dabney! Sugar Moon is live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post! SUGAR MOON 2011 No way to see him on this moonless night --- I lie awake longing, burning, breasts racing fire, heart in flames. Sugar cane, black currant, violet musk, black orchid, gardenia, plum nectar, carrot seed, teak, strawberry, and dusky rose. The artwork for the tee was illustrated by Sarah Coleman. Both the babydoll and the crew are made from organic cotton, and the tee is a soft off-white color. Also new at the Lab and the 'Post: The next installment from Neil Gaiman's 15 Painted Cards from a Vampire Tarot: the Lovers. The scent is available at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, and the tee is available at Black Phoenix Trading Post. This is one of the most disturbing scents that we have created to date, and is not for the faint of heart. Romantically ghoulish artwork by the inimitable Madame Talbot. Also new! ANATHESTERIA Anthesteria, one of the four central feasts of Dionysus, is held for three days during the month of Anthesterion-- the time of blooming. It is a celebration of the birth of spring, expressed symbolically though the ceremonial opening of the pithoi containing the previous year's vintage. A time of joy and drunkenness, it is both a celebration of earth's renewal and springtime's bright passions and a festival of the dead. During the three nights of Anthesteria, the ghosts of our ancestors roam the streets. This commemoration of death and rebirth, passion and springtime was one of the few, precious moments when all were equal in the Hellenic world; during Anthesteria, man, woman, and child, free man and slave, human and spirit were all unified under the auspices of Nature's great cycle. Dénthis wine and Bibline grape, with honey and a touch of thyme and oregano. The bath oil is available at Black Phoenix Trading Post, and the scent is available at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand also at Black Phoenix Trading Post: RED LANTERN ATMOSPHERE SPRAY 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. GLOWING VULVA BATH OIL Cream accord, amber, teak, and lotus blossom. SPANKED REVISITED PERFUME OIL Whip leather, cardamom, patchouli, and bourbon. The labels for Red Lantern, Glowing Vulva, and Spanked are all very naughty and contain explicit depictions of sexual acts and nudity. By purchasing any of these, you a are stating that you are eighteen years of age, or older, and that you are choosing to purchase products whose labels feature adult content. The Courtesans series is live at Black Phoenix Trading Post! Every action we take, everything we do, is either a victory or defeat in the struggle to become what we want to be. Dazzling in their wit, charm, and beauty, courtesans have danced on the edge of society for centuries. They served as companions, lovers, and confidantes of fearsomely powerful men, and as such, courtesans have helped shape the world, sometimes surreptitiously commanding nations with the force of their charisma and the power of bodies Born into eras when women were worth little more than their dowries or the fecundity of their wombs, these were self-made women who defied the constraints of their time. Though they could never be considered paragons of purity or propriety, these women were poets, authors, and power brokers who dared to embrace the unconventional while taking control of their own lives, and are truly worthy of admiration. Each set comes with a 5ml bottle of the Courtesans' perfume, a 12oz bottle of the Courtesans' bath salts, an imp/condom case with the Courtesans' image emblazoned upon it, and an imp of Éclat: a vivacious blend of green tea, osmanthus, pomelo flower, white musk, and verbena. All of the items, with the exception of Éclat, are available individually. Éclat is only available with the set, and is not for purchase on its own. Our wet bath salts are nutrient-dense, and are blended with an exquisite mixture of healthy oils: Himalayan pink salt, Dead Sea salt, Breton sea salt, refined rice bran oil, fractionated coconut oil, shea oil, rosehip seed oil, dendritic salt, evening primrose, Vitamin E, and Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab perfume. They are packaged in an elegant velveteen pouch. Illustration on the pouches designed by Alicia Dabney. The cases are handmade, and have been crafted out of stainless steel. They fit seven imps side-by-side or two condoms within them. And last, but not least: NEW SOCKS at the 'Post! Many thanks to the wonderful people at Sock Dreams. It is always a pleasure working with you! A million, trillion thanks to Kathy Flynn, Alicia Dabney, Sarah Coleman, and Ali Butterfass. You are my angels, and I love you.

First things first! Pop open the champagne Will Call has come to New England! New England Will Call Healthy Living Market (inside the Learning Center) 222 Dorset Street, South Burlington, VT, 05403 They will be hosting will call on Sunday, January 23rd, from 4 to 8pm. Welcome to the family, Courtney and crew! We love you guys! Kung Hei Fat Choi! Happy New Year, one and all! It's the year of the Metal Rabbit! METAL RABBIT 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, cypress for longevity, and peach fruit and hemp to represent the fourth phase of Wu Xing, with a splash of blazing red of dragon's blood... to help you scare away the rampaging Nian. Love is in the air at Black Phoenix, and to celebrate both Lupercalia /and/ our favorite Hallmark Holiday, we present a selection of seasonal scents, lecherous and lovely. Heartbreak, fascination, lust, loss, and licentiousness: we've got it all. As always, our offerings during this Season of Schtupping contain adult material, and by clicking through to view the images and purchase our Lupercalia products, you are admitting that you are a dirty bird who is 18 or older, and that you are permitted by law to view suggestive imagery. Blessed Lupercalia, everyone! The Season of Schtupping is here! ++ LUPERCALIA THE ARBOR He seems to be a god, that man Facing you, who leans to be close, Smiles, and, alert and glad, listens To your mellow voice And quickens in love at your laughter That stings my breasts, jolts my heart If I dare the shock of a glance. I cannot speak, My tongue sticks to my dry mouth, Thin fire spreads beneath my skin, My eyes cannot see and my aching ears Roar in their labyrinths. Chill sweat glides down my back, I shake, I turn greener than grass. I am neither living nor dead and cry From the narrow between. (Sappho, translation by Guy Davenport) Shuddering, thundering, passionate: red musk, East African red patchouli, tonka bean, white gardenia, black narcissus, champaca flower, Roman chamomile, and massoia bark. DOLCE STIL NUOVO 2011 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. KHAJURAHO 2011 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. LUPERCI 2010 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. NIGHT'S PAVILION 2011 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. OLISBOS 2011 As for old flames and lovers-they're none left. And since Milesians went against us, I've not seen a decent eight-fingered dildo. Yes, it's just leather, but it helps us out. The ancient Greeks sure weren't shy about taking care of business. The port city of Miletus was once famed throughout the Mediterranean as a source of excellent stone, wood, and padded leather dildos. This scent is the celebration of an age-old pastime: polished wood, well-loved leather, and olive oil. PARLEMENT OF FOULES 2011 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. RED LANTERN 2011 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. SMUT 2011 After all these years, BPAL is smuttier than ever. Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes. TEARS, IDLE TEARS Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more! (Lord Alfred Tennyson) A bittersweet aquatic lifted by white rose, olibanum, amber, orris root, davana, and oude. TIME DOES NOT BRING RELIEF Time does not bring relief; you all have lied Who told me time would ease me of my pain! I miss him in the weeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide; The old snows melt from every mountain-side, And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane; But last year's bitter loving must remain Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide. There are a hundred places where I fear To go - so with his memory they brim. And entering with relief some quiet place Where never fell his foot or shone his face I say, 'There is no memory of him here!' And so stand stricken, so remembering him. (Edna St Vincent Millay) Remembrance: Parma violet and leather accord with beeswax, Egyptian musk, orange blossom, white tea, lavender, myrrh, and copal. VALENTINE OF ROME 2011 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. WOMB FURIE 2011 In the middle of the flanks of women lies the womb, a female viscus, closely resembling an animal; for it is moved of itself hither and thither in the flanks, also upwards in a direct line to below the cartilage of the thorax and also obliquely to the right or to the left, either to the liver or spleen; and it likewise is subject to falling downwards, and, in a word, it is altogether erratic. It delights, also, in fragrant smells, and advances towards them; and it has an aversion to fetid smells, and flees from them; and on the whole the womb is like an animal within an animal.</i> -- Aretaeus the Cappadocian Oh, that wily womb! Hippocrates and his followers considered the womb a mobile creature, causing mayhem as it writhed its way through a woman's body. Sometimes this ornery organ, due to lack of sexual activity, would create conflicts within a woman's system or would become blocked itself, causing anxiety, nervousness, water retention, and sleeplessness. With the assistance of doctors, nursemaids, hand tools, or, occasionally, self-manipulation, this vexing condition could be alleviated through hysterical paroxysms. Or, as we call it nowadays: orgasm. An itch that needs to be scratched: Snake Oil and three types of honey. We are thrilled to present another set of psychotically tantalizing confections from Arkham's finest chocolatier and the Miskatonic Valley's preeminent importer of otherworldly sweets: the Sugared She-Goat! Maddeningly addictive! This Valentine's Day, melt your lover's heart, figuratively, with a gift from the Miskatonic Valley's premiere boutique chocolatier! This season's specialty truffles are handmade by subjugated monks from Ghatanothoa's monestary at Mount Yaddith-Gho, under the watchful eye of Mother Shub's high priests. Imported to Arkham from Mu, they are distributed exclusively through the Sugared She-Goat. Iä, Shub-Niggurath, the Malefic She-Goat of Many Sugary Treats! ++ LUPERCALIA: BOX OF CHOCOLATES Dark Chocolate, Fig, and Tamarind Dark Chocolate, Lime, and Chocolate Mint Milk Chocolate, Cassia, and Bacon Milk Chocolate, Raw Ginger, and Butterscotch White Chocolate Martini White Chocolate Mango Buttercream (There is no bacon in the bacon chocolate. It's bacon accord, if you will, and contains no animal products whatsoever.) Even though I just said it, this does bear repeating. The following Lupercalia sets contain nudity, depictions of sex acts, and other not-suitable-fer-younguns stuff. By clicking on the links or purchasing these products, you are affirming that you are at least eighteen years of age and that you are permitted by law to view suggestive imagery. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is also not responsible for any pearl-clutching reactions to the themes we present. If you are offended by nudity, schtupping, marital aids, or any other naughty business, please go no further. Viewer discretion is advised! For your pleasure, we are thrilled to present another whimsical sojourn to the bedrooms of Edo-era Japan -- Novel Ideas For Secret Amusements IV: A Shunga Exhibition. This year, we also return to Cyprus and Cythera where we do honor to the Goddess Rising Out of the Sea. And finally, we present Venustas: A tribute to William Etty and the Elegance of the Human Form. ++ LUPERCALIA: NOVEL IDEAS FOR SECRET AMUSEMENTS AN APPRAISAL OF SENSUAL PLEASURE IN THE FOUR SEASONS Wild plum, lemongrass, frankincense, honeysuckle, and teak. BIWA Tangerine, black currant, white musk, honey, and tagetes. BURNING VULVA Vanilla-infused amber, leather, beeswax, cyclamen, oakmoss, peru balsam, orange blossom, red ginger, tonka, opoponax, myrrh, and black pepper. COUPLE ENGAGED IN LOVEMAKING Honey, lemongrass, black tea, white ginger, and grains. COPULATING MICE Bergamot, clove, hazelnut, pecan, lavender, tonka, and thyme. DANCING KOI Brown musk, leather accord, toasted sandalwood, clove, labdanum, and champaca. FESTIVAL MASK Rubbed sage, ti leaf, osmanthus, immortelle, patchouli, amber, and mandarin. GODS OF INTERCOURSE Peach and peach blossom with rose geranium, red currant, pink musk, and gardenia. HARIGATA II Coconut, white amber, hazelnut, and anise. LOOSENING OF THE OBI Rice wine, white sandalwood, vanilla bean, and white musk. SPRINGTIME PLAYFULNESS Green and brown musks, coconut husk, wisteria, lemongrass, hydrangea, cranberry, woody sandalwood, and ripe squash. TEA Darjeeling tea, lemon verbena, star anise, and honeycomb. USHI Red musk, crushed tomatoes, mango, and fig. YOUNG PINE SAPLINGS Cream, clove, ginger, and honey. To Aphrodite. Ourania, illustrious, laughter-loving queen, sea-born, night-loving, of awful mien; crafty, from whom Ananke first came, producing, nightly, all-connecting dame. 'Tis thine the world with harmony to join, for all things spring from thee, O power divine. The triple Moirai are ruled by thy decree, and all productions yield alike to thee: whatever the heavens, encircling all, contain, earth fruit-producing, and the stormy main, thy sway confesses, and obeys thy nod, awful attendant of Bakkhos God. Goddess of marriage, charming to the sight, mother of the Erotes, whom banquetings delight; source of Peitho, secret, favouring queen, illustrious born, apparent and unseen; spousal Lukaina, and to men inclined, prolific, most-desired, life-giving, kind. Great sceptre-bearer of the Gods, 'tis thine mortals in necessary bands to join; and every tribe of savage monsters dire in magic chains to bind through mad desire. Come, Kyprogenes, and to my prayer incline, whether exalted in the heavens you shine, or pleased in odorous Syria to preside, or over the Aigyptian plains they care to guide, fashioned of gold; and near its sacred flood, fertile and famed, to fix they blest abode; or if rejoicing in the azure shores, near where the sea with foaming billows roars, the circling choirs of mortals thy delight, or beauteous Nymphai with eyes cerulean bright, pleased by the sandy banks renowned of old, to drive thy rapid two-yoked car of gold; or if in Kypros thy famed mother fair, where Nymphai unmarried praise thee every year, the loveliest Nymphai, who in the chorus join, Adonis pure to sing, and thee divine. Come, all-attractive, to my prayer inclined, for thee I call, with holy, reverent mind. ++ LUPERCALIA: ODE TO APHRODITE ANTHEIA The Blooming / Friend of Flowers Grandiflorum jasmine, Damask rose, ylang ylang, gardenia, sweetbriar, and apple blossom dusted by golden amber. APATOUROS Deceptive One Black fig, green tea, opoponax, ciste absolute, myrrh, carnation, nutmeg, and Brazilian vetiver. APATROPHIA She Who Expels Sinful Lusts A complex Eastern musk with orange blossom, peppermint, lime peel, spikenard, petitgrain, and white cedar. APHROGENÊS Foam Born Orris root, iris, white honey, white sandalwood, coconut, and cherry blossom. AREIA Warlike Dragon's blood resin, pimento berry, olive wood, rosemary, black cherry, persimmon, red musk, and red rose. HEKAERGÊ She Who Strikes From a Distance Red patchouli, myrrh, lemongrass, gurjum balsam, lemongrass, lavender, and honey. KATASKOPIA She Who Spies Tuberose, mandarin, jonquil, black sandalwood, green musk, styrax, hyacinth, and violet musk. KYPRIS She Who Furnishes Pregnancy Peru balsam, vanilla bean, Rainier cherry, bitter almond, golden honey, rose water, lemon peel, sugar cane, and benzoin. KYTHERIAN She Who Conceals Love-Affaris Black narcissus, purple orchid, neroli, white sandalwood, ambergris, plum musk, jonquil, thyme, oakmoss, and grapefruit. NIKÊPHOROS Bringer of Victory Black currant, patchouli, blood orange, oakmoss, galbanum, benzoin, and white mint. NYMPHIA She Who Blesses Brides White rose, apple blossom, spun sugar, mango, cucumber, freesia, coconut, and lavender. ++ LUPERCALIA: VENUSTAS FEMALE NUDE, THREE-QUARTER LENGTH, BESIDE HER LEFT AN APPLE TREE Mahogany, rosewood, and red apple. MALE NUDE, ARMS UPSTRETCHED Dark musk, linen, and red chypre. MANILUS HURLED FROM THE ROCK Frankincense, leather accord, sandalwood, Himalayan cedar, nutmeg, and violet leaf. NUDE WOMAN RECLINING Calla lily, honeysuckle, Turkish jasmine, ambrette seed, galbanum, iris, and bourbon vanilla. THE RING Antiqued amber, frankincense, patchouli, hay, oakmoss, skin musk, and white mint. STANDING FEMALE NUDE Red rose and red currant with amber, blood orange, myrrh, and golden musk. SLEEPING NYMPH AND SATYRS Wild woods, Bulgarian rose, tolu balsam, vanilla absolute, ambergris, honey, and vanilla. WRESTLERS Vetiver, guiac wood, peru of balsam, two musks, labdanum, saffron, and rum accord. Look! Up in the sky! Bony Moon is live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post! BONY MOON 2011 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. Amazing, AMAZING artwork by Julie Dillon! Julie, we are so grateful to you for sharing your immense talent with us! Buy the companion shirt here! Embalming Fluid and Snake Oil are now part of Black Phoenix Trading Post's permanent bath collection. Morocco and Shanghai bath oils have also been added! The price for Snake Oil has gone up, as several of the components of Snake oil are very precious and rare and it is extremely expensive to keep in production in this format. And, frankly… Ted uses a metric shit ton of Snake Oil in the mix. The Dark Delicacies / Black Phoenix Valentine's Day scent is live on the Dark Delicacies web site, and are also available at their brick and mortar shop in Burbank, CA! RED LACE Blood-stained sweetness. Red musk, tobacco, red sandalwood, dried pomegranate, patchouli, dusty frankincense, and raspberry clotted over blackened sugar-spun vanilla cream cotton. Red Lace is available exclusively through Dark Delicacies. Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Blvd. Burbank, CA 91505 888-DARKDEL http://www.darkdel.com The Black Phoenix Trading Post Lupercalia update will be along shortly. We're shooting for a week from now. I hate closing this update out on a gloomy note, but I have no choice. The following scents are being discontinued, effective immediately. Cottonmouth Ether The High Priest Not to be Described I Died for Beauty Little Sparrow The Macabray Melancholia Pannychis The Unicorn Please accept my heartfelt apologies for the lack of notice; we don't have a choice. We will be able to fill outstanding orders that contain these scents, but we cannot accept new orders for them. Our first lunacy of 2011 will be the first will call to be held in four locations. ___ The west coast will call event will be held on Wednesday, January 19th from 7 to 10pm at Dark Delicacies. Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Blvd (1 block east of Hollywood Way) Burbank, CA 91505 ___ GA Will Call will be at Whole Foods Market, aka Harrys Farmers Market, in Roswell, GA, on Sunday, January 30th from 5 to 8pm, inside Salud (which is inside the store.) Whole Foods Market 1180 Upper Hembree Road, Roswell, GA, 30076. Whole Foods accepts Visa, Master Card, Discover, American Express and cash. They will not be able to accept any preorders. Seattle Will Call will be held on Wednesday, January 19th from 7:30 to 10:30pm at Knows Perfume. knows perfume 4536 California Ave., SW Seattle, WA 98116 (206) 397-3141 And last but not least, New England Will Call will be held at Healthy Living Market on Sunday, January 23rd from 4 to 8pm, in the Learning Center. Healthy Living Market 222 Dorset Street, South Burlington, VT, 05403 Healthy Living will be accepting pre-orders. You can email Courtney at CourtneyW@healthylivingmarket.com or call her at (802) 863-2569 ex 301, by 1/12 to place your order. ___ The blends that will be available for purchase include those that went live on the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab website up to and including the Wolf Moon update. Forum only scents will not be available at Will Call. We will no longer be accepting preorders at West Coast Will Call, with the exception of orders paid with Paypal, and orders for Twilight Alchemy Lab oils. We will do our best to accommodate all orders, but sales will be based on availability. At this time, Twilight Alchemy Lab oils will only be available at Dark Delicacies via preorder. Items from Black Phoenix Trading Post will be available at Dark Delicacies, subject to stock on hand. If you have any questions, please email us at willcall@blackphoenixalchemylab.com. Where/When: West Coast Will Call at Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Ave Burbank, CA 91505 Wednesday, January 19th, 7 to 10pm Seattle Will Call at knows perfume 4536 California Ave SW Seattle, WA 98116 Wednesday, January 19th, 7:30 to 10:30pm New England Will Call at Healthy Living Market (inside the Learning Center) 222 Dorset Street, South Burlington, VT, 05403 Sunday, January 23rd, 4 to 8pm Georgia Will Call at Whole Foods aka Harrys Farmers Market (inside Salud) 1180 Upper Hembree Road, Roswell, GA, 30076 Sunday, January 30th, 5 to 8pm Blessed Lupercalia and Happy Valentine's Day to All! We truly hope you enjoy our Lupercalia offerings as much as we enjoyed creating them!

Happy New Year from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab & Black Phoenix Trading Post!

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post will be closed December 24 – 26 and December 31 – January 1. Happy holidays, and may we all have a new year filled with peace, pleasure, prosperity, and good will.

Share your photos and stories of tonight’s lunar eclipse on the Black Phoenix Gazette! Please post your photos and tales in the comments, and share the experience with others in the BPAL community!

This months lunacy is WOLF MOON 2011 This pale and glittering moon hangs high over the deep snows and freezing winds of midwinter. Januarys 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 animals 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, black spruce, long-dead maple leaves, juniper berry, dusty orris, deep amber, white sandalwood, brown musk, blue cedar, ambrette seed, benzoin, and tonka. And also WINTER SOLSTICE LUNAR ECLIPSE Thy shadow, Earth, from Pole to Central Sea, Now steals along upon the Moons meek shine In even monochrome and curving line Of imperturbable serenity. How shall I link such sun-cast symmetry With the torn troubled form I know as thine, That profile, placid as a brow divine, With continents of moil and misery? And can immense Mortality but throw So small a shade, and Heavens high human scheme Be hemmed within the coasts yon arc implies? Is such the stellar gauge of earthly show, Nation at war with nation, brains that teem, Heroes, and women fairer than the skies? On December 21st, the longest night of 2010, a total lunar eclipse will occur. There will be seventy-two minutes of glorious totality while the moon is enveloped in a cloak of luminous, blood-tinged amber. Totality will begin at 11:41 pm Black Phoenix Standard Time. If this isnt a magical night, I dont know what is. A voluptuous and brittle blend of lunar oils and white chypre shimmering with darkly glowing red musk, golden amber, black currant, patchouli, rose peppercorn, blackberry, ylang ylang, and daemonorops astride Yuletides holly berry, white pine, winter rose, and myrrh. Plus, a little something for bpal.org forum members - WILF … because vampires arent the only supernatural beings worthy of our amorous attentions. Warm fur coupled with red and black musk, vanilla bean, patchouli, champaca flower, juniper berry, chocolate peppermint, frangipani, browned sandalwood, ferntop ash resin, and massoia bark. Love and gratitude to Stephen Huang (Lycanthrope here on the forum!) for the inspiration and for blessing us with his adorable, whimsical artwork! - - The Wolf Moon tee is also live at Black Phoenix Trading Post! Woodcut-inspired artwork by Julie Dillon! - - Some recaps of recent announcements A KISS FROM KRAMPUS! Ein Kuss Von Krampus and a few other seasonally-appropriate spooky Black Phoenix Yule scents are still available on the Dark Delicacies web site! EIN KUSS VON KRAMPUS A kiss from Krampus! Willow and beechwood branches, Austrian chocolate, fresh Alpine milk, with paprika, horseradish, black pepper, juniper, mustard seed, and caraway. Goes on like candy, but morphs into a reedy, bittersweet spiced cocoa. CRIMSON CHRISTMAS Have you been bad or good? Santa has sharpened his candy canes, and hes got his eye on you! Gore-splattered snow, chimney smoke, and bloody, broken peppermint sweets. INVASION OF THE FLESH-EATING REINDEER FROM URANUS Trampled gingerbread cookies, scattered rum balls, and indestructible, rock-hard fruitcake and a gargantuan squirt of musk. Dark Delicacies will be offering 10% off of all of their in-house items during the night of BPALs December Will Call! - - * The Millers Daughter (Marchen) and VILF (Vampires Dont Sleep Alone) have been discontinued, effective immediately. Pending orders will still be filled, but we do not have enough stock to accept new orders for these scents. We are hopeful that The Millers Daughter will be able to return in early 2011. * Happy Mercury Retrograde! Twilight Alchemy Labs email is currently down. If you need to order, have a question, or have placed an order in the past few days that hasnt shipped yet, please email wickedgoddess @ blackphoenixalchemylab.com and she will take care of you over there. * Friday (December 10th) was the last day to submit domestic orders for Christmas delivery. We will get orders placed after December 10th out as quickly as possible. - - On December 21, we will have our last Will Call of 2010, and it feature the return of themed Will Calls! The theme for this Will Call is…Santa vs. Krampus. Dress up if you are feeling festive! Just in time for your holiday celebrations we will have five exclusive scents available only at the three Will Call events! * Champagne and Party Hats * Champagne and Absinthe * Champagne and Opium * Pink Champagne * Sparkling Apple Cider Champagne scents are $20 each and only available at Will Call, while supplies last. Supplies are limited and no preorders will be accepted for these items. - - All three Will Call locations will also be hosting a toy drive for Toys for Tots. Everyone who brings a toy ($10 value or higher, please) will receive a 5ml of Mitzvah Goreret Mitzvah. MITZVAH GORERET MITZVAH Kindness begets kindness. Holy hyssop, red apple, massoia bark, and pomegranate with eight different types of honey that represent the sweetness of life and new beginnings. Additionally, at West Coast Will Call only, Black Phoenix Trading Post will be hosting a soap drive for Clean the World. Bring in soap and get a small spritzer bottle of Hispaniola Extrait. HISPANIOLA Brilliant in thy grand hemisphere The marshaled host of Heaven appear, Whence evenings star, unclouded and serene, Emits afar her sparkling rays Where eer the nightly traveller strays, And on his pathway sheds her silvery sheen. Though silent when all creatures shun The fierce blaze of the mid-day sun, Myriads of insects walk abroad at night; And when cool dews from Heaven descend, The air with gladsome voices rend, And hail the star-bright beams of milder light. Bay rum, coconut, wild olive, avocado, bitterwood, sugar cane syrup, muskwood, Creolean pine, lime rind, cacao, and West Indian cedar. Black Phoenix Trading Post will also donate the cost of shipping the soaps to the Clean the World headquarters in Orlando, Florida. - - The west coast will call event will be held on Tuesday, December 21st, from 7 to 10pm at Dark Delicacies. Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Blvd (1 block east of Hollywood Way) Burbank, CA 91505 - - GA Will Call will be at Whole Foods Market, aka Harrys Farmers Market, in Roswell, GA, on Tuesday, December 21st, from 5:30 to 8:30pm, inside Salud (which is inside the store.) Whole Foods Market is located at 1180 Upper Hembree Road, Roswell, GA, 30076. Whole Foods accepts Visa, Master Card, Discover, American Express and cash. They will not be able to accept any preorders. - - Seattle Will Call will be held on Tuesday, December 21st from 7:30 to 10:30pm at Knows Perfume. knows perfume 4536 California Ave, SW Seattle, WA 98116 (206) 397-3141 - - The blends that will be available for purchase include those that went live on the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab website up to and including the Cold Moon update. Forum only scents will not be available at Will Call. We will no longer be accepting preorders at West Coast Will Call, with the exception of orders paid with Paypal, and orders for Twilight Alchemy Lab oils. We will do our best to accommodate all orders, but sales will be based on availability. At this time, Twilight Alchemy Lab oils will only be available at Dark Delicacies via preorder. Items from Black Phoenix Trading Post will be available at Dark Delicacies, subject to stock on hand. If you have any questions, please email us at willcall @ blackphoenixalchemylab . com. - - The beginning of 2011 will see a handful of d20′s, the building blocks of the universe, tarot cards both old and new, smoke and mirrors, madness in the Salon, ancient alchemists, bewitching bath brews, a game of love and lust, a sojourn to the Miskatonic Valley, February Filth, another installation of Last Unicorn scents, and so very much more. Also in the early months of 2011 a new Will Call location! Please check the Black Phoenix Gazette often for details. Other ways of staying in touch: * Join our mailing list. * Participate in the bpal.org forum. * Follow us on Twitter. * Say hello on Facebook. - - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post wish all of our beloved clients, friends, and loved ones a new year free from grief, care, and melancholy. Heres to 2011 bringing bright blessings and limitless light to us all.

Black Phoenix PSA: Today is the last day to submit international orders for Christmas shipping! For more info... clickie.

Ein Kuss Von Krampus, the Black Phoenix Yule blend for Dark Delicacies, is now live on the Dark Delicacies web site! EIN KUSS VON KRAMPUS A kiss from Krampus! Willow and beechwood branches, Austrian chocolate, fresh Alpine milk, with paprika, horseradish, black pepper, juniper, mustard seed, and caraway. Goes on like candy, but morphs into a reedy, bittersweet spiced cocoa.

EIN KUSS VON KRAMPUS: DARK DELICACIES EXCLUSIVE YULE 2010 A kiss from Krampus! Willow and beechwood branches, Austrian chocolate, fresh Alpine milk, with paprika, horseradish, black pepper, juniper, mustard seed, and caraway. This Kiss on like penny candy and then morphs into a reedy, bittersweet spiced cocoa.

Share your Halloween experience with us through the BPAL blog!! Post photos of jack o’lanterns, decorations, costumes, haunted houses, and parties! Recipes and poems! Traditions and customs! Adventures! Anecdotes! Tricks! Treats! Post it all in the comments field on our blog, and spread a little Halloween cheer with the BPAL community! HAPPY HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE!

Share your top ten horror flim selections with others in the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab community! Part of our Halloween Countdown. Post your list in the blog entry's comments!

New Black Phoenix Gazette entry! Share your Halloween stories with us!

It will be business as usual at BPAL while we’re at NYCC. However, BPTP will slow down a little while we’re vending in New York. Their staff consists of two people, one of which will be with us in New York. Trading Post orders will still be going out, albeit a little slower, but Trading Post’s customer service will be on hiatus altogether. It will be impossible for Ted to effectively address any customer service questions remotely, as he won’t have access to his records or any order information. Thanks for understanding!

From today until the October will call, Dark Delicacies will only be carrying the DD-specific blends in-house; our displays, testers, and retail stock will all be in transit, or in New York, until will call. Everything will be reassembled at Dark Delicacies in time for the epic October will call event. After October will call, our space in Dark Delicacies will be permanent, and we'll have a separate set of travellin’ displays. For more information (and some silly pics), please shoot on over to our blog. (Caveat: I have no idea if my blog entry made any sense. It has been really, really, really hot here.)

If you managed to get a shot of tonight's amazing Harvest Moon, please share it on BPAL's blog!

+ WEST HOLLYWOOD BOOK FAIR LIMITED EDITION SCENT SIBYL This play was good enough for us, Harry. It was Romeo and Juliet. I must admit that I was rather annoyed at the idea of seeing Shakespeare done in such a wretched hole of a place. Still, I felt interested, in a sort of way. At any rate, I determined to wait for the first act. There was a dreadful orchestra, presided over by a young Hebrew who sat at a cracked piano, that nearly drove me away, but at last the drop-scene was drawn up and the play began. Romeo was a stout elderly gentleman, with corked eyebrows, a husky tragedy voice, and a figure like a beer-barrel. Mercutio was almost as bad. He was played by the low-comedian, who had introduced gags of his own and was on most friendly terms with the pit. They were both as grotesque as the scenery, and that looked as if it had come out of a country-booth. But Juliet! Harry, imagine a girl, hardly seventeen years of age, with a little, flowerlike face, a small Greek head with plaited coils of dark-brown hair, eyes that were violet wells of passion, lips that were like the petals of a rose. She was the loveliest thing I had ever seen in my life. You said to me once that pathos left you unmoved, but that beauty, mere beauty, could fill your eyes with tears. I tell you, Harry, I could hardly see this girl for the mist of tears that came across me. And her voice--I never heard such a voice. It was very low at first, with deep mellow notes that seemed to fall singly upon one's ear. Then it became a little louder, and sounded like a flute or a distant hautboy. In the garden-scene it had all the tremulous ecstasy that one hears just before dawn when nightingales are singing. There were moments, later on, when it had the wild passion of violins. You know how a voice can stir one. Your voice and the voice of Sibyl Vane are two things that I shall never forget. When I close my eyes, I hear them, and each of them says something different. I don't know which to follow. Why should I not love her? Harry, I do love her. She is everything to me in life. Night after night I go to see her play. One evening she is Rosalind, and the next evening she is Imogen. I have seen her die in the gloom of an Italian tomb, sucking the poison from her lover's lips. I have watched her wandering through the forest of Arden, disguised as a pretty boy in hose and doublet and dainty cap. She has been mad, and has come into the presence of a guilty king, and given him rue to wear and bitter herbs to taste of. She has been innocent, and the black hands of jealousy have crushed her reedlike throat. I have seen her in every age and in every costume. Ordinary women never appeal to one's imagination. They are limited to their century. No glamour ever transfigures them. One knows their minds as easily as one knows their bonnets. One can always find them. There is no mystery in any of them. They ride in the park in the morning and chatter at tea-parties in the afternoon. They have their stereotyped smile and their fashionable manner. They are quite obvious. But an actress! How different an actress is! Harry! why didn't you tell me that the only thing worth loving is an actress? Bourbon vanilla, Egyptian musk, olibanum, summer honey, white tea, Spanish mandarin, tea rose, cognac, and a faint trace of prussic acid. Sibyl, part of our Dorian Gray series, will be available exclusively at our booth at the West Hollywood Book Fair. + NYCC LIMITED EDITION SCENTS THE ELEPHANTINE COLOSSUS Perfect for a Victorian Seaside Fornicatress! The Elephant Hotel, or Elephantine Colossus, was a 122 foot high elephant-shaped hotel that opened on Coney Island in 1885. Though it was a marvel of its time, it was also sullied by its proximity to the Gut, a particularly seedy section of West Brighton that seethed with persons of ill repute, and the Elephantine Colossus soon became as famous for its prostitutes as it was for its unusual architecture. Seaside hanky panky: a strumpet's red musk with a merry splash of root beer, a swirl of exotic pipeweed, and a whiff of sweets carrying over from the boardwalk. THE LADY OF LAKE RONKONKOMA Lake Ronkonkoma is rumored to be a bottomless lake and conduit to the netherworld. The gods of the Lake demand an annual sacrifice, using the restless spirit of a long-dead Seatauket maiden to lure unsuspecting men to their doom. Balsamic, reedy water, sweetgrass, algae, loosestrife, and ladys slipper. THE LINCOLN TUNNEL VORTEX Not merely a pathway between Manhattan and Weehawken, the Lincoln Tunnel is also a site of mystery. Cars have been reported missing in mid-voyage as they passed through the tunnel, and individuals have claimed that they have exited the tunnel disoriented, with strange gaps in their memories. Are these accounts a side-effect of sanity-shattering traffic or is this a genuine highway to an alternate dimension? Swirls of discordant, high-pitched notes, pavement, and a thin coating of sweet, green-glowing radiator fluid. MOUNT MISERY AND SWEET HOLLOW ROADS Both Mount Misery and Sweet Hollow Roads are believed to be intensely haunted, and are pathways of misfortune and sorrow whose history of horrors descends deep into pre-Colonial American folklore. Black spruce boughs, packed dirt, gravel, brush, fallen chestnuts, wild tuberose, galbanum, and dead leaves. THE WHITE LADY OF DURAND EASTMAN PARK In the early nineteenth century, a woman and her daughter took up residence in Rochester, where the Durand Eastman Park now stands. The woman was fleeing an abusive husband, and fled to Rochester to in an attempt to find solitude and safety for herself and her child. One terrible day, her daughter went missing. The grief-stricken mother searched the area frantically, but her daughter had disappeared without a trace. Over many weeks of searching, the woman became convinced that her daughter had been a victim of foul play at the hands of a local farmer. Unable to find her child, mad with sorrow, she flung herself into the chilly waters of Lake Ontario. Her spirit haunts Durand Eastman Park now, accompanied by a pair of phantom hounds. She is believed to be a protectress of women in peril, and exacts vengeance on any man that she encounters that have done any woman harm. Bittersweet and ethereal: bergamot, cacao, white tea, jasmine bud, narcissus, and tobacco flower. West Hollywood Book Fair We will be vending at Booth D20, alongside Dark Delicacies. Also at the Book Fair, I will be appearing on the FOOD FOR THOUGHT: VAMPIRES, WEREWOLVES & WHY WE LOVE TO BE BITTEN panel in the SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror Pavilion, along with Del Howison, Amber Benson (Among the Ghosts), VMK Fewings (Orpheus: A Vampires Rise), and S.S. Wilson (Tuckers Monsters). There will be a signing following the panel in the Dark Delicacies booth, D17-19. West Hollywood Park 647 N. San Vicente Blvd. West Hollywood, CA Sunday, September 26th, 10:00am to 6:00pm New York Comic Con October 8 - 10th at the Javits Center in New York City. Black Phoenix will be pitching a tent in booth 2851.

Artwork by Manda Lander! The Harvest Moon update is live at BPAL & BPTP! HARVEST MOON 2010 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 dry leaves, mulling spices, balsam fir, cedar, juniper berry, clove, saffron, damson plum, sage, yarrow, and lily twined with Dionysus' sacred grapes and ivy, a bounty of apple and pumpkin, and the amaranth and lingum aloes of Janus, all touched by a gentle breath of festival woodsmoke and sweet wine. At BPAL, we're going to party like it's 2004! Welcome back, Mabon and Wildfire! MABON 2010 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 with hops, English ivy, rosemary, hazel, sage, chamomile, sweetgrass, oak bark, wild nuts, and myrrh. WILDFIRE 2010 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. Mabon 2010 and Wildfire 2010 are live until September 25, 2010, and Harvest Moon will be live until August 26, 2010. We at BPAL are thrilled to announce a new scent collaboration with the wonderful people at the Mütter! Victorian Garden, summer honey infused with medicinal herbs and gently cloaked by French lavender, is now available exclusively at the Mütter Museum. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has created limited edition scents based on the groundbreaking comic book series Dawn by Joseph Michael Linsner. The four scents, Dawn: Maiden, Dawn: Mother, Dawn: Crone and Cernunnos, will debut at Dragon*Con in Atlanta, GA. from Sep. 3-6, 2010. We will not be vending there ourselves, but the scents will be available from the Hero Initiative booth, BT-20, and the Linsner booth, BT-18 and 19, in the Grand Hall East of the Hyatt Regency. They will also be available starting Tuesday, Sep. 7 at www.blackphoenixalchemylab.com./dawn.html for $26. Scent descriptions will be posted soon. Proceeds from every bottle sold go to the Hero Initiative, the first federally recognized not-for-profit organization dedicated to helping comic book writers and artists in need. The 501©(3) charity assists comic creators with health, medical, and quality-of-life assistance. BPAL will be vending alongside Dark Delicacies at the West Hollywood Book Fair, on Sunday, September 26th, from 10am to 6pm. There will be scents and signings, and all sorts of fun stuff. Details will be announced soon. Aaaaaaaaaaaand… BPAL will be vending at NYCC, October 8 - 10th at the Javits Center in New York City, Booth 2851. Please keep your eyes peeled for the upcoming Black Phoenix Trading Post Halloween update! It's a doozy!

Bumping myself.

Happy Halloween, one and all! Please welcome Knows Perfume to our family of Will Call locations! Knows Perfume now carries a huge portion of the Black Phoenix line, and will be hosting Pacific Northwest Will Call starting this month! knows perfume …purveyor of uncommon scents 4536 California Avenue SW Seattle, WA, 98116 Tel (206) 397 3141 Tuesday, August 24th from 7:30 to 10:30pm. West Coast and Dirty South Will Calls will proceed as usual! The Autumn scents are live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab! First, the Halloweenies… ++ HALLOWEENIE ALL SAINTS 2010 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. A celebration of the glory and suffering of the saints and martyrs of the Church. ALL SOULS 2010 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. BLUE PUMPKIN FLOSS Puffy clouds of pumpkin candyfloss with a trickle of blackberry juice. BOO 2010 Eerie billows of spun sugar, fluttering white cotton, and sheets of cream. CALAVERAS Clever little satirical poems in the style of epitaphs written to tease the living and ease grief over a loved one's passing. Xocolatl, tequila, copal incense, smoke-dried jalapeños, vanilla pods, and cajeta. DIA DE LOS ÑATITAS On November 8, the indigenous people of Bolivia share the day with the bones of their ancestors, a custom that has its roots in pre-Columbian Quechua / Aymara spiritual practise. Each person has seven souls, and one stays with the skull after a person dies. The seventh souls can visit loved ones in dreams, grant aid in times of need, perform miracles, and are empowered to bring bounty to the spirit's descendants. The skulls of a person's deceased ancestors are cleaned, blessed, and sanctified, and are brought home to reside with their living relatives. On the Day of the Skulls, these souls are honored, and thanks is given for the blessings they have granted in the previous year. Their skulls are taken from the home altars they reside in to a graveyard in order to receive a mass blessing. They are crowned with colorful knitted caps or gorgeous rings of fresh flowers, are given offerings of food, cocoa leaves, sweets, alcohol, and cigarettes, and are serenaded by street musicians. Hydrangea blossoms and rose petals, cigarette smoke, cocoa leaves, and chichi. FLOR DE MUERTO The orange marigold, or zempasúchitl, has been one of Death's symbols since the pre-Columbian era. The yellow and orange petals are believed to represent the rays of the sun, bringing joy and light to the souls dwelling in the realm of the dead. These flowers surround Day of the Dead altars to guide the spirits to their offerings. GHOULISH This season's Ridiculous Scent! Creepy like Creepy and as spooky as Spooky, this is the scent of a black cherry and coconut amaretto confection gently laced with saffron. THE HAG The Hag is astride, This night for to ride; The Devill and shee together: Through thick, and through thin, Now out, and then in, Though ne'r so foule be the weather. A Thorn or a Burr She takes for a Spurre: With a lash of a Bramble she rides now, Through Brakes and through Bryars, O're Ditches, and Mires, She followes the Spirit that guides now. No Beast, for his food, Dares now range the wood; But husht in his laire he lies lurking: While mischiefs, by these, On Land and on Seas, At noone of Night are working, The storme will arise, And trouble the skies; This night, and more for the wonder, The ghost from the Tomb Affrighted shall come, Cal'd out by the clap of the Thunder. Black musk, bay leaves, galangal, bourbon vetiver, blackcurrant, and rum. GOLLETES A circular pastry glazed with pink sugar that symbolizes the sweetness of life and the certainty of death. HUESOS DE SANTO 2010 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. LAMBS-WOOL 2010 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. NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Dewy green leaves colored by Moroccan amber, ginseng, and rooibos. OCTOBER 2010 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. PUMPKIN LATTE Espresso, pumpkin syrup, smoky vanilla bean, milk, raw sugar, and a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg. PUNKIE NIGHT 2010 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. SAMHAIN 2010 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. SUGAR SKULL 2010 Vibrant with the joy and sweetness of life in death! A blend of five sugars, lightly dusted with candied fruits. THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE The trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky; Upon the brimming water among the stones Are nine-and-fifty swans. The nineteenth autumn has come upon me Since I first made my count; I saw, before I had well finished, All suddenly mount And scatter wheeling in great broken rings Upon their clamorous wings. I have looked upon those brilliant creatures, And now my heart is sore. All's changed since I, hearing at twilight, The first time on this shore, The bell-beat of their wings above my head, Trod with a lighter tread. Unwearied still, lover by lover, They paddle in the cold Companionable streams or climb the air; Their hearts have not grown old; Passion or conquest, wander where they will, Attend upon them still. But now they drift on the still water, Mysterious, beautiful; Among what rushes will they build, By what lake's edge or pool Delight men's eyes when I awake some day To find they have flown away? October twilight. Falling leaves breaking the stillness of cool water, with sweet autumn clematis, feather-soft orris root, luminous white chypre, and muguet. ++ HALLOWEENIE: MNEMOSYNE I’ve spent Halloween in four cities — Brooklyn, Los Angeles, New Orleans, and San Francisco. Halloween night in each of these cities bears the stamp of a very distinct scent memory for me. When I was very little, my father took me to the Green-Wood Cemetery so that I could pay my respects to those who had passed before us. I remember the afternoon as cold and clear, I remember picking up pine cones and putting them in my mother’s handbag, and I remember the blanket of purple flowers that dotted the grass. I’ve spent many, many Halloweens in New Orleans. To me, it is the most beautiful, most imperfectly perfect city in the world. My strongest memory is of sitting on the banks of the Mississippi in the arms of my someday husband, the sounds of revelry in the distance, enveloped by the scent of water, moss, and sweet olive. I spent two Halloweens in San Francisco. It was a sad, strange time in my life, as I was still grieving over the death of my father, and the scent of those nights evokes a sense of melancholy for me still. Rain battering leaves that are already soaked by rain, and the salty mist coming from the Pacific. I grew up in Los Angeles, and spent most of my Halloweens here. Of all the Halloween nights, one stands out the strongest in my memory. When I was in third grade, the hills behind my parent’s house were on fire. The fire was growing, and it was close; we were on evacuation watch all that night. The fire was massive: the skyline was vibrant, electric orange, and I couldn’t stop staring at it. It felt like noon at midnight to me. The smoke penetrated everything, drowning out the scent of my grandmother’s caramel apples. Halloween in Los Angeles has a peculiar scent, and there always seems to be something ablaze here. To me, Halloween in Los Angeles will forever smell like fire and fascination. The soul of each of these cities is expressed so uniquely, so beautifully, and so eloquently on Halloween night, and they have all left an indelible imprint on my psyche. Happy Halloween. HALLOWEEN: BROOKLYN Flowering dogwood, weeping cherry, Korean pine, camellia, moonflower, Alberta spruce, arborvitae, and crab apples. HALLOWEEN: LOS ANGELES The sky on fire: a strange incense of burning brush, junegrass, tumbleweeds, chaparral, and wild sage. HALLOWEEN: NEW ORLEANS The distinctive scent of the Mississippi at night mingling with sweet olive and Spanish moss. HALLOWEEN: SAN FRANCISCO Salt air wafting in from the bay. Rain falling on rain-soaked leaves. The 'Patch is lying fallow this year. However, the Pomegranate Grove is bearing some beautiful fruit. Pick individual pomegranates from the Grove, or snatch up the whole shebang! ++ HALLOWEEN: POMEGRANATE GROVE About the pomegranate I must say nothing, for its story is something of a mystery. - Pausanias POMEGRANATE I Pomegranate, poet's jasmine, and benzoin. POMEGRANATE II Pomegranate, white musk, lemon verbena, grapefruit, pink lime. POMEGRANATE III Pomegranate, Tamil Nadu sandalwood, lavender, tamarind, hazelnut, Atlas cedarwood, sugar date, bitter clove, and Arabian myrrh. POMEGRANATE IV Pomegranate, cognac, red musk, cocoa, tobacco absolute, star anise, and thyme. POMEGRANATE V Pomegranate, carnation, amber, cardamom, neroli, vetiver, black pepper, and opium tar. If you purchase the POMEGRANATE GROVE set, you will receive an imp of: THE HERAEON OF ARGOS Argive Hera. The temple in the Argolid that was dedicated to Hera, the Queen of Heaven, in her aspect as the Great Triple Goddess. Pomegranate, apple blossom, fig, willow bark, and almond. Also for Halloween, we have the first in a series of tributes to Gothic fiction tropes. Please note: the scents in this series include quotes from classic literary works which may disturb modern sensibilities. The tropes of Gothic fiction and the Gothic horror subgenre are a part of our literary heritage, and are something to be cherished despite how unsettling the subject matter can be. Please proceed with caution into this realm, particularly if you are bothered by descriptions of immoral and possibly illegal acts. + HALLOWEEN: GOTHIC FICTION, VOLUME 1 That the exercise of our benevolent feelings, as called forth by the view of human afflictions, should be a source of pleasure, cannot appear wonderful to one who considers that relation between the moral and natural system of man, which has connected a degree of satisfaction with every action or emotion productive of the general welfare. The painful sensation immediately arising from a scene of misery, is so much softened and alleviated by the reflex sense of self-approbation on attending virtuous sympathy, that we find, on the whole, a very exquisite and refined pleasure remaining, which makes us desirous of again being witnesses to such scenes, instead of flying from them with disgust and horror. It is obvious how greatly such a provision must conduce to the ends of mutual support and assistance. But the apparent delight with which we dwell upon objects of pure terror, where our moral feelings are not in the least concerned, and no passion seems to be excited but the depressing one of fear, is a paradox of the heart, much more difficult of solution. The reality of this source of pleasure seems evident from daily observation. The greediness with which the tales of ghosts and goblins, of murders, earthquakes, fires, shipwrecks, and all the most terrible disasters attending human life, are devoured by every ear, must have been generally remarked. Tragedy, the most favourite work of fiction, has taken a full share of those scenes; "it has supt full with horrors"--and has, perhaps, been more indebted to its tender and pathetic parts. The ghost of Hamlet, Macbeth descending into the witches' cave, and the tent scene in *Richard*, command as forcibly the attention of our souls as the parting of Jasseir and Belvidera, the fall of Wolsey, or the death of Shore. The inspiration of *terror* was by the antient critics assigned as the peculiar province of tragedy; and the Greek and Roman tragedians have introduced some extraordinary personages for this purpose: not only the shades of the dead, but the furies and other fabulous inhabitants of the infernal regions. Collins, in his most poetical ode to Fear, has finely enforced this idea. "Tho' gentle Pity claims her mingled part, Yet all the thunders of the scene are thine." The old Gothic romance and the Eastern tale, with their genii, giants, enchantments, and transformations, however a refined critic may censure them as absurd and extravagant, will ever retain a most powerful influence on the mind, and interest the reader independently of all peculiarity of taste. Thus the great Milton, who had a strong bias to these wildnesses of the imagination, has with striking effect made the stories "of forests and enchantments drear," a favourite subject with his *Penseroso*; and had undoubtedly their awakening images strong upon his mind when he breaks out, "Call up him that left half-told The story of Cambuscan bold; &c." How are we then to account for the pleasure derived from such objects? I have often been led to imagine that there is a deception in these cases; and that the avidity with which we attend is not a proof of our receiving real pleasure. The pain of suspense, and the irresistible desire of satisfying curiosity, when once raised, for our eagerness to go quite through an adventure, though we suffer actual pain during the whole course of it. We rather choose to suffer the smart pang of a violent emotion than the uneasy craving of an unsatisfied desire. That this principle, in many instances, may involuntarily carry us through what we dislike, I am convinced from experience. This is the impulse which renders the poorest and most insipid narrative interesting when once we get fairly into it; and I have frequently felt it with regard to our modern novels, which, if lying on my table, and taken up in an idle hour, have led me through the most tedious and disgusting pages, while, like Pistol eating his leek, I have swallowed and execrated to the end. And it will not only force us through dulness, but through actual torture--through the relation of a Damien's execution, or an inquisitor's act of faith. When children, therefore, listen with pale and mute attention to the frightful stories of apparitions, we are not, perhaps, to imagine that they are in a state of enjoyment, any more than the poor bird which is dropping into the mouth of the rattlesnake--they are chained by the ears, and fascinated by curiosity. This solution, however, does not satisfy me with respect to the well-wrought scenes of artificial terror which are formed by a sublime and vigorous imagination. Here, though we know before-hand what to expect, we enter into them with eagerness, in quest of a pleasure already experienced. This is the pleasure constantly attached to the excitement of surprise from new and wonderful objects. A strange and unexpected event awakens the mind, and keeps it on the stretch; and where the agency of invisible beings is introduced, of "forms unseen, and mightier far than we," our imagination, darting forth, explores with rapture the new world which is laid open to its view, and rejoices in the expansion of its powers. Passion and fancy cooperating elevate the soul to its highest pitch; and the pain of terror is lost in amazement. Hence the more wild, fanciful, and extraordinary are the circumstance of a scene of horror, the more pleasure we receive from it; and where they are too near common nature, though violently borne by curiosity through the adventure, we cannot repeat it or reflect on it, without an overbalance of pain. In the *Arabian Nights* are many most striking examples of the terrible joined with the marvellous: the story of Alladin, and the travels of Sinbad, are particularly excellent. *The Castle of Otranto* is a very spirited modern attempt upon the same plan of mixed terror, adapted to the model of Gothic romance. The best conceived, and most strongly worked-up scene of mere natural horror that I recollect, is in Smollett's *Ferdinand Count Fathom*; where the hero, entertained in a lone house in a forest, finds a corpse just slaughtered in the room where he is sent to sleep, and the door of which is locked upon him. It may be amusing for the reader to compare his feelings upon these, and from thence form his opinion of the justness of my theory. The following fragment, in which both these manners are attempted to be in some degree united, is offered to entertain a solitary winter's evening. "On the Pleasure Derived from Objects of Terror, with Sir Bertrand, a Fragment" —John Aikin THE BYRONIC ANTIHERO He stood --- some dread was on his face, Soon Hatred settled in its place: It rose not with the reddening flush Of transient Anger's hasty blush, But pale as marble o'er the tomb, Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom. His brow was bent, his eye was glazed; He raised his arm, and fiercely raised, And sternly shook his hand on high, As doubting to return or fly; Impatient of his flight delay'd, Here loud his raven charger neigh'd --- Down glanced that hand, and grasp'd his blade; That sound had burst his waking dream, As Slumber starts at owlet's scream, The spur hath lanced his courser's sides; Away, away, for life he rides: Swift as the hurl'd on high jerreed Springs to the touch his startled steed: The rock is doubled, and the shore Shakes with the clattering tramp no more: The crag is won, no more is seen His Christian crest and haughty mien. 'T was but an instant he restrain'd That fiery barb so sternly rein'd; 'T was but a moment that he stood, Then sped as if by death pursued; But in that instant o'er his soul Winters of Memory seem'd to roll, And gather in that drop of time A life of pain, an age of crime. O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears, Such moment pours the grief of years: What felt he then, at once opprest By all that most distracts the breast? That pause, which ponder'd o'er his fate, Oh, who its dreary length shall date ! Though in Time's record nearly nought, It was Eternity to Thought ! For infinite as boundless space The thought that Conscience must embrace, Which in itself can comprehend Woe without name, or hope, or end. —The Giaour, Lord Byron An aristocratic cologne of titanic passions, moody and brooding. This scent is dark with disillusionment and cynicism: a Victorian fougère and a dashing carnation boutonnière tainted by a cloud of khus, yew, and patchouli. THE CREEPING MIST I stopped my horse, and looked round me again. Yes: I saw it. With my own eyes I saw it. A pillar of white mist—between five and six feet high, as well as I could judge—was moving beside me at the edge of the road, on my left hand. When I stopped, the white mist stopped. When I went on, the white mist went on. I pushed my horse to a trot—the pillar of mist was with me. I urged him to a gallop—the pillar of mist was with me. I stopped him again—the pillar of mist stood still. The white colour of it was the white colour of the fog which I had seen over the river—on the night when I had gone to bid her farewell. And the chill which had then crept through me to the bones was the chill that was creeping through me now. I went on again slowly. The white mist went on again slowly—with the clear bright night all round it. I was awed rather than frightened. There was one moment, and one only, when the fear came to me that my reason might be shaken. I caught myself keeping time to the slow tramp of the horse's feet with the slow utterance of these words, repeated over and over again: 'Jéromette is dead. Jéromette is dead.' But my will was still my own: I was able to control myself, to impose silence on my own muttering lips. And I rode on quietly. And the pillar of mist went quietly with me. My groom was waiting for my return at the rectory gate. I pointed to the mist, passing through the gate with me. 'Do you see anything there?' I said. The man looked at me in astonishment. I entered the rectory. The housekeeper met me in the hall. I pointed to the mist, entering with me. 'Do you see anything at my side?' I asked. The housekeeper looked at me as the groom had looked at me. 'I am afraid you are not well, sir,' she said. 'Your colour is all gone—you are shivering. Let me get you a glass of wine.' —Miss Jéromette and the Clergyman, Wilkie Collins A muculent, brumous, ill-omened scent: orris, yuzu, white ginger, linden flower, petitgrain, and lotus. THE DECREPIT HOUSE During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was; but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me—upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain—upon the bleak walls—upon the vacant eye-like windows—upon a few rank sedges—and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees—with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveler upon opium—the bitter lapse into every-day life—the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart—an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it—I paused to think—what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher? It was a mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowded upon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion that while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and, acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled luster by the dwelling, and gazed down—but with a shudder even more thrilling than before—upon the remodeled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows. —The Fall of the House of Usher, EA Poe An architectural doppelganger reflecting a ruined soul: dilapidated planks of mahogany and cypress wood perched feebly on a grim foundation of long-dead leaves, black musk, patchouli, galbanum, tobacco absolute, fragonia, and oakmoss. A HOWL IN THE DARKNESS At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than he had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to tremble worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I could not see any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether. But just then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import. All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared, and looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to see. But the living ring of terror encompassed them on every side, and they had perforce to remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break out through the ring and to aid his approach, I shouted and beat the side of the caleche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from the side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that we were again in darkness. When I could see again the driver was climbing into the caleche, and the wolves disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon. —Dracula, Bram Stoker A scent evocative of a forest at midnight, with animalic brown musk, wild sage, Terebinth pine, black oak, and a chilly shock of terror personified by kunzea, cistus labdanum, verbena, juniper, metallic ozone, and white mint. THE INFERNAL LOVER She ceased. While She spoke, a thousand opposing sentiments combated in Ambrosio's bosom. Surprise at the singularity of this adventure, Confusion at her abrupt declaration, Resentment at her boldness in entering the Monastery, and Consciousness of the austerity with which it behooved him to reply, such were the sentiments of which He was aware; But there were others also which did not obtain his notice. He perceived not, that his vanity was flattered by the praises bestowed upon his eloquence and virtue; that He felt a secret pleasure in reflecting that a young and seemingly lovely Woman had for his sake abandoned the world, and sacrificed every other passion to that which He had inspired: Still less did He perceive that his heart throbbed with desire, while his hand was pressed gently by Matilda's ivory fingers. —The Monk, MG Lewis A creamy, sensual, honeyed red musk. ECCLESIASTICAL EXCESSES Hark, Ambrosio, while I unveil your crimes! You have shed the blood of two innocents; Antonia and Elvira perished by your hand. That Antonia whom you violated, was your Sister! That Elvira whom you murdered, gave you birth! Tremble, abandoned Hypocrite! Inhuman Parricide! Incestuous Ravisher! Tremble at the extent of your offences! And you it was who thought yourself proof against temptation, absolved from human frailties, and free from error and vice! Is pride then a virtue? Is inhumanity no fault? Know, vain Man! That I long have marked you for my prey: I watched the movements of your heart; I saw that you were virtuous from vanity, not principle, and I seized the fit moment of seduction. I observed your blind idolatry of the Madonna's picture. I bade a subordinate but crafty spirit assume a similar form, and you eagerly yielded to the blandishments of Matilda. Your pride was gratified by her flattery; Your lust only needed an opportunity to break forth; You ran into the snare blindly, and scrupled not to commit a crime which you blamed in another with unfeeling severity. It was I who threw Matilda in your way; It was I who gave you entrance to Antonia's chamber; It was I who caused the dagger to be given you which pierced your Sister's bosom; and it was I who warned Elvira in dreams of your designs upon her Daughter, and thus, by preventing your profiting by her sleep, compelled you to add rape as well as incest to the catalogue of your crimes. Hear, hear, Ambrosio! Had you resisted me one minute longer, you had saved your body and soul. The guards whom you heard at your prison door came to signify your pardon. But I had already triumphed: My plots had already succeeded. Scarcely could I propose crimes so quick as you performed them. You are mine, and Heaven itself cannot rescue you from my power. Hope not that your penitence will make void our contract. Here is your bond signed with your blood; You have given up your claim to mercy, and nothing can restore to you the rights which you have foolishly resigned. Believe you that your secret thoughts escaped me? No, no, I read them all! You trusted that you should still have time for repentance. I saw your artifice, knew its falsity, and rejoiced in deceiving the deceiver! You are mine beyond reprieve: I burn to possess my right, and alive you quit not these mountains. —The Monk, MG Lewis Faustian depravity: daemonorops, rose-infused frankincense, vetiver, mate absolute, and clove bud. ENCROACHING MADNESS It is the strangest yellow, that wall-paper! It makes me think of all the yellow things I ever saw—not beautiful ones like buttercups, but old foul, bad yellow things. But there is something else about that paper—the smell! I noticed it the moment we came into the room, but with so much air and sun it was not bad. Now we have had a week of fog and rain, and whether the windows are open or not, the smell is here. It creeps all over the house. I find it hovering in the dining-room, skulking in the parlor, hiding in the hall, lying in wait for me on the stairs. It gets into my hair. Even when I go to ride, if I turn my head suddenly and surprise it—there is that smell! Such a peculiar odor, too! I have spent hours in trying to analyze it, to find what it smelled like. It is not bad—at first, and very gentle, but quite the subtlest, most enduring odor I ever met. In this damp weather it is awful, I wake up in the night and find it hanging over me. It used to disturb me at first. I thought seriously of burning the house—to reach the smell. But now I am used to it. The only thing I can think of that it is like is the COLOR of the paper! A yellow smell. There is a very funny mark on this wall, low down, near the mopboard. A streak that runs round the room. It goes behind every piece of furniture, except the bed, a long, straight, even SMOOCH, as if it had been rubbed over and over. I wonder how it was done and who did it, and what they did it for. Round and round and round—round and round and round—it makes me dizzy! I really have discovered something at last. Through watching so much at night, when it changes so, I have finally found out. The front pattern DOES move—and no wonder! The woman behind shakes it! Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, and sometimes only one, and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes it all over. Then in the very bright spots she keeps still, and in the very shady spots she just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard. And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through that pattern—it strangles so; I think that is why it has so many heads. They get through, and then the pattern strangles them off and turns them upside down, and makes their eyes white! If those heads were covered or taken off it would not be half so bad. I think that woman gets out in the daytime! And I'll tell you why—privately—I've seen her! I can see her out of every one of my windows! It is the same woman, I know, for she is always creeping, and most women do not creep by daylight. I see her on that long road under the trees, creeping along, and when a carriage comes she hides under the blackberry vines. I don't blame her a bit. It must be very humiliating to be caught creeping by daylight! —The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman A yellow smell. Old foul, bad yellow things. Honeysuckle, chrysanthemum, balsam, hydrangea, and helichrysum. THE SHADOWY AND THE SUBLIME Meanwhile, the deep impression made by this unknown tormentor, the monk, and especially by his prediction of the death of Bianchi, remained upon his mind, and he once more determined to ascertain, if possible, the true nature of the portentous visitant, and what were the motives which induced him thus to haunt his footsteps and interrupt his peace. He was awed by the circumstances which had attended the visitations of the monk, if monk it was; by the suddenness of his appearance, and departure; by the truth of his prophecies; and, above all, by the solemn event which had verified his last warning; and his imagination, thus elevated by wonder and painful curiosity, was prepared for something above the reach of common conjecture, and beyond the accomplishment of human agency. His understanding was sufficiently clear and strong to teach him to detect many errors of opinion, that prevailed around him, as well as to despise the common superstitions of his country, and in the usual state of his mind, he probably would not have paused for a moment on the subject before him; but his passions were not interested, and his fancy awakened, and, though he was unconscious of this propensity, he would, perhaps, have been somewhat disappointed, to have suddenly from the region of fearful sublimity to which he had soared —the world of terrible shadows— to the earth, on which he daily walked, and to an explanation simply natural. —The Italian, Ann Radcliffe A sudden and shocking insight into the vast, ineffable, overwhelming power of Nature, stirred by a vision or experience of perfected beauty and perfected terror, that changes the soul irretrievably. An epiphany: Moroccan amber, wisteria, ambergris accord, white rose, magnolia, white mint, angelica, bergamot, and myrrh. THE MADWOMAN In the deep shade, at the farther end of the room, a figure ran backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face. —Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte Dusty white sandalwood, ragged cloth, and a dry, long-dead bridal bouquet. ODD PORTENTS "Isaac, you dreamed your ill dream on this Wednesday morning. What time was it when you saw the fair woman with the knife in her hand?" Isaac reflected on what the landlord had said when they had passed by the clock on his leaving the inn; allowed as nearly as he could for the time that must have elapsed between the unlocking of his bedroom door and the paying of his bill just before going away, and answered. "Somewhere about two o'clock in the morning." His mother suddenly quitted her hold of his neck, and struck her hands together with a gesture of despair. "This Wednesday is your birthday, Isaac, and two o'clock in the morning was the time when you were born." —Brother Morgan's Story of the Dream-Woman, wilkie Collins Black rose, olibanum, dark musk, myrrh, blackcurrant, lavender buds, bourbon geranium, and amber incense. THE UNSAVORY GRAVE-DIGGERS "The great thing is not to be afraid. Now, between you and me, I don't want to hang--that's practical; but for all cant, Macfarlane, I was born with a contempt. Hell, God, Devil, right, wrong, sin, crime, and all the old gallery of curiosities --they may frighten boys, but men of the world, like you and me, despise them. Here's to the memory of Gray!" It was by this time growing somewhat late. The gig, according to order, was brought round to the door with both lamps brightly shining, and the young men had to pay their bill and take the road. They announced that they were bound for Peebles, and drove in that direction till they were clear of the last houses of the town; then, extinguishing the lamps, returned upon their course, and followed a by-road toward Glencorse. There was no sound but that of their own passage, and the incessant, strident pouring of the rain. It was pitch dark; here and there a white gate or a white stone in the wall guided them for a short space across the night; but for the most part it was at a foot pace, and almost groping, that they picked their way through that resonant blackness to their solemn and isolated destination. In the sunken woods that traverse the neighbourhood of the burying-ground the last glimmer failed them, and it became necessary to kindle a match and reillumine one of the lanterns of the gig. Thus, under the dripping trees, and environed by huge and moving shadows, they reached the scene of their unhallowed labours. They were both experienced in such affairs, and powerful with the spade; and they had scarce been twenty minutes at their task before they were rewarded by a dull rattle on the coffin lid. At the same moment Macfarlane, having hurt his hand upon a stone, flung it carelessly above his head. The grave, in which they now stood almost to the shoulders, was close to the edge of the plateau of the graveyard; and the gig lamp had been propped, the better to illuminate their labours, against a tree, and on the immediate verge of the steep bank descending to the stream. Chance had taken a sure aim with the stone. Then came a clang of broken glass; night fell upon them; sounds alternately dull and ringing announced the bounding of the lantern down the bank, and its occasional collision with the trees. A stone or two, which it had dislodged in its descent, rattled behind it into the profundities of the glen; and then silence, like night, resumed its sway; and they might bend their hearing to its utmost pitch, but naught was to be heard except the rain, now marching to the wind, now steadily falling over miles of open country. They were so nearly at an end of their abhorred task that they judged it wisest to complete it in the dark. The coffin was exhumed and broken open; the body inserted in the dripping sack and carried between them to the gig; one mounted to keep it in its place, and the other, taking the horse by the mouth, groped along by wall and bush until they reached the wider road by the Fisher's Tryst. Here was a faint, diffused radiancy, which they hailed like daylight; by that they pushed the horse to a good pace and began to rattle along merrily in the direction of the town. They had both been wetted to the skin during their operations, and now, as the gig jumped among the deep ruts, the thing that stood propped between them fell now upon one and now upon the other. At every repetition of the horrid contact each instinctively repelled it with the greater haste; and the process, natural although it was, began to tell upon the nerves of the companions. Macfarlane made some ill-favoured jest about the farmer's wife, but it came hollowly from his lips, and was allowed to drop in silence. Still their unnatural burden bumped from side to side; and now the head would be laid, as if in confidence, upon their shoulders, and now the drenching sackcloth would flap icily about their faces. A creeping chill began to possess the soul of Fettes. He peered at the bundle, and it seemed somehow larger than at first. All over the countryside, and from every degree of distance, the farm dogs accompanied their passage with tragic ululations; and it grew and grew upon his mind that some unnatural miracle had been accomplished, that some nameless change had befallen the dead body, and that it was in fear of their unholy burden that the dogs were howling. "For God's sake," said he, making a great effort to arrive at speech, "for God's sake, let's have a light!" Seemingly Macfarlane was affected in the same direction; for, though he made no reply, he stopped the horse, passed the reins to his companion, got down, and proceeded to kindle the remaining lamp. They had by that time got no farther than the cross-road down to Auchenclinny. The rain still poured as though the deluge were returning, and it was no easy matter to make a light in such a world of wet and darkness. When at last the flickering blue flame had been transferred to the wick and began to expand and clarify, and shed a wide circle of misty brightness round the gig, it became possible for the two young men to see each other and the thing they had along with them. The rain had moulded the rough sacking to the outlines of the body underneath; the head was distinct from the trunk, the shoulders plainly modelled; something at once spectral and human riveted their eyes upon the ghastly comrade of their drive. —The Body-Snatchers, RL Stevenson An unearthed oakwood coffin, cemetery weeds, and a hint of booze. THE UNSTEADY GOVERNESS It made me, the sound of the words, in which it seemed to me that I caught for the very first time a small faint quaver of consenting consciousness—it made me drop on my knees beside the bed and seize once more the chance of possessing him. "Dear little Miles, dear little Miles, if you KNEW how I want to help you! It's only that, it's nothing but that, and I'd rather die than give you a pain or do you a wrong—I'd rather die than hurt a hair of you. Dear little Miles"—oh, I brought it out now even if I SHOULD go too far—"I just want you to help me to save you!" But I knew in a moment after this that I had gone too far. The answer to my appeal was instantaneous, but it came in the form of an extraordinary blast and chill, a gust of frozen air, and a shake of the room as great as if, in the wild wind, the casement had crashed in. The boy gave a loud, high shriek, which, lost in the rest of the shock of sound, might have seemed, indistinctly, though I was so close to him, a note either of jubilation or of terror. I jumped to my feet again and was conscious of darkness. So for a moment we remained, while I stared about me and saw that the drawn curtains were unstirred and the window tight. "Why, the candle's out!" I then cried. "It was I who blew it, dear!" said Miles. —The Turn of the Screw, Henry James White tea and violet leaf. And lo! – what have we here? Looks like the Halloween update went live on Friday the 13th… 13 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 bitter dark chocolate with thirteen baneful and beneficial bits including pimento berry, pink pepper, tolu balsam, bergamot, golden honey, tobacco absolute, champaca flower, and paprika. This update possess a great deal of personal significance for me for reasons that would tl;dr the hell out of you. Suffice to say, it gives me enormous pleasure to be able to share these scents with you, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed making them. Thirteen will be live until the fourteenth, as is our custom, and the Halloweenies will be live until the November Lunacy comes down. All the Halloweenies are $20, and the Pomegranate Grove is $97. The Halloweenies will be out for sniff preview at Dark Delicacies on August 21 during the Magnolia Park car show, and will also be out for sniffing at all the August will call events. Black Phoenix Trading Post’s Halloween update will be going live later this month! Please keep your eyes peeled. Black Phoenix will be vending at New York Comic Con, October 8 - 10th, at the Javits Center in New York City. Booth 2851! In not-such-awesome news, we are discontinuing the following scents, effective immediately: Hi’iaka Jester The Lady on the Grey The Mock Turtles Lessons Queen Mab St Germain Tempest Yvaine We sincerely apologize for pulling these without notice, but we have no choice. We will do what we can to fill currently pending orders, but cannot accept new orders for these scents. Thank you so much for understanding… Much love and many thanks to Marz and Kathy, our Wickedgoddess, for all of their help getting this update live! I love you both! And… that’s all the news that’s fit to print!

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Good afternoon, all! Just a friendly reminder that Black Phoenix's West Coast Will Call is now being held monthly at Dark Delicacies, and is no longer being held at our North Hollywood location: Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Blvd. Burbank, CA 91505 818-556-6660

On behalf of Dark Delicacies and even more so for me individually I want to take a moment to say a couple of things about BPAL. In the few years since we've come to be acquainted with Beth, Brian, Ted and the entire BPAL staff I cannot think of a more rewarding experience. Their work ethic, imagination, drive for perfection and just downright humanitarian approach to their business is a rare thing. We are so thankful for the opportunities we have had to work with them on various projects and are absolutely thrilled for the current pairing of some of our business models with an aim to bring both businesses to an even higher playing field. Their dedication and caring is most obvious in their customer base which (according to the countless individuals we have met face-to-face and the large amount we have dealt with on-line) seems thrilled to be a part of this growing enterprise and voices that excitment in their support for the various projects we (BPAL and Dark Delicacies) have taken together. Today was the signing event for the release of Elizabeth's and my book "Vampires Don't Sleep Alone" and the outpouring of support was almost overwhelming. We sold out and are awaiting more copies to come in-house the beginning of this week while the orders continue to stream in. Thank you folks. I couldn't be more pleased to be able to serve you as customers and get to know you as friends than I am right at this moment. Whether it was cupcakes or just a really honest smile and a friendly hello, you have truly made the entire trip up to this point quite memorable and my wife and I thank you for that opportunity. Sincerely, Del & Sue Howison Dark Delicacies