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The Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab Lupercalia update is live!

This Sunday, January 25th, Dark Delicacies will be hosting a massive signing for the Second Annual Day of the Scream Queens! Please note: Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab / Trading Post products will not be on sale at Dark Delicacies that day, as our racks won't be accessible. Thank you so much for understanding!

Happy New Year, all! I hope your 2014 was joy-filled and bright, but if that wasn’t quite the case… LACUS OBLIVIONIS The Lake of Forgetfulness: a deep, still pool of lavender, aged benzoin and patchouli, frankincense, and sorrow-honeyed ylang ylang. Deep beneath, there is a touch of fig’s sweetness and amber’s golden light. … we present Lacus Oblivionis, the latest installment in our Map o’the Moon series. - - - This month, we are thrilled to introduce our Sherlock Holmes line, 221B Baker Street. This series has been almost a decade in the making, and technically began the day I first read the Hound of the Baskervilles in third grade. 221B is a project that will overlap between Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post. Many members of the dramatis personæ will be available in perpetuity through the general catalogue, while the stories themselves will manifest as limited edition runs. Sherlock Holmes has been a source of inspiration and pleasure for me, spanning almost my entire life, and helped me, as a child and as an adult, to understand the merits of critical thinking, the value of a potent imagination, and the necessity of observation. ++ 221B BAKER STREET It was on a bitterly cold and frosty morning during the winter of ‘97 that I was awakened by a tugging at my shoulder. It was Holmes. The candle in his hand shone upon his eager, stooping face and told me at a glance that something was amiss. “Come, Watson, come!” he cried. “The game is afoot. Not a word! Into your clothes and come!” SHERLOCK HOLMES My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don't know. A fastidiously clean scent, with a dash of pipe and cigarette tobacco. Faintly beneath, you catch the fragrance of a smear of greasepaint, a stray horsehair, and a whisper of Moroccan leather and rosin. JOHN WATSON I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life. Tweed and crisp linen, lime-tinged aftershave, the sleek steel and oil of a well-cared for service revolver, and a memory’s echo of a Jezail bullet shell. Label artwork for this line was created by Julie Dillon and Abigail Larson.

Hi, all! Please accept my sincerest apologies for any delays in communication. At the best of times, email can be an imperfect means of communication, and sometimes things like spam filters throw a wrench in the works. This holiday season has been a madhouse, and we've been a bit understaffed. Lisa, who is our primary customer service fiend, has been helping us pack and ship til 1-2am every night in order to help ensure that Christmas orders got out on time, and as a result, we've gotten a bit backlogged in emails. We're a very small company, and when one hiccup happens, it resonates through the whole shop. We're doing everything in our power to ensure that everything gets answered (and shipped!) as quickly as possible. Thank you so much for your patience!

Happy holidays, all! Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s customer service dungeon will be closed starting this evening, and will remain dark until Monday the 29th. Customer service will also be closed on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. We’ve been burning the candle at both ends, and are taking a few days off to spend with our families and loved ones. Thank you very much for your patience and understanding during this crazy time of year! As a reminder: domestic cutoff for Christmas orders was 7 December at 12:01am. We hope that your holiday season is filled with joy, and that the new year brings you renewed hope, vibrant bursts of passion, warm comfort, constancy and prosperity, and so much laughter. With all our love, The BPAL Crew

A million thanks to the mods and admins for bringing the forum back to life again!

Ted, Ashley, Krampus, Santa, and the Goblins are thrilled to introduce the Black Phoenix Trading Post 2014 Yule Collection! Please note: cutoff date for domestic Christmas orders is 12 December 2014. We will, of course, do our best to get your order to you by Christmas, but if your order is a Christmas gift, please let us know by checking the humongous red and green box at checkout and the Goblins and I will do everything in our power to expedite the process. Krampus is insisting on showing off his series first – ++ BPTP’S KRAMPUSNACHT FRAGRANCES KRAMPUS’ CHAINS Black licorice and rusted musk with tobacco absolute and myrrh. KRAMPUS’ SHADOW Birch tar, patchouli, and blackish-red musk. YULE BUDDIES Frosted gingerbread, leather, pipe tobacco, and fruitcake crumbs. What a show off. Next up, we have a selection of Yule candles, crafted by Sara Robey! – ++ BPTP YULE CANDLES CHOCOLATE ESPRESSO GINGERBREAD Please do not eat! JOTUNHEIMR The Home of the Giants, the World Beyond the Fence. A vast, anarchic, and mighty wilderness of dark, wild forests and sharp, toothy mountain peaks where winter reigns eternally. MULLED CIDER Apples and ale stewed with orange and lemon rind, cinnamon sticks, cloves, allspice berries, maple syrup, and dark rum. NAUGHTY Your friendly neighborhood sex shop: gleaming black leather, latex, and musk. NICE As sweet as can be: spun sugar strawberries. ROSE RED The perfected winter rose, dew covered and freshly cut. SMUTTY GOBLIN A goblin’y take on Smut! Smutty Goblin Musk sweetened with sugar and tonka, and woozy with dark booze notes. SNOW WHITE A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. And a line of Yule hair glosses to help keep your locks a-gleamin’, despite sleet, snow, rain, and other weather things that we’re unfamiliar with in Los Angeles. ++ BPTP YULE HAIR GLOSS HONEYED FRANKINCENSE Honey absolute, honey myrtle, and white frankincense. ELDRITCH DARK Black and red musks with honey, leather, and sugared black rose. FROSTY SILKYBAT Sugared patchouli, snowy vanilla, and snowflakes. ROSE RED The perfected winter rose, dew covered and freshly cut. SNOW WHITE A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. WINTER LILY AND SUGARCANE Pale, elegant lily blossoms gilded with snow and lightly brushed with sugarcane. And some atmosphere sprays to help your holiday cheer stay cheerful! – ++ BPTP YULE ATMOSPHERE SPRAYS BLUE SPRUCE AND SNOW-CAPPED PINE With a touch of juniper and cypress. CHESTNUT AND FIG With Himalayan cedar, violet leaf, and cade. FIREWOOD AND TOBACCO Ashes, glowing embers, and tobacco absolute. MIDNIGHT AT MIDWINTER Terebinth pine, fir balsam, frozen sap, blackcurrant, and vetiver. SUGAR PLUM AND VANILLA BEAN An almost ridiculously adorable scent. VIVEMENT Peppermint candies dropped into a flute of champagne Black Phoenix Trading Post got a little nutty with the colored snowball subseries this year – ++ BPTP YULE SNOWBALL PERFUMES COQUELICOT SNOW Snowballs of poppy-red musk, tangerine, blood orange, and mimosa blossom. GLAUCOUS SNOW Snowballs of blue lilac, lotus root, Roman chamomile, sandalwood, and cade. FULVOUS SNOW Snowballs of hay absolute, tonka bean, honeyed oak, patchouli, chestnut blossom, and oudh. The Goblins have been spending a lot of time thumbing through Alchemy Lab’s Marchen notes… BLACK PHOENIX TRADING POST: THE SNOW QUEEN, A TALE IN SEVEN PARTS In this installment, we present parts I and II -- Which Describes a Looking-Glass and the Broken Fragments You must attend to the commencement of this story, for when we get to the end we shall know more than we do now about a very wicked hobgoblin; he was one of the very worst, for he was a real demon. One day, when he was in a merry mood, he made a looking-glass which had the power of making everything good or beautiful that was reflected in it almost shrink to nothing, while everything that was worthless and bad looked increased in size and worse than ever. The most lovely landscapes appeared like boiled spinach, and the people became hideous, and looked as if they stood on their heads and had no bodies. Their countenances were so distorted that no one could recognize them, and even one freckle on the face appeared to spread over the whole of the nose and mouth. The demon said this was very amusing. When a good or pious thought passed through the mind of any one it was misrepresented in the glass; and then how the demon laughed at his cunning invention. All who went to the demon’s school—for he kept a school—talked everywhere of the wonders they had seen, and declared that people could now, for the first time, see what the world and mankind were really like. They carried the glass about everywhere, till at last there was not a land nor a people who had not been looked at through this distorted mirror. They wanted even to fly with it up to heaven to see the angels, but the higher they flew the more slippery the glass became, and they could scarcely hold it, till at last it slipped from their hands, fell to the earth, and was broken into millions of pieces. But now the looking-glass caused more unhappiness than ever, for some of the fragments were not so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about the world into every country. When one of these tiny atoms flew into a person’s eye, it stuck there unknown to him, and from that moment he saw everything through a distorted medium, or could see only the worst side of what he looked at, for even the smallest fragment retained the same power which had belonged to the whole mirror. Some few persons even got a fragment of the looking-glass in their hearts, and this was very terrible, for their hearts became cold like a lump of ice. A few of the pieces were so large that they could be used as window-panes; it would have been a sad thing to look at our friends through them. Other pieces were made into spectacles; this was dreadful for those who wore them, for they could see nothing either rightly or justly. At all this the wicked demon laughed till his sides shook—it tickled him so to see the mischief he had done. There were still a number of these little fragments of glass floating about in the air, and now you shall hear what happened with one of them. A VERY WICKED HOBGOBLIN PERFUME Merry malice and malevolent pleasures: infernal red musk bubbling with sour white grape and bitter cognac. THE DEMON’S SCHOOL ATMOSPHERE SPRAY Open daily. Lessons in cunning, derision, and scorn: vetiver smoke and acerbic incense. SHARDS OF LOOKING-GLASS HAIR GLOSS Fragments of a hellish distorted mirror: glassy lily, muguet, and mugwort. A Little Boy and a Little Girl In a large town, full of houses and people, there is not room for everybody to have even a little garden, therefore they are obliged to be satisfied with a few flowers in flower-pots. In one of these large towns lived two poor children who had a garden something larger and better than a few flower-pots. They were not brother and sister, but they loved each other almost as much as if they had been. Their parents lived opposite to each other in two garrets, where the roofs of neighboring houses projected out towards each other and the water-pipe ran between them. In each house was a little window, so that any one could step across the gutter from one window to the other. The parents of these children had each a large wooden box in which they cultivated kitchen herbs for their own use, and a little rose-bush in each box, which grew splendidly. Now after a while the parents decided to place these two boxes across the water-pipe, so that they reached from one window to the other and looked like two banks of flowers. Sweet-peas drooped over the boxes, and the rose-bushes shot forth long branches, which were trained round the windows and clustered together almost like a triumphal arch of leaves and flowers. The boxes were very high, and the children knew they must not climb upon them, without permission, but they were often, however, allowed to step out together and sit upon their little stools under the rose-bushes, or play quietly. In winter all this pleasure came to an end, for the windows were sometimes quite frozen over. But then they would warm copper pennies on the stove, and hold the warm pennies against the frozen pane; there would be very soon a little round hole through which they could peep, and the soft bright eyes of the little boy and girl would beam through the hole at each window as they looked at each other. Their names were Kay and Gerda. In summer they could be together with one jump from the window, but in winter they had to go up and down the long staircase, and out through the snow before they could meet. “See there are the white bees swarming,” said Kay’s old grandmother one day when it was snowing. “Have they a queen bee?” asked the little boy, for he knew that the real bees had a queen. “To be sure they have,” said the grandmother. “She is flying there where the swarm is thickest. She is the largest of them all, and never remains on the earth, but flies up to the dark clouds. Often at midnight she flies through the streets of the town, and looks in at the windows, then the ice freezes on the panes into wonderful shapes, that look like flowers and castles.” “Yes, I have seen them,” said both the children, and they knew it must be true. “Can the Snow Queen come in here?” asked the little girl. “Only let her come,” said the boy, “I’ll set her on the stove and then she’ll melt.” Then the grandmother smoothed his hair and told him some more tales. One evening, when little Kay was at home, half undressed, he climbed on a chair by the window and peeped out through the little hole. A few flakes of snow were falling, and one of them, rather larger than the rest, alighted on the edge of one of the flower boxes. This snow-flake grew larger and larger, till at last it became the figure of a woman, dressed in garments of white gauze, which looked like millions of starry snow-flakes linked together. She was fair and beautiful, but made of ice—shining and glittering ice. Still she was alive and her eyes sparkled like bright stars, but there was neither peace nor rest in their glance. She nodded towards the window and waved her hand. The little boy was frightened and sprang from the chair; at the same moment it seemed as if a large bird flew by the window. On the following day there was a clear frost, and very soon came the spring. The sun shone; the young green leaves burst forth; the swallows built their nests; windows were opened, and the children sat once more in the garden on the roof, high above all the other rooms. How beautiful the roses blossomed this summer. The little girl had learnt a hymn in which roses were spoken of, and then she thought of their own roses, and she sang the hymn to the little boy, and he sang too:— “Roses bloom and cease to be, But we shall the Christ-child see.” Then the little ones held each other by the hand, and kissed the roses, and looked at the bright sunshine, and spoke to it as if the Christ-child were there. Those were splendid summer days. How beautiful and fresh it was out among the rose-bushes, which seemed as if they would never leave off blooming. One day Kay and Gerda sat looking at a book full of pictures of animals and birds, and then just as the clock in the church tower struck twelve, Kay said, “Oh, something has struck my heart!” and soon after, “There is something in my eye.” The little girl put her arm round his neck, and looked into his eye, but she could see nothing. “I think it is gone,” he said. But it was not gone; it was one of those bits of the looking-glass—that magic mirror, of which we have spoken—the ugly glass which made everything great and good appear small and ugly, while all that was wicked and bad became more visible, and every little fault could be plainly seen. Poor little Kay had also received a small grain in his heart, which very quickly turned to a lump of ice. He felt no more pain, but the glass was there still. “Why do you cry?” said he at last; “it makes you look ugly. There is nothing the matter with me now. Oh, see!” he cried suddenly, “that rose is worm-eaten, and this one is quite crooked. After all they are ugly roses, just like the box in which they stand,” and then he kicked the boxes with his foot, and pulled off the two roses. “Kay, what are you doing?” cried the little girl; and then, when he saw how frightened she was, he tore off another rose, and jumped through his own window away from little Gerda. When she afterwards brought out the picture book, he said, “It was only fit for babies in long clothes,” and when grandmother told any stories, he would interrupt her with “but;” or, when he could manage it, he would get behind her chair, put on a pair of spectacles, and imitate her very cleverly, to make people laugh. By-and-by he began to mimic the speech and gait of persons in the street. All that was peculiar or disagreeable in a person he would imitate directly, and people said, “That boy will be very clever; he has a remarkable genius.” But it was the piece of glass in his eye, and the coldness in his heart, that made him act like this. He would even tease little Gerda, who loved him with all her heart. His games, too, were quite different; they were not so childish. One winter’s day, when it snowed, he brought out a burning-glass, then he held out the tail of his blue coat, and let the snow-flakes fall upon it. “Look in this glass, Gerda,” said he; and she saw how every flake of snow was magnified, and looked like a beautiful flower or a glittering star. “Is it not clever?” said Kay, “and much more interesting than looking at real flowers. There is not a single fault in it, and the snow-flakes are quite perfect till they begin to melt.” Soon after Kay made his appearance in large thick gloves, and with his sledge at his back. He called up stairs to Gerda, “I’ve got to leave to go into the great square, where the other boys play and ride.” And away he went. In the great square, the boldest among the boys would often tie their sledges to the country people’s carts, and go with them a good way. This was capital. But while they were all amusing themselves, and Kay with them, a great sledge came by; it was painted white, and in it sat some one wrapped in a rough white fur, and wearing a white cap. The sledge drove twice round the square, and Kay fastened his own little sledge to it, so that when it went away, he followed with it. It went faster and faster right through the next street, and then the person who drove turned round and nodded pleasantly to Kay, just as if they were acquainted with each other, but whenever Kay wished to loosen his little sledge the driver nodded again, so Kay sat still, and they drove out through the town gate. Then the snow began to fall so heavily that the little boy could not see a hand’s breadth before him, but still they drove on; then he suddenly loosened the cord so that the large sled might go on without him, but it was of no use, his little carriage held fast, and away they went like the wind. Then he called out loudly, but nobody heard him, while the snow beat upon him, and the sledge flew onwards. Every now and then it gave a jump as if it were going over hedges and ditches. The boy was frightened, and tried to say a prayer, but he could remember nothing but the multiplication table. The snow-flakes became larger and larger, till they appeared like great white chickens. All at once they sprang on one side, the great sledge stopped, and the person who had driven it rose up. The fur and the cap, which were made entirely of snow, fell off, and he saw a lady, tall and white, it was the Snow Queen. “We have driven well,” said she, “but why do you tremble? here, creep into my warm fur.” Then she seated him beside her in the sledge, and as she wrapped the fur round him he felt as if he were sinking into a snow drift. “Are you still cold,” she asked, as she kissed him on the forehead. The kiss was colder than ice; it went quite through to his heart, which was already almost a lump of ice; he felt as if he were going to die, but only for a moment; he soon seemed quite well again, and did not notice the cold around him. “My sledge! don’t forget my sledge,” was his first thought, and then he looked and saw that it was bound fast to one of the white chickens, which flew behind him with the sledge at its back. The Snow Queen kissed little Kay again, and by this time he had forgotten little Gerda, his grandmother, and all at home. “Now you must have no more kisses,” she said, “or I should kiss you to death.” Kay looked at her, and saw that she was so beautiful, he could not imagine a more lovely and intelligent face; she did not now seem to be made of ice, as when he had seen her through his window, and she had nodded to him. In his eyes she was perfect, and she did not feel at all afraid. He told her he could do mental arithmetic, as far as fractions, and that he knew the number of square miles and the number of inhabitants in the country. And she always smiled so that he thought he did not know enough yet, and she looked round the vast expanse as she flew higher and higher with him upon a black cloud, while the storm blew and howled as if it were singing old songs. They flew over woods and lakes, over sea and land; below them roared the wild wind; the wolves howled and the snow crackled; over them flew the black screaming crows, and above all shone the moon, clear and bright,—and so Kay passed through the long winter’s night, and by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen. A TRIUMPHAL ARCH OF LEAVES AND FLOWERS ATMOSPHERE SPRAY Kitchen herbs and rosebushes streaming with snow peas and fluttering petals. THE WHITE BEES SWARMING HAIR GLOSS Frost-dusted honey. NEITHER PEACE NOR REST PERFUME This snow-flake grew larger and larger, till at last it became the figure of a woman, dressed in garments of white gauze, which looked like millions of starry snow-flakes linked together. She was fair and beautiful, but made of ice—shining and glittering ice. Still she was alive and her eyes sparkled like bright stars, but there was neither peace nor rest in their glance. A scent that glitters with the coldest white musk; hollow, sharp, and brittle. SPLENDID SUMMER DAYS ATMOSPHERE SPRAY Perfect red roses, warm amber sunlight, and the sweet honeyed carnation of friendship. THE SHARD IN THE HEART, THE WORM IN THE ROSE ATMOSPHERE SPRAY Stony contempt and blossoming darkness: vetiver trickling through sickly roses. A LADY TALL AND WHITE PERFUME A fur and cap all made of snow: frosted vanilla sandalwood. SLEEPING AT THE FEET OF THE SNOW QUEEN HAIR GLOSS And she always smiled so that he thought he did not know enough yet, and she looked round the vast expanse as she flew higher and higher with him upon a black cloud, while the storm blew and howled as if it were singing old songs. They flew over woods and lakes, over sea and land; below them roared the wild wind; the wolves howled and the snow crackled; over them flew the black screaming crows, and above all shone the moon, clear and bright,—and so Kay passed through the long winter’s night, and by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen. The roar of the wild wind, the howl of winter wolves, the screams of night-winged crows, and the moon shining, clear and bright: juniper and white musk with white tea extract, oakmoss absolute, white lemon rind, and tobacco. The Yules will be live until 5 February 2015! We hope your holidays are filled with love, joy, laughter, and song, and that switches and chains will only come into play if you want them to! Ted, Ashley, Krampus, Santa, and the Goblins are thrilled to introduce the Black Phoenix Trading Post 2014 Yule Collection! Please note: cutoff date for domestic Christmas orders is 12 December 2014. We will, of course, do our best to get your order to you by Christmas, but if your order is a Christmas gift, please let us know by checking the humongous red and green box at checkout and the Goblins and I will do everything in our power to expedite the process. Krampus is insisting on showing off his series first – ++ BPTP’S KRAMPUSNACHT FRAGRANCES KRAMPUS’ CHAINS Black licorice and rusted musk with tobacco absolute and myrrh. KRAMPUS’ SHADOW Birch tar, patchouli, and blackish-red musk. YULE BUDDIES Frosted gingerbread, leather, pipe tobacco, and fruitcake crumbs. What a show off. Next up, we have a selection of Yule candles, crafted by Sara Robey! – ++ BPTP YULE CANDLES CHOCOLATE ESPRESSO GINGERBREAD Please do not eat! JOTUNHEIMR The Home of the Giants, the World Beyond the Fence. A vast, anarchic, and mighty wilderness of dark, wild forests and sharp, toothy mountain peaks where winter reigns eternally. MULLED CIDER Apples and ale stewed with orange and lemon rind, cinnamon sticks, cloves, allspice berries, maple syrup, and dark rum. NAUGHTY Your friendly neighborhood sex shop: gleaming black leather, latex, and musk. NICE As sweet as can be: spun sugar strawberries. ROSE RED The perfected winter rose, dew covered and freshly cut. SMUTTY GOBLIN A goblin’y take on Smut! Smutty Goblin Musk sweetened with sugar and tonka, and woozy with dark booze notes. SNOW WHITE A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. And a line of Yule hair glosses to help keep your locks a-gleamin’, despite sleet, snow, rain, and other weather things that we’re unfamiliar with in Los Angeles. ++ BPTP YULE HAIR GLOSS HONEYED FRANKINCENSE Honey absolute, honey myrtle, and white frankincense. ELDRITCH DARK Black and red musks with honey, leather, and sugared black rose. FROSTY SILKYBAT Sugared patchouli, snowy vanilla, and snowflakes. ROSE RED The perfected winter rose, dew covered and freshly cut. SNOW WHITE A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. WINTER LILY AND SUGARCANE Pale, elegant lily blossoms gilded with snow and lightly brushed with sugarcane. And some atmosphere sprays to help your holiday cheer stay cheerful! – ++ BPTP YULE ATMOSPHERE SPRAYS BLUE SPRUCE AND SNOW-CAPPED PINE With a touch of juniper and cypress. CHESTNUT AND FIG With Himalayan cedar, violet leaf, and cade. FIREWOOD AND TOBACCO Ashes, glowing embers, and tobacco absolute. MIDNIGHT AT MIDWINTER Terebinth pine, fir balsam, frozen sap, blackcurrant, and vetiver. SUGAR PLUM AND VANILLA BEAN An almost ridiculously adorable scent. VIVEMENT Peppermint candies dropped into a flute of champagne Black Phoenix Trading Post got a little nutty with the colored snowball subseries this year – ++ BPTP YULE SNOWBALL PERFUMES COQUELICOT SNOW Snowballs of poppy-red musk, tangerine, blood orange, and mimosa blossom. GLAUCOUS SNOW Snowballs of blue lilac, lotus root, Roman chamomile, sandalwood, and cade. FULVOUS SNOW Snowballs of hay absolute, tonka bean, honeyed oak, patchouli, chestnut blossom, and oudh. The Goblins have been spending a lot of time thumbing through Alchemy Lab’s Marchen notes… BLACK PHOENIX TRADING POST: THE SNOW QUEEN, A TALE IN SEVEN PARTS In this installment, we present parts I and II -- Which Describes a Looking-Glass and the Broken Fragments You must attend to the commencement of this story, for when we get to the end we shall know more than we do now about a very wicked hobgoblin; he was one of the very worst, for he was a real demon. One day, when he was in a merry mood, he made a looking-glass which had the power of making everything good or beautiful that was reflected in it almost shrink to nothing, while everything that was worthless and bad looked increased in size and worse than ever. The most lovely landscapes appeared like boiled spinach, and the people became hideous, and looked as if they stood on their heads and had no bodies. Their countenances were so distorted that no one could recognize them, and even one freckle on the face appeared to spread over the whole of the nose and mouth. The demon said this was very amusing. When a good or pious thought passed through the mind of any one it was misrepresented in the glass; and then how the demon laughed at his cunning invention. All who went to the demon’s school—for he kept a school—talked everywhere of the wonders they had seen, and declared that people could now, for the first time, see what the world and mankind were really like. They carried the glass about everywhere, till at last there was not a land nor a people who had not been looked at through this distorted mirror. They wanted even to fly with it up to heaven to see the angels, but the higher they flew the more slippery the glass became, and they could scarcely hold it, till at last it slipped from their hands, fell to the earth, and was broken into millions of pieces. But now the looking-glass caused more unhappiness than ever, for some of the fragments were not so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about the world into every country. When one of these tiny atoms flew into a person’s eye, it stuck there unknown to him, and from that moment he saw everything through a distorted medium, or could see only the worst side of what he looked at, for even the smallest fragment retained the same power which had belonged to the whole mirror. Some few persons even got a fragment of the looking-glass in their hearts, and this was very terrible, for their hearts became cold like a lump of ice. A few of the pieces were so large that they could be used as window-panes; it would have been a sad thing to look at our friends through them. Other pieces were made into spectacles; this was dreadful for those who wore them, for they could see nothing either rightly or justly. At all this the wicked demon laughed till his sides shook—it tickled him so to see the mischief he had done. There were still a number of these little fragments of glass floating about in the air, and now you shall hear what happened with one of them. A VERY WICKED HOBGOBLIN PERFUME Merry malice and malevolent pleasures: infernal red musk bubbling with sour white grape and bitter cognac. THE DEMON’S SCHOOL ATMOSPHERE SPRAY Open daily. Lessons in cunning, derision, and scorn: vetiver smoke and acerbic incense. SHARDS OF LOOKING-GLASS HAIR GLOSS Fragments of a hellish distorted mirror: glassy lily, muguet, and mugwort. A Little Boy and a Little Girl In a large town, full of houses and people, there is not room for everybody to have even a little garden, therefore they are obliged to be satisfied with a few flowers in flower-pots. In one of these large towns lived two poor children who had a garden something larger and better than a few flower-pots. They were not brother and sister, but they loved each other almost as much as if they had been. Their parents lived opposite to each other in two garrets, where the roofs of neighboring houses projected out towards each other and the water-pipe ran between them. In each house was a little window, so that any one could step across the gutter from one window to the other. The parents of these children had each a large wooden box in which they cultivated kitchen herbs for their own use, and a little rose-bush in each box, which grew splendidly. Now after a while the parents decided to place these two boxes across the water-pipe, so that they reached from one window to the other and looked like two banks of flowers. Sweet-peas drooped over the boxes, and the rose-bushes shot forth long branches, which were trained round the windows and clustered together almost like a triumphal arch of leaves and flowers. The boxes were very high, and the children knew they must not climb upon them, without permission, but they were often, however, allowed to step out together and sit upon their little stools under the rose-bushes, or play quietly. In winter all this pleasure came to an end, for the windows were sometimes quite frozen over. But then they would warm copper pennies on the stove, and hold the warm pennies against the frozen pane; there would be very soon a little round hole through which they could peep, and the soft bright eyes of the little boy and girl would beam through the hole at each window as they looked at each other. Their names were Kay and Gerda. In summer they could be together with one jump from the window, but in winter they had to go up and down the long staircase, and out through the snow before they could meet. “See there are the white bees swarming,” said Kay’s old grandmother one day when it was snowing. “Have they a queen bee?” asked the little boy, for he knew that the real bees had a queen. “To be sure they have,” said the grandmother. “She is flying there where the swarm is thickest. She is the largest of them all, and never remains on the earth, but flies up to the dark clouds. Often at midnight she flies through the streets of the town, and looks in at the windows, then the ice freezes on the panes into wonderful shapes, that look like flowers and castles.” “Yes, I have seen them,” said both the children, and they knew it must be true. “Can the Snow Queen come in here?” asked the little girl. “Only let her come,” said the boy, “I’ll set her on the stove and then she’ll melt.” Then the grandmother smoothed his hair and told him some more tales. One evening, when little Kay was at home, half undressed, he climbed on a chair by the window and peeped out through the little hole. A few flakes of snow were falling, and one of them, rather larger than the rest, alighted on the edge of one of the flower boxes. This snow-flake grew larger and larger, till at last it became the figure of a woman, dressed in garments of white gauze, which looked like millions of starry snow-flakes linked together. She was fair and beautiful, but made of ice—shining and glittering ice. Still she was alive and her eyes sparkled like bright stars, but there was neither peace nor rest in their glance. She nodded towards the window and waved her hand. The little boy was frightened and sprang from the chair; at the same moment it seemed as if a large bird flew by the window. On the following day there was a clear frost, and very soon came the spring. The sun shone; the young green leaves burst forth; the swallows built their nests; windows were opened, and the children sat once more in the garden on the roof, high above all the other rooms. How beautiful the roses blossomed this summer. The little girl had learnt a hymn in which roses were spoken of, and then she thought of their own roses, and she sang the hymn to the little boy, and he sang too:— “Roses bloom and cease to be, But we shall the Christ-child see.” Then the little ones held each other by the hand, and kissed the roses, and looked at the bright sunshine, and spoke to it as if the Christ-child were there. Those were splendid summer days. How beautiful and fresh it was out among the rose-bushes, which seemed as if they would never leave off blooming. One day Kay and Gerda sat looking at a book full of pictures of animals and birds, and then just as the clock in the church tower struck twelve, Kay said, “Oh, something has struck my heart!” and soon after, “There is something in my eye.” The little girl put her arm round his neck, and looked into his eye, but she could see nothing. “I think it is gone,” he said. But it was not gone; it was one of those bits of the looking-glass—that magic mirror, of which we have spoken—the ugly glass which made everything great and good appear small and ugly, while all that was wicked and bad became more visible, and every little fault could be plainly seen. Poor little Kay had also received a small grain in his heart, which very quickly turned to a lump of ice. He felt no more pain, but the glass was there still. “Why do you cry?” said he at last; “it makes you look ugly. There is nothing the matter with me now. Oh, see!” he cried suddenly, “that rose is worm-eaten, and this one is quite crooked. After all they are ugly roses, just like the box in which they stand,” and then he kicked the boxes with his foot, and pulled off the two roses. “Kay, what are you doing?” cried the little girl; and then, when he saw how frightened she was, he tore off another rose, and jumped through his own window away from little Gerda. When she afterwards brought out the picture book, he said, “It was only fit for babies in long clothes,” and when grandmother told any stories, he would interrupt her with “but;” or, when he could manage it, he would get behind her chair, put on a pair of spectacles, and imitate her very cleverly, to make people laugh. By-and-by he began to mimic the speech and gait of persons in the street. All that was peculiar or disagreeable in a person he would imitate directly, and people said, “That boy will be very clever; he has a remarkable genius.” But it was the piece of glass in his eye, and the coldness in his heart, that made him act like this. He would even tease little Gerda, who loved him with all her heart. His games, too, were quite different; they were not so childish. One winter’s day, when it snowed, he brought out a burning-glass, then he held out the tail of his blue coat, and let the snow-flakes fall upon it. “Look in this glass, Gerda,” said he; and she saw how every flake of snow was magnified, and looked like a beautiful flower or a glittering star. “Is it not clever?” said Kay, “and much more interesting than looking at real flowers. There is not a single fault in it, and the snow-flakes are quite perfect till they begin to melt.” Soon after Kay made his appearance in large thick gloves, and with his sledge at his back. He called up stairs to Gerda, “I’ve got to leave to go into the great square, where the other boys play and ride.” And away he went. In the great square, the boldest among the boys would often tie their sledges to the country people’s carts, and go with them a good way. This was capital. But while they were all amusing themselves, and Kay with them, a great sledge came by; it was painted white, and in it sat some one wrapped in a rough white fur, and wearing a white cap. The sledge drove twice round the square, and Kay fastened his own little sledge to it, so that when it went away, he followed with it. It went faster and faster right through the next street, and then the person who drove turned round and nodded pleasantly to Kay, just as if they were acquainted with each other, but whenever Kay wished to loosen his little sledge the driver nodded again, so Kay sat still, and they drove out through the town gate. Then the snow began to fall so heavily that the little boy could not see a hand’s breadth before him, but still they drove on; then he suddenly loosened the cord so that the large sled might go on without him, but it was of no use, his little carriage held fast, and away they went like the wind. Then he called out loudly, but nobody heard him, while the snow beat upon him, and the sledge flew onwards. Every now and then it gave a jump as if it were going over hedges and ditches. The boy was frightened, and tried to say a prayer, but he could remember nothing but the multiplication table. The snow-flakes became larger and larger, till they appeared like great white chickens. All at once they sprang on one side, the great sledge stopped, and the person who had driven it rose up. The fur and the cap, which were made entirely of snow, fell off, and he saw a lady, tall and white, it was the Snow Queen. “We have driven well,” said she, “but why do you tremble? here, creep into my warm fur.” Then she seated him beside her in the sledge, and as she wrapped the fur round him he felt as if he were sinking into a snow drift. “Are you still cold,” she asked, as she kissed him on the forehead. The kiss was colder than ice; it went quite through to his heart, which was already almost a lump of ice; he felt as if he were going to die, but only for a moment; he soon seemed quite well again, and did not notice the cold around him. “My sledge! don’t forget my sledge,” was his first thought, and then he looked and saw that it was bound fast to one of the white chickens, which flew behind him with the sledge at its back. The Snow Queen kissed little Kay again, and by this time he had forgotten little Gerda, his grandmother, and all at home. “Now you must have no more kisses,” she said, “or I should kiss you to death.” Kay looked at her, and saw that she was so beautiful, he could not imagine a more lovely and intelligent face; she did not now seem to be made of ice, as when he had seen her through his window, and she had nodded to him. In his eyes she was perfect, and she did not feel at all afraid. He told her he could do mental arithmetic, as far as fractions, and that he knew the number of square miles and the number of inhabitants in the country. And she always smiled so that he thought he did not know enough yet, and she looked round the vast expanse as she flew higher and higher with him upon a black cloud, while the storm blew and howled as if it were singing old songs. They flew over woods and lakes, over sea and land; below them roared the wild wind; the wolves howled and the snow crackled; over them flew the black screaming crows, and above all shone the moon, clear and bright,—and so Kay passed through the long winter’s night, and by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen. A TRIUMPHAL ARCH OF LEAVES AND FLOWERS ATMOSPHERE SPRAY Kitchen herbs and rosebushes streaming with snow peas and fluttering petals. THE WHITE BEES SWARMING HAIR GLOSS Frost-dusted honey. NEITHER PEACE NOR REST PERFUME This snow-flake grew larger and larger, till at last it became the figure of a woman, dressed in garments of white gauze, which looked like millions of starry snow-flakes linked together. She was fair and beautiful, but made of ice—shining and glittering ice. Still she was alive and her eyes sparkled like bright stars, but there was neither peace nor rest in their glance. A scent that glitters with the coldest white musk; hollow, sharp, and brittle. SPLENDID SUMMER DAYS ATMOSPHERE SPRAY Perfect red roses, warm amber sunlight, and the sweet honeyed carnation of friendship. THE SHARD IN THE HEART, THE WORM IN THE ROSE ATMOSPHERE SPRAY Stony contempt and blossoming darkness: vetiver trickling through sickly roses. A LADY TALL AND WHITE PERFUME A fur and cap all made of snow: frosted vanilla sandalwood. SLEEPING AT THE FEET OF THE SNOW QUEEN HAIR GLOSS And she always smiled so that he thought he did not know enough yet, and she looked round the vast expanse as she flew higher and higher with him upon a black cloud, while the storm blew and howled as if it were singing old songs. They flew over woods and lakes, over sea and land; below them roared the wild wind; the wolves howled and the snow crackled; over them flew the black screaming crows, and above all shone the moon, clear and bright,—and so Kay passed through the long winter’s night, and by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen. The roar of the wild wind, the howl of winter wolves, the screams of night-winged crows, and the moon shining, clear and bright: juniper and white musk with white tea extract, oakmoss absolute, white lemon rind, and tobacco. The Yules will be live until 5 February 2015! We hope your holidays are filled with love, joy, laughter, and song, and that switches and chains will only come into play if you want them to!

Hi, all! Ted's computer died a horrible, gruesome death this morning; a death the poets will sing of for ages to come. There will be a delay in BPTP customer service correspondence while we sort this out. Thank you so much for understanding!

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, BPAL! Happy birthday to my oldest (and orneriest!) child, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab! (Wait… does this mean BPAL is about to enter puberty?!) Twelve years. We could not possibly have come this far without the help of our tribe… The friendships – the /family/ - that I have because of BPAL has enriched my life in ways I never could have imagined. I can’t emphasize how much that means to me. Thank you for enabling me to give life to my vision, and for sharing my love of so many bizarre, horrible, beautiful, macabre, goofy, and terrible subjects. Thank you for your kindness, your support, and for your friendship. Thank you for sharing your triumphs, joys, loves, and sorrows with us, and for giving me the gift of a massive extended family. I don’t have words for how important our community is to me. Thank you. With all of my love, and in no particular order... Thank you, Brian, for being the best partner and friend I could possibly have. You are Virgo Prime, and as I have said before – without you, BPAL would be an abstract set of drifting Piscean ideas. Thank you for all the hard work, blood, sweat, and tears that you grind out to keep our insane Rube Goldberg machine running. I love you, and I am grateful for your friendship and love. Ted, I love you. Hear my soul speak: the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service. (It’s true: I even remember what socks you were wearing that fateful day.) You are my heart, my soulmate, my bright morning, and I love you more with every breath I draw. Thank you, my Lilith, my little heart, my merry muse. Every moment with you inspires me, and I am grateful and honored to be your mother. Thank you, Chrissy, for being the best of all possible assistants, in this universe or any other. Thank you for your boundless creativity, your patience, and your infallible Gemini plate-spinning skills. You are an amazing person, I am grateful to you for everything you do, and I love you. Thank you, Jacquelynn, for all of your hard work, dedication to keeping production flowing, and ingenuity in all things. Thank you for everything you do to keep our wheels turning. You are a wonder! Thank you, Lisa, for your wit and wisdom, for your kindness and patience, and for the pleasure of your friendship. You are a saint, and I love you! Thank you, Piolet, for being an oasis of calm, no matter how crazy things get here! I am so thankful for you and for all you do for us! Thank you to Sue and Del at Dark Delicacies for… everything. Just everything. Thank you for providing a second home for Black Phoenix, thank you for your time, patience, and energy during our crazy events, and thank you for being the most wonderful of friends and the greatest grandparents a little demoness could possibly ask for! I love you! Thank you, Ashley, for being such a tremendous help at Trading Post. You are brilliant – an amazing person – and I am grateful for all that you do! Thank you, Sara, for all the love, passion, and dedication that you imbue into every BPAL event. I am grateful for all you do, and for your huge heart and elegant artistry. You are a wonderful person, and it is a joy being your friend. Love you! Kaitlin, you are a phenomenon. There are no words for how grateful I am for all of your help, for your patience, for your kindness, and for your friendship. You are an absolute saint, and a truly beautiful person. I love you, wumman! My love, thanks, and eternal gratitude to my sisters, the moderators and admins at bpal.org. You are dearest to my heart, the best of friends, and my sisters in every sense of the world except bloodline. Thank you for being my confidants, for holding my hand when my heart is heavy, and for sharing my joy when life is goin’ pretty alright. I love you guys. Thank you, Shana, for always being there for me! Thank you for your effervescent humor, bright cheer, and limitless enthusiasm. You are a force of nature! I love you! Thank you, Forest, for being you. Your compassion and nobility of spirit is an inspiration, and I’m truly thankful for our friendship. I love you, fartface. Thank you, Em, for always being there for me, for always having my back, and for being an absolutely amazing friend. I value your wisdom and counsel so, so much. Thank you. I love you! Thank you, Ali, for being my living, breathing Chicago (Manhattan) Manual of Style. Thank you for always being there for me, for being a constant source of inspiration and aid, and for ensuring that my words don’t come out like asdkjfhaslkjdhflsakjhdflkajshsnert. You are wonderful, and I love you. Thank you, Tom, for everything you do to help us while we’re on the road, and thank you for doing all you can to integrate Black Phoenix into your work. I love you so, so much, and I’m grateful for our friendship! Thank you to Jen, Lisa, Tom, Sara, Lilith, Kat, Chrissy, Michael, Donna, Andra, Ali, Courtney D., Courtney W., Val, and Maggie for making this year’s travelling Snake Oil show possible. Thank you so much for all the hard work you put into the events, and for being there for us. We couldn’t do it without you. Thank you, Lisa T., for single-handedly reviving Dirty South Will Call. You are one of the most amazing women I know, and I love you. Thank you, Jen and Karyn, for resurrecting bpal.org. Without your efforts, the forum would have died a horrible, much-lamented death. You have no idea how grateful I am. I love you. Thank you, Donna, for babysitting BPAL again! Thank you for always making me laugh, and for giving me much-needed hugs whenever I’m down. I love you more than words can say! Thank you, Andra, for keeping my fires lit, and for being such a true and amazing friend. I love you so much! Thank you, Courtney, for being my New England Sister! Thank you for all of your generosity and kindness! Your love makes Black Phoenix stronger, brighter, and more suffused with joy. I love you! Huge amounts of love and HUGE amounts of gratitude to Laura Hall and all the wonderful people at Laika studios. Your generosity and kindness is beyond measure. Thank you to Thomas, Melissa, Chandra, Kat (and Thomas Jr!) at Century Guild. You are wonderful people, and I love you! Thank you to Neil Gaiman, Jim Jarmusch, Peter S. Beagle, Kelly Sue DeConnick, Terry Pratchett, Carolyn Hennesy, Terry Moore, Mike and Christine Mignola, George Perez, Peter David, Molly Crabapple, Mark Waid, Thomas Negovan, Storm Constantine, Matt Wagner, Jim Henson Productions, Brian Pulido, Joseph Michael Linsner, Gris Grimly, George RR Martin, Clive Barker, Mark Miller, David Mack, Gail Potocki, Erin Morgenstern, and Ysanne Spevak for giving Black Phoenix the opportunity to interpret your work. Thank you to the noble souls at the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund and the Hero Initiative. You are an inspiration. Thank you, Charles, for being an inspiration and a true friend. Thank you, CP, for being an incredible friend. Your kind soul and radiant spirit illuminates everything and everyone you touch. Love and thanks to the artists that have lent us their talent: Adam Hughes, Alicia Dabney, Julie Dillon, Emma Rios, Madame Talbot, Quique Alcatena, Jennifer Rodgers, Manda Lander, Keri Newton, Nick Pavik, Tanya Bjork, Andrew Fogel, Brian Kessinger, Abigail Larson, Aidan Casserly, and Sarah Coleman! Love and thanks to Think Geek, Century Guild, the Mütter Museum, Haute Macabre, Heretic Salon, Whole Foods, Pretty Indulgent, Healthy Living, and Dark Delicacies for giving our products a home in your stores! Love and thanks to the bloggers, journalists, magazines, and other media outlets that taken the time to write about Black Phoenix. Honestly, I cannot thank you enough. And last but certainly not least, I’d like to thank my ancestors, all the gods (both celestial and infernal), the House Ghost, and anyone else that might be looking out for me. I wrote this many years ago, and it’s just as true today as it was then: ‘Thank you for sharing our joy and for standing with us during difficult times. The family that has grown around BPAL is like no other in the world. Every time I wander into the forum, I see people supporting one another in times of need, showing selfless kindness and offering support to one another… to me, you all are models of emotional generosity and true friendship, and it is truly an honor to be a part of your lives. I cannot express my gratitude enough. Thank you for celebrating the beauty of living with us, and for holding our hands during times of stress and sorrow. This year has been turbulent for just about everyone we know. It’s been a hard year filled with challenges and hidden lessons, but none of it is insurmountable because we all have this tremendous, genuinely loving family. Thank you.’ THANK YOU! And without further ado, the Anniversary scents! There is a happy spot, retired in the first East, where the great gate of the eternal pole lies open. It is not, however, situated near to his rising in summer or in winter, but where the sun pours the day from his vernal chariot. There a plain spreads its open tracts; nor does any mound rise, nor hollow valley open itself. But through twice six ells that place rises above the mountains, whose tops are thought to be lofty among us. THE GROVE OF THE SUN Here is the grove of the sun; a wood stands planted with many a tree, blooming with the honour of perpetual foliage. When the pole had blazed with the fires of Phaethon, that place was uninjured by the flames; and when the deluge had immersed the world in waves, it rose above the waters of Deucalion. No enfeebling diseases, no sickly old age, nor cruel death, nor harsh fear, approaches hither, nor dreadful crime, nor mad desire of riches, nor Mars, nor fury, burning with the love of slaughter. Bitter grief is absent, and want clothed in rags, and sleepless cares, and violent hunger. No tempest rages there, nor dreadful violence of the wind; nor does the hoar-frost cover the earth with cold dew. Immortally vibrant olive, black pine, and bay laurel shimmering with rivulets of fresh olibanum sap. LIVING No cloud extends its fleecy covering above the plains, nor does the turbid moisture of water fall from on high; but there is a fountain in the middle, which they call by the name of "living;" it is clear, gentle, and abounding with sweet waters, which, bursting forth once during the space of each month, twelve times irrigates all the grove with waters. Clear water touched by a hint of honeyed pale rose, Sicilian lemon, and lily of the valley. Here a species of tree, rising with lofty stem, bears mellow fruits not about to fall on the ground. This grove, these woods, a single bird, the phoenix, inhabits,--single, but it lives reproduced by its own death. It obeys and submits to Phoebus, a remarkable attendant. Its parent nature has given it to possess this office. When at its first rising the saffron morn grows red, when it puts to flight the stars with its rosy light, thrice and four times she plunges her body into the sacred waves, thrice and four times she sips water from the living stream. POURING STRAINS OF SACRED SONG She is raised aloft, and takes her seat on the highest top of the lofty tree, which alone looks down upon the whole grove; and turning herself to the fresh risings of the nascent Phoebus, she awaits his rays and rising beam. And when the sun has thrown back the threshold of the shining gate, and the light gleam of the first light has shone forth, she begins to pour strains of sacred song, and to hail the new light with wondrous voice, which neither the notes of the nightingale nor the flute of the Muses can equal with Cyrrhæan strains. But neither is it thought that the dying swan can imitate it, nor the tuneful strings of the lyre of Mercury. Red benzoin and frankincense with honey myrtle, osmanthus blossom, and coconut milk. VENERABLE PRIESTESS OF THE WOOD After that Phoebus has brought back his horses to the open heaven, and continually advancing, has displayed his whole orb; she applauds with thrice-repeated flapping of her wings, and having thrice adored the fire-bearing head, is silent. And she also distinguishes the swift hours by sounds not liable to error by day and night: an overseer of the groves, a venerable priestess of the wood, and alone admitted to thy secrets, O Phoebus. An incense of myrtle leaf, sweet bay, white myrrh, stacte, and the golden frankincense. THIS WORLD, WHERE DEATH REIGNS And when she has now accomplished the thousand years of her life, and length of days has rendered her burdensome, in order that she may renew the age which has glided by, the fates pressing her, she flees from the beloved couch of the accustomed grove. And when she has left the sacred places, through a desire of being born again, then she seeks this world, where death reigns. Full of years, she directs her swift flight into Syria, to which Venus herself has given the name of Phoenice; and through trackless deserts she seeks the retired groves in the place, where a remote wood lies concealed through the glens. Myrrh and black roses. Then she chooses a lofty palm, with top reaching to the heavens, which has the pleasing name of phoenix from the bird, and where no hurtful living creature can break through, or slimy serpent, or any bird of prey. Then Æolas shuts in the winds in hanging caverns, lest they should injure the bright air with their blasts, or lest a cloud collected by the south wind through the empty sky should remove the rays of the sun, and be a hindrance to the bird. SHE PERISHES THAT SHE MAY LIVE Afterwards she builds for herself either a nest or a tomb, for she perishes that she may live; yet she produces herself. Hence she collects juices and odours, which the Assyrian gathers from the rich wood, which the wealthy Arabian gathers; which either the Pygmæan nations, or India crops, or the Sabæan land produces from its soft bosom. Hence she heaps together cinnamon and the odour of the far-scented amomum, and balsams with mixed leaves. Neither the twig of the mild cassia nor of the fragrant acanthus is absent, nor the tears and rich drop of frankincense. To these she adds tender ears of flourishing spikenard, and joins the too pleasing pastures of myrrh. Immediately she places her body about to be changed on the strewed nest, and her quiet limbs on such a couch. Then with her mouth she scatters juices around and upon her limbs, about to die with her own funeral rites. Then amidst various odours she yields up her life, nor fears the faith of so great a deposit. In the meantime her body, destroyed by death, which proves the source of life, is hot, and the heat itself produces a flame; and it conceives fire afar off from the light of heaven: it blazes, and is dissolved into burnt ashes. And these ashes collected in death it fuses, as it were, into a mass, and has an effect resembling seed. From this an animal is said to arise without limbs, but the worm is said to be of a milky colour. A funereal nest of cinnamon and amomum, cassia and acanthus, spikenard and myrrh, three balsams and sweet frankincense. THE PHOENIX, HAVING BURST HER SHELL And it suddenly increases vastly with an imperfectly formed body, and collects itself into the appearance of a well-rounded egg. After this it is formed again, such as its figure was before, and the phoenix, having burst her shell, shoots forth, even as caterpillars in the fields, when they are fastened by a thread to a stone, are wont to be changed into a butterfly. A perfume of freedom, regeneration, and renewal: bitter orange and tangerine with warm patchouli, tobacco absolute, glittering amber, and white musk. THE DELICATE AMBROSIAL DEWS OF HEAVENLY NECTAR No food is appointed for her in our world, nor does any one make it his business to feed her while unfledged. She sips the delicate ambrosial dews of heavenly nectar which have fallen from the star-bearing pole. She gathers these; with these the bird is nourished in the midst of odours, until she bears a natural form. But when she begins to flourish with early youth, she flies forth now about to return to her native abode. A celestial nectar redolent of honeysuckle-gilded amber with honeyed fig leaf, golden myrrh, helichrysum, and white cognac. RELICS OF HERSELF Previously, however, she encloses in an ointment of balsam, and in myrrh and dissolved frankincense, all the remains of her own body, and the bones or ashes, and relics of herself, and with pious mouth brings it into a round form, and carrying this with her feet, she goes to the rising of the sun, and tarrying at the altar, she draws it forth in the sacred temple. Peru balsam, myrrh, frankincense, and ashes. SEEDS OF THE POMEGRANATE, LEAVES OF THE POPPY She shows and presents herself an object of admiration to the beholder; such great beauty is there, such great honour abounds. In the first place, her colour is like the brilliancy of that which the seeds of the pomegranate when ripe take under the smooth rind; such colour as is contained in the leaves which the poppy produces in the fields, when Flora spreads her garments beneath the blushing sky. Her shoulders and beautiful breasts shine with this covering; with this her head, with this her neck, and the upper parts of her back shine. Gleaming pomegranate seed and scarlet poppies. YELLOW METAL WITH MINGLED PURPLE BLUSHES And her tail is extended, varied with yellow metal, in the spots of which mingled purple blushes. Between her wings there is a bright mark above, as Tris on high is wont to paint a cloud from above. An armor of gleaming, burnished amber, gold-flecked, brushed with a whisper of wild plum and blackcurrant. A SHINING BEAK OF PURE HORN She gleams resplendent with a mingling of the green emerald, and a shining beak of pure horn opens itself. Wild green lotus, orris root, bourbon vanilla, white sandalwood, and Egyptian musk. A BRIGHT FLAME BETWEEN TWO JACINTHS Her eyes are large; you might believe that they were two jacinths; from the middle of which a bright flame shines. An irradiated crown is fitted to the whole of her head, resembling on high the glory of the head of Phoebus. A glittering golden amber chypre whose facets reflect bright flickers of cardamom, galbanum, guaiac, neroli, and sharp cedar. A ROSY COLOUR PAINTS HER CLAWS WITH HONOR Scales cover her thighs spangled with yellow metal, but a rosy colour paints her claws with honour. Scales of gold, rose-tinted with red musk, bourbon geranium, and vanilla absolute. LIGHT AND SWIFT Her form is seen to blend the figure of the peacock with that of the painted bird of Phasis. The winged creature which is produced in the lands of the Arabians, whether it be beast or bird, can scarcely equal her magnitude. She is not, however, slow, as birds which through the greatness of their body have sluggish motions, and a very heavy weight. But she is light and swift, full of royal beauty. Such she always shows herself in the sight of men. Swift joy and bright passion: white lavender, lemon verbena, and elemi. Egypt comes hither to such a wondrous sight, and the exulting crowd salutes the rare bird. Immediately they carve her image on the consecrated marble, and mark both the occurrence and the day with a new title. Birds of every kind assemble together; none is mindful of prey, none of fear. Attended by a chorus of birds, she flies through the heaven, and a crowd accompanies her, exulting in the pious duty. But when she has arrived at the regions of pure ether, she presently returns; afterwards she is concealed in her own regions. But oh, bird of happy lot and fate, to whom the god himself granted to be born from herself! Whether it be female, or male, or neither, or both, happy she, who enters into no compacts of Venus. DEATH IS VENUS TO HER Death is Venus to her; her only pleasure is in death: that she may be born, she desires previously to die. She is an offspring to herself, her own father and heir, her own nurse, and always a foster-child to herself. She is herself indeed, but not the same, since she is herself, and not herself, having gained eternal life by the blessing of death. Cabreuva and blood red rose with myrrh, cypress, black jasmine, clove, and 7-year aged patchouli. - - - The Phoenixes will be live until January 6, 2015!

I kinda like my kid. http://blackphoenixalchemylab.com/product-category/limited-edition/lilith-2014-princesses-ghosts-superheroes/ The first Lil-inspired scent went live when I went into labor, and since that moment, she has been my little muse. Happy sixth birthday, daughter. I love you. Thank you for the privilege of chronicling our life together through scent. Ted's Lil-inspired series will be live soon. This scent series will come down on November 8th. ++ PRINCESSES, GHOSTS, AND SUPERHEROES AMICITIA “We’ll be friends forever, won’t we, Pooh?” asked Piglet. “Even longer,” Pooh answered. A tribute to true friendship, and love that transcends distance and time: white sage and chaparral with sweet cedar, caramelized honey, warm fig, and carnation blossoms. AVUNCULUS In hindsight, it was something of an omen that Lilith would be born on Brian’s birthday. He was with her on the day of her birth, and I have no doubt that they will love each other eternally. Yes, they are family, but he is also her friend: her pillar of support, her precious uncle, dearer to her heart than he could possibly know. I created this scent as much for Brian as I did for Lilith; it is the scent of the summer that lives in one’s heart. Orange blossom honey, white coconut, and pear with flecks of golden amber that glimmers like sunlight on water. BLUEBERRY PICKING I wanted to go with a less-literal name for this scent, but Lilith vetoed me! My little monster is a tremendous help around the garden. She helps me water, plant, and deadhead the flowers, but by far… harvesting is her favorite chore. Sun-warmed, slightly squishy blueberries plus overgrown grass, overgrown honeysuckle, overgrown lavender, overgrown lemon verbena, and a smattering of un-pulled weeds. GOOFBALLS This one – name, scent, and photo selection - is entirely Lilith’s. She wanted this scent to smell like “how friendship feels when you’re hanging out in the grass.” Per Lilith’s description: “wet grass and sunshine, dogs and wood, and my feet in warm dirt and flowers I pick.” HEARTS FOR GHOST FRIENDS Lilith named this one, and I think it’s absolutely perfect. I know I’ve told this story before, but the kindness behind it means so much to me that you’re all going to have to bear with me while I tell it again. The privilege of being the narrator! While we were at Lafayette Cemetery this spring, Lilith discovered all the beads, toys, and trinkets that people leave on the crypts. As she wandered through the cemetery grounds, she arranged the beads that she found into hearts and pillaged my purse (and Ted’s pockets!) for change and small items she could leave for the ghosts. She told me that people leave things like this for their ghost friends so that the spirits know that their “people friends” are thinking about them, and so they won’t be lonely while they wait for more people to come visit them. Lilith and I still talk about the ghost friends she met in New Orleans that day. Evidently, some of them have taken up residence in my basement and behind our bar because she couldn’t bear to leave them behind. The more the merrier, right? Friendship beyond death. The scent of ghostly companionship, and imaginary friends that might not be quite so imaginary: oleander and frankincense with white rose, soft carnation, spectral white musk, and velvety magnolia. GHOST HOUSES Last year, Lilith visited Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 in the Garden District with us. As she walked among the vaults and tombs, she announced to us, “When I get older, I’m going to help ghosts fix their houses.” Marble, wild grasses, rusted iron, white clover, coneflowers, and daisies filtered through a sepulchral mist. THE HIEROPHANT AND THE EMPRESS Let the woman be girt with a sword before me: the many-throned, many-minded, many-wiled, daughter of Zeus. Red and white roses, everblooming gardenia, violet leaf, Oman frankincense, styrax, honey myrtle, mallow flower. LILY WITCH Lilith named this scent, and said this perfume should smell like witches. Her interpretation is swathed in anise, lime, almond, and witchin’ herbs, and holds a bouquet of pale, graceful lilies. The end result is a sweet, nutty absinthe’d lime with a hint of spice and leather. MERMAID Peter was not with them for the moment, and they felt rather lonely up there by themselves. He could go so much faster than they that he would suddenly shoot out of sight, to have some adventure in which they had no share. He would come down laughing over something fearfully funny he had been saying to a star, but he had already forgotten what it was, or he would come up with mermaid scales still sticking to him, and yet not be able to to say for certain what had been happening. It was really rather irritating to children who had never seen a mermaid. ― JM Barrie, Peter Pan Lilith, I hope you never stop seeing mermaids. I hope your invisible friends always sing with you, and that the ghosts in your attic tell you stories every night. I hope you never forget how to dream, and I hope you never forget why dreams matter. A tiny siren’s perfume of pink seaweed, lotus petals, Tahitian tiare, white gardenia, orange blossom, sea salt, and vanilla-infused benzoin. (NOT SO)PENITENT (MINI) MAGDALENE Lilith, Ted, and I were playing dress up one night, and during her snack break in the kitchen, it occurred to me that she – and the whole accidental tableau – reminded me strongly (and strangely) of Georges de la Tour's Penitent Magdalene. So, of course, Ted and I threw together an impromptu 30-second staging with junk lying around the house and took a photo. Learning art history through role playing and silly photo shenanigans! Candle wax, smoke, red sandalwood, a dusting of kitchen spices, and a dribble of vanilla ice cream. OM GAM GANAPATAYE NAMAHA Salutations to the supreme Lord Ganesh, whose curved trunk and massive body shines like a million suns and showers his blessings on everyone. Oh my lord of lords, Ganesha, kindly remove all obstacles, always and forever from all my activities and endeavors. Lilith’s favorite deity - by far - is Ganesha, inspired by her kindergarten teacher and the works of Sanjay Patel. Her meditation technique, however, is as much a product of her Mom & Me practice at home as her enthusiastic love of Teen Titans. I’d attempted to persuade Lilith to meditate with me many times, but she didn’t have much of an interest in doing so until she started watching Teen Titans again in earnest. Kindergarten was a challenging transition year for her, and meditation was something she employed often to cope with the stress. I tried to encourage her to chant a variety of mantras, and she used many of Ganesha’s, but her go to was always Azarath Metreon Zinthos. So, thank you, DC Comics, Sanjay Patel, and (especially) Ganesha, for helping give my daughter tools to help her through rough days. This is a meditation blend that I created for Lilith: sweet frankincense, Mysore sandalwood, and a few drops of rose and clary sage. VENUSTAS Sometimes when I look at my daughter, I feel like I can see the woman that she’ll become someday. This is a perfume for that woman, forever my daughter: frankincense, sweet myrrh, bourbon vanilla, and a hint of willowy, pale fougere. VERY PINK SURPRISE CAKE A few weeks before DragonCon this year, I took ill with a persistent, irritating, gooey flu. To cheer up me up, my crazy, wonderful daughter and her crazy, wonderful dad threw me a surprise party. They decorated Lilith's room, baked me a cake in the Easy Bake Oven (it tasted very pink), and brought me little gifts, including a ridiculously pink lipstick, some balloons and noisemakers, and a bottle of OxyClean. (Long story.) This perfume captures the ridiculously pink scent of that ridiculously pink cake. I love my family.

Black Phoenix Trading Post’s customer service will be dark while we are at Emerald City Comic Con. Emails communication will resume on Tuesday, April 1st! If you have an emergency during this time, you can shoot a message to answers @ blackphoenixalchemylab . com, and the guys at the Lab will do their best to assist you. Thanks so much!

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post will be vending at Emerald City Comic Con! Our con exclusive offerings are inspired by legend and riddled with camp: A Springtime Victorian Corset-Ripper, BPAL-style! Who will steal Lady Cecily’s wild heart? LADY CECILY SASQUETS, THE INGENUE Our fair, hairy heroine, born into a clan of privilege in the Olympic Mountains – her wild nature – as stormy as the mountains she dwells in - repressed, her passions subdued. Rose-washed fur and a spray of bleeding hearts, China asters, and peony. LEOPOLD FREIHERR VON TSEMEKWES, THE POET RAPSCALLION Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. Tortured and brooding, Leopold was exiled from his clan and fled under mysterious circumstances to the Pacific Northwest. Their tempestuous romance is enflamed by their unbridled, dark appetites -- but will she wither under the blaze of his monstrous arrogance? Black leather and sleek black musk with vetiver, blue chamomile, saffron-infused labdanum, caco-dusted patchouli, tobacco absolute, and oakmoss. EDGAR MICHE, MYSTERIOUS ADVENTURER Dashing, enigmatic, and newly returned from his travels in Nepal, Edgar seeks adventure in Lady Cecily’s embrace. Brown leather, dusted by the spices of his many voyages: cardamom, red sandalwood, sweet clove, white mastic, mandrake powder, and galangal. AUBIN GRANDPIED BUNMANCHI, CHILDHOOD PLAYMATE Ward of Lord Richard Sasquets, Aubin grew up in the shadow of the ancient house in which he was reared. Quiet, moody, and reserved, his love for Lady Cecily goes unspoken and unrequited: pale fur, lavender water, Corsican immortelle, white thyme, benzoin absolute, ambergris accord, and sorrowful carrot seed. ++ BLACK PHOENIX TRADING POST EMERALD CITY COMIC CON ROOM SPRAYS SKOOCOOM HOUSE The Sasquets ancestral estate: vast dark halls of stone threaded by cascading rivulets of beeswax, and the scent of snow-laden fireweed, Pacific silver fir, thick mounds of vibrant green moss, purple lupine, Pacific bleeding heart, and lava ash. LORD LEOPOLD’S BEDCHAMBER Leather, thick black fur, red roses, and a waft of opium smoke. $25 per atmosphere spray, $23 per perfume! Artwork by the inimitable Abigail Larson! BLACK PHOENIX @ EMERALD CITY COMIC CON http://emeraldcitycomicon.com/ March 28 - 30, 2014 Booth #2905 Vending Hours March 28 - 10:00AM to 7:00PM March 29 - 10:00AM to 7:00PM March 30 - 10:00AM to 5:00PM

PSA! Dark Delicacies has less than 20 bottles in stock of the following: Red Lace Tattered Lace Black Heart Batty Ein Kuss von Krampus Story Time at Dark Delicacies When they’re gone, they’re gone!

Again, I am the bearer of bad news: Eve will be discontinued on March 10, 2014. I am extremely sorry for the short notice. All current orders will be honored, and all orders for Eve placed through the 10th will also be filled. Thank you so much for understanding!

Hi, all! I’m terribly sorry, but we won’t be able to vend at Denver Comic Con this year. We were waitlisted, and because of issues like staff size, production scheduling, and project management, we can’t really function well in limbo. Hopefully we’ll be able to make it next year! Thank you so much for understanding!

Valkyries assemble! THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS Gullinkambi is singing to the Aesir, Fjalar is crowing in the Gallows-Wood, and the rust-red cock of Hel screeches into the gloaming. Ragnarok is upon us. Now Garm howls loud before Gnipahellir, The fetters will burst, and the wolf run free Much do I know, and more can see Of the fate of the gods, the mighty in fight. From the east comes Hrym with shield held high; In giant-wrath does the serpent writhe; O'er the waves he twists, and the tawny eagle Gnaws corpses screaming; Naglfar is loose. O'er the sea from the north there sails a ship With the people of Hel, at the helm stands Loki; After the wolf do wild men follow, And with them the brother of Byleist goes. Surt fares from the south with the scourge of branches, The sun of the battle-gods shone from his sword; The crags are sundered, the giant-women sink, The dead throng Hel-way, and heaven is cloven. From below the dragon the dark comes forth; it is the end of all things, and the promise of resurrection. - skeggǫld, skálmǫld - skildir ro klofnir - vindǫld, vargǫld - áðr verǫld steypiz. Mun engi maðr ǫðrom þyrma. We present the Twilight of the Gods, as told by Padraic Colum. May the frenzy of Odin guide your axe. We’ll see you in Valhalla. THE FIMBUL WINTER Snow fell on the four quarters of the world; icy winds blew from every side; the sun and the moon were hidden by storms. It was the Fimbul Winter: no spring came and no summer; no autumn brought harvest or fruit, and winter grew into winter again. There was three years' winter. The first was called the Winter of Winds: storms blew and snows drove down and frosts were mighty. The children of men might hardly keep alive in that dread winter. The second winter was called the Winter of the Sword: those who were left alive amongst men robbed and slew for what was left to feed on; brother fell on brother and slew him, and over all the world there were mighty battles. And the third winter was called the Winter of the Wolf. The scent of utter desolation: three long white winters ushering in the end of the world. Endless rolling landscapes of snow and ice, bereft of bud, flower, or seed. MANAGARM’S BLOODY JAWS Then the ancient witch who lived in Jarnvid, the Iron Wood, fed the Wolf Managarm on unburied men and on the corpses of those who fell in battle. Mightily grew and flourished the Wolf that was to be the devourer of Mani, the Moon. The Champions in Valhalla would find their seats splashed with the blood that Managarm dashed from his jaws; this was a sign to the Gods that the time of the last battle was approaching. The offspring of Fenrir, known in whispers as the Moon-Hound, the Moon-Snatcher, the Enemy, He Who Hates: ironwood needles and blood-matted fur. THE THREE COCKS A cock crew; far down in the bowels of the earth he was and beside Hela's habitation: the rusty-red cock of Hel crew, and his crowing made a stir in the lower worlds. In Jötunheim a cock crew, Fialar, the crimson cock, and at his crowing the Giants aroused themselves. High up in Asgard a cock crew, the golden cock Gullinkambir, and at his crowing the Champions in Valhalla bestirred themselves. Red musk and belladonna blossom for Hel’s red rooster, amber and copal for Gullinkambir, and pimento-soaked red clove for Fialar. THE RENDING OF THE ROCK A dog barked; deep down in the earth a dog barked; it was Garm, the hound with bloody mouth, barking in Gnipa's Cave. The Dwarfs who heard groaned before their doors of stone. The tree Ygdrassil moaned in all its branches. There was a rending noise as the Giants moved their ship; there was a trampling sound as the hosts of Muspelheim gathered their horses. But Jötunheim and Muspelheim and Hel waited tremblingly; it might be that Fenrir the Wolf might not burst the bonds wherewith the Gods had bound him. Without his being loosed the Gods might not be destroyed. And then was heard the rending of the rock as Fenrir broke loose. For the second time the Hound Garm barked in Gnipa's Cave. Doom unfettered, the ruin of hope: the tattered remains of Gelgja, smashed stone, feral grey musk, and blackened blood. THE LAUGHTER OF LOKI Then was heard the galloping of the horses of the riders of Muspelheim; then was heard the laughter of Loki; then was heard the blowing of Heimdall's horn; then was heard the opening of Valhalla's five hundred and forty doors, as eight hundred Champions made ready to pass through each door. Serpentine green musk with fiery red ginger, sweet basil, alder leaf, white patchouli, cistus, and mistletoe. THE WATERS OF THE WELL OF WISDOM Odin took council with Mimir's head. Up from the waters of the Well of Wisdom he drew it, and by the power of the runes he knew he made the head speak to him. Where best might the Æsir and the Vanir and the Einherjar, who were the Champions of Midgard, meet, and how best might they strive with the forces of Muspelheim and Jötunheim and Hel? The head of Mimir counseled Odin to meet them on Vigard Plain and to wage there such war that the powers of evil would be destroyed forever, even though his own world should be destroyed with them. Cool, dark water steeped with mugwort, mayweed, and thyme. THE SHIP OF HEL The riders of Muspelheim reached Bifröst, the Rainbow Bridge. Now would they storm the City of the Gods and fill it with flame. But Bifröst broke under the weight of the riders of Muspelheim, and they came not to the City of the Gods. Jörmungand, the serpent that encircles the world, reared itself up from the sea. The waters flooded the lands, and the remnant of the world's inhabitants was swept away. That mighty flood floated Naglfar, the Ship of Nails that the Giants were so long building, and floated the ship of Hel also. With Hrymer the Giant steering it, Naglfar sailed against the Gods, with all the powers of Jötunheim aboard. And Loki steered the ship of Hel with the Wolf Fenrir upon it for the place of the last battle. Black oak and sprucewood with opoponax, myrrh, black ambergris, and the silent ice of Niflheimr. THE SWORD OF SURTUR Since Bifröst was broken, the Æsir and the Vanir, the Asyniur and the Vana, the Einherjer and the Valkyries rode downward to Vigard through the waters of Thund. Odin rode at the head of his Champions. His helmet was of gold and in his hand was his spear Gungnir. Thor and Tyr were in his company. In Mirkvid, the Dark Forest, the Vanir stood against the host of Muspelheim. From the broken end of the Rainbow Bridge the riders came, all flashing and flaming, with fire before them and after them. Niörd was there with Skadi, his Giant wife, fierce in her war-dress; Freya was there also, and Frey had Gerda beside him as a battle-maiden. Terribly bright flashed Surtur's sword. No sword ever owned was as bright as his except the sword that Frey had given to Skirnir. Frey and Surtur fought; he perished, Frey perished in that battle, but he would not have perished if he had had in his hand his own magic sword. Iron and fire: red-hot ginger, fossilized amber, prickly poppy, red cedar, cubeb, star anise, and scorpion pepper. THE BATTLE OF VIGRIDR And now, for the third time, Garm, the hound with blood upon his jaws, barked. He had broken loose on the world, and with fierce bounds he rushed toward Vigard Plain, where the Gods had assembled their powers. Loud barked Garm. The Eagle Hræsvelgur screamed on the edge of heaven. Then the skies were cloven, and the tree Ygdrassil was shaken in all its roots. To the place where the Gods had drawn up their ranks came the ship of Jötunheim and the ship of Hel, came the riders of Muspelheim, and Garm, the hound with blood upon his jaws. And out of the sea that now surrounded the plain of Vigard the serpent Jörmungand came. What said Odin to the Gods and to the Champions who surrounded him? "We will give our lives and let our world be destroyed, but we will battle so that these evil powers will not live after us." Out of Hel's ship sprang Fenrir the Wolf. His mouth gaped; his lower jaw hung against the earth, and his upper jaw scraped the sky. Against the Wolf Odin All-Father fought. Thor might not aid him, for Thor had now to encounter Jörmungand, the monstrous serpent. By Fenrir the Wolf Odin was slain. But the younger Gods were now advancing to the battle; and Vidar, the Silent God, came face to face with Fenrir. He laid his foot on the Wolf's lower jaw, that foot that had on the sandal made of all the scraps of leather that shoemakers had laid by for him, and with his hands he seized the upper jaw and tore his gullet. Thus died Fenrir, the fiercest of all the enemies of the Gods. Jörmungand, the monstrous serpent, would have overwhelmed all with the venom he was ready to pour forth. But Thor sprang forward and crushed him with a stroke of his hammer Miölnir. Then Thor stepped back nine paces. But the serpent blew his venom over him, and blinded and choked and burnt, Thor, the World's Defender, perished. Loki sprang from his ship and strove with Heimdall, the Warder of the Rainbow Bridge and the Watcher for the Gods. Loki slew Heimdall and was slain by him. Bravely fought Tyr, the God who had sacrificed his swordhand for the binding of the Wolf. Bravely he fought, and many of the powers of evil perished by his strong left hand. But Garm, the hound with bloody jaws, slew Tyr. And now the riders of Muspelheim came down on the field. Bright and gleaming were all their weapons. Before them and behind them went wasting fires. Surtur cast fire upon the earth; the tree Ygdrassil took fire and burned in all its great branches; the World Tree was wasted in the blaze. But the fearful fire that Surtur brought on the earth destroyed him and all his host. The blood of the gods cascading onto earth and into sea: salt and sinew, venom and flame, and bone shards scattered across the gore-soaked soil of Óskópnir. THE FINAL DARKNESS The Wolf Hati caught up on Sol, the Sun; the Wolf Managarm seized on Mani, the Moon; they devoured them; stars fell, and darkness came down on the world. The sun turns black, earth sinks in the sea: black amber and shimmering moonflower blackened by opoponax, khus attar, smoked oudh, and myrrh and all swallowed by the fathomless depths of a lightless ocean. The scents are live, provided that the world does not end in fire, blood, and darkness, until April 1st for $23 each.

Worm Moon 2014 has been unearthed! WORM MOON 2014 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, grave bricks, congealed blood, wreaths of laurel and boxwood, gloomy lunar oils, and cuckoo flower with something moist lurking underneath. Plus, four new scents from Gail Potocki’s Fragmented Alice series are live on the Century Guild site! FRACTURED SINGULARITY Tobacco flower, saffron crocus, myrrh, ambergris accord, and a touch of vetiver grass. WHAT OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN A RED ROSE TREE White roses, white almond, and white tea leaf saturated with dragon’s blood resin. WHO IN THE WORLD AM I Sheer vanilla, hinoki wood, lavender, bergamot, cotton blossom, and lightly spiced oriental blossoms. YOUTH’S DISENGAGEMENT Marshmallow root, vanilla cream, black ginger, Rainier cherries, white sandalwood, anise seed, and red currants.

Every few years, we have to be practical and take a look at what's selling and what's stagnant, and sadly, that information sometimes determines whether or not a scent can stay in our catalogue. It’s a rough process, and an extremely emotional one for me. Every scent we have is precious to me in its own way: every single one is a product of absolute love and tremendous labor, and each, in its own way, signifies a point in my life. Every scent /means something/ to me, and every one is personal. It is with immense sadness that I’m announcing a mass discontinuation. Just shy of fifty scents will be discontinued. We need to make room for new products, and honestly – it just doesn’t make sense for us to keep holding on to scents that simply do not move, and I cannot bring new products into the general catalogue until there is – literally – room in the Lab to store the product. An issue came up on FB, and I want to address it here, too – One of the reasons that we have had to concentrate on LE’s as opposed to expanding the general catalogue is due to component issues that have ramped up since the economy imploded. As most of you know, we work with many small companies, much like our own, and the economic downturn hasn’t been gentle. Many mom & pop distillers have gone under or condensed the range of what they produce, which leads to instability in the components that we can rely on getting with any regularity. This could, of course, be solved in part by leaving the small companies we work with behind in favor of larger, more stable corporations, but that’s not how we roll. The circumstances that we’ve been confronted with these past few years has made it difficult for us to put out any GC’s without having to worry about possibly discontinuing them within the span of a few months. We’ve even had problems in the past few years with stable production within the timeframe of our limited runs – how could we, in good conscience, risk making GC additions under those conditions? I added five GC’s in this update, and the two Inspiration scents a few months ago. The industry seems to be stabilizing, which is giving me a little bit more confidence in our ability to add to the main catalogue. Hopefully things stay stable. So, without further ado, here is the list of what is going on the chopping block: Black Hellebore Honey Bluebeard Death Horse Delphi Devil's Claw Dian's Bud Dove's Heart Dragon's Eye Ehecatl Ekhidna Epitaph Forbidden Fruit Grandmother of Ghosts Hairy Toad Lily Horse Chestnut Honey House of Night Hurricane Iambe Jezirat Kuang Shi Laurel Honey L'ecole Des Filles L'Examen Love-Lies-Bleeding Love's Torment Mandrake Manila Meliai Peitho Pool of Tears Saturnalia Serpent's Kiss Slobbering Pine Sluggard Temptation To A Woman Tobacco Honey Ulalume Umbra Versailles Whoso List to Hunt Wolfsbane Ya-te-vo Yellow Jessamine Honey Yew-Trees I know this is going to come as a disappointment to some, and I am truly sorry. The scents listed here are not being discontinued due to component issues (with the exception of one), so there is some chance that, in the future, they may make guest appearances as a Resurrected. These scents will be discontinued when Lupercalia comes down on March 18th. Thank you so much for your patience and understanding!

Happy Lunar New Year! Wood Horse is live! WOOD HORSE 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 pomelo for prosperity, narcissus and King mandarin for good fortune, cypress for longevity, sticky rice cakes for abundance and hopes for a rich, sweet life, and a splash of blazing red of dragon's blood... to help you scare away the rampaging Nian. May you realize your ambitions. May your wealth fill a palace. May your happiness be limitless. … and may you have everlasting peace this year, and every year to follow! Love is in the air! --- or, at least, a reasonable facsimile. February is rushing upon us, and that can only mean one thing ‘round these parts… Lupercalia. This season, we have invited a selection of love and lust deities to join us in Excolo: ANTEROS When he is with the lover, both cease from their pain, but when he is away then he longs as he is longed for, and has love's image, Anteros lodging in his breast, which he calls and believes to be not love but friendship only, and his desire is as the desire of the other, but weaker; he wants to see him, touch him, kiss him, embrace him, and probably not long afterwards his desire is accomplished. The God of Love Returned and avenger of unrequited love, Anteros is Eros’ brother – one of the Twin Cupids – and was given to Eros by his mother, for without reciprocal affection, love will wither. He wields lead arrows and a hammer of gold, and he wields his weapons to inspire mutual ardor and smite those who spurn love. His scent pierces the heart with glimmering shards of rapture and the sweet ache of passion: throbbing red musk and shimmering chypre with saffron, sweet patchouli, Italian bergamot, red currant, and vanilla bean. HEDYLOGOS Child of Aphrodite and Ares, Hedylogos is the God of Sweet Talk and Flattery. His gilded words are perfumed with honeyed rose and the quicksilver scent of mastic and olibanum. QANDISA The Moroccan Goddess of Carnal Desire. Dwelling in fresh-water springs and rivers, she is doom: her embrace drives men mad with mindless lust. Sacrifices are made to the Lady of Lust on the Summer Solstice in the hopes of placating her passions and driving her red-tinged gaze away. Black musk, blackened saffron, lemon peel, and vetiver draped over thick honey. SJÖFN Seventh is Sjofn. She is much concerned to direct people's minds to love, both women and men. Our song to the Norse Goddess of Love is scented with apples and birch and bound with apple blossoms. TLAZOLTEOTL It is the lady of midnight and she has arrived! She of Two Faces, She Who Eats Filth, the Death Caused by Lust – Tlazolteotl - is the Aztec goddess of the regenerative function of the earth, human sexuality, and fertility. She represents the active female principle in the eternal cycle of life feeding death and death feeding life. Her arms, dressed in flayed skins, embrace mirrored principles of sin and purification: she inspires lust, depravity, overindulgence, vice, lechery, and licentiousness, and is also empowered to cleanse and forgive moral, spiritual, and fleshly sins. Her scent is a melding of her symbols and offerings: chapapote and black copal with cacao, black honey, maize, and cotton blossoms. Our main Lupercalia update contains some new loves alongside a few old flames, plus a selection of Black Phoenix scents transformed into chocolate-covered delicacies -- ++ LUPERCALIA 2014 THE EXPIRATION So, so breake off this last lamenting kisse, Which sucks two soules, and vapours Both away, Turne thou ghost that way, and let mee turne this, And let our selves benight our happiest day, We ask’d none leave to love; nor will we owe Any, so cheape a death, as saying, Goe; Goe; and if that word have not quite kil’d thee, Ease mee with death, by bidding mee goe too. Oh, if it have, let my word worke on mee, And a just office on a murderer doe. Except it be too late, to kill me so, Being double dead, going, and bidding, goe. - John Donne The last lamenting kiss: velvet red rose absolute with sweet myrrh, amber honey, and red sandalwood. FROM YOU I HAVE BEEN ABSENT IN THE SPRING From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play. - Sonnet 98, William Shakespeare White lilies, vermillion roses, vanilla orchid, sweet clove, white frankincense, velvety brown oudh, cistus, styrax, aged red patchouli, and a hint of black peppercorn. LOVE AND SLEEP Lying asleep between the strokes of night I saw my love lean over my sad bed, Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head, Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite, Too wan for blushing and too warm for white, But perfect-coloured without white or red. And her lips opened amorously, and said - I wist not what, saving one word - Delight. And all her face was honey to my mouth, And all her body pasture to mine eyes; The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south, The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire. - Algernon Swinburne Fig milk, vanilla, orchid, and ylang ylang. LUPERCI 2014 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. SAINT FOUTIN DE VARAILLES 2014 Echoing the worship of ancient fertility gods, some early Christians attributed the power to grant blessings of reproductive fruitfulness to Christian saints through accidents of folk-etymology. A syncretic saint of questionable origin, he is possibly the result of a merging of the deity Priapus, or Mutinus Mutunus, and the sainted, semi-mythical first bishop of Lyons, Ponthius, often pronounced Fontin by the common folk of France where his veneration was concentrated. Saint Foutin's name is an amalgamation of Pothinus and the verb foutre, which means "to fuck", effectively granting this saint the prerogatives and powers of his predecessor, Priapus. Saint Foutin was said to cure venereal diseases and other genital maladies, grant fruitfulness to women, and restore potency to men. Scrapings of stone from the groin of one of the saint's statues in France was said to cure all sexual ailments. At other shrines, offerings of wine were poured onto the saint's penis, and worshippers molded ex votos in wax shaped to represent their afflicted body parts to leave in his care, either at the foot of his statue or hanging from the roof of his shrine. Beeswax, frankincense, dried rose petals, and a dribble of wine. THE SICK ROSE O Rose thou art sick. The invisible worm, That flies in the night In the howling storm: Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. - William Blake A perfect red rose darkened by vetiver, opium tar, labdanum, and red benzoin. THERE IS A GARDEN IN HER FACE There is a garden in her face Where roses and white lilies blow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow: There cherries grow which none may buy Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry. Those cherries fairly do enclose Of orient pearl a double row, Which when her lovely laughter shows, They look like rose-buds filled with snow; Yet them no peer nor prince can buy Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry. Her eyes like angels watch them still; Her brows like bended bows do stand, Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill All that attempt with eye or hand Those sacred cherries to come nigh, Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry. - Thomas Campion Ethereal grace in earthly form: cherry blossoms, pink roses, and graceful white lilies under a sheen of pale honey. THRICE TOSS THESE OAKEN ASHES Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air, Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair, Then thrice three times tie up this true love's knot, And murmur soft "She will, or she will not." Go burn these pois'nous weeds in yon blue fire, These screech-owl's feathers and this prickling briar, This cypress gathered at a dead man's grave, That all my fears and cares an end may have. Then come, you fairies! dance with me a round; Melt her hard heart with your melodious sound. In vain are all the charms I can devise: She hath an art to break them with her eyes. Apple peel and oak ash, briar thorns and pine ash, and cypress gathered at a dead man’s grave. VALENTINE OF ROME 2014 Many legends surround St. Valentine, and history has yet to show, conclusively, which ones are true and which are fiction. One tale claims that Valentine was a 3rd century Christian priest. When Emperor Claudius II declared that his soldiers were never to marry - the emperor believed that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and children - Valentine continued to perform wedding ceremonies in secret. When the emperor learned of Valentine's disobedience, he imprisoned the priest. The emperor chose to interrogate the priest himself, and despite his fury at his orders being flagrantly disobeyed, he was impressed with the priest's intelligence, wisdom, and passion. He attempted to convert the priest to the Roman faith, and was furious when he failed. While incarcerated, Valentine fell in love with his jailor's blind daughter. Through God's grace and the power of Valentine's pure and true love for this woman, he was able to cure her blindness with a touch. Before he was beaten and beheaded, he sent her a letter expressing his feelings for her, signed 'From Your Valentine'. Ecclesiastical incense, Roman flora, and the fruits of martyrdom: cypress, olive blossom, frankincense, myrrh, and blood accord. THE VOICE Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me, Saying that now you are not as you were When you had changed from the one who was all to me, But as at first, when our day was fair. Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then, Standing as when I drew near to the town Where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then, Even to the original air-blue gown! Or is it only the breeze, in its listlessness Travelling across the wet mead to me here, You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness, Heard no more again far or near? Thus I; faltering forward, Leaves around me falling, Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward, And the woman calling. - Thomas Hardy Longing and loss: fallen leaves, the memory of pale roses, and long-ago dried tears. WOMB FURIE 2013 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. -- 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. ++ LUPERCALIA: BOX OF BONBONS ABSINTHE BONBON Wormwood essence, light mints, cardamom, anise, hyssop, and the barest hint of lemon embraced by white chocolate. BLOOD KISS BONBON Dark chocolate and lush, creamy vanilla and the honey of the sweetest kiss smeared with the vital throb of husky clove, swollen red cherries, but darkened with the vampiric sensuality of vetiver, soporific poppy and blood red wine, and a skin-light pulse of feral musk. DEADLY NIGHTSHADE HONEY BONBON Nightshade accord-infused summer honey encased in dark chocolate. LUST BONBON Uncontrollable passion and insatiable sexual desire: red musk, patchouli, ylang ylang and myrrh surrounded by smoky cinnamon-dusted cacao. TWEEDLEDUM BONBON Absurd! Green mango, fig, patchouli and green tea with white chocolate and white hazelnut cream. Because I adore Swinburne with the force of a thousand (tortured, gloomy, Byronic) fiery suns, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is singing his paean to love in death -- ++ LUPERCALIA: A BALLAD OF DEATH My master that was thrall to Love Is become thrall to Death. KNEEL DOWN, FAIR LOVE, AND FILL THYSELF WITH TEARS Kneel down, fair Love, and fill thyself with tears, Girdle thyself with sighing for a girth Upon the sides of mirth, Cover thy lips and eyelids, let thine ears Be filled with rumour of people sorrowing; Make thee soft raiment out of woven sighs Upon the flesh to cleave, Set pains therein and many a grievous thing, And many sorrows after each his wise For armlet and for gorget and for sleeve. A soft raiment of woven sighs: gossamer orris root and silken white magnolia over a sheer dove-grey musk. O LOVE AND TIME AND SIN O Love's lute heard about the lands of death, Left hanged upon the trees that were therein; O Love and Time and Sin, Three singing mouths that mourn now underbreath, Three lovers, each one evil spoken of; O smitten lips wherethrough this voice of mine Came softer with her praise; Abide a little for our lady's love. The kisses of her mouth were more than wine, And more than peace the passage of her days. Love and Time and Sin: red rose, Saturnian opoponax, and red musk. THE SUNLIGHT AND THE MOONLIGHT FAIL FROM THEE O Love, thou knowest if she were good to see. O Time, thou shalt not find in any land Till, cast out of thine hand, The sunlight and the moonlight fail from thee, Another woman fashioned like as this. O Sin, thou knowest that all thy shame in her Was made a goodly thing; Yea, she caught Shame and shamed him with her kiss, With her fair kiss, and lips much lovelier Than lips of amorous roses in late spring. Blood red lilies, white frankincense, black pepper, and tuberose. QUEEN VENUS WITH A HOOD STRIPED GOLD AND BLACK By night there stood over against my bed Queen Venus with a hood striped gold and black, Both sides drawn fully back From brows wherein the sad blood failed of red, And temples drained of purple and full of death. Her curled hair had the wave of sea-water And the sea's gold in it. Her eyes were as a dove's that sickeneth. Strewn dust of gold she had shed over her, And pearl and purple and amber on her feet. Rose oudh with fossilized amber, benzoin, blackened labdanum, golden myrrh, and dark musk. WEEPING FACES OF WEARIED LOVES Upon her raiment of dyed sendaline Were painted all the secret ways of love And covered things thereof, That hold delight as grape-flowers hold their wine; Red mouths of maidens and red feet of doves, And brides that kept within the bride-chamber Their garment of soft shame, And weeping faces of the wearied loves That swoon in sleep and awake wearier, With heat of lips and hair shed out like flame. Oman frankincense, grape flowers, sweet myrrh, black currant bud, and Haitian vetiver stained by red wine. ARISE, LIFT UP THINE EYES AND SEE The tears that through her eyelids fell on me Made mine own bitter where they ran between As blood had fallen therein, She saying; Arise, lift up thine eyes and see If any glad thing be or any good Now the best thing is taken forth of us; Even she to whom all praise Was as one flower in a great multitude, One glorious flower of many and glorious, One day found gracious among many days: Champaca flower gilded with golden amber, Madagascar vanilla, Roman chamomile, and black nutmeg. SHE WHOSE HANDMAIDEN WAS LOVE Even she whose handmaiden was Love—to whom At kissing times across her stateliest bed Kings bowed themselves and shed Pale wine, and honey with the honeycomb, And spikenard bruised for a burnt-offering; Even she between whose lips the kiss became As fire and frankincense; Whose hair was as gold raiment on a king, Whose eyes were as the morning purged with flame, Whose eyelids as sweet savour issuing thence. A kiss of fire and frankincense: exquisite Hojari frankincense painted with red benzoin, Ceylon cinnamon, blood rose, pimento, and jasmine hedoine. CROWNED AND ROBED AND DEAD Then I beheld, and lo on the other side My lady's likeness crowned and robed and dead. Sweet still, but now not red, Was the shut mouth whereby men lived and died. And sweet, but emptied of the blood's blue shade, The great curled eyelids that withheld her eyes. And sweet, but like spoilt gold, The weight of colour in her tresses weighed. And sweet, but as a vesture with new dyes, The body that was clothed with love of old. Red rose and white magnolia in a tomb of vetiver, oak leaf, mahogany, and Somalian olibanum. THE FLOWERS CLEAVE APART Ah! that my tears filled all her woven hair And all the hollow bosom of her gown— Ah! that my tears ran down Even to the place where many kisses were, Even where her parted breast-flowers have place, Even where they are cloven apart—who knows not this? Ah! the flowers cleave apart And their sweet fills the tender interspace; Ah! the leaves grown thereof were things to kiss Ere their fine gold was tarnished at the heart. Honeyed jasmine, white neroli, red sandalwood, champaca, and raspberry wine. LOVE LAY UPON HER EYES Ah! in the days when God did good to me, Each part about her was a righteous thing; Her mouth an almsgiving, The glory of her garments charity, The beauty of her bosom a good deed, In the good days when God kept sight of us; Love lay upon her eyes, And on that hair whereof the world takes heed; And all her body was more virtuous Than souls of women fashioned otherwise. White amber and Bulgarian rose. DEATH SHALL COME IN WITH THEE Now, ballad, gather poppies in thine hands And sheaves of brier and many rusted sheaves Rain-rotten in rank lands, Waste marigold and late unhappy leaves And grass that fades ere any of it be mown; And when thy bosom is filled full thereof Seek out Death's face ere the light altereth, And say "My master that was thrall to Love Is become thrall to Death." Bow down before him, ballad, sigh and groan. But make no sojourn in thy outgoing; For haply it may be That when thy feet return at evening Death shall come in with thee. Opium poppy, smoke, and tar with green cognac, brittle white vanilla pod, white sandalwood, and clove bud. And, of course, there are the Shungas -- ++ NOVEL IDEAS FOR SECRET AMUSEMENTS VI A limited edition Salon series celebrating the joy, humor, playfulness, and thrill of sexual intercourse through scent interpretations of Edo era Japanese erotic art. This is a Limited Edition series that will run from 25 January 2014 until 17 April 2014. No imp's ears are available for this series. While we have listed the notes of these scents for your edification and convenience, we prefer not to offer any descriptive passages for these scents. A DEMONSTRATION OF AFFECTIONATE EXCITEMENT White frankincense, ho wood, Himalayan cedar, sweet myrrh, beeswax, and bamboo. AWABI DIVERS Polished ebony, ho wood, apricot peel, patchouli-infused vanilla husk, Lebanese cedar, and vetiver. THE BLOOMING FLOWERS OF SPRING Honey, mimosa petals, and white amber. CARP AND OCTOPUS Sea buckthorn berry, salt musk, white nectarine, kelp, oakmoss, green musk, and elemi. DESTRUCTIVE VAGINA OF THE FOX SPIRIT Vanilla orchid, black amber, coffee bean, labdanum, champaca, and oudh. DIVERSIONS IN THE CHASHITSU Green tea, yellow sandalwood, apple blossom, and white bamboo. THE ELEPHANT’S LEASH Peach blossoms and cherry blossoms with red musk, Oaxacan amber, copal, lilac, and white sandalwood. FURO Black tea, bergamot, red patchouli, peru balsam, and bourbon vanilla. GEISHA IN A STATE OF RUMPLED ANNOYANCE French lavender, white plum blossom, white ginger, and rice wine. KOITO AND SASHICHI Green tea, tobacco absolute, and agarwood. LOVERS IN THE TEA HOUSE Sake and matcha tea with amber incense, golden sandalwood, and yōkan. THE NUN AND THE COURTLY LADY White sandalwood, Italian bergamot, Siamese benzoin, tobacco flower, and caramelized honey. ORGY WITH NINE WOMEN Champaca magnolia, bourbon vanilla, blonde tobacco, and white honey. PLOVERS ABOVE THE WAVES Rice flower, white cream, tea roses, abalone accord, white moss, beeswax, tuberose, and red currant. REFLECTED VULVA Sweet pea, cherry blossoms, and sugared cream. SHAMISEN Rosewood, silk, kōki wood, smoked bamboo, and bone. TREASURE SHIP COMING IN King mandarin, green mint, green tea leaf, and white musk. UNMASKING THE SAMBASÔ DANCER King mandarin, passionfruit, Moroccan rose absolute, labdanum, and amber musk. The goblins are feelin’ frisky over at the ‘Post! We have two Lupercalia massage oils – ++ LUPERCALIA MASSAGE OIL FORMULA 57 Strengthens emotional bonds and cultivates blossoming love: bourbon vanilla with ylang ylang, Roman chamomile, and white honey. FORMULA 72 Bolsters sexual vigor, stimulates sensuality, and inspires relaxation: cacao with coconut, vanilla cream, and shea. And one (slightly narcissistic) Lupercalia bath oil – ++ LUPERCALIA BATH OIL SELBSTVERLIEBT Inspired by the art of Félicien Rops. An exercise in self-love: sugared jasmine with vanilla and black orchid. Bath salts are back! ++ LUPERCALIA BATH SALTS LOVE BATH SALTS Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. - Oscar Wilde Pink roses, sugared pomegranate, apple blossom, white ginger, and velvet-white vanilla. LUST BATH SALTS Unfailing golden arrows dipped in lust: shimmering amber and copal with red musk, red patchouli, beeswax, hay sugar, and a drop of Turkish rose. Plus two new hair glosses to assist you in achieving that tousled, just-got-schtupped look (and scent!) – ++ LUPERCALIA HAIR GLOSS FALLEN WOMAN 'There is a budding morrow in midnight:' - So sang our Keats, our English nightingale. And here, as lamps across the bridge turn pale In London's smokeless resurrection-light, Dark breaks to dawn. But o'er the deadly blight Of love deflowered and sorrow of none avail, Which makes this man gasp and this woman quail, Can day from darkness ever again take flight? White honey, camellia, and tobacco. SMUTTY GOBLIN A goblin’y take on Smut! Smutty Goblin Musk sweetened with sugar and tonka, and woozy with dark booze notes. And two atmosphere sprays to help you get in the mood – ++ LUPERCALIA ATMOSPHERE SPRAYS BEHIND THE SCENES Inspired by the art of Félicien Rops. Vin de Bourgogne with smoky beeswax, a splash of rose water, cracked pomegranate, bruised, fallen lily petals, and a smear of tobacco absolute. TRADING POST DUNGEON Whips, chains, goblin-sized leather harnesses, and Excitable Goblin Musk! This season, Black Phoenix Trading Post is embarking on its own sojourn through the Floating World with shunga-inspired baths and atmosphere sprays – ++ NOVEL IDEAS FOR SECRET AMUSEMENTS: FOR THE BATH A PECULIAR GAME OF SHOJI Rosewood, red currant, green tea, and caramelized sugar. EROTIC IMAGES OF SPRING EVENINGS Florentine Iris, white almond, and golden honey. PRELUDE TO THE BATH White tea, golden apricot, and orange blossom. THE SHINING DIMPLE OF LOVE Vanilla orchid, vanilla absolute, and black tea leaf. ++ NOVEL IDEAS FOR SECRET AMUSEMENTS ATMOSPHERE SPRAYS DISCUSSION ON THE FIRST CLIMB OF THE MOUNTAIN OF PASSION Sugared vanilla rose, pink carnation, pink peppercorn, cistus, Oman frankincense, white peony, white moss, and lemon peel. EVENING ON THE VERANDA Cypress boughs swaying in a crisp night breeze, with red sandalwood incense and blood grass. FEMALE BEAUTY IN SPIDERWEB KIMONO White fig, tea leaves, oakmoss, and lilac blossoms. LOVERS WITH TORTOISESHELL HARIGATA Aged patchouli and ambrette with burgundy pitch, labdanum, orange blossom, gurjum balsam, and white sandalwood. PLAYFUL CAT Sweet tonka, ambrette seed, golden musk, and smoky myrrh. Pervy goblin artwork by Tanya Bjork! <3 And that, my beloved, is all the smut that’s fit to print. May your Lupercalia be lustful, lewd, and filled with filth!

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is thrilled to present our collection of scents dedicated Clive Barker’s body of work. The first fragrances in the series are inspired by a tale from Volume Five of the Books of Blood: the Forbidden. It is a tremendous honor and privilege to work with Clive Barker, and we are eternally grateful to Clive Barker and Mark Miller for making this project possible! THE DAY BURNED WHITE Using the door, which was centrally placed in the wall like a mouth, the artists had sprayed a single, vast head onto the stripped plaster. The painting was more adroit than most she had seen, rife with detail that lent the image an unsettling veracity. The cheekbones jutting through skin the color of buttermilk; the teeth, sharpened to irregular points, all converging on the door. The sitter's eyes were, owing to the room's low ceiling, set mere inches above the upper lip, but this physical adjustment only lent force to the image, giving the impression that he had thrown his head back. Knotted strands of his hair snaked from his scalp across the ceiling. Was it a portrait? There was something naggingly specific in the details of the brows and the lines around the wide mouth; in the careful picturing of those vicious teeth. A nightmare certainly: a facsimile, perhaps, of something from a heroin fugue. Whatever its origins, it was potent. Even the illusion of door-as-mouth worked. The short passageway between living room and bedroom offered a passable throat, with a tattered lamp in lieu of tonsils. Beyond the gullet, the day burned white in the nightmare's belly. The whole effect brought to mind a ghost train painting. The same heroic deformity, the same unashamed intention to scare. And it worked; she stood in the bedroom almost stupefied by the picture, its red-rimmed eyes fixing her mercilessly. Plaster and spraypaint, mottled with buttermilk – sweet, chalky, and edging on sickly. White and golden amber beams of daylight pour through the belly of the scent, while oakmoss and Spanish moss add a touch of decay. FOOLISH AND VACUOUS She was glad to see the back of him. When he failed to return that night she didn't even think of weeping about it. He was foolish and vacuous. She despaired of ever seeing a haunted look in his dull eyes; and what worth was a man who could not be haunted? A scent with no depth: a light, reedy, almost vapid take on a classic men’s fougere. SWEETS TO THE SWEET One sight did catch her attention however. Scrawled on the paving stones she was walking over—and all but erased by rain and the passage of feet—the same phrase she’d seen in the bedroom of number 14: “Sweets to the sweet.” The words were so benign; why did she seem to sense menace in them? Was it in their excess, perhaps, in the sheer overabundance of sugar upon sugar, honey upon honey? Sugar upon sugar, honey upon honey: white cane sugar and honey absolute. On January 18th, Century Guild will host the opening of their newest exhibit, Clive Barker: Imaginer, a presentation of never before seen works. CENTURY GUILD 6150 WASHINGTON BLVD. CULVER CITY, CA 90230 18 January 2014, 7pm Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has collaborated with Clive Barker and Century Guild to create a scent commemorating this incredible event: IMAGINER A report from the land of dreams: honeyed patchouli, Madagascan black pepper, fossilized amber oil, beeswax absolute, massoia bark, Egyptian myrrh, and a thin thread of blood-red saffron. Imaginer is limited to one-hundred bottles, and it will be available at the opening night of the event, and if stock permits, the remainder will be sold on the Century Guild web site. The Imaginer kickstarter project is in progress. If it tickles your fancy, please consider supporting the publication of this collection of dynamic artworks from the hand of one of the most influential creative minds of the last fifty years. Hunger Moon is live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post! When Hunger Moon hangs high in the sky, the fields are frozen, and game is piteously scarce. Sleet covers the ground, and biting winds chill to the bone. This is a quiet, cold perfume: desolate and despairing. It is a clear night sky that and bracing chill wind that bears the promise of snow, sharpened by the pain of hunger, and the sharp, rasping stab of thirst. Ozone, white sandalwood, Gum Arabic, crystallized white amber, verbena, oakmoss, clary sage, davana, and a hint of white citrus rind. The Hunger Moon tee is available here at the Trading Post! Artwork by Tanya Bjork! Next up: Lupercalia and all the filth that’s fit to print…

Happy New Year! May 2014 bring peace, abundance, good health, heart-bursting joy, freedom from sorrow, bright mornings, starry nights, and strange twilights.

Black Moon and Schwarzer Mond are available at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab: BLACK MOON 2013 Elizabeth’s Interpretation A search for lost reason: white musk, indigo musk, and mugwort with honeyed sandalwood, honey myrtle, yarrow, white patchouli, and lemon verbena. SCHWARZER MOND 2013 Brian’s Interpretation The keeper of secrets: opoponax, Tunisian black amber, night musk, antique patchouli, zdravetz, terebinth, myrrh, and Pimenta racemosa. ... and Luna Negra is available at Black Phoenix Trading Post: LUNA NEGRA 2013 Ted’s Interpretation A shrouded embrace: blackcurrant and amber with cassis, lavender, and deep purple mogra. Available til February 1st!

We hope your holiday has been peaceful, joy-filled, and bright!

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post will be closed for the holidays starting on the evening of December 24th in order to give our staff and all the resident imps, goblins, and demons a much-needed breather. We will reopen our doors on Monday, December 30th. During this time, outgoing orders will cease, and customer service at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab will be on hiatus. Black Phoenix Trading Post will continue to answer customer service emails during the holiday because Ted can’t help himself. Thank you very much for understanding! Happy holidays from the Black Phoenix crew!

WOLF MOON This pale and glittering moon hangs high over the deep snows and freezing winds of midwinter. January's full moon has been named the Wolf Moon by many cultures, as the nights are filled with the howls of ravenous wolf packs, and the danger of falling prey to the animal's desperate hunger is at its peak. This scent is that of unending, unquenchable hunger and feral madness. This is the dead of winter: a frozen night, chill wind, and the sharp, warm perfume of blood, fur, fang, and claw. Winter air, Terebinth pine, juniper berry, dusty orris, deep amber, brown musk, white sandalwood, black cypress, blue cedar, Siamese benzoin, white tobacco, and tonka. Wolf Moon shirts available at the Trading Post. Artwork by Abigail Larson! Also, as a note, 13 is up through December the 18th, Lilith's Birthday scents, Halloweenies, Miskatonic Valley, and Gardens of Proserpine are live until December the 19th.