doomsday_disco

Black orchid, cacao, bitter almond, and black musk. You will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me and still come with me. and hating me through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.

White lace, blackcurrant, and tea roses. “She went on to make her petition, and it was in the tone of a person from whom such a request amounted to conferring, rather than seeking a favor. This was only in manner, and, as it seemed, quite unconsciously. Than the terms in which it was expressed, nothing could be more deprecatory. It was simply that I would consent to take charge of her daughter during her absence. “This was, all things considered, a strange, not to say, an audacious request. She in some sort disarmed me, by stating and admitting everything that could be urged against it, and throwing herself entirely upon my chivalry. At the same moment, by a fatality that seems to have predetermined all that happened, my poor child came to my side, and, in an undertone, besought me to invite her new friend, Millarca, to pay us a visit. She had just been sounding her, and thought, if her mamma would allow her, she would like it extremely. “At another time I should have told her to wait a little, until, at least, we knew who they were. But I had not a moment to think in. The two ladies assailed me together, and I must confess the refined and beautiful face of the young lady, about which there was something extremely engaging, as well as the elegance and fire of high birth, determined me; and, quite overpowered, I submitted, and undertook, too easily, the care of the young lady, whom her mother called Millarca.”

Each statue comes with one 5ml bottle of Spectral Hands perfume oil. The Spectral Hands oil is only available as part of this set. Cold as bone beneath silk, they reach from beyond the veil — curious, covetous, clutching. The scent of forgotten names at forgotten funerals: lace cuffs yellowed with time, tarnished silver, violet ash, and charred myrrh.

Lily of the valley, orris root, and pale amber veiled by white myrrh, lavender smoke, clove, and crushed lapis. Odilon Redon

Tonka and Fossilized Amber.

Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c: dried rose petals scattered among funeral cypresses, a splash of sly tonka fougere, tobacco absolute, and charred white sandalwood skulls.

The Garden is not Paradise; it is a threshold. A whisper coiling through Eden's dusk: a sinuous sliver of green apple, pomegranate wine, and ripe black fig entwined with nig-blooming vines and enveloped in myrrh, fossilized amber resin, and smoky oud.

A violent rupture of blood-soaked golden petals threaded with saffron and clove smoke and splashed with blackcurrant and poppy absolute.

Snake Oil slithering into a pan of baked blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries in a warm pastry crust, topped with vanilla ice cream and molasses.

Inevitable surrender. Opening with a heady blend of blood orange and black cherry, the heart of this perfume pulsates with narcotic jasmine, sinuous tuberose, blood amber, vanilla silk, and deep red labdanum. In the rapture of my enormous humiliation I live in your warm life, and you shall die — die, sweetly die — into mine. I cannot help it; as I draw near to you, you, in your turn, will draw near to others, and learn the rapture of that cruelty, which yet is love; so, for a while, seek to know no more of me and mine, but trust me with all your loving spirit.” And when she had spoken such a rhapsody, she would press me more closely in her trembling embrace, and her lips in soft kisses gently glow upon my cheek.

Akebia, guava pulp, pink sandalwood, melon, green bergamot, Florentine iris, and sandalwood.

A slightly more sinister take on our usual Beaver Moon offerings: black cherry and blackberry cheesecake with a smear of chocolate brandy sauce.

With apologies to my ancestors. Ube halaya and ube ice cream chonked with mango jelly, flan, boiled taro, evaporated milk, sweetened kidney beans, dried coconut, kaong, gulaman, tapioca pearls, and a copious shake of pumpkin spice.

Hush is a scent to cool the nerves and help inspire serenity in dark times: lemon myrtle, ylang ylang, tangerine, sandalwood, and lavender.

Classic 90’s goth glamour: oman frankincense, champaca orchid, black narcissus, opoponax, honeyed black amber, wild plum, tuberose, 13-year aged patchouli root, blood musk, and smoky bourbon vanilla husk.

Blackened lavender thickened with Cretian labdanum, orris absolute, tonka bean, and Lapsang Souchong. Eugène Carrière

Gurjum balsam, olibanum, blush sandalwood, linden blossom, mallow, mauve labdanum, tonka absolute, woodsy musk, purple dates, and dusty dragon’s blood resin. Antoine-Louis Barye

A glimmer of hope: white musk glittering with meyer lemon, mimosa, freesia, cashmere wood, and iris petals. Wilhelm Kotarbinski

You sure did! Here’s your participation award: a bright, sweet lemon candy lightly dusted with sugar to soothe the sting of rejection.

Tobacco Absolute and Cherry Chypre.

Red vegetal musk, tangerine rind, King mandarin, fossilized amber, and neroli.

Night-Blooming Jasmine and Wisteria Incense.

Vanillekipferl plunked in a pile of pine needles.

This Spiritualism is the nepenthe which the ancient philosophers sought, to prolong life for ever; you cast off your bodies like an old garment. The pathway of this new science is as clear to the spirit as the names of the constellations are to the astronomer. In the great realm of the spirit there is no room for death to abide ; he has gone out with the ignorance, and blindness, and prejudice of the past, and life, only life, remains as your inheritance. Mrs. Tappan then paused. After a moment’s silence she delivered the following inspirational poem:— O beautiful white mother Death, Thou silent and shadowy soul, Thou mystical, magical soul, How soothing and cooling thy breath! Ere the morning stars sang in their spheres, Thou didst dwell in the spirit of things, Brooding there with thy wonderful wings, Incubating the germs of the years. Coeval with Time and with Space, Thy sisters are Silence and Sleep ; Three sisters—Death, Silence, and Sleep, How strange and how still is thy face! In the marriage of matter to soul,” Thou wert wedded to young fiery Time, The now weary and hoary-haired Time, With him thou hast shared earth’s control. O beautiful spirit of Death, Thy brothers are Winter and Night; Stern Winter and shadowy Night, They bear thy still image and breath. Summer buds fall asleep in thy arms, ’Neath the fleecy and soft-footed snow, The silent, pure, beautiful snow; And the earth their new life-being warms. All the world is endowed with thy breath, Summer splendours and purple of wine Flow out of this magic of thine, O beautiful angel of Death What wonders in silence we see The lily grows pale in thy sight; The rose thro’ the long summer night Sighs its life out in fragrance to thee. O beautiful angel of Death, The beloved are thine, all are thine ! They have drunk the nepenthe divine, They have felt the full flow of thy breath. Out into thy realm they are gone, Like the incense that greeteth the morn, On the wings of thy might they’re up-borne, As bright birds to thy Paradise flown. They are folded and safe in thy sight, Thro’ thy portals they pass from earth’s prison; From the cold clod of clay they have risen, To dwell in thy temple of light. O beautiful Angel of Life, Germs feel thee and burst into bloom, Souls see thee and rise from the tomb, With beauty and loveliness rife. On earth thou art named cold Death, Dim, dark, dismal, dire, dreadful Death, In heaven thou art “Angel of Life.” We are one with thy spirit, O Death ; We spring to thy arms unafraid, One with thee are our glad spirits made. We are born when we drink thy cold breath,— Oh, Angel of Life, lovely Death. The concluding hymn was then sung, after which Mrs. Tappan uttered the following benediction—“ May the peace of the loving spirit of the Heavenly Father and His angels abide with you, and the life that knows no death bear you on to the immortal world.” The Spiritualist, Oct. 15, 1873 Poem by Cora L.V. Richmond The lily grows pale in thy sight; the rose, through the long summer night, sighs its life out in fragrance to thee.

Absinthe and Lavender Tar.