doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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There’s still a little time to kill before the viewing… surely it wouldn’t hurt to stop for a short stack? Black coffee, syrup-drenched buckwheat cakes, and a crusty cruller for the road.
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An experiment in single-notes that never went live.
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A dream hearse for anyone who grew up presiding over numerous doll funerals: flashy pink guava, strawberry jam, sugared pink grapefruit, blackberry, bergamot, and pink champagne adorned with a gleaming chrome Landau bar.
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Nothing will squash our interest in creating new pumpkin scents!
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Saying “bone apple teeth” instead of “bon appétit” seems to take on a special meaning in the context of Halloween treats. Here’s a scent commemorating the allure of everything our dentist would have us avoid: a luscious red apple rendered nigh impenetrable by armored plates of toffee and caramel, sprinkled with bone-dry cinnamon-glazed almonds and hard bits of popcorn.
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A deep rumbling purr: myrrh, sweet almond, spiced rum, brown sugar, honeyed dates, golden amber, scorched marshmallow, and toasted vanilla musk. Cornelis Visscher
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Thick slices of coconut-frosted coconut cake dunked in a vat of Snake Oil.
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Prototype for a perkygoth project: red velvet cake with strawberry buttercream frosting.
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By loving friends you are surrounded, Oh, be not blind to this, I pray. They wish that joy and mirth unbounded May crown your happy Christmas day. Winter oak, hazelnuts, and butterscotch rum.
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Snake Oil slithering into a pan of baked blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries in a warm pastry crust, topped with vanilla ice cream and molasses.
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With apologies to Bram Stoker: though sympathy alone can't alter facts, it can help to make them more bearable… and so can a mouthful of gummi fangs! Daub your pulse points with the scent of chewy red fruit gums and shining white vanilla teeth.
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Billowing bulbous blobs of grapefruit marshmallows.
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A BPAL favorite since 2005, affectionately nicknamed ‘The Devil’s Bake Sale.’
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Pine sap and amber ashes.
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Vex, the Bone Goddess – summoning rituals of skulls, bones and stones, chanting into the dancing flames, pits of black ash and spice, the door opens. A bone goddess’ sacred incense: fire and ash, bone shards, and stone.
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Slushy white mint, vanilla cream, lemon drops, grapefruit, and yuzu!
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Sugar-dusted and overflowing with Luxardo maraschino cherries and a hint of blackberry.
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Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. And he is your board and your fireside. For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace. When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.” And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart; For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed. When you part from your friend, you grieve not; For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain. And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit. For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught. And let your best be for your friend. If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? Seek him always with hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness. And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. The warmth of shared meals, the pleasure of shared laughter, and the hidden language of sweet, comfortable silences: warm bread, roasted chestnut, oakwood smoke, sparkling bergamot, lentisk resin, and honeyed labdanum.
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A rich bourbon cream skin musk, formulated to announce and enhance whatever version of oneself is currently coming forth.
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Pink Peach, Summer Strawberry, and Candied Amber.
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A venerable summer update prototype that went unreleased.
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His appetite is insatiable! Crumbs of gnawed marzipan and toasted hazelnuts tumbling through a thicket of patchouli and gunpowder and bouncing off of a throbbing cherrywood ramrod.
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Liqueur-soaked twin cherries reeling from a double pony-kick of pink pepper and white ginger.
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Have I spoken this day of aught else? Is not religion all deeds and all reflection, And that which is neither deed nor reflection, but a wonder and a surprise ever springing in the soul, even while the hands hew the stone or tend the loom? Who can separate his faith from his actions, or his belief from his occupations? Who can spread his hours before him, saying, “This for God and this for myself; This for my soul, and this other for my body?” All your hours are wings that beat through space from self to self. He who wears his morality but as his best garment were better naked. The wind and the sun will tear no holes in his skin. And he who defines his conduct by ethics imprisons his song-bird in a cage. The freest song comes not through bars and wires. And he to whom worshipping is a window, to open but also to shut, has not yet visited the house of his soul whose windows are from dawn to dawn. Your daily life is your temple and your religion. Whenever you enter into it take with you your all. Take the plough and the forge and the mallet and the lute, The things you have fashioned in necessity or for delight. For in revery you cannot rise above your achievements nor fall lower than your failures. And take with you all men: For in adoration you cannot fly higher than their hopes nor humble yourself lower than their despair. And if you would know God be not therefore a solver of riddles. Rather look about you and you shall see Him playing with your children. And look into space; you shall see Him walking in the cloud, outstretching His arms in the lightning and descending in rain. You shall see Him smiling in flowers, then rising and waving His hands in trees. A perfume of the sacred in the ordinary and the value of labor, joy built from the things you carry into the temple of your days. Golden hay, frankincense tears, hearthsmoke, amber-streaked cedar, and beeswax.
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A prototype created for a local bakery promotion.