doomsday_disco

Honey Champaca.

Death had come into the land from the time Osiris had been closed in the chest through the cunning of Sêth; war was in the land; men always had arms in their hands. No longer did music sound, no longer did men and women talk sweetly and out of the depths of their feelings. Less and less did grain, and fruit-trees, and the vine flourish. The green places everywhere were giving way to the desert. Sêth was triumphant; Thout and Nephthys cowered before him. And all the beauty and all the abundance that had come from Rê would be destroyed if the pieces that had been the body of Osiris were not brought together once more. So Isis sought for them, and Nephthys, her sister, helped her in her seeking. Isis, in a boat that was made of reeds, floated over the marshes, seeking for the pieces. One, and then another, and then another was found. At last she had all the pieces of his torn body. She laid them together on a floating island, and reformed them. And as the body of Osiris was formed once more, the wars that men were waging died down; peace came; grain, and the vine, and the fruit-trees grew once more. And a voice came to Isis and told her that Osiris lived again, but that he lived in the Underworld where he was now the Judge of the Dead, and that through the justice that he meted out, men and women had life immortal. And a child of Osiris was born to Isis: Horus he was named. Nephthys and the wise Thout guarded him on the floating island where he was born. Horus grew up, and he strove against the evil power of Sêth. In battle he overcame him, and in bonds he brought the evil Sêth, the destroyer of his father, before Isis, his mother. Isis would not have Sêth slain: still he lives, but now he is of the lesser Gods, and his power for evil is not so great as it was in the time before Horus grew to be the avenger of his father. – Padraic Colum In the account preserved by Plutarch in On Isis and Osiris, Osiris is betrayed by the cunning of Set and sealed within a chest, a king slain and committed to silence and darkness, his body later torn and scattered across the land he once made fertile. Death enters Egypt with that closing of the lid of his sarcophagus. Destruction engulfs the kingdom, and the fertile soil of grain and vine yield to the encroaching desert. Isis refuses the reign of fragmentation and shadows. In a boat of reeds, she searches the marshes, patient and relentless, gathering one fragment and then another, though the gods’ penis has been consumed by a river fish. She laid the pieces together and reformed Osiris through spell and sacred utterance, enacting the mystery that Plutarch describes as the restoration of the good and ordered principle against chaos and devastation. She fashioned a phallus for Osiris through her craft and magic, and conceived their son, Horus. As Osiris was reconstituted, peace returned, the fields bloomed green once more, and through their union, a third god is created. Alchemically, the body is dissolved into multiplicity, scattered into chaos, and through the labor of love is gathered and consecrated into renewed form. From this restored polarity emerges a third: Horus, the child born of their union, guarded by wise Thoth and steadfast Nephthys, raised to confront and overcome Set. In Horus, the Lovers create continuity and correction, a living reconciliation that tempers destruction without erasing it, for even Set remains, diminished and bound within a larger order. Esoterically, this is sacred marriage enduring beyond death, the Lovers as integration and reconciliation of life and afterlife and the power of the passion and devotion of the lovers to create new life from death. Isis does not deny mortality but transforms it. Through her love and labor, Osiris lives again, enthroned in the Underworld as Judge of the Dead, dispensing justice and granting immortality through balance. The union of Isis and Osiris is altered yet unbroken, shifted from earthly kingship to eternal dominion. This is the Lovers as cosmological force, the force of the reassembly of creation itself. Isis and Osiris embody the Lovers as divine covenant transcending death, unconditional devotion that restores wholeness, and the sacred act through which two become not only one, but three. Their bond does not end at the tomb; it passes through it, transforms it, and returns bearing life immortal, a testament that love, when joined in true polarity, does not perish but remakes the world. Blue lotus incense and kyphi resin dancing in a dusk-shadowed temple, black loam of the Nile and green papyrus crushed beneath bare feet, myrrh and cassia steeped in date honey, a glimmer of lapis and gold leaf pressed into linen, and a surge of floodwater returning to parched earth.

Jasmine tea, lemon slices, black frankincense, hinoki cypress, and golden sandalwood.

Sugared lemon cream, lemon peel, raw sugar cane, cucumber, and black tea.

“Good morning, Eeyore,” said Pooh. “Good morning, Pooh Bear,” said Eeyore gloomily. “If it is a good morning,” he said. “Which I doubt,” said he. “Why, what’s the matter?” “Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can’t all, and some of us don’t. That’s all there is to it.” “Can’t all what?” said Pooh, rubbing his nose. “Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.” “Oh!” said Pooh. He thought for a long time, and then asked, “What mulberry bush is that?” “Bon-hommy,” went on Eeyore gloomily. “French word meaning bonhommy,” he explained. “I’m not complaining, but There It Is.” Every solid friend group has at least one goth kid representing. Soft grey musk, pink thistle, lavender ash, tea leaves, pale iris, grey lilac, and rain-soaked moss. Each purchase of Gloomily, Gloomily comes with a 1/32 oz imp of The Donkey’s Tail. The Donkey’s Tail is not available for sale on its own, and make sure you keep it safe as you never know where it might end up.

Apricot, cream musk, bourbon vanilla, and golden bergamot.

Asian pear, pear sugar, lemon zest, and white musk.

Cardamom cream, sweet bourbon, tolu balsam, toasted bamboo, raw cacao, and hinoki.

A talisman of pleasure carved from the stone of the heart. Blushing rose cognac, sugared pink grapefruit, iced strawberries, and creamy sandalwood warmed by skin musk, vanilla bourbon, and glowing pink amber.

French lavender, Thai coconut, cherimoya, and ube.

Cardamom and Black Amber.

Tagalog Nasa’yo ang puso ko! Strawberry-swirled halo-halo with a dollop of black cherry cream and mango puree.

This doesn't smell like crème brûlée to me, but I'm not mad, because it still smells GLORIOUS. Freshly applied, it reminds me of if you took Vanilla Mandarin and replaced the mandarin with passionfruit and threw in some sugar. Then it morphs. the passionfruit disappears, and for some inexplicable reason, it reminds me of whatever is in the House of Mirrors Atmosphere Spray from Denver Comic Con 2015 that makes it so alluring (wuuuuuuuuuut). And then it morphs again and becomes the most wonderful toasted sugar scent backed by a bit of vanilla. I could not stop huffing my arm. I'm most definitely upgrading my decant to a bottle (or maybe two).

Torch-a, torch-a, torch me! Those who cross the threshold of this crackle-crust of burned sugar will be lost in a creamy abyss of bright, zingy custard.

This starts off strongest on the crushed grass, and I swear it's the same one from Emerald Lace, as the wet phase of the scent strongly reminds me of that one. Eventually, it ends up morphing, and the oolong tea becomes the dominant note. It's the one found in Ceaselessly By My Side the Demon Stirs, which has a tannic quality to it and something that reads like a touch of spice. I get touches of the white musk and moonflower with the tea note, but the green mandarin isn't distinct on me -- I'm not getting anything particularly citrus-y or fruity from this. I preferred the wet phase of the scent when it was very green instead of tea-centric, so I don't need a bottle.

White musk, green mandarin, moonflower, oolong tea, crushed grass, ume blossom, and green amber.

An aromatic panel of gingerbread conveniently drilled at hip-height, smutted up with patchouli and boozy brown musk.

Unreleased prototype from a film series. You can probably guess which one.

Ulmus rubra’s mucilaginous inner bark produces a thick, protective gel that coats and soothes the throat in herbal medicine, and in rootwork this same quality becomes an act of slippery sorcery: thanks to the Doctrine of Signatures, the same mechanism that heals the body becomes armor against the violence of speech as wicked words slide away, accusations refuse to stick, and malicious talk loses its purchase and slides away, harmless. Governed by Saturn and resonant with the Air element, the domain of communication and the spoken word, slippery elm carries correspondences that reinforce its purpose. Saturn’s cold discipline enforces silence and binds the tongue of the enemy while Air governs every form of speech, rumor, and persuasion. Slippery elm sits at the crossroads of both. In hoodoo and rootwork, this translates into a robust tradition of anti-gossip and protection work and is a guardian of reputation. Slippery elm is carried in mojo bags, powdered into sachets, burned over charcoal, and sewn into charms. Pinches of the bark placed in the four corners of a room are said to protect the home from evil; a knotted yellow thread tied around the bark and cast into fire is a traditional working to cease all gossip directed at you. Keep the root close to your body wherever two-faced company gathers. In court case work, slippery elm shields against false accusations and slander, helping a difficult case move smoothly toward resolution. Slippery elm does not merely silence: it may be worn as a charm to cultivate eloquence, and it loosens the tongue when silence has become a trap or a curse, granting fluency and persuasion to those who carry it while denying the same to their enemies. A nutty, earthy-scented root with a whisper of benzoin, bourbon vanilla, and slippery, sweet sugar cane.

This reads as a candy-like blackberry scent to me, like a fruity taffy. Imagine there were a blackberry-flavored Mamba or Starburst. It would smell like that. It's not a fresh blackberry, nor is it the wonderful baked blackberry of Four and Twenty Blackbirds. I don't get any coconut from this on my skin, but I'm fine with that. I like the scent and will keep my little sample pot and use it up, but I don't think I need a full bottle of this one since I don't really have a lot of scents that would go with this.

Blackberries and Coconut Cream.

Well-worn, soft leather encircled by spiky gilded amber.

Green tea, mate, mint leaf, lemon peel, ginger root, and white cedar.

I just really, really need it to be spring already. A crisp, green, and snappy vegetable perfume. Guiseppe Arcimboldo

White Peach Fougere.