doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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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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Prototype for a perkygoth project: red velvet cake with strawberry buttercream frosting.
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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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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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Pink Peach, Summer Strawberry, and Candied Amber.
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A venerable summer update prototype that went unreleased.
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A prototype created for a local bakery promotion.
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Every leaf tells a story.
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An oil for new beginnings in the new year. Use to clear out residual emotional, spiritual, and social debris, break cycles of repeating narratives, old drama, lingering resentments, and stale grudges, and purify spaces, tools, and the self in preparation for a fresh start. Sweep your literal and metaphorical thresholds clean and step forward unencumbered. Contains: frankincense, rue, three mints, angelica, cascara sagrada, yarrow, bay, lemon verbena, lime, and salt.
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A schoolboy’s sickly grin molded from warm beeswax, lips clamped around several rusty nails.
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A scent of endurance, of refusal to yield, of journeys undertaken without certainty of return. Dry leaves torn loose from their branches, wind-scorched grasses, weathered bark, soil turned dark by heavy raindrops, and distant woodsmoke. Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot
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Crimson musk, sacramental wine, iron oxide, saffron threads, stained linen, and frankincense. Oskar Kokoschka
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The perfect accompaniment for our Halloween fragrances. A lovely autumnal layering scent.
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In the vein (GET IT?) of Boo, Suck It, and Spooky, this is a gushing font of sweet bloody black cherry cream and crushed dried blackberries.
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It is a big, airy room, the whole floor nearly, with windows that look all ways, and air and sunshine galore. It was nursery first and then playground and gymnasium, I should judge; for the windows are barred for little children, and there are rings and things in the walls. Radiant emptiness: a breezy citrus-touched aldehyde with a hint of sunny amber and dusty heliotrope, and the metallic tang of sun-warmed iron bars.
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Every leaf tells a story.
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A Vixen experiment with rose and champaca.
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The Lovebirds wanted to be spooky this year, and we didn’t have the heart to tell them that no one will be fooled. Fuzzy foamed milk with peppermint cream, green currants, and sugared green apple.
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A rare, complex, and challenging serpent, the Sang-de-Boeuf is born from fire, pressure, and chance and treasures masterpieces of beauty that reveal themselves under heat and duress. Its scales are a deep, passionate red draped in lacquered shadows: glazed black cherries, Kyphi smoke, plum wine, and red sandalwood.