doomsday_disco

Cool-toned brown jelly with silver shimmer & shifting blue and green micro sparks.

“Well, Mrs. Dean, it will be a charitable deed to tell me something of my neighbours: I feel I shall not rest if I go to bed; so be good enough to sit and chat an hour.” “Oh, certainly, sir! I’ll just fetch a little sewing, and then I’ll sit as long as you please. But you’ve caught cold: I saw you shivering, and you must have some gruel to drive it out.” A fireside chat over a basket of sewing, as snow falls outside Thrushcross Grange. Hearthsmoke and smoldering clove-dusted firewood, rivulets of beeswax dribbling into snow flurries.

“I have no pity! I have no pity! The more worms writhe, the more I yearn to crush out their entrails! It is a moral teething, and I grind with greater energy, in proportion to the increase of pain.” A feral and unrepentant animalic musk slick with heat, tangled with smoked birch tar that clings to skin like soot and desire. Refined cologne masks a deep, grinding base of dark resins, cracked leather, and vetiver root; earth torn open, roots exposed. An elemental fury, a wild, fanatical embrace terribly alive in its darkness.

“Oh, I’m burning! I wish I were out of doors! I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free; and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am I so changed? Why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few words? I’m sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills. Open the window again wide: fasten it open!” An incandescent amber storm. Strata of glowing ambers piled deep and restless, molten and honeyed, threaded with dark, resinous veins that pulse like blood under skin. Free, wild, elemental: the storm at her heart, beating against the glass until it shatters.

Creaking wooden beams illuminated by hearthfire, beeswax melting on evergreen boughs, polished wood floors draped in vibrant wool rugs, linseed oil, red currant tarts, a hint of clove and orange peel, and sweet brandy apple cider. Mary Fairchild Low

Angelica archangelica has long been associated with protection, purification, and blessing. In European folk practice it was carried against illness and misfortune, burned to cleanse spaces, and planted near doorways as a ward. In hoodoo and rootwork it is used to break crossed conditions, guard against harmful influences, strengthen women, and reinforce spiritual authority. The root is often carried in a mojo bag for protection and luck, added to floor washes to clear negativity, or dressed with oil and kept on the altar as a standing guardian. During the great plague years in Europe, angelica was regarded as a life-preserving herb. Physicians and herbalists recommended it as part of protective cordials and vinegars, and it was chewed or worn to guard against contagion. Paracelsus, the 16th-century physician and alchemist, praised angelica as a powerful remedy in times of pestilence, viewing it as a plant marked by divine intent for the preservation of life. Its reputation as a plague herb strengthened its identity as both medicine and spiritual safeguard. Its scent reflects that history. The root is dense and fibrous, with a sharp green opening that quickly settles into dry soil, resin, and a faint sweetness reminiscent of sap and old wood. There is a subtle heat to it, peppery without being hot, and a clean bitterness that reads as clarifying rather than harsh.

Since 2026 contains a whopping THREE Friday-the-13ths (Fridays-the-13th?) we’ve decided to call in some misfortune-warding reinforcements. Each version of this year’s 13 perfume oil will be accompanied by its own bonus luck charm: a free 1/32oz imp of an original perfume oil inspired by lucky finds from our seasonal crossroads wanderings. Those who collect all three will end up with a veritable bracelet’s worth of lucky charms to treasure and wear as needed! First up, for February: SNOWY CIRCUS PEANUT. Found on a trek through Minneapolis this winter, this boon of odd fortune is a bit of frozen banana-adjacent marshmallow’ish sweetness snuggled in a pillow of freshly-fallen snow. (The review thread for the 13 that this belongs with can be found here.)

Hot, sultry beeswax and blushing pink apple.

It has been such a long day/month/year, so I wanted to distract myself by making something absurdly sweet and shockingly gourmand. This is a sticky, gloopy, joyful plop of marshmallow fluff, cotton candy, vanilla froth, condensed milk, taro root, honeycomb, macadamia cream, sugared champaca, caramelized tobacco, campfire toffee, black dates, coconut, and ambered benzoin swirled into dark, smoky cacao. 13 is significant, whether you consider it lucky, unlucky or just plain odd. Many believe it to be unfortunate… … because there were 13 present at the Last Supper. … Loki crashed a party of 12 at Valhalla, which ended in Baldur’s death. … Oinomaos killed 13 of Hippodamia’s suitors before Pelops finally, in his own shady way, defeated the jealous king. … In ancient Rome, Hecate’s witches gathered in groups of 12, the Goddess herself being the 13th in the coven. Concern over the number thirteen echoes back beyond the Christian era. Line 13 was omitted form the Code of Hammurabi. The shivers over Friday the 13th also have some interesting origins: … Christ was allegedly crucified on Friday the 13th. … On Friday, October 13, 1307, King Philip IV of France ordered the arrests of Jaques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, and sixty of his senior knights. … In British custom, hangings were held on Fridays, and there were 13 steps on the gallows leading to the noose. To combat the superstition, Robert Ingersoll and the Thirteen Club held thirteen-men dinners during the 19th Century. Successful? Hardly. The number still invokes trepidation to this day. A recent whimsical little serial killer study showed that the following murderers all have names that total thirteen letters: Theodore Bundy Jeffrey Dahmer Albert De Salvo John Wayne Gacy And, with a little stretch of the imagination, you can also fit ”˜Jack the Ripper’ and ”˜Charles Manson’ into that equation. More current-era paranoia: modern schoolchildren stop their memorization of the multiplication tables at 12. There were 13 Plutonium slugs in the atomic bomb that was dropped on Nagasaki. Apollo 13 wasn’t exactly the most successful space mission. All of these are things that modern triskaidekaphobes point to when justifying their fears. For some, 13 is an extremely fortuitous and auspicious number… … In Jewish tradition, God has 13 Attributes of Mercy. Also, there were 13 tribes of Israel, 13 principles of Jewish faith, and 13 is considered the age of maturity. … The ancient Egyptians believed that there were 12 stages of spiritual achievement in this lifetime, and a 13th beyond death. … The word for thirteen, in Chinese, sounds much like the word which means “must be alive”. Thirteen, whether you love it or loathe it, is a pretty cool number all around. … In some theories of relativity, there are 13 dimensions. … It is a prime number, lucky number, star number, Wilson Prime, and Fibonacci number. … There are 13 Archimedean solids. AND… … There were 13 original colonies when the United States were founded. Says a lot about the US, doesn’t it? – – – Since 2026 contains a whopping THREE Friday-the-13ths (Fridays-the-13th?) we’ve decided to call in some misfortune-warding reinforcements. Each version of this year’s 13 perfume oil will be accompanied by its own bonus luck charm: a free 1/32oz imp of an original perfume oil inspired by lucky finds from our seasonal crossroads wanderings. Those who collect all three will end up with a veritable bracelet’s worth of lucky charms to treasure and wear as needed! First up, for February: SNOWY CIRCUS PEANUT (review thread located here).

The scent of ghost stories told beside a crackling fireplace, with garlands of evergreen hanging beside October’s carved pumpkins. Hearthlight and jack o’lanterns cast shadows on cobwebbed corners. Candied orange peel, mulled cider, smoked myrrh twirling through a cranberry garland, balsam resin and amber-drizzled pumpkin, smoldering hearthwood, and the soft honeyed glow of dripping beeswax.

Animalic musk thrums with forbidden heat, while smoke and honeyed sweat braid into an ecstatic frenzy around a crackling bonfire.

Patchouli and Smoked Vanilla.

Tangy cream cheese folded through warm bakery dough, still puffed from the fryer, and thick, dark wild blackberry jam.

We’re all desperate for something light and uplifting here at BPAL, so this year’s Beev is a zingy key lime cheesecake with a whisper of lime sugar.

The scent of a too-big mug of coffee at your favorite all-night diner after the clubs let out: a slow ribbon of clove smoke, the warm fry-oil haze that clings to everything, and a fleeting gust of maple syrup drifting through the booths.

Jolly, jeering splats of red and black currants, neroli, and spiced apricot surrounding a grinning clang of spectral sandalwood musk. James Ensor

You would know the secret of death. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one. In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond; And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring. Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity. Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour. Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king? Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling? For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance. Ecstatic unbecoming: earth-warmed patchouli, sweet myrrh, terebinth, galbanum, gurjum balsam, and black amber.

Chestnut musk, hay, cacao absolute, tobacco, pu’er tea, sweet vetiver, and coffee bean. Theodore Gericault

I think that woman gets out in the daytime! And I’ll tell you why—privately—I’ve seen her! I can see her out of every one of my windows! It is the same woman, I know, for she is always creeping, and most women do not creep by daylight. I see her on that long shaded lane, creeping up and down. I see her in those dark grape arbors, creeping all around the garden. I see her on that long road under the trees, creeping along, and when a carriage comes she hides under the blackberry vines. I don’t blame her a bit. It must be very humiliating to be caught creeping by daylight! Furtive, uncanny. Blackened blackberry bleeds onto bruised green leaves, crushed grass, and wet earth while tendrils of honeysuckle clutch and grasp at noontime shadows.

When it’s too hot to wear all black, consider refreshing your aesthetic with this deliciously neutral palette! Chocolate, strawberry and vanilla, sticky with labdanum and duly chilled with a whisper of clove smoke.

For the spooky kids down the shurr.

Oven-Warm Pizza Crust and Oregano.

This time around, we’ve crafted an olfactory celebration of renewed hope and good fortune! Jamaican chocolate tea and gulab jaman with coconut, coconut milk, green and black cardamom, pistachio, basmati rice, saffron, dates, honey, nutmeg, and clove.

Loyal. Faithful. Perpetually rehearsing “Scotland the Brave.” This is a mascot with real staying power. Bagpipe Dog will outlive us all. Gin and pine needle with lime and white juniper. In the decant, I can smell the gin and pine needle, and then the lime and juniper. I get those notes in that order on my skin as well: the gin and pine, followed by the lime and juniper. It's a bit fizzy, foresty, and refreshing. After a while, the pine and lime calm down significantly, and the gin becomes stronger, making the scent boozier than before. I also get more juniper. The pine is still present, but softer than before, and there ends up being only a hint of lime. I was really enjoying this during the wet phase of the scent, when the pine and lime were pretty strong, but I don't like the dry phase nearly as much. If you're a fan of the Lab's gin note, you need this!

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite. Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody. But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements? Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul. If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas. For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction. Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing; And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes. I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite even as you would two loved guests in your house. Surely you would not honour one guest above the other; for he who is more mindful of one loses the love and the faith of both Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows—then let your heart say in silence, “God rests in reason.” And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky,—then let your heart say in awe, “God moves in passion.” And since you are a breath in God’s sphere, and a leaf in God’s forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion. Rest in reason and move in passion: smoked rose attar, honeyed saffron, red sandalwood, red tea, clove bud, and frankincense.