doomsday_disco

Inspired by black glitter, starry nights, and Velvet Obsidian. Amber with sugar spiked clove.

Inspired by black glitter, starry nights, and Velvet Obsidian. Amber with sugar spiked clove.

Who better to care for your young ones than a nanny that can psionically anticipate junior's every need? A fresh-scrubbed, hypnotic astral musk with a hint of milk.

Slushy white mint, vanilla cream, lemon drops, grapefruit, and yuzu!

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.

That brain of mine is something more than merely mortal; as time will shew. The Enchantress of Numbers, the First Programmer: bergamot and black tea, polished mahogany and silver filigree, and an electric clap of bottled lightning.

BAD DRAGON! BAD! Cherry blossom, bourbon vanilla, rice milk, and white sandalwood. Random note: This scent shares artwork with a past BPAL event exclusive: BPTP's Housebreaking Your Dragon atmosphere spray. In the bottle: Lots of cherry blossom, white sandalwood, and rice milk. I am not detecting the bourbon vanilla note in the bottle, but I hope it makes an appearance on my skin! Wet: Cherry blossom takes the center stage. Then, it calms down a bit, and the rice milk ends up sidling up next to it, and threatens to overtake it, but doesn't quite succeed. They both end up being main players, until the white sandalwood begins to emerge after a few minutes and decides to sidle up to them. It's increasing in strength over time, but not the most prominent note. Dry: This ends up being a soft, somewhat clean scent. The rice milk and white sandalwood are the dominant notes during this phase of the scent on me, and although white sandalwood can sometimes be really dry on me, this one hasn't been problematic. The cherry blossom is still present, but it's been confined to a background role. I'm not getting any of the bourbon vanilla from this, but perhaps it will come out with age? Verdict: I thought this would be like a Shunga in Dragon form, and it is! It's not the cherry blossom + vanilla that I was hoping for, but it's still a nice scent. I'm going to hold onto my bottle and hope the vanilla comes out after some aging!

Welcome my sweet daughter, my favorite, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Maatkare, Hatshepsut. Thou art the Pharaoh, taking possession of the Two Lands. Maatkare, the Good Goddess, Divine Daughter of Amun, sixth pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty, androgynous queen regnant who wore the uraeus-crowned Khat, traditional false beard, and the shendyt and bore the double crown as Mother and Father of Egypt. She sent five ships to the Land of Punt and brought back thirty-one living myrrh trees, their roots balled in soil, to be planted at the terraced temple of Deir el-Bahari, the Djeser-Djeseru. Her scent is imperial and vibrant, seizing back her power from those who would erase her: myrrh trees crossing the Red Sea in the hold of a ship, the dark smoke of kyphi drifting through limestone colonnades, ground frankincense and kohl, warm sand and blue lotus incense, cedarwood from Byblos, the dry resinous breath of obelisk granite in the sun, and a base of black amber and sacred anointing oil.

Jacob de Backer Creamy, narcotic tuberose, a flutter of pink silk, and blushing sweet pea warmed by honeyed skin musk.

Its sacred history stretches back to the ancient world, and some of the earliest evidence of licorice use comes from Egyptian tombs of pharaohs. In 1923, archaeologists discovered a large amount of well-preserved licorice in the tomb of Tutankhamun. That the root was buried among royal treasures demonstrates without a doubt that this was a plant so valuable, respected, and beloved that it was deemed necessary for the journey into the afterlife. Licorice root falls under the planetary rulership of Mercury, Venus, and Jupiter — a triple correspondence that encodes its powers of persuasion and communication, its ties to desire and attraction, and its long reputation as a mental and physical restorative. In rootwork, licorice is valued for the breadth of its applications: love and attraction, spiritual protection, prosperity drawing, and above all commanding work, where it lends particular force to any spell aimed at bending a situation or person to one's will. In matters of the heart and loins, licorice root covers considerable ground: love sachets, lust workings, fidelity spells, and charms for sexual potency all call on it. The versatility of licorice root has a binding, amplifying quality that makes it less a specialist than a magnifier, deepening the force of whatever working it joins. Whether commanding a reluctant heart, petitioning the planets, or accompanying a pharaoh into eternity, the sweet root is a powerful ally. Licorice root, toasted tonka bean, and cardamom.

Roasted pumpkin soaked in golden brandy, clove, nutmeg, and vanilla absolute.

Finnish A playful, tidy, sweet bruise: chilled blueberry cardamom cream.

Husky, warm spice cooled into watery, spa-touched notes.

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. “That Accounts for a Good Deal,” said Eeyore gloomily. “It Explains Everything. No Wonder.” Doubles as a bell-pull: a beribboned strip of French lavender, bourbon vanilla, silver thistle, grey musk, pink silk, and well-loved grey cotton.

Dark chocolate with a satisfying crunch of scorched black sesame, hazelnut, and patchouli leaf.

An impossibly sweet concoction of green tea and frothed almond milk poured over fresh rose petals and glistening tapioca pearls.

The dark, roasted bite of freshly crushed coffee beans folded into the sinuous heat of Snake Oil’s infamous bestseller. Bitter espresso grounds smoldering under a curled-up hiss of sugared patchouli, spiced amber, and velvety vanilla.

Pink Lime & Coconut.

Silky white chocolate folded around electric purple taro root.

A Vixen experiment with rose and champaca.

A doobie-tinged rendition of BPAL’s classic Smokestack scent. Greenish flue gasses belch from colossal steel and concrete monoliths, forming bloated clouds in the dusk-dark sky. Creosote, coal, sticky resin, industrial waste, and a bellow of mary jane.

Fuel and fire for speaking out against injustice: a heap of warm spiced funnel cakes with a scoop of coffee ice cream. Proceeds from this scent will be donated to the American Civil Liberties Union. To learn about how the ACLU will be challenging Trump’s agendas in court, visit them here. Note: If you are confused, the original scent description on the website said cinnamon ice cream. It was mentioned that this was an error and that it should actually be coffee ice cream in a live sniff on Thanksgiving.

Golden pistachios snapped into toffee brittle and sprinkled with dry cocoa powder.

White cognac and torn paper, a melody caught mid-breath and left hanging in the dark. Pale iris bruised by rainwater and tears, osmanthus petals, and the faint green bite of night-blooming cereus unfurling unseen in the shadows. Aged oak and dry amber, black musk sinking into itself like swallowed sound. The prettiest song in the world, unfinished, delivered anyway.

The applause fades, the lights dim, the air chills in the darkness, and the hunger remains. No indulgence can drown it, no ecstacy can silence it: icy claws digging desolation into your heart as agonizingly familiar voices whisper every old cruelty into your ears. Immortal emptiness, endless starless nights: black leather, clove smoke, crimson amber, black patchouli, and the last curl of extinguished incense.