Jenjin
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Everything posted by Jenjin
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Crimson roses, poppies white and red. Lilies, lilies not for me, Flowers of the pure and saintly ― I have seen in holy places Where the incense rises faintly, And the priest the chalice raises, Lilies in the altar vases, Not for me. Leave untouched each garden tree, Kings and queens of flower-land. When the summer evening closes, Lovers may-be hand in hand There will seek for crimson roses, There will bind their wreaths and posies Merrily. From the corn-fields where we met Pluck me poppies white and red; Bind them round my weary brain, Strew them on my narrow bed, Numbing all the ache and pain. ― I shall sleep nor wake again, But forget. – Digby Mackworth Dolben
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Spiked for your pleasure: protrusions of pomegranate and pink peppercorn.
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Red roses, heady Moroccan musk, cinnamon, lobelia, coconut flesh, magnolia blossoms, and tobacco tar. Could you hurt me, sweet lips, though I hurt you? Men touch them, and change in a trice The lilies and languors of virtue For the raptures and roses of vice; Those lie where thy foot on the floor is, These crown and caress thee and chain, O splendid and sterile Dolores, Our Lady of Pain.
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Deep purple Syrah, calamus, myrrh smoke, hyssop, opoponax, bitter clove, burgundy pitch, opium poppy, and violet leaf. I have passed from the outermost portal To the shrine where a sin is a prayer; What care though the service be mortal? O our Lady of Torture, what care? All thine the last wine that I pour is, The last in the chalice we drain, O fierce and luxurious Dolores, Our Lady of Pain.
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A whipped green dream, pale and pillowy with multicolored mini marshmallows, densely studded with bits of pineapple, mandarin, and shredded coconut.
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Basically fruit roll-ups for your naughty bits: wild cherry and sugared up strawberry with hot pink peppercorn.
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Glittering amber, frankincense, neroli, vanilla silk, and champaca. O garment not golden but gilded, O garden where all men may dwell, O tower not of ivory, but builded By hands that reach heaven from hell; O mystical rose of the mire, O house not of gold but of gain, O house of unquenchable fire, Our Lady of Pain!
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No Additional Scent Description.
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Salty driftwood, seafoam ambergris, white vetiver, marine lichen, and ocean spray.
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Black opium, wild plum, cypress tar, Bulgarian rose, olibanum, black orchid, and tobacco. They were purple of raiment and golden, Filled full of thee, fiery with wine, Thy lovers, in haunts unbeholden, In marvellous chambers of thine. They are fled, and their footprints escape us, Who appraise thee, adore, and abstain, O daughter of Death and Priapus, Our Lady of Pain.
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No additional scent description.
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An itch that needs to be scratched: Snake Oil and three types of honey. In the middle of the flanks of women lies the womb, a female viscus, closely resembling an animal; for it is moved of itself hither and thither in the flanks, also upwards in a direct line to below the cartilage of the thorax and also obliquely to the right or to the left, either to the liver or spleen; and it likewise is subject to falling downwards, and, in a word, it is altogether erratic. It delights, also, in fragrant smells, and advances towards them; and it has an aversion to fetid smells, and flees from them; and on the whole the womb is like an animal within an animal. – Aretaeus the Cappadocian Oh, that wily womb! Hippocrates and his followers considered the womb a mobile creature, causing mayhem as it writhed its way through a woman’s body. Sometimes this ornery organ, due to lack of sexual activity, would create conflicts within a woman’s system or would become blocked itself, causing anxiety, nervousness, water retention, and sleeplessness. With the assistance of doctors, nursemaids, hand tools, or, occasionally, self-manipulation, this vexing condition could be alleviated through hysterical paroxysms. Or, as we call it nowadays: orgasm.
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Chilly vanilla frankincense snowballs polluted with raw cacao, labdanum, and myrrh.
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Sweet amber, chilled lemon peel, green tea, green cardamom pod, and incense smoke.
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No jokes here: who wouldn’t love a heart-shaped hot tub? A bubbling vat of red musk, sweet red wine, benzoin, red oudh, and lush magnolia.
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No Additional Scent Description.
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BPAL’s signature scent made effervescent: deep, rich, earthy notes swirled with vegetal musks, sugared vanilla bean, champagne grape, white ginger, and dark spices.
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Sugared lilac, white lilies, and jasmine incense.
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Every crumb sticks to the fork: a dense, lightly-spiced cake glazed in raw honey gathered from bees who thrive on lavender nectar.
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Our winter mascot! A musky, snow-touched, forest-deep Yuletide blend: shaggy black wool and a slushy tangle of juniper, mistletoe, winter sage, spikenard, white moss, and terebinth.
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A surprisingly delightful blend of blackberries, cranberries, carrots, and pumpkin mash.
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No additional scent description.
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This year’s Transanta fundraiser scent is a wish for enjoyment that transcends hard conditions: a cotton candy-flavored lollipop blessed with a pinch of grit and petrichor.
