Jenjin

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.

No Additional Scent Description. 

No Additional Scent Description. 

Dragon’s blood resin, red ginger, bourbon geranium, thorny rosemary,
red sandalwood, pink pepper, and green coffee bean.

Dost thou dream, in a respite of slumber,
In a lull of the fires of thy life,

Of the days without name, without number,

When thy will stung the world into strife;

When, a goddess, the pulse of thy passion

Smote kings as they revelled in Rome;

And they hailed thee re-risen, O Thalassian,

Foam-white, from the foam?

“Perfume, not poppers!” Put it in Latin on our family crest. The contents of this 5ml apothecary bottle are certainly nothing illicit, no ma’am. Just a nice, relaxing olfactory swan dive into the abyss, under the barest pretense of home entertainment hygiene.

(Please note: this perfume contains no actual video head cleaner. No alcohol, no acetone, no amyl nitrate, no xylene. It is an accord meant to mimic and celebrate the scent profile and tone of poppers without explicitly smelling like poppers or having a popper’iffic effect.)

It’ll rattle your teeth more than it rattles your junk:
fizzy champagne, orange blossom absolute, Italian bergamot, and dry vanilla.

White sandalwood, black cypress, wormwood, creeping willow, and rue.

In yesterday’s reach and to-morrow’s,

Out of sight though they lie of to-day,

There have been and there yet shall be sorrows

That smite not and bite not in play.

The life and the love thou despisest,

These hurt us indeed, and in vain,

O wise among women, and wisest,

Our Lady of Pain.

Snake Oil dribbling across a cluster of amber-flecked, blackened rose petals.

Snake Oil-soaked carnation petals, spiked with a dash of clove and allspice.

Bourbon vetiver, oakmoss, and pomegranate.

But the worm shall revive thee with kisses;

Thou shalt change and transmute as a god,

As the rod to a serpent that hisses,

As the serpent again to a rod.

Thy life shall not cease though thou doff it;

Thou shalt live until evil be slain,

And good shall die first, said thy prophet,

Our Lady of Pain.

Lavender, white fig, and Atlas cedar.

By the hunger of change and emotion,

By the thirst of unbearable things,

By despair, the twin-born of devotion,

By the pleasure that winces and stings,

The delight that consumes the desire,

The desire that outruns the delight,

By the cruelty deaf as a fire

And blind as the night…

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.

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.

Calla lilies and lily of the valley with white lilac, narcissus, osmanthus, asphodel, and Egyptian musk.

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.

Sweet red wine, oakmoss, ambergris accord, ylang ylang, and Spanish mandarin.

All thine the new wine of desire,

The fruit of four lips as they clung

Till the hair and the eyelids took fire,

The foam of a serpentine tongue,

The froth of the serpents of pleasure,

More salt than the foam of the sea,

Now felt as a flame, now at leisure

As wine shed for me.

Cypress, honey myrtle, yew, peace lily, ivy, and black rose.

The desire of thy furious embraces

Is more than the wisdom of years,

On the blossom though blood lie in traces,

Though the foliage be sodden with tears.

For the lords in whose keeping the door is

That opens on all who draw breath

Gave the cypress to love, my Dolores,

The myrtle to death.

We are the smuttiest. Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

Pale gilded lilies and roses in the labdanum shadow of a yew tree, a sprig of forget-me-not,
the dwindling memory of a genteel cologne, and the honeyed breathlessness of a kiss.

My sister Death! I pray thee come to me

Of thy sweet charity,

And be my nurse but for a little while;

I will indeed lie still,

And not detain thee long, when once is spread,

Beneath the yew, my bed:

I will not ask for lillies or for roses;

But when the evening closes,

Just take from any brook a single knot

Of pale Forget-me-not,

And lay them in my hand, until I wake,

For his dear sake;

(For should he ever pass and by me stand,

He might understand ―)

Then heal the passion and the fever

With one cool kiss, for ever.

– Digby Mackworth Dolben 

No additional scent description.

No additional scent description.

White rose and hothouse orchids with honey musk, wild plum, black patchouli, and geranium.

Rose petal incense, twinkling white musk, sensuous labdanum, rhubarb, dried strawberries, and red amber.

Black roses, Pashmina oud, clove bud, opoponax, kyphi smoke, tobacco absolute, and orris butter.

Rose sap, gleaming ivy, orris root, sweet oakmoss, pine needle, lime rind, and juniper.

Lavender rose petals, coconut husk, cerulean blue musk, agave, and blueberry resin.