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Among the many botanical curiosities that populate the traditions of Hoodoo, folk magic, and conjure, few possess the quiet majesty and enduring reputation of Queen Elizabeth Root. Known botanically as Iris germanica and commonly referred to as orris root when used in perfumery and herbalism, this humble rhizome has long been regarded as a potent spiritual ally. Beneath its unassuming exterior lies a symbol of feminine sovereignty: a root associated with love, authority, charisma, and the cultivation of personal power. The dried root itself offers a small lesson in patience and transformation. Hard and unyielding when whole, Queen Elizabeth Root does not readily reveal its fragrance. Once cut, grated, or pulverized, it releases the soft violet-like sweetness that has made orris root prized in perfumery for centuries. Within Hoodoo and related folk traditions, Queen Elizabeth Root is revered for its association with attraction and magnetism. It is most frequently worked by those seeking to draw love, deepen romantic attention, or cultivate passionate connections. Yet its influence extends beyond the sphere of romance. The root is also valued as a charm for increasing charisma and popularity, encouraging eloquence in communication, and strengthening one’s authority in relationships or negotiations. It is believed to help its bearer command respect and secure favorable outcomes in situations where influence and presence matter. Because of these qualities, Queen Elizabeth Root has traditionally been regarded as an emblem of feminine power. Carried as a talisman, it is said to enhance personal magnetism and reinforce one’s ability to shape the circumstances of one’s life. In folklore, the root is sometimes linked with figures such as Queen Jezebel, another symbol of commanding presence and irresistible allure. Beyond matters of love and influence, Queen Elizabeth Root is also associated with inner perception. Some traditions hold that it may aid in prophetic dreaming or support divinatory work, subtly opening the mind to intuition and symbolic insight. In this role the root becomes not merely an instrument of outward magnetism but also a key to inward awareness, encouraging the practitioner to listen more carefully to the quiet language of dreams and omens. The iris plant itself has long carried associations with nobility and elegance; its flowers appear in royal heraldry and classical gardens alike. In sorcerous lore, this regal imagery becomes concentrated in the root. To carry it is, in a sense, to carry a fragment of symbolic sovereignty: a reminder that presence, dignity, and charm are forms of power that can be cultivated and consciously directed. Thus Queen Elizabeth Root occupies a distinctive place within the landscape of folk magic. It is not a tool of aggression or coercion but one of magnetism and influence, working through attraction rather than force.
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You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness; For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable. A woody, deep patchouli with bourbon vanilla, rich amber, and soft golden skin musk.
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A surprisingly elegant combination. Boozy, bruised sweetness anchored by smoky grass.
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It's actually really interesting and smells amazing. Trust me.
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Roses have been woven into magic and folklore for thousands of years, and this oil reaches past the lovely sweetness of petal and hip. In addition to the rose’s association with love and romance, the rose's spiritual depths encompass blood, rebirth, resurrection, and immortality. The root carries all of this in concentrated silence: love that is not fragile, love that has come back from the frost, love that grew itself back from the cold, shadowed death of winter. The rose is an emblem of Venus, deeply associated with love, passion, and friendship across cultures, but she is also sacred to Aphrodite, Isis, Hekate, Inanna, Ishtar — goddesses of the underworld as much as the bloom. She lives at the crossroads of beauty and power, and her thorns and roots have always been part of its power. An earthy, patchouli-touched rose oil with a hint of oakmoss and vetiver.
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Spicy heat biting through springtime sweetness.
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Velvety, sun-warm stone fruit soaked in smoky tea.
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Sweet enough to rot your teeth, smoky enough to not care.
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Sunny acidic brightness slicing through deep, animalic wood resin.
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Cedar and graphite illuminated by a light citrus zing.
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Husky, warm spice cooled into watery, spa-touched notes.
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Fermented savory-sweet depth lifting sweet, hedonistic blooms.
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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.
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Thick slices of coconut-frosted coconut cake dunked in a vat of Snake Oil.
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Blood musk, red amber, honey, and threads of scarlet saffron.
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Foresty and carnal, heady blooms twined around a mossy log.
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Loosed from the satin-pale corset, emerging from a gilded cage, that prison of silence: sweet bourbon vanilla, pale sandalwood, mallow flower, osmanthus, and shards of frankincense. They shut me up in Prose – As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet – Because they liked me “still” – Still! Could themself have peeped – And seen my Brain – go round – They might as wise have lodged a Bird For Treason – in the Pound – Himself has but to will And easy as a Star Look down upon Captivity – And laugh – No more have I – – Emily Dickinson
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A stunningly lovely flower that only grows in California. It is integral to the health of recently burnt areas: its roots spread rapidly, anchoring the soil and preventing further erosion. Vanilla-soaked sweet pea, white sandalwood, and almond milk.
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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.
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A sun-warmed bloom, its fragrance unfurls in lush waves: rich and creamy, like chocolate and nectar mingling in the sultry air. A scent both decadent and wild, glistening with heady sweetness.
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Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right As the other fellow has To stand On my two feet And own the land. I tire so of hearing people say, Let things take their course. Tomorrow is another day. I do not need my freedom when I’m dead. I cannot live on tomorrow’s bread. Freedom Is a strong seed Planted In a great need. I live here, too. I want freedom Just as you. – Langston Hughes A scent for community, for communal power, for collective justice; a fragrance of sustenance, comfort, resilience, justice, and the stubborn belief that sweetness belongs to the living, here and now. Crusty brown bread still warm from the oven, golden wheat, clover honey, sweet butter, oat milk, chamomile, and a soft breath of vanilla.
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Would that you could live on the fragrance of the earth, and like an air plant be sustained by the light. But since you must kill to eat, and rob the newly born of its mother’s milk to quench your thirst, let it then be an act of worship, And let your board stand an altar on which the pure and the innocent of forest and plain are sacrificed for that which is purer and still more innocent in man. When you kill a beast say to him in your heart, “By the same power that slays you, I too am slain; and I too shall be consumed. For the law that delivered you into my hand shall deliver me into a mightier hand. Your blood and my blood is naught but the sap that feeds the tree of heaven.” And when you crush an apple with your teeth, say to it in your heart, “Your seeds shall live in my body, And the buds of your tomorrow shall blossom in my heart, And your fragrance shall be my breath, And together we shall rejoice through all the seasons.” And in the autumn, when you gather the grapes of your vineyards for the winepress, say in your heart, “I too am a vineyard, and my fruit shall be gathered for the winepress, And like new wine I shall be kept in eternal vessels.” And in winter, when you draw the wine, let there be in your heart a song for each cup; And let there be in the song a remembrance for the autumn days, and for the vineyard, and for the winepress. Purple fig, honeyed dates, sweet red wine, and apples.
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Ulmus rubra’s mucilaginous inner bark produces a thick, protective gel that coats and soothes the throat in herbal medicine, and in rootwork this same quality becomes an act of slippery sorcery: thanks to the Doctrine of Signatures, the same mechanism that heals the body becomes armor against the violence of speech as wicked words slide away, accusations refuse to stick, and malicious talk loses its purchase and slides away, harmless. Governed by Saturn and resonant with the Air element, the domain of communication and the spoken word, slippery elm carries correspondences that reinforce its purpose. Saturn’s cold discipline enforces silence and binds the tongue of the enemy while Air governs every form of speech, rumor, and persuasion. Slippery elm sits at the crossroads of both. In hoodoo and rootwork, this translates into a robust tradition of anti-gossip and protection work and is a guardian of reputation. Slippery elm is carried in mojo bags, powdered into sachets, burned over charcoal, and sewn into charms. Pinches of the bark placed in the four corners of a room are said to protect the home from evil; a knotted yellow thread tied around the bark and cast into fire is a traditional working to cease all gossip directed at you. Keep the root close to your body wherever two-faced company gathers. In court case work, slippery elm shields against false accusations and slander, helping a difficult case move smoothly toward resolution. Slippery elm does not merely silence: it may be worn as a charm to cultivate eloquence, and it loosens the tongue when silence has become a trap or a curse, granting fluency and persuasion to those who carry it while denying the same to their enemies. A nutty, earthy-scented root with a whisper of benzoin, bourbon vanilla, and slippery, sweet sugar cane.
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Pleasure is a freedom-song, But it is not freedom. It is the blossoming of your desires, But it is not their fruit. It is a depth calling unto a height, But it is not the deep nor the high. It is the caged taking wing, But it is not space encompassed. Ay, in very truth, pleasure is a freedom-song. And I fain would have you sing it with fullness of heart; yet I would not have you lose your hearts in the singing. Some of your youth seek pleasure as if it were all, and they are judged and rebuked. I would not judge nor rebuke them. I would have them seek. For they shall find pleasure, but not her alone; Seven are her sisters, and the least of them is more beautiful than pleasure. Have you not heard of the man who was digging in the earth for roots and found a treasure? And some of your elders remember pleasures with regret like wrongs committed in drunkenness. But regret is the beclouding of the mind and not its chastisement. They should remember their pleasures with gratitude, as they would the harvest of a summer. Yet if it comforts them to regret, let them be comforted. And there are among you those who are neither young to seek nor old to remember; And in their fear of seeking and remembering they shun all pleasures, lest they neglect the spirit or offend against it. But even in their foregoing is their pleasure. And thus they too find a treasure though they dig for roots with quivering hands. But tell me, who is he that can offend the spirit? Shall the nightingale offend the stillness of the night, or the firefly the stars? And shall your flame or your smoke burden the wind? Think you the spirit is a still pool which you can trouble with a staff? Oftentimes in denying yourself pleasure you do but store the desire in the recesses of your being. Who knows but that which seems omitted today, waits for tomorrow? Even your body knows its heritage and its rightful need and will not be deceived. And your body is the harp of your soul, And it is yours to bring forth sweet music from it or confused sounds. And now you ask in your heart, “How shall we distinguish that which is good in pleasure from that which is not good?” Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower, But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee. For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life, And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love, And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy. People of Orphalese, be in your pleasures like the flowers and the bees. Be in your pleasures like the flowers and the bees: candied rose petals, red honey, sweet berries, and luxuriant red musk.
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May your deeds be shown to your servants, your splendor to their children. May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us — yes, establish the work of our hands. Also known as salep root and Helping Hand, this orchid root has been used as a tool of success, wealth, and good fortune, bringing blessed luck to everything your five fingers can touch. It’s a gambling root that blesses risk-takers, but is also a tool for craftsmen, laborers, artists, and all who work with their hands. A deep earthy perfume entwined with orchid petals.
