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Let the Licentiousness Begin! Cheshire Moon and Lupercalia are Live!

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Kung Hei Fat Choi! Happy New Year, one and all! It’s the year of the Water Snake! It’s also the Season of Schtupping! But before we begin the licentiousness, it’s time for a little lunacy.





The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good- natured, she thought: still it had VERY long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt that it ought to be treated with respect.


‘Cheshire Puss,’ she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. ‘Come, it’s pleased so far,’ thought Alice, and she went on. `Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’


‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’ said the Cat.


‘I don’t much care where –’ said Alice.


‘Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,’ said the Cat.


‘– so long as I get SOMEWHERE,’ Alice added as an explanation.


‘Oh, you’re sure to do that,’ said the Cat, `if you only walk long enough.’


Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. `What sort of people live about here?’


‘In THAT direction,’ the Cat said, waving its right paw round, `lives a Hatter: and in THAT direction,’ waving the other paw, `lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.’


‘But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ Alice remarked.


‘Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the Cat: `we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.’


‘How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice.


‘You must be,’ said the Cat, `or you wouldn’t have come here.’


A lunatic’s blend of lunar herbs and blossoms, with lemongrass, lemon balm, guava, pink grapefruit, papaya pulp, banyan fruit, hibiscus, and cherry blossom.






This month’s single note offering is:



This tobacco accord is soulful, earthy, and multifaceted: the scent reverberates like a deep bass note, possessing a very faint citrus-like twang and an almost animalic caramel richness.







A new year’s blessing! Peony, China’s national flower, with bamboo for flexibility, plum blossom for perseverance, courage, and hope, tangerine for wealth, orange for happiness, lychee for household peace, pine resin for constancy, golden kumquat and quince for prosperity, narcissus and King mandarin for good fortune, and peach blossom for longevity, with a splash of blazing red of dragon’s blood… to help you scare away the rampaging Nian.






Love is in the air at Black Phoenix, and to celebrate both Lupercalia /and/ our favorite Hallmark Holiday, we present a selection of seasonal scents, lecherous and lovely. Heartbreak, fascination, lust, loss, and licentiousness: we’ve got it all.


Blessed Lupercalia, everyone!




I feel thy blood against my blood; my pain

Pains thee, and lips bruise lips, and vein stings vein.

Let fruit be crushed on fruit, let flower on flower

Breast kindle breast, and either burn one hour.

Why wilt thou follow lesser loves? are thine

Too weak to bear these hands and lips of mine?


The scent of the throes of violent passion: entangled limbs, teeth on flesh, furiously grasping hands, the taste of blood and sweat. Golden amber, white honey, red currant, daemonorops, kush, and Arabian musk.



Gracieux fils de Pan! Autour de ton front couronné de fleurettes et de baies tes yeux, des boules précieuses, remuent. Tachées de lies brunes, tes joues se creusent. Tes crocs luisent. Ta poitrine ressemble à une cithare, des tintements circulent dans tes bras blonds. Ton coeur bat dans ce ventre òu dort le double sexe. Promène-toi la nuit, en mouvant doucement cette cuisse, cette seconde cuisse et cette jambe de gauche.


Graceful son of Pan! Around your forehead crowned with small flowers and berries, your eyes, precious spheres, are moving. Spotted with brownish wine lees, your cheeks grow hollow. Your fangs are gleaming. Your chest is like a lyre, jingling sounds circulate between your blond arms. Your heart beats in that belly where the double sex sleeps. Walk at night, gently moving that thigh, that second thigh and that left leg.

- Arthur Rimbaud, translated by John Asbery


Fossilized amber, juniper berry, wild musk, oudh, vetiver, white cedar, black currant, oakmoss, and leather.



Pound well together sandal-wood, Kunku, costus, Krishnaguru, Suvasika-puspha, white vala and the bark of the Deodaru pine; and, after reducing them to fine powder, mix it with honey and thoroughly dry. It is now known as Chintamani-Dhupa, the “thought-mastering incense”. If a little of this be used according to the ceremonies prescribed, he who employs it will make all the world submissive to him.


A fumigation for fascination! A strangely sensual blend, exotic, compelling, and commanding, adapted from an incense recipe found in the venerable sex manual, the Ananga Ranga.



Love always finds shelter in the gentle heart. Dolce Stil Nuovo is a 13th & 14th century Florentine literary style that celebrates love and womanhood through heartfelt, delicate, and melodious sonnets, ballate, and canzones. This is fin’amor, Courtly Love, in its most moving form, and the emotions that these words express reflect love that both spiritual and idealized.


Within this literary movement, earthly love reaches for the Divine.


Who is she coming, whom all gaze upon,

Who makes the air tremulous with light,

And at whose side is Love himself? that none

Dare speak, but each man’s sighs are infinite.

Ah me! how she looks round from left to right,

Let Love discourse: I may not speak thereon.

Lady she seems of such high benison

As makes all others graceless in men’s sight.

The honor which is hers cannot be said;

To whom are subject all things virtuous,

While all things beauteous own her deity.

Ne’er was the mind of man so nobly led

Nor yet was such redemption granted us

That we should ever know her perfectly.


Our interpretation of Dolce Stil Nuovo is a blend of rose otto, carnation, vanilla flower, lavender and jasmine with the clarity of crystalline white musk and the warmth of golden amber.



Bridegroom, dear to my heart,

Goodly is you beauty, honeysweet,

Lion, dear to my heart,

Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet.


You have captivated me, let me stand tremblingly before you.

Bridegroom, I would be taken by you to the bedchamber,

You have captivated me, let me stand tremblingly before you.

Lion, I would be taken by you to the bedchamber.


Bridegroom, let me caress you,

My precious caress is more savory than honey,

In the bedchamber, honey-filled,

Let me enjoy your goodly beauty,

Lion, let me caress you,

My precious caress is more savory than honey.


Bridegroom, you have taken your pleasure of me,

Tell my mother, she will give you delicacies,

My father, he will give you gifts.


Your spirit, I know where to cheer your spirit,

Bridegroom, sleep in our house until dawn,

Your heart, I know where to gladden your heart,

Lion, sleep in our house until dawn.


You, because you love me,

Give me pray of your caresses,

My lord god, my lord protector,

My Shu-Sin, who gladdens Enlil’s heart,

Give my pray of your caresses.


Your place goodly as honey, pray lay (your) hand on it,

Bring (your) hand over like a gishban-garment,

Cup (your) hand over it like a gishban-sikin-garment.


- Translated by Samuel Noah Kramer


En Eski Aşk Şiiri was inspired by the oldest love poem found in recorded history, inscribed circa 4000 BC. It was recited by the brides of King Shu-Sin of Nippur, in what is now modern-day Istanbul. This is a traditional Sumerian perfume, composed of juniper, tamarisk, almond, lavender honey, sesame, myrrh, olive oil, cedar, and rose.



With thee conversing I forget all time;

All seasons, and their change, all please alike.

Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet,

With charm of earliest birds: pleasant the sun,

When first on this delightful land he spreads

His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,

Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth

After soft showers; and sweet the coming on

Of grateful Evening mild; then silent Night

With this her solemn bird and this fair moon,

And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train:

But neither breath of Morn when she ascends

With charm of earliest birds; nor rising sun

On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower,

Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers;

Nor grateful Evening mild; nor silent Night

With this her solemn bird; nor walk by moon,

Or glittering star-light without thee is sweet.


- Paradise Lost, Book IV, Lines 639-652 by John Milton


The First Love: Moroccan rose, white fig, honey, hay absolute, vanilla, chamomile, white musk, pomegranate juice, and morning dew.



Farewell, false love, the oracle of lies,

A mortal foe and enemy to rest,

An envious boy, from whom all cares arise,

A bastard vile, a beast with rage possessed,

A way of error, a temple full of treason,

In all effects contrary unto reason.


A poisoned serpent covered all with flowers,

Mother of sighs, and murderer of repose,

A sea of sorrows whence are drawn such showers

As moisture lend to every grief that grows;

A school of guile, a net of deep deceit,

A gilded hook that holds a poisoned bait.


A fortress foiled, which reason did defend,

A siren song, a fever of the mind,

A maze wherein affection finds no end,

A raging cloud that runs before the wind,

A substance like the shadow of the sun,

A goal of grief for which the wisest run.


A quenchless fire, a nurse of trembling fear,

A path that leads to peril and mishap,

A true retreat of sorrow and despair,

An idle boy that sleeps in pleasure’s lap,

A deep mistrust of that which certain seems,

A hope of that which reason doubtful deems.


Sith then thy trains my younger years betrayed,

And for my faith ingratitude I find;

And sith repentance hath my wrongs bewrayed,

Whose course was ever contrary to kind:

False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu.

Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.

- Sir Walter Raleigh


Pale lavender, sweet violet, balsam of Peru, and paperwhite narcissus.



Poca favilla gran fiamma seconda. – Dante


Ogni altra cosa, ogni pensier va fore,

E sol ivi con voi rimansi amore. – Petrarca


I loved you first: but afterwards your love

Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song

As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.

Which owes the other most? my love was long,

And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;

I loved and guessed at you, you construed me

And loved me for what might or might not be -

Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.

For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’

With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done,

For one is both and both are one in love:

Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’

Both have the strength and both the length thereof,

Both of us, of the love which makes us one.

- Christina Rossetti


A gentle musk suffused with red roses, neroli, Moroccan jasmine, tuberose, white tobacco, and bourbon vanilla.



The fabled Khajuraho temples of India are shrines of love in all its myriad forms. They are a celebration of love itself – transcendental, spiritual and erotic. This is a rejection of sorrow, spiritual ennui and despair. The sexual motifs that adorn the temples, and the temples themselves, are monuments to ecstasy and to passion, and through that, they are also monuments to spiritual fulfillment. It is believed that the realization of moksha by dedicating oneself to adhyatma and dharma can be attained only by first experiencing sexual satisfaction. In the midst of the drudgery and struggle that we sometimes endure during the course of our Earthly lives, it is vitally important that we remember the joy found in kama, and that in kama we can achieve transformation of the body and soul.


This is a blissful, euphoric blend based on an ancient Indian love potion: honey, date palm, tuberose, davana blossom, amber, white sandalwood, vanilla bean, Damask rose, and champaca flower.



In that book which is

My memory…

On the first page

That is the chapter when

I first met you

Appear the words…

Here begins a new life

-Dante Alighieri


Apple blossom, white rose, lemon balm, and champagne grape.



Piss off, Saint Valentine! Lupercalia is an ancient Roman celebration, held on February 15th, that kicked in the advent of Spring with a very, very festive purification, fertility and sexuality ritual. The ritual began near the cave of Lupercal on the Palatine, an area sacred to Faunus, as well as Ruminia, Romulus and Remus. During Lupercalia, Vestal Virgins first made offerings of sacred cakes to the fig tree under which the she-wolf suckled the Sacred Twins. A dog and two goats were then offered in sacrifice to Faunus. The blood of the sacrifice was smeared onto two naked patrician youths, who were assisted by the Virgins, and the blood was wiped clean with sacred wool dipped in milk. The youths donned the skins of the sacrificial goats, wielding whips made from the goat skins, and then led the priests and the Virgins around the pomarium, and around the base hills of Rome. This was a ceremony of great happiness and merriment, and was of particular interest to young women: being touched by the goat-whips young men that led the procession ensured their fertility in the coming year. It is believed that, after the initial rite, male participants would draw the name of an available maiden, with whom he spent the rest of the night. This scent is for the Luperci, the Chosen of Faunus, the Brothers of the Wolf: raw, down and dirty patchouli, Gurjam balsam, and essence of Sampson Root sweetened with the heightened sexuality of beeswax, virile juniper, oakmoss, ambrette seed over honey and East African musk.



Stars, you are unfortunate, I pity you,

Beautiful as you are, shining in your glory,

Who guide seafaring men through stress and peril

And have no recompense from gods or mortals,

Love you do not, nor do you know what love is.

Hours that are aeons urgently conducting

Your figures in a dance through the vast heaven,

What journey have you ended in this moment,

Since lingering in the arms of my beloved

I lost all memory of you and midnight.

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


Lilac, blue musk, dianthus, cedar, neroli, ozone, and luminous Eastern herbs.



As for old flames and lovers-they’re none left.

And since Milesians went against us,

I’ve not seen a decent eight-fingered dildo.

Yes, it’s just leather, but it helps us out.

The ancient Greeks sure weren’t shy about taking care of business. The port city of Miletus was once famed throughout the Mediterranean as a source of excellent stone, wood, and padded leather dildos. This scent is the celebration of an age-old pastime: polished wood, well-loved leather, and olive oil.



In front of the sombre mountains,

a faint, lost ribbon of rainbow

And between us and it, the thunder;

And down below in the green wheat,

the labourers stand like dark stumps,

still in the green wheat.

You are near to me, and naked feet

In their sandals, and through the

scent of the balcony’s naked timber

I distinguish the scent of your hair:

so now the limber

Lightning falls from heaven.

Adown the pale-green glacier river floats

A dark boat through the gloom—

and whither? The thunder roars

But still we have each other!

The naked lightnings in the heavens dither

And disappear—

what have we but each other?

The boat has gone.

- DH Lawrence


A haven of warmth glowing within tumultuous darkness: rose-infused amber, copal, and blood lily surrounded by labdanum, opoponax, and myrrh, and splashed by ozone and rain.



Come live with me and be my love,

And we will all the pleasures prove,

That valleys, groves, hills and fields,

Woods or steepy mountains yields.


And we will sit upon the rocks,

Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks

By shallow rivers, to whose falls

Melodious birds sing madrigals.


And I will make thee beds of roses,

And a thousand fragrant posies,

A cap of flowers and a kirtle

Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;


A gown made of the finest wool,

Which from our pretty lambs we pull;

Fair-lined slippers for the cold,

With buckles of the purest gold;


A belt of straw and ivy buds,

With coral clasps and amber studs;

And if these pleasures may thee move,

Come live with me and be my love.


The shepherd swains shall dance and sing

For thy delight each May morning;

If these delights thy mind may move,

Then live with me and be my love.

- Christopher Marlowe


Heather, clover, Irish moss, English ivy, tea rose, and carnation.



Under her neck my right hand

Has served her for a cushion,

And to draw her to me

I have sent out my left hand,

Which bore her up as a bed.


The Perfumed Garden for the Soul’s Recreation. This scent is based on a venerable Tunisian perfume that was used to excite the senses, inspire sensuality and inflame passion. Myrrh and Moroccan jasmine with apple peel, Indian sandalwood, myrtle, quince, citron, and thyme poured over soft musk.



With thanks to Sir John Wilmot.


This signior is sound, safe, ready, and dumb

As ever was candle, carrot, or thumb;

Then away with these nasty devices, and show

How you rate the just merit of Signior Dildo.


Count Cazzo, who carries his nose very high,

In passion he swore his rival should die;

Then shut himself up to let the world know

Flesh and blood could not bear it from Signior Dildo.


A rabble of pricks who were welcome before,

Now finding the porter denied them the door,

Maliciously waited his coming below

And inhumanly fell on Signior Dildo.


Nigh wearied out, the poor stranger did fly,

And along the Pall Mall they followed full cry;

The women concerned from every window

Cried, ‘For heaven’s sake, save Signior Dildo.’


The good Lady Sandys burst into a laughter

To see how the ballocks came wobbling after,

And had not their weight retarded the foe,

Indeed’t had gone hard with Signior Dildo.


A scent of pearls and ivory: orris, violet leaf, narcissus, and Madagascar vanilla.



Time does not bring relief; you all have lied

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

I miss him in the weeping of the rain;

I want him at the shrinking of the tide;

The old snows melt from every mountain-side,

And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;

But last year’s bitter loving must remain

Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.

There are a hundred places where I fear

To go – so with his memory they brim.

And entering with relief some quiet place

Where never fell his foot or shone his face

I say, ‘There is no memory of him here!’

And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

-Edna St Vincent Millay


Remembrance: Parma violet and leather accord with beeswax, Egyptian musk, orange blossom, white tea, lavender, myrrh, and copal.


+ Aeacidae Chiron, ego sum praeceptor Amoris


She might, so noble from head

To great shapely knees

The long flowing line,

Have walked to the altar

Through the holy images

At Pallas Athene’s side,

Or been fit spoil for a Centaur

Drunk with the unmixed wine.

- WB Yeats


Sweet honey, white apricot, and a touch of cayenne pepper.




In summer’s heat, and mid-time of the day,

To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay;

One window shut, the other open stood,

Which gave such light as twinkles in a wood,

Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun,

Or night being past, and yet not day begun.

Such light to shamefaced maidens must be shown,

Where they may sport, and seem to be unknown.

Then came Corinna in a long loose gown,

Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down,

Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed

Or Lais of a thousand wooers sped.

I snatched her gown: being thin, the harm was small,

Yet strived she to be covered there withal.

And striving thus, as one that would be cast,

Betrayed herself, and yielded at the last.

Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,

Not one wen in her body could I spy.

What arms and shoulders did I touch and see!

How apt her breasts were to be pressed by me!

How smooth a belly under her waist saw I,

How large a leg, and what a lusty thigh!

To leave the rest, all liked me passing well,

I clinged her naked body, down she fell:

Judge you the rest; being tired she bade me kiss;

Jove send me more such afternoons as this!

- Christopher Marlowe, after Ovid


White amber, mimosa, orris root, osmanthus, labdanum, Siamese benzoin, and jasmine sambac.



Esse quid hoc dicam, quod tam mihi dura videntur

strata, neque in lecto pallia nostra sedent,

vacuus somno noctem, quam longa, peregi,

lassaque versati corporis ossa dolent?

nam, puto, sentirem, siquo temptarer amore.

an subit et tecta callidus arte nocet?

sic erit; haeserunt tenues in corde sagittae,

et possessa ferus pectora versat Amor.

Cedimus, an subitum luctando accendimus ignem?

cedamus! leve fit, quod bene fertur, onus.

vidi ego iactatas mota face crescere flammas

et rursus nullo concutiente mori.

verbera plura ferunt, quam quos iuvat usus aratri,

detractant prensi dum iuga prima boves.

asper equus duris contunditur ora lupatis,

frena minus sentit, quisquis ad arma facit.

acrius invitos multoque ferocius urget

quam qui servitium ferre fatentur Amor.

En ego confiteor! tua sum nova praeda, Cupido;

porrigimus victas ad tua iura manus.

nil opus est bello–veniam pacemque rogamus;

nec tibi laus armis victus inermis ero.

necte comam myrto, maternas iunge columbas;

qui deceat, currum vitricus ipse dabit,

inque dato curru, populo clamante triumphum,

stabis et adiunctas arte movebis aves.

ducentur capti iuvenes captaeque puellae;

haec tibi magnificus pompa triumphus erit.

ipse ego, praeda recens, factum modo vulnus habebo

et nova captiva vincula mente feram.

Mens Bona ducetur manibus post terga retortis,

et Pudor, et castris quidquid Amoris obest.

omnia te metuent; ad te sua bracchia tendens

vulgus ‘io’ magna voce ‘triumphe!’ canet.

blanditiae comites tibi erunt Errorque Furorque,

adsidue partes turba secuta tuas.

his tu militibus superas hominesque deosque;

haec tibi si demas commoda, nudus eris.

Laeta triumphanti de summo mater Olympo

plaudet et adpositas sparget in ora rosas.

tu pinnas gemma, gemma variante capillos

ibis in auratis aureus ipse rotis.

tunc quoque non paucos, si te bene novimus, ures;

tunc quoque praeteriens vulnera multa dabis.

non possunt, licet ipse velis, cessare sagittae;

fervida vicino flamma vapore nocet.

talis erat domita Bacchus Gangetide terra;

tu gravis alitibus, tigribus ille fuit.

Ergo cum possim sacri pars esse triumphi,

parce tuas in me perdere, victor, opes!

adspice cognati felicia Caesaris arma–

qua vicit, victos protegit ille manu.


WHO is it that can tell me why my bed seems so is hard and why the bedclothes will not stay upon it? Wherefore has this night–and oh, how long it was!–dragged on, bringing no sleep to my eyes? Why are my weary limbs visited with restlessness and pain? If it were Love that had come to make me suffer, surely I should know it. Or stay, what if he slips in like a thief, what if he comes, without a word of warning, to wound me with his cruel arts? Yes, ’tis he! His slender arrows have pierced my heart, and fell Love holds it like a conquered land. Shall I yield me to him? Or shall I strive against him, and so add fuel to this sudden flame? Well, I will yield; burdens willingly borne do lighter weigh. I know that the flames will leap from the shaken torch and die away in the one you leave alone. The young oxen which rebel against the yoke are more often beaten than those which willingly submit. And if a horse be fiery, harsh is the bit that tames him. When he takes to -the fray with a will, he feels the curb less galling. And so it is with Love; for hearts that struggle and rebel against him, he is more implacable and stern than for such as willingly confess his sway.



Ah well, be it so, Cupid; thy prey am I. I am a poor captive kneeling with suppliant hands before my conqueror. What is the use of fighting? Pardon and peace is what I ask. And little, I trow, would it redound to your glory, armed as you are, to strike down a defenceless man. Crown thy brows with myrtle and thy mother’s doves yoke to thy car. Thy step-father will give thee the chariot that befits thee, and upon that chariot, amid the acclamations of the throng, thou shalt stand a conqueror, guiding with skill thy harnessed birds. Captives in thy train, youths and maidens shall follow, and splendid shall be thy triumph. And I, thy latest victim, shall be there with my fresh wound, and with submissive mien I will bear my new-wrought fetters. Prudence shall be led captive with hands bound behind her back, and Modesty, and whatsoever else is an obstacle to Love. All things shall be in awe of thee, and stretching forth their arms towards thee the throng with mighty voice shall thunder “Io Triumphe!” Caresses shall be thy escort, and Illusion and Madness, a troop that ever follows in thy train. With these fighting on thy side, nor men nor gods shall stand against thee; but if their aid be lacking, naked shalt thou be. Proud to behold thy triumph, thy mother will applaud thee from High Olympus and scatter roses on thy upturned face. Thy wings and thy locks shall be adorned with precious stones, and all with gold resplendent shalt thou drive thy golden car. Then too, if I know thee well, thou wilt set countless other hearts on fire, and many a wound shalt deal as thou passest on thy way. Repose, even when thou art fain to rest, cometh not to thine arrows. Thy ardent flame turns water itself to vapour. Such was Bacchus when he triumphed over the land of the Ganges. Thou art drawn along by doves; his car was drawn by tigers. Since, then, I am to have a part in thy godlike triumph, lose not the rights which thy victory gives thee over me. Bethink thee of the victories of thy kinsman Cæsar; he shields the conquered with the very hand that conquers them.


- – -


Thus it will be; slender arrows are lodged in my heart,

and Love vexes the chest that it has seized.

Should I surrender or stir up the sudden flame by battling it?

I will surrender; a burden becomes light when it is carried willingly.

- Ovid, translation by J. Lewis May


Slender arrows lodged in my heart: red amber, benzoin, red musk, bourbon geranium, oak bark, Atlas cedar, and 13-year aged Sumatran patchouli.



Quaeris, quot mihi basiationes

tuae, Lesbia, sint satis superque.

quam magnus numerus Libyssae harenae

lasarpiciferis iacet Cyrenis

oraclum Iovis inter aestuosi

et Batti veteris sacrum sepulcrum;

aut quam sidera multa, cum tacet nox,

furtivos hominum vident amores:

tam te basia multa basiare

vesano satis et super Catullo est,

quae nec pernumerare curiosi

possint nec mala fascinare lingua


You ask, my Lesbia, how many of your kisses

are enough and more than enough for me.

As big a number as the Libyan grains of sand

that lie at silphium producing Cyrene

between the oracle of Sultry Jupiter

and the sacred tomb of old Battus;

Or as many stars that see the secret love affairs of men,

when the night is silent.

So many kisses are enough

and more than enough for mad Catullus to kiss you,

these kisses which neither the inquisitive are able to count

nor an evil tongue bewitch.

- Catallus, translation by Daniel San


Infinite kisses: white honey, red currant, sugar cane, and ginger.



Turn to me, dear one, turn thy face,

And unveil for me in thine eyes, their grace.

- Sappho


Orris, luminous ambergris, and golden amber illuminated by a sunlit golden musk.



Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus,

rumoresque senum severiorum

omnes unius aestimemus assis!

soles occidere et redire possunt:

nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,

nox est perpetua una dormienda.

da mi basia mille, deinde centum,

dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,

deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.

dein, cum milia multa fecerimus,

conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus,

aut ne quis malus inuidere possit,

cum tantum sciat esse basiorum.


My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love;

And though the sager sort our deeds reprove,

Let us not weigh them. Heaven’s great lamps do dive

Into their west, and straight again revive,

But soon as once is set our little light,

Then must we sleep one ever-during night.

- Catallus, translation by Thomas Campion


Scorn the foolishness of others and love, for life is too brief, and death brings everlasting sleep: Ethiopian ambrette seed, summer honey, Alpine lavender, cognac, mate resinoid, peru balsam, and red musk.












The following Lupercalia set contain nudity, depictions of sex acts, and other not-suitable-fer-younguns stuff. By clicking on the links or purchasing these products, you are affirming that you are at least eighteen years of age and that you are permitted by law to view suggestive imagery. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is also not responsible for any pearl-clutching reactions to the themes we present. If you are offended by nudity, schtupping, marital aids, or any other naughty business, please go no further. Viewer discretion is advised!


For your pleasure, we are thrilled to present another whimsical sojourn to the bedrooms of Edo-era Japan — Novel Ideas For Secret Amusements: A Shunga Exhibition.


Black Phoenix Trading Post’s Lupercalia update will be coming soon.

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