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HARVEST MOON 2010 Harvest Moon is celebrated in almost every culture, and the bounty of the season is marked in a myriad of ways. Harvest Moon touches the Equinox, the festival of Janus, the culmination of Homowo, the "crying of the neck" in Cornwall, and the Women's Festival of the Moon. This is a day that celebrates abundance and beauty, fertility and progress, and the light of this full moon blesses new undertakings and reunites lost loves. The Harvest Moon, by definition, is the Full Moon that falls closest to the Autumnal Equinox, and thus, it shares some of that Sabbat's characteristics. This Full Moon was thus named because it rises within half an hour of the sun's setting, in the Northern Hemisphere, and at this time farmers are able to work longer into the night by the light of this Moon. As the year draws to a close, the Full Moon rises an average of fifty minutes later each night, with the exception of a few nights surrounding the Harvest Moon, which only rises 10-30 minutes later. This moon is also, to the human eye, the fullest and largest of the year's Moons, hanging gloriously huge, yellow and low in the night sky, and many lunar illusions play tricks our eyes at this time. The Harvest ushers in many celebrations, including the Equinox and the Festival of Janus, God of Doors. Janus is the Roman Lord of Gateways, beginnings and endings, and transitions. Thus, the Harvest Moon is a time for blessing new ventures, the onset of new and progressive phases in one's life, and rites of passage into adulthood. This time of year also marks one of the Festivals of Dionysus, Lord of Ecstasy and the Vine. This Harvest lunacy combines the autumnal scents of dry leaves, mulling spices, balsam fir, cedar, juniper berry, clove, saffron, damson plum, sage, yarrow, and lily twined with Dionysus' sacred grapes and ivy, a bounty of apple and pumpkin, and the amaranth and lingum aloes of Janus, all touched by a gentle breath of festival woodsmoke and sweet wine. At BPAL, we're going to party like it's 2004! Welcome back Mabon and Wildfire! MABON 2010 The Autumnal Equinox. The Second Harvest of the witches: a celebration of rest after labor, and repose after the rigors of Initiation. This is the mark of the completion of the Harvest and giving thanks for the previous season's abundance. In ceremonial magick, this is a time to begin the search for one's Higher Self anew, to celebrate rebirth and new life, and to revitalize the spirit. It is an Osirian time, contractive and catabolic. At this time, the Eleusinian mysteries were observed, celebrating the drama of Kore and Demeter. Blackberry wine and apple with hops, English ivy, rosemary, hazel, sage, chamomile, sweetgrass, oak bark, wild nuts, and myrrh. WILDFIRE 2010 A traditional blend of woods used in Celtic pyromantic divinatory practices, updated and contemporized with the addition of a fae blend of orris essence, dragon's blood, juniper berry, and red rose. Mabon 2010 and Wildfire 2010 are live until September 25, 2010, and Harvest Moon will be live until August 26, 2010. We at BPAL are thrilled to announce a new scent collaboration with the wonderful people at the Mütter! Victorian Garden, summer honey infused with medicinal herbs and gently cloaked by French lavender, is now available exclusively at the Mütter Museum. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has created limited edition scents based on the groundbreaking comic book series Dawn by Joseph Michael Linsner. The four scents, Dawn: Maiden, Dawn: Mother, Dawn: Crone and Cernunnos, will debut at Dragon*Con in Atlanta, GA. from Sep. 3-6, 2010. We will not be vending there ourselves, but the scents will be available from the Hero Initiative booth, BT-20, and the Linsner booth, BT-18 and 19, in the Grand Hall East of the Hyatt Regency. They will also be available starting Tuesday, Sep. 7 at www.blackphoenixalchemylab.com./dawn.html for $26. Scent descriptions will be posted soon. Proceeds from every bottle sold go to the Hero Initiative, the first federally recognized not-for-profit organization dedicated to helping comic book writers and artists in need. The 501©(3) charity assists comic creators with health, medical, and quality-of-life assistance. BPAL will be vending alongside Dark Delicacies at the West Hollywood Book Fair, on Sunday, September 26th, from 10am to 6pm. There will be scents and signings, and all sorts of fun stuff. Details will be announced soon. Aaaaaaaaaaaand… BPAL will be vending at NYCC, October 8 - 10th at the Javits Center in New York City, Booth 2851. Please keep your eyes peeled for the upcoming Black Phoenix Trading Post Halloween update! It's a doozy! From the 13 August 2010 update: Happy Halloween, one and all! Please welcome Knows Perfume to our family of Will Call locations! Knows Perfume now carries a huge portion of the Black Phoenix line, and will be hosting Pacific Northwest Will Call starting this month! knows perfume …purveyor of uncommon scents 4536 California Avenue SW Seattle, WA, 98116 Tel (206) 397 3141 Tuesday, August 24th from 7:30 to 10:30pm. The Autumn scents are live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab! First, the Halloweenies… ++ HALLOWEENIE ALL SAINTS 2010 Based on a venerable French pontifical incense blend: monastic frankincense and myrrh, Damascus rose, Russian gardenia, cassia, and lily of the valley wafting on a chill Autumn wind. A celebration of the glory and suffering of the saints and matryrs of the Church. ALL SOULS 2010 A day of remembrance and intercession. Without the prayers and sacrifices of their families and loved ones, the faithful departed may not be cleansed of their venal sins, and thereby cannot attain beatific vision. On November 2nd, prayers are sung and offerings are made to aid lost souls in transcending purgatory. An incense blend that invokes the higher qualities of mercy and compassion, mingled with the soft, sugared currant scent of offertory soul cakes. BLUE PUMPKIN FLOSS Puffy clouds of pumpkin candyfloss with a trickle of blackberry juice. BOO 2010 Eerie billows of spun sugar, fluttering white cotton, and sheets of cream. CALAVERAS Clever little satirical poems in the style of epitaphs written to tease the living and ease grief over a loved one's passing. Xocolatl, tequila, copal incense, smoke-dried jalapeños, vanilla pods, and cajeta. DIA DE LOS ÑATITAS On November 8, the indigenous people of Bolivia share the day with the bones of their ancestors, a custom that has its roots in pre-Columbian Quechua / Aymara spiritual practise. Each person has seven souls, and one stays with the skull after a person dies. The seventh souls can visit loved ones in dreams, grant aid in times of need, perform miracles, and are empowered to bring bounty to the spirit's descendants. The skulls of a person's deceased ancestors are cleaned, blessed, and sanctified, and are brought home to reside with their living relatives. On the Day of the Skulls, these souls are honored, and thanks is given for the blessings they have granted in the previous year. Their skulls are taken from the home altars they reside in to a graveyard in order to receive a mass blessing. They are crowned with colorful knitted caps or gorgeous rings of fresh flowers, are given offerings of food, cocoa leaves, sweets, alcohol, and cigarettes, and are serenaded by street musicians. Hydrangea blossoms and rose petals, cigarette smoke, cocoa leaves, and chichi. FLOR DE MUERTO The orange marigold, or zempasúchitl, has been one of Death's symbols since the pre-Columbian era. The yellow and orange petals are believed to represent the rays of the sun, bringing joy and light to the souls dwelling in the realm of the dead. These flowers surround Day of the Dead altars to guide the spirits to their offerings. GHOULISH This season's Ridiculous Scent! Creepy like Creepy and as spooky as Spooky, this is the scent of a black cherry and coconut amaretto confection gently laced with saffron. THE HAG The Hag is astride, This night for to ride; The Devill and shee together: Through thick, and through thin, Now out, and then in, Though ne'r so foule be the weather. A Thorn or a Burr She takes for a Spurre: With a lash of a Bramble she rides now, Through Brakes and through Bryars, O're Ditches, and Mires, She followes the Spirit that guides now. No Beast, for his food, Dares now range the wood; But husht in his laire he lies lurking: While mischiefs, by these, On Land and on Seas, At noone of Night are working, The storme will arise, And trouble the skies; This night, and more for the wonder, The ghost from the Tomb Affrighted shall come, Cal'd out by the clap of the Thunder. Black musk, bay leaves, galangal, bourbon vetiver, blackcurrant, and rum. GOLLETES A circular pastry glazed with pink sugar that symbolizes the sweetness of life and the certainty of death. HUESOS DE SANTO 2010 On All Saints Day, Spanish families visit their loved ones in the cemeteries, keeping vigil throughout the evening, saying prayers for the dead. Family burial plots are cleaned and tended, and graves are adorned with gladiolas, chrysanthemums, and roses. Bone-shaped pastries called Saint's Bones, or the Bones of the Holy, are baked and shared in honor of the souls in Purgatory, and to remind us of those who no longer share our repast, but with whom we one day hope to be reunited with again. Orange-glazed cake, dotted with anise seed, and filled with custard, set beside a bouquet of celebratory funeral flowers. LAMBS-WOOL 2010 According to William Shepard Walsh, the Gentleman's Magazine for May of 1784 stated, "this is a constant ingredient at merrymaking on Holy Eve." He also quotes Vallancey's etymological speculation: "The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, etc., and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, -- that is, the day of the apple fruit, -- and being pronounced Lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to Lambs-wool." A popular holy day beverage in 18th century Ireland: roasted apples mashed into warmed milk and ale, with nutmeg, sugar, ginger, and clove. NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Dewy green leaves colored by Moroccan amber, ginseng, and rooibos. OCTOBER 2010 Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath! When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf, And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief And the year smiles as it draws near its death. Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay In the gay woods and in the golden air, Like to a good old age released from care, Journeying, in long serenity, away. In such a bright, late quiet, would that I Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks, And music of kind voices ever nigh; And when my last sand twinkled in the glass, Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass. Dry, cold autumn wind. A rustle of red leaves, a touch of smoke and sap in the air. PUMPKIN LATTE Espresso, pumpkin syrup, smoky vanilla bean, milk, raw sugar, and a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg. PUNKIE NIGHT 2010 Once upon a time, on a wild October night many years ago, a fair took place at Chiselborough. The men of the village of Hinton St. George made their way to the fair, and spent the night in revelry, drinking and carrying on, far into the darkest hours. Their wives grew concerned, and went looking for their unruly husbands. In order to see their way through the autumn gloom, they hollowed out mangel-wurzels and crafted them into makeshift lanterns. The drunken men, in their sloshy haze, saw the ghostly lights approaching, and believed them to be goolies -- the furious spirits of unbaptized children. In terror, they fled in panic from their bemused, bewildered wives. To this day, that night of foolishness is still celebrated! This is a light-hearted scent: apple orchards, bright cranberries, and a touch of warm cider. SAMHAIN 2010 Truly the scent of autumn itself -- damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein. SUGAR SKULL 2010 Vibrant with the joy and sweetness of life in death! A blend of five sugars, lightly dusted with candied fruits. THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE The trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky; Upon the brimming water among the stones Are nine-and-fifty swans. The nineteenth autumn has come upon me Since I first made my count; I saw, before I had well finished, All suddenly mount And scatter wheeling in great broken rings Upon their clamorous wings. I have looked upon those brilliant creatures, And now my heart is sore. All's changed since I, hearing at twilight, The first time on this shore, The bell-beat of their wings above my head, Trod with a lighter tread. Unwearied still, lover by lover, They paddle in the cold Companionable streams or climb the air; Their hearts have not grown old; Passion or conquest, wander where they will, Attend upon them still. But now they drift on the still water, Mysterious, beautiful; Among what rushes will they build, By what lake's edge or pool Delight men's eyes when I awake some day To find they have flown away? October twilight. Falling leaves breaking the stillness of cool water, with sweet autumn clematis, feather-soft orris root, luminous white chypre, and muguet. ++ HALLOWEENIE: MNEMOSYNE I’ve spent Halloween in four cities — Brooklyn, Los Angeles, New Orleans, and San Francisco. Halloween night in each of these cities bears the stamp of a very distinct scent memory for me. When I was very little, my father took me to the Green-Wood Cemetery so that I could pay my respects to those who had passed before us. I remember the afternoon as cold and clear, I remember picking up pine cones and putting them in my mother’s handbag, and I remember the blanket of purple flowers that dotted the grass. I’ve spent many, many Halloweens in New Orleans. To me, it is the most beautiful, most imperfectly perfect city in the world. My strongest memory is of sitting on the banks of the Mississippi in the arms of my someday husband, the sounds of revelry in the distance, enveloped by the scent of water, moss, and sweet olive. I spent two Halloweens in San Francisco. It was a sad, strange time in my life, as I was still grieving over the death of my father, and the scent of those nights evokes a sense of melancholy for me still. Rain battering leaves that are already soaked by rain, and the salty mist coming from the Pacific. I grew up in Los Angeles, and spent most of my Halloweens here. Of all the Halloween nights, one stands out the strongest in my memory. When I was in third grade, the hills behind my parent’s house were on fire. The fire was growing, and it was close; we were on evacuation watch all that night. The fire was massive: the skyline was vibrant, electric orange, and I couldn’t stop staring at it. It felt like noon at midnight to me. The smoke penetrated everything, drowning out the scent of my grandmother’s caramel apples. Halloween in Los Angeles has a peculiar scent, and there always seems to be something ablaze here. To me, Halloween in Los Angeles will forever smell like fire and fascination. The soul of each of these cities is expressed so uniquely, so beautifully, and so eloquently on Halloween night, and they have all left an indelible imprint on my psyche. Happy Halloween. HALLOWEEN: BROOKLYN Flowering dogwood, weeping cherry, Korean pine, camellia, moonflower, Alberta spruce, arborvitae, and crab apples. HALLOWEEN: LOS ANGELES The sky on fire: a strange incense of burning brush, junegrass, tumbleweeds, chaparral, and wild sage. HALLOWEEN: NEW ORLEANS The distinctive scent of the Mississippi at night mingling with sweet olive and Spanish moss. HALLOWEEN: SAN FRANCISCO Salt air wafting in from the bay. Rain falling on rain-soaked leaves. The 'Patch is lying fallow this year. However, the Pomegranate Grove is bearing some beautiful fruit. Pick individual pomegranates from the Grove, or snatch up the whole shebang! ++ HALLOWEEN: POMEGRANATE GROVE About the pomegranate I must say nothing, for its story is something of a mystery. - Pausanias POMEGRANATE I Pomegranate, poet's jasmine, and benzoin. POMEGRANATE II Pomegranate, white musk, lemon verbena, grapefruit, pink lime. POMEGRANATE III Pomegranate, Tamil Nadu sandalwood, lavender, tamarind, hazelnut, Atlas cedarwood, sugar date, bitter clove, and Arabian myrrh. POMEGRANATE IV Pomegranate, cognac, red musk, cocoa, tobacco absolute, star anise, and thyme. POMEGRANATE V Pomegranate, carnation, amber, cardamom, neroli, vetiver, black pepper, and opium tar. If you purchase the POMEGRANATE GROVE set, you will receive an imp of: THE HERAEON OF ARGOS Argive Hera. The temple in the Argolid that was dedicated to Hera, the Queen of Heaven, in her aspect as the Great Triple Goddess. Pomegranate, apple blossom, fig, willow bark, and almond. Also for Halloween, we have the first in a series of tributes to Gothic fiction tropes. Please note: the scents in this series include quotes from classic literary works which may disturb modern sensibilities. The tropes of Gothic fiction and the Gothic horror subgenre are a part of our literary heritage, and are something to be cherished despite how unsettling the subject matter can be. Please proceed with caution into this realm, particularly if you are bothered by descriptions of immoral and possibly illegal acts. + HALLOWEEN: GOTHIC FICTION, VOLUME 1 That the exercise of our benevolent feelings, as called forth by the view of human afflictions, should be a source of pleasure, cannot appear wonderful to one who considers that relation between the moral and natural system of man, which has connected a degree of satisfaction with every action or emotion productive of the general welfare. The painful sensation immediately arising from a scene of misery, is so much softened and alleviated by the reflex sense of self-approbation on attending virtuous sympathy, that we find, on the whole, a very exquisite and refined pleasure remaining, which makes us desirous of again being witnesses to such scenes, instead of flying from them with disgust and horror. It is obvious how greatly such a provision must conduce to the ends of mutual support and assistance. But the apparent delight with which we dwell upon objects of pure terror, where our moral feelings are not in the least concerned, and no passion seems to be excited but the depressing one of fear, is a paradox of the heart, much more difficult of solution. The reality of this source of pleasure seems evident from daily observation. The greediness with which the tales of ghosts and goblins, of murders, earthquakes, fires, shipwrecks, and all the most terrible disasters attending human life, are devoured by every ear, must have been generally remarked. Tragedy, the most favourite work of fiction, has taken a full share of those scenes; "it has supt full with horrors"--and has, perhaps, been more indebted to its tender and pathetic parts. The ghost of Hamlet, Macbeth descending into the witches' cave, and the tent scene in *Richard*, command as forcibly the attention of our souls as the parting of Jasseir and Belvidera, the fall of Wolsey, or the death of Shore. The inspiration of *terror* was by the antient critics assigned as the peculiar province of tragedy; and the Greek and Roman tragedians have introduced some extraordinary personages for this purpose: not only the shades of the dead, but the furies and other fabulous inhabitants of the infernal regions. Collins, in his most poetical ode to Fear, has finely enforced this idea. "Tho' gentle Pity claims her mingled part, Yet all the thunders of the scene are thine." The old Gothic romance and the Eastern tale, with their genii, giants, enchantments, and transformations, however a refined critic may censure them as absurd and extravagant, will ever retain a most powerful influence on the mind, and interest the reader independently of all peculiarity of taste. Thus the great Milton, who had a strong bias to these wildnesses of the imagination, has with striking effect made the stories "of forests and enchantments drear," a favourite subject with his *Penseroso*; and had undoubtedly their awakening images strong upon his mind when he breaks out, "Call up him that left half-toldHow are we then to account for the pleasure derived from such objects? I have often been led to imagine that there is a deception in these cases; and that the avidity with which we attend is not a proof of our receiving real pleasure. The pain of suspense, and the irresistible desire of satisfying curiosity, when once raised, for our eagerness to go quite through an adventure, though we suffer actual pain during the whole course of it. We rather choose to suffer the smart pang of a violent emotion than the uneasy craving of an unsatisfied desire. That this principle, in many instances, may involuntarily carry us through what we dislike, I am convinced from experience. This is the impulse which renders the poorest and most insipid narrative interesting when once we get fairly into it; and I have frequently felt it with regard to our modern novels, which, if lying on my table, and taken up in an idle hour, have led me through the most tedious and disgusting pages, while, like Pistol eating his leek, I have swallowed and execrated to the end. And it will not only force us through dulness, but through actual torture--through the relation of a Damien's execution, or an inquisitor's act of faith. When children, therefore, listen with pale and mute attention to the frightful stories of apparitions, we are not, perhaps, to imagine that they are in a state of enjoyment, any more than the poor bird which is dropping into the mouth of the rattlesnake--they are chained by the ears, and fascinated by curiosity. This solution, however, does not satisfy me with respect to the well-wrought scenes of artificial terror which are formed by a sublime and vigorous imagination. Here, though we know before-hand what to expect, we enter into them with eagerness, in quest of a pleasure already experienced. This is the pleasure constantly attached to the excitement of surprise from new and wonderful objects. A strange and unexpected event awakens the mind, and keeps it on the stretch; and where the agency of invisible beings is introduced, of "forms unseen, and mightier far than we," our imagination, darting forth, explores with rapture the new world which is laid open to its view, and rejoices in the expansion of its powers. Passion and fancy cooperating elevate the soul to its highest pitch; and the pain of terror is lost in amazement. Hence the more wild, fanciful, and extraordinary are the circumstance of a scene of horror, the more pleasure we receive from it; and where they are too near common nature, though violently borne by curiosity through the adventure, we cannot repeat it or reflect on it, without an overbalance of pain. In the *Arabian Nights* are many most striking examples of the terrible joined with the marvellous: the story of Alladin, and the travels of Sinbad, are particularly excellent. *The Castle of Otranto* is a very spirited modern attempt upon the same plan of mixed terror, adapted to the model of Gothic romance. The best conceived, and most strongly worked-up scene of mere natural horror that I recollect, is in Smollett's *Ferdinand Count Fathom*; where the hero, entertained in a lone house in a forest, finds a corpse just slaughtered in the room where he is sent to sleep, and the door of which is locked upon him. It may be amusing for the reader to compare his feelings upon these, and from thence form his opinion of the justness of my theory. The following fragment, in which both these manners are attempted to be in some degree united, is offered to entertain a solitary winter's evening. "On the Pleasure Derived from Objects of Terror, with Sir Bertrand, a Fragment" —John Aikin THE BYRONIC ANTIHERO He stood --- some dread was on his face, Soon Hatred settled in its place: It rose not with the reddening flush Of transient Anger's hasty blush, But pale as marble o'er the tomb, Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom. His brow was bent, his eye was glazed; He raised his arm, and fiercely raised, And sternly shook his hand on high, As doubting to return or fly; Impatient of his flight delay'd, Here loud his raven charger neigh'd --- Down glanced that hand, and grasp'd his blade; That sound had burst his waking dream, As Slumber starts at owlet's scream, The spur hath lanced his courser's sides; Away, away, for life he rides: Swift as the hurl'd on high jerreed Springs to the touch his startled steed: The rock is doubled, and the shore Shakes with the clattering tramp no more: The crag is won, no more is seen His Christian crest and haughty mien. 'T was but an instant he restrain'd That fiery barb so sternly rein'd; 'T was but a moment that he stood, Then sped as if by death pursued; But in that instant o'er his soul Winters of Memory seem'd to roll, And gather in that drop of time A life of pain, an age of crime. O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears, Such moment pours the grief of years: What felt he then, at once opprest By all that most distracts the breast? That pause, which ponder'd o'er his fate, Oh, who its dreary length shall date ! Though in Time's record nearly nought, It was Eternity to Thought ! For infinite as boundless space The thought that Conscience must embrace, Which in itself can comprehend Woe without name, or hope, or end. —The Giaour, Lord Byron An aristocratic cologne of titanic passions, moody and brooding. This scent is dark with disillusionment and cynicism: a Victorian fougère and a dashing carnation boutonnière tainted by a cloud of khus, yew, and patchouli. THE CREEPING MIST I stopped my horse, and looked round me again. Yes: I saw it. With my own eyes I saw it. A pillar of white mist—between five and six feet high, as well as I could judge—was moving beside me at the edge of the road, on my left hand. When I stopped, the white mist stopped. When I went on, the white mist went on. I pushed my horse to a trot—the pillar of mist was with me. I urged him to a gallop—the pillar of mist was with me. I stopped him again—the pillar of mist stood still. The white colour of it was the white colour of the fog which I had seen over the river—on the night when I had gone to bid her farewell. And the chill which had then crept through me to the bones was the chill that was creeping through me now. I went on again slowly. The white mist went on again slowly—with the clear bright night all round it. I was awed rather than frightened. There was one moment, and one only, when the fear came to me that my reason might be shaken. I caught myself keeping time to the slow tramp of the horse's feet with the slow utterance of these words, repeated over and over again: 'Jéromette is dead. Jéromette is dead.' But my will was still my own: I was able to control myself, to impose silence on my own muttering lips. And I rode on quietly. And the pillar of mist went quietly with me. My groom was waiting for my return at the rectory gate. I pointed to the mist, passing through the gate with me. 'Do you see anything there?' I said. The man looked at me in astonishment. I entered the rectory. The housekeeper met me in the hall. I pointed to the mist, entering with me. 'Do you see anything at my side?' I asked. The housekeeper looked at me as the groom had looked at me. 'I am afraid you are not well, sir,' she said. 'Your colour is all gone—you are shivering. Let me get you a glass of wine.' —Miss Jéromette and the Clergyman, Wilkie Collins A muculent, brumous, ill-omened scent: orris, yuzu, white ginger, linden flower, petitgrain, and lotus. THE DECREPIT HOUSE During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was; but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me—upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain—upon the bleak walls—upon the vacant eye-like windows—upon a few rank sedges—and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees—with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveler upon opium—the bitter lapse into every-day life—the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart—an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it—I paused to think—what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher? It was a mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowded upon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion that while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and, acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled luster by the dwelling, and gazed down—but with a shudder even more thrilling than before—upon the remodeled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows. —The Fall of the House of Usher, EA Poe An architectural doppelganger reflecting a ruined soul: dilapidated planks of mahogany and cypress wood perched feebly on a grim foundation of long-dead leaves, black musk, patchouli, galbanum, tobacco absolute, fragonia, and oakmoss. A HOWL IN THE DARKNESS At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than he had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to tremble worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I could not see any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether. But just then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import. All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared, and looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to see. But the living ring of terror encompassed them on every side, and they had perforce to remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break out through the ring and to aid his approach, I shouted and beat the side of the caleche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from the side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that we were again in darkness. When I could see again the driver was climbing into the caleche, and the wolves disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon. —Dracula, Bram Stoker A scent evocative of a forest at midnight, with animalic brown musk, wild sage, Terebinth pine, black oak, and a chilly shock of terror personified by kunzea, cistus labdanum, verbena, juniper, metallic ozone, and white mint. THE INFERNAL LOVER She ceased. While She spoke, a thousand opposing sentiments combated in Ambrosio's bosom. Surprise at the singularity of this adventure, Confusion at her abrupt declaration, Resentment at her boldness in entering the Monastery, and Consciousness of the austerity with which it behooved him to reply, such were the sentiments of which He was aware; But there were others also which did not obtain his notice. He perceived not, that his vanity was flattered by the praises bestowed upon his eloquence and virtue; that He felt a secret pleasure in reflecting that a young and seemingly lovely Woman had for his sake abandoned the world, and sacrificed every other passion to that which He had inspired: Still less did He perceive that his heart throbbed with desire, while his hand was pressed gently by Matilda's ivory fingers. —The Monk, MG Lewis A creamy, sensual, honeyed red musk. ECCLESIASTICAL EXCESSES Hark, Ambrosio, while I unveil your crimes! You have shed the blood of two innocents; Antonia and Elvira perished by your hand. That Antonia whom you violated, was your Sister! That Elvira whom you murdered, gave you birth! Tremble, abandoned Hypocrite! Inhuman Parricide! Incestuous Ravisher! Tremble at the extent of your offences! And you it was who thought yourself proof against temptation, absolved from human frailties, and free from error and vice! Is pride then a virtue? Is inhumanity no fault? Know, vain Man! That I long have marked you for my prey: I watched the movements of your heart; I saw that you were virtuous from vanity, not principle, and I seized the fit moment of seduction. I observed your blind idolatry of the Madonna's picture. I bade a subordinate but crafty spirit assume a similar form, and you eagerly yielded to the blandishments of Matilda. Your pride was gratified by her flattery; Your lust only needed an opportunity to break forth; You ran into the snare blindly, and scrupled not to commit a crime which you blamed in another with unfeeling severity. It was I who threw Matilda in your way; It was I who gave you entrance to Antonia's chamber; It was I who caused the dagger to be given you which pierced your Sister's bosom; and it was I who warned Elvira in dreams of your designs upon her Daughter, and thus, by preventing your profiting by her sleep, compelled you to add rape as well as incest to the catalogue of your crimes. Hear, hear, Ambrosio! Had you resisted me one minute longer, you had saved your body and soul. The guards whom you heard at your prison door came to signify your pardon. But I had already triumphed: My plots had already succeeded. Scarcely could I propose crimes so quick as you performed them. You are mine, and Heaven itself cannot rescue you from my power. Hope not that your penitence will make void our contract. Here is your bond signed with your blood; You have given up your claim to mercy, and nothing can restore to you the rights which you have foolishly resigned. Believe you that your secret thoughts escaped me? No, no, I read them all! You trusted that you should still have time for repentance. I saw your artifice, knew its falsity, and rejoiced in deceiving the deceiver! You are mine beyond reprieve: I burn to possess my right, and alive you quit not these mountains. —The Monk, MG Lewis Faustian depravity: daemonorops, rose-infused frankincense, vetiver, mate absolute, and clove bud. ENCROACHING MADNESS It is the strangest yellow, that wall-paper! It makes me think of all the yellow things I ever saw—not beautiful ones like buttercups, but old foul, bad yellow things. But there is something else about that paper—the smell! I noticed it the moment we came into the room, but with so much air and sun it was not bad. Now we have had a week of fog and rain, and whether the windows are open or not, the smell is here. It creeps all over the house. I find it hovering in the dining-room, skulking in the parlor, hiding in the hall, lying in wait for me on the stairs. It gets into my hair. Even when I go to ride, if I turn my head suddenly and surprise it—there is that smell! Such a peculiar odor, too! I have spent hours in trying to analyze it, to find what it smelled like. It is not bad—at first, and very gentle, but quite the subtlest, most enduring odor I ever met. In this damp weather it is awful, I wake up in the night and find it hanging over me. It used to disturb me at first. I thought seriously of burning the house—to reach the smell. But now I am used to it. The only thing I can think of that it is like is the COLOR of the paper! A yellow smell. There is a very funny mark on this wall, low down, near the mopboard. A streak that runs round the room. It goes behind every piece of furniture, except the bed, a long, straight, even SMOOCH, as if it had been rubbed over and over. I wonder how it was done and who did it, and what they did it for. Round and round and round—round and round and round—it makes me dizzy! I really have discovered something at last. Through watching so much at night, when it changes so, I have finally found out. The front pattern DOES move—and no wonder! The woman behind shakes it! Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, and sometimes only one, and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes it all over. Then in the very bright spots she keeps still, and in the very shady spots she just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard. And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through that pattern—it strangles so; I think that is why it has so many heads. They get through, and then the pattern strangles them off and turns them upside down, and makes their eyes white! If those heads were covered or taken off it would not be half so bad. I think that woman gets out in the daytime! And I'll tell you why—privately—I've seen her! I can see her out of every one of my windows! It is the same woman, I know, for she is always creeping, and most women do not creep by daylight. I see her on that long road under the trees, creeping along, and when a carriage comes she hides under the blackberry vines. I don't blame her a bit. It must be very humiliating to be caught creeping by daylight! —The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman A yellow smell. Old foul, bad yellow things. Honeysuckle, chrysanthemum, balsam, hydrangea, and helichrysum. THE SHADOWY AND THE SUBLIME Meanwhile, the deep impression made by this unknown tormentor, the monk, and especially by his prediction of the death of Bianchi, remained upon his mind, and he once more determined to ascertain, if possible, the true nature of the portentous visitant, and what were the motives which induced him thus to haunt his footsteps and interrupt his peace. He was awed by the circumstances which had attended the visitations of the monk, if monk it was; by the suddenness of his appearance, and departure; by the truth of his prophecies; and, above all, by the solemn event which had verified his last warning; and his imagination, thus elevated by wonder and painful curiosity, was prepared for something above the reach of common conjecture, and beyond the accomplishment of human agency. His understanding was sufficiently clear and strong to teach him to detect many errors of opinion, that prevailed around him, as well as to despise the common superstitions of his country, and in the usual state of his mind, he probably would not have paused for a moment on the subject before him; but his passions were not interested, and his fancy awakened, and, though he was unconscious of this propensity, he would, perhaps, have been somewhat disappointed, to have suddenly from the region of fearful sublimity to which he had soared —the world of terrible shadows— to the earth, on which he daily walked, and to an explanation simply natural. —The Italian, Ann Radcliffe A sudden and shocking insight into the vast, ineffable, overwhelming power of Nature, stirred by a vision or experience of perfected beauty and perfected terror, that changes the soul irretrievably. An epiphany: Moroccan amber, wisteria, ambergris accord, white rose, magnolia, white mint, angelica, bergamot, and myrrh. THE MADWOMAN In the deep shade, at the farther end of the room, a figure ran backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face. —Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte Dusty white sandalwood, ragged cloth, and a dry, long-dead bridal bouquet. ODD PORTENTS "Isaac, you dreamed your ill dream on this Wednesday morning. What time was it when you saw the fair woman with the knife in her hand?" Isaac reflected on what the landlord had said when they had passed by the clock on his leaving the inn; allowed as nearly as he could for the time that must have elapsed between the unlocking of his bedroom door and the paying of his bill just before going away, and answered. "Somewhere about two o'clock in the morning." His mother suddenly quitted her hold of his neck, and struck her hands together with a gesture of despair. "This Wednesday is your birthday, Isaac, and two o'clock in the morning was the time when you were born." —Brother Morgan's Story of the Dream-Woman, wilkie Collins Black rose, olibanum, dark musk, myrrh, blackcurrant, lavender buds, bourbon geranium, and amber incense. THE UNSAVORY GRAVE-DIGGERS "The great thing is not to be afraid. Now, between you and me, I don't want to hang--that's practical; but for all cant, Macfarlane, I was born with a contempt. Hell, God, Devil, right, wrong, sin, crime, and all the old gallery of curiosities --they may frighten boys, but men of the world, like you and me, despise them. Here's to the memory of Gray!" It was by this time growing somewhat late. The gig, according to order, was brought round to the door with both lamps brightly shining, and the young men had to pay their bill and take the road. They announced that they were bound for Peebles, and drove in that direction till they were clear of the last houses of the town; then, extinguishing the lamps, returned upon their course, and followed a by-road toward Glencorse. There was no sound but that of their own passage, and the incessant, strident pouring of the rain. It was pitch dark; here and there a white gate or a white stone in the wall guided them for a short space across the night; but for the most part it was at a foot pace, and almost groping, that they picked their way through that resonant blackness to their solemn and isolated destination. In the sunken woods that traverse the neighbourhood of the burying-ground the last glimmer failed them, and it became necessary to kindle a match and reillumine one of the lanterns of the gig. Thus, under the dripping trees, and environed by huge and moving shadows, they reached the scene of their unhallowed labours. They were both experienced in such affairs, and powerful with the spade; and they had scarce been twenty minutes at their task before they were rewarded by a dull rattle on the coffin lid. At the same moment Macfarlane, having hurt his hand upon a stone, flung it carelessly above his head. The grave, in which they now stood almost to the shoulders, was close to the edge of the plateau of the graveyard; and the gig lamp had been propped, the better to illuminate their labours, against a tree, and on the immediate verge of the steep bank descending to the stream. Chance had taken a sure aim with the stone. Then came a clang of broken glass; night fell upon them; sounds alternately dull and ringing announced the bounding of the lantern down the bank, and its occasional collision with the trees. A stone or two, which it had dislodged in its descent, rattled behind it into the profundities of the glen; and then silence, like night, resumed its sway; and they might bend their hearing to its utmost pitch, but naught was to be heard except the rain, now marching to the wind, now steadily falling over miles of open country. They were so nearly at an end of their abhorred task that they judged it wisest to complete it in the dark. The coffin was exhumed and broken open; the body inserted in the dripping sack and carried between them to the gig; one mounted to keep it in its place, and the other, taking the horse by the mouth, groped along by wall and bush until they reached the wider road by the Fisher's Tryst. Here was a faint, diffused radiancy, which they hailed like daylight; by that they pushed the horse to a good pace and began to rattle along merrily in the direction of the town. They had both been wetted to the skin during their operations, and now, as the gig jumped among the deep ruts, the thing that stood propped between them fell now upon one and now upon the other. At every repetition of the horrid contact each instinctively repelled it with the greater haste; and the process, natural although it was, began to tell upon the nerves of the companions. Macfarlane made some ill-favoured jest about the farmer's wife, but it came hollowly from his lips, and was allowed to drop in silence. Still their unnatural burden bumped from side to side; and now the head would be laid, as if in confidence, upon their shoulders, and now the drenching sackcloth would flap icily about their faces. A creeping chill began to possess the soul of Fettes. He peered at the bundle, and it seemed somehow larger than at first. All over the countryside, and from every degree of distance, the farm dogs accompanied their passage with tragic ululations; and it grew and grew upon his mind that some unnatural miracle had been accomplished, that some nameless change had befallen the dead body, and that it was in fear of their unholy burden that the dogs were howling. "For God's sake," said he, making a great effort to arrive at speech, "for God's sake, let's have a light!" Seemingly Macfarlane was affected in the same direction; for, though he made no reply, he stopped the horse, passed the reins to his companion, got down, and proceeded to kindle the remaining lamp. They had by that time got no farther than the cross-road down to Auchenclinny. The rain still poured as though the deluge were returning, and it was no easy matter to make a light in such a world of wet and darkness. When at last the flickering blue flame had been transferred to the wick and began to expand and clarify, and shed a wide circle of misty brightness round the gig, it became possible for the two young men to see each other and the thing they had along with them. The rain had moulded the rough sacking to the outlines of the body underneath; the head was distinct from the trunk, the shoulders plainly modelled; something at once spectral and human riveted their eyes upon the ghastly comrade of their drive. —The Body-Snatchers, RL Stevenson An unearthed oakwood coffin, cemetery weeds, and a hint of booze. THE UNSTEADY GOVERNESS It made me, the sound of the words, in which it seemed to me that I caught for the very first time a small faint quaver of consenting consciousness—it made me drop on my knees beside the bed and seize once more the chance of possessing him. "Dear little Miles, dear little Miles, if you KNEW how I want to help you! It's only that, it's nothing but that, and I'd rather die than give you a pain or do you a wrong—I'd rather die than hurt a hair of you. Dear little Miles"—oh, I brought it out now even if I SHOULD go too far—"I just want you to help me to save you!" But I knew in a moment after this that I had gone too far. The answer to my appeal was instantaneous, but it came in the form of an extraordinary blast and chill, a gust of frozen air, and a shake of the room as great as if, in the wild wind, the casement had crashed in. The boy gave a loud, high shriek, which, lost in the rest of the shock of sound, might have seemed, indistinctly, though I was so close to him, a note either of jubilation or of terror. I jumped to my feet again and was conscious of darkness. So for a moment we remained, while I stared about me and saw that the drawn curtains were unstirred and the window tight. "Why, the candle's out!" I then cried. "It was I who blew it, dear!" said Miles. —The Turn of the Screw, Henry James White tea and violet leaf. And lo! – what have we here? Looks like the Halloween update went live on Friday the 13th… 13: August 2010 13 is significant, whether you consider it lucky, unlucky or just plain odd. Many believe it to be unfortunate... ... because there were 13 present at the Last Supper. ... Loki crashed a party of 12 at Valhalla, which ended in Baldur's death. ... Oinomaos killed 13 of Hippodamia's suitors before Pelops finally, in his own shady way, defeated the jealous king. ... In ancient Rome, Hecate's witches gathered in groups of 12, the Goddess herself being the 13th in the coven. Concern over the number thirteen echoes back beyond the Christian era. Line 13 was omitted form the Code of Hammurabi. The shivers over Friday the 13th also have some interesting origins: ... Christ was allegedly crucified on Friday the 13th. ... On Friday, October 13, 1307, King Philip IV of France ordered the arrests of Jaques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, and sixty of his senior knights. ... In British custom, hangings were held on Fridays, and there were 13 steps on the gallows leading to the noose. To combat the superstition, Robert Ingersoll and the Thirteen Club held thirteen-men dinners during the 19th Century. Successful? Hardly. The number still invokes trepidation to this day. A recent whimsical little serial killer study showed that the following murderers all have names that total thirteen letters: Theodore Bundy Jeffrey Dahmer Albert De Salvo John Wayne Gacy And, with a little stretch of the imagination, you can also fit ”˜Jack the Ripper' and ”˜Charles Manson' into that equation. More current-era paranoia: modern schoolchildren stop their memorization of the multiplication tables at 12. There were 13 Plutonium slugs in the atomic bomb that was dropped on Nagasaki. Apollo 13 wasn't exactly the most successful space mission. All of these are things that modern triskaidekaphobes point to when justifying their fears. For some, 13 is an extremely fortuitous and auspicious number... ... In Jewish tradition, God has 13 Attributes of Mercy. Also, there were 13 tribes of Israel, 13 principles of Jewish faith, and 13 is considered the age of maturity. ... The ancient Egyptians believed that there were 12 stages of spiritual achievement in this lifetime, and a 13th beyond death. ... The word for thirteen, in Chinese, sounds much like the word which means “must be alive” . Thirteen, whether you love it or loathe it, is a pretty cool number all around. ... In some theories of relativity, there are 13 dimensions. ... It is a prime number, lucky number, star number, Wilson Prime, and Fibonacci number. ... There are 13 Archimedean solids. AND... ... There were 13 original colonies when the United States were founded. Says a lot about the US, doesn't it? A base of bitter dark chocolate with thirteen baneful and beneficial bits including pimento berry, pink pepper, tolu balsam, bergamot, golden honey, tobacco absolute, champaca flower, and paprika. Thirteen will be live until the fourteenth, as is our custom, and the Halloweenies will be live until the November Lunacy comes down. All the Halloweenies are $20, and the Pomegranate Grove is $97. The Halloweenies will be out for sniff preview at Dark Delicacies on August 21 during the Magnolia Park car show, and will also be out for sniffing at all the August will call events. Black Phoenix Trading Post’s Halloween update will be going live later this month! Please keep your eyes peeled. Black Phoenix will be vending at New York Comic Con, October 8 - 10th, at the Javits Center in New York City. Booth 2851! In not-such-awesome news, we are discontinuing the following scents, effective immediately: Hi’iaka Jester The Lady on the Grey The Mock Turtles Lessons Queen Mab St Germain Tempest Yvaine We sincerely apologize for pulling these without notice, but we have no choice. We will do what we can to fill currently pending orders, but cannot accept new orders for these scents. Thank you so much for understanding… And… that’s all the news that’s fit to print! Updated 25 July 2010: This month the lunacy is Joyful Moon – JOYFUL MOON There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;— Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day. The things which I have seen I now can see no more. The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose, The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare, Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth. White musk, French vanilla, ambrette seed, frankgipani, angelica root, white rose, orris, and honeysuckle.  Joyful Moon artwork by Manda Lander. Also new this month is a scent introduced at San Diego Comic Con: LIBERTY Liberty was created for the CBLDF, inspired by Eugène Delacroix's Liberty Leading the People: frankincense, beeswax, olive blossom, chamomile, sampaguita, magnolia, apple blossom, gunpowder, and smoke. This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture: proceeds from every single bottle of Liberty go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, which works to preserve and protect the First Amendment rights of the comics community. A few stray honeys have found their way into Rappaccini's Apiary: Laurel Honey Horse Chestnut Honey Daphne Honey Tobacco Honey Black Hellebore Honey And the Elfin Hill has come to stay. ++ MARCHEN MOONSHINE AND MIST The elfin maidens were already dancing on the elf hill, and they danced in shawls woven from moonshine and mist, which looked very pretty to those who like such things. Ethereal, otherworldly, delicate: ambergris, white musk, water violet, ylang ylang, magnolia, and white sandalwood. We must have all the old demons of the first class, with tails, and the hobgoblins and imps; and then I think we ought not to leave out the death-horse, or the grave-pig, or even the church dwarf, although they do belong to the clergy, and are not reckoned among our people; but that is merely their office, they are nearly related to us, and visit us very frequently. OLD DEMONS OF THE FIRST CLASS Siberian musk, black clove, opoponax, tonka, black pepper, and neroli. THE DEATH-HORSE Lily of the Valley and opopponax. THE GRAVE-PIG Fig, oakmoss, mushroom caps, and patchouli. In the kitchen were frogs roasting on the spit, and dishes preparing of snail skins, with children's fingers in them, salad of mushroom seed, hemlock, noses and marrow of mice, beer from the marsh woman's brewery, and sparkling salt-petre wine from the grave cellars. BEER FROM THE MARSH WOMAN'S BREWERY A beer flavored with marsh arrow grass, yew berries, purple foxglove, and giant hogweed. "You are invited to the elf hill for this evening," said she; "but will you do me a great favor and undertake the invitations? you ought to do something, for you have no housekeeping to attend to as I have. We are going to have some very grand people, conjurors, who have always something to say; and therefore the old elf king wishes to make a great display " "Croak," said the night-raven as he flew away with the invitations. THE NIGHT-RAVEN Indigo musk, wild plum, rose geranium, benzoin, night-blooming jasmine, and patchouli. "Well, I suppose I must tell you now," he replied; "two of my daughters must prepare themselves to be married, for the marriages certainly will take place. The old goblin from Norway, who lives in the ancient Dovre mountains, and who possesses many castles built of rock and freestone, besides a gold mine, which is better than all, so it is thought, is coming with his two sons, who are both seeking a wife. The old goblin is a true-hearted, honest, old Norwegian graybeard; cheerful and straightforward. I knew him formerly, when we used to drink together to our good fellowship: he came here once to fetch his wife, she is dead now. She was the daughter of the king of the chalk-hills at Moen. They say he took his wife from chalk; I shall be delighted to see him again. It is said that the boys are ill-bred, forward lads, but perhaps that is not quite correct, and they will become better as they grow older. Let me see that you know how to teach them good manners." THE OLD GOBLIN A crown of hardened ice and polished fir-cones. Updated 13 July 2010: Scents based on Elizabeth Barrial and D.H. Altair's book, Vampires Don't Sleep Alone, are live! Last year, Del Howison and I were hired to write a tongue-in-cheek guide to dating vampires. Essentially, the premise of the book assumes that vampires are real and that they have recently come out of the crypt, so to speak. It explores the potential challenges found in actually dating vampires, and touches on the anthropology and science of vampires. We shelved most of the supernatural tropes, and concentrated on painting as “realistic” a picture as possible. I wrote the deadpan pseudoscience and false history, Del added warmth, contemporary advice, and wit. The project went through many iterations. It was initially supposed to be geared towards teen readers, and then the concept morphed to appeal to a more mature audience. I’m really, really happy with the way that we tweaked the vampire mythos. Dry, dusty rose petals, candle smoke, frankincense, and saffron. INTERFECTOR Ruthless, unfeeling, and inhumanly violent: tobacco, sharp woods, frankincense, and bunn. TOMBEUR Deadly and seductive: vanilla-infused sandalwood, blood musk, antique patchouli, vetiver, lavender, bitter almond, amber, and a trickle of Snake Oil. SILENTI Grave beauty: Spanish moss, lilac, wisteria, myrrh, and olibanum. TRANSEO GA cologne that (almost) blends well into human society: benzoin, orange blossom, cumin, King mandarin, gaiac wood, juniper berry, Calabrian bergamot, Ceylon cinnamon, and blood camouflaged by wine. MISERICORDIA Eons of grief and unending hunger: magnolia, black currant, castoreum accord, lavender, labdanum, amber, rose otto, and opoponax. PHILOLOGUS Ancient books, crackled parchment, faded incense, and candle wax. VESPILLO A grounded, earthy scent, evocative of the soul’s finer qualities: patchouli, clove, neroli, night-blooming jasmine, sage, and iris. SANCTUS Diabolically otherworldly: golden osmanthus, lily of the valley, celestial musk, and frankincense. And last, but not least: VILF Because isn’t that what this book is really about? Vampire smut: patchouli-infused honey, red musk, red sandalwood, red ginger, pink pepper, Peru balsam, dark Eastern florals, Himalayan cedar, smoky vanilla, bitter clove, and leather. Updated 25 June 2010: Ia ora na, everyone! The first summer Black Phoenix update is live! This month, the Lunacy is Fledgling Raptor Moon – FLEDGLING RAPTOR MOON Why should my sleepy heart be taught To whistle mocking-bird replies? This is another bird you've caught, Soft-feathered, with a falcon's eyes. The bird Imagination, That flies so far, that dies so soon; Her wings are colored like the sun, Her breast is colored like the moon. Weave her a chain of silver twist, And a little hood of scarlet wool, And let her perch upon your wrist, And tell her she is beautiful. Warm, soft tufts of down and gleaming tawny feathers: clove, toasted sandalwood, aged patchouli, bourbon vanilla, carnation, massoia bark, hinoki wood, and West Indian Bay.  Artwork for the tee by Jennifer Williamson. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s Raptor perfume and the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab Raptor tee will be live until Tuesday, June 29. Resurrected from the 2008 Limited Edition series, the Atomic Luau Lounge is now pitching a tent in the GC! ATOMIC LUAU LOUNGE: THE BAR In the spirit of Polynesian Pop and Tiki Culture, we present Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's Atomic Luau Lounge: the Bar. Tiki Culture became a phenomenon in the late 50's, likely inspired by Hawaii's admission to the union in 1959 and by the memories of World War II veterans that were stationed in the South Pacifi. Tiki enthusiasts were influenced by a panoply of Polynesian themes, and they embraced pop renditions of island artwork, dress, and music, revamping them with a distinctly campy Western flair. This is our tribute to Donn Beach, a true Pisces if there ever was one. Light the torches, bust out the leis, and bust out the Martin Denny LPs! Without you, Donn, we wouldn't pu pu platters to gorge on, or Zombies to chug! AREMATA-POPOA Blackberry brandy, Castillo rum, ouzo, and iced black tea. BLUE FIRE Papaya, blueberry, lemongrass, and gin. GOLDEN WAVE Tangerine, gin, passion fruit, guava, and tonic. MAHANA Peach liquor, almond syrup, orgeat syrup, and pineapple cream de cacao. PAHOEHOE Grenadine, banana, and coconut rum. POLYNESIAN POP Ginger ale, white rum, and a squeeze of orange. RANGOON RIPTIDE Pineapple, mandarin orange, raspberry, passion fruit, and rum. RED TIDE Raspberry liquor, cranberry juice, gin, mango pulp, and a mint garnish. SCREECHING PARROT Golden rum, apricot liquor, pineapple, pomegranate, ginger, brandy, grapefruit, and pink lime. At Black Phoenix Trading Post, we’re thrilled to debut the Ars Moriendi yoga pants, with artwork by Alicia Dabney, and a new pair of socks, courtesy of the master weavers at Sock Dreams!   Due to the rising price of silver and the cost of manufacture, Black Phoenix Trading Post has no choice but to raise the prices of the pendants and lockets. The new prices are as follows: GC Lockets: $80 GC Pendants: $45 Clocket: $85 Neil Lockets: $85 Neil Pendants: $50 ---- A gentle reminder: Starting with this Will Call, West Coast Will Calls will now be held at Dark Delicacies! Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Blvd (1 block east of Hollywood Way) Burbank, CA 91505 The west coast will call event will be held on Saturday, June 26th, from 4 to 8pm at Dark Delicacies. We accept Mastercard, Visa, American Express and cash. Preorders can still be made with Paypal. ---- GA Will Call will be at Whole Foods Market, aka Harry’s Farmer’s Market, in Roswell, GA. They will be holding Will Call on Sunday, June 27th from 5 to 8 pm, inside Salud (which is inside the store.) Whole Foods Market is located at 1180 Upper Hembree Road, Roswell, GA, 30076. Whole Foods accepts Visa, Master Card, Discover, American Express and cash. They will not be able to accept any preorders. --- The blends that will be available for purchase include those that went live on the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab website up to and including the Lotus Moon update. Forum only scents will not be available at Will Call. f you would like to place an order for pick-up at the North Hollywood Will Call, please do the following: Email us at willcall@blackphoenixalchemylab.com with your order before 1pm on Friday, June 25th. Payment may be remitted by PayPal ahead of time to willcall@blackphoenixalchemylab.com, or you can pay at pick up with cash or credit card. Please do not email orders for the GA location to this address! When making your payment, please omit shipping charges. You may purchase any current catalogue oils, as long as we have them in stock. Due to the sheer volume, currently pending orders can not be combined with Will Call orders. Thanks for your understanding. We will no longer be able to accommodate third party orders. If you are placing an order, you must attend Will Call and pick up your order in person. We will do our best to accommodate all orders, but sales will be based on availability. At this time, imps, imp packs and Twilight Alchemy Lab oils will only be available at Dark Delicacies via preorder. Items from Black Phoenix Trading Post will be available at Dark Delicacies, subject to stock on hand. If you have any questions, please email us at willcall@blackphoenixalchemylab.com. Updated 25 May 2010: Lotus Moon is live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post!  LOTUS MOON "Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land, "This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon." In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; And like a downward smoke, the slender stream Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem. A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke, Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go; And some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke, Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below. They saw the gleaming river seaward flow From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops, Three silent pinnacles of aged snow, Stood sunset-flush'd: and, dew'd with showery drops, Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse. The charmed sunset linger'd low adown In the red West: thro' mountain clefts the dale Was seen far inland, and the yellow down Border'd with palm, and many a winding vale And meadow, set with slender galingale; A land where all things always seem'd the same! And round about the keel with faces pale, Dark faces pale against that rosy flame, The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came. Branches they bore of that enchanted stem, Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave To each, but whoso did receive of them, And taste, to him the gushing of the wave Far far away did seem to mourn and rave On alien shores; and if his fellow spake, His voice was thin, as voices from the grave; And deep-asleep he seem'd, yet all awake, And music in his ears his beating heart did make. They sat them down upon the yellow sand, Between the sun and moon upon the shore; And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland, Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore Most weary seem'd the sea, weary the oar, Weary the wandering fields of barren foam. Then some one said, "We will return no more"; And all at once they sang, "Our island home Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam." Soporose and lenitive: opium-laced golden lotus with rich amber, red sandalwood, pomegranate, frankincense, and rose otto. Artwork by Jennifer Williamson! Lotus Moon will be live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab & Black Phoenix Trading Post until 31 May 2010. Hail Eris! The time has come for this year's Chaos Theory! CHAOS THEORY VI Chaos is the score upon which reality is written. – Henry Miller An old take on Chaos! A new take on Chaos! This year, we are offering the traditional chaos of the original Chaos Theories, manifested as Eris’ Tilt-A-Whirl, and a new Recursive Self-Similarity series. Each CT:6 scent under the auspices of Recursive Self-Similarity, has a base of one of the following scents, in wildly varying proportions: Amber Frankincense Vanilla From these bases comes a new series of flowing, fragrant fractals that emanate from these three roots. Random combinations of oils have been added to every individual bottle, retaining their sensitivity to their initial component, resulting in a truly unique blend that swirls merrily around its core oil. This is an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct. Most common allergens have been omitted from the experiment. No pennyroyal, no nuts, no cinnamon, no cassia. Regardless, if you have any sensitivities, please do not participate in Chaos Theory. The contents of the oils are not recorded [that's the whole point!] and we will not be able to answer questions about specific bottles of CT:6 or guarantee that an allergen is not present in your order. By purchasing CT:6, you agree to absolve Black Phoenix of any responsibility related to an allergic reaction to one of the oils in this series. Please make a responsible choice, and use caution and discretion when ordering. This is intended to be a fun, exciting project. Please bear in mind that all Black Phoenix oils are made in an environment that contains nuts, both literally and figuratively. We hope that you enjoy these scents as much as we enjoyed creating them! CHAOS THEORY VI: RECURSIVE SELF-SIMILARITY V5 The Amber Series CHAOS THEORY VI: RECURSIVE SELF-SIMILARITY V6 The Frankincense Series CHAOS THEORY VI: RECURSIVE SELF-SIMILARITY V7 The Vanilla Series CHAOS THEORY VI: ERIS’ TILT-A-WHIRL Turbulent, disordered beauty: sensitive to initial conditions, topologically mixed, and approached by periodic orbits with abandon. A dynamical system expressed through scent. Also new this month, an entomological reminder of the finer parts of our souls: METAMORPHOSIS Lo, the bright train their radiant wings unfold! With silver fringed, and freckled o'er with gold: On the gay bosom of some fragrant flower They, idly fluttering, live their little hour; Their life all pleasure, and their task all play, All spring their age, and sunshine all their day. - "To Mrs. P--------., With Some Drawings...", Anna Laetitia Aikin The grace, beauty, and complexity of butterflies and moths have permeated myths all over the globe. The symmetry and elegance of their form and the coquettish rhythm of their dance inspires visions of fleeting romance: The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings, That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide, With muffled music, murmured far and wide. Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays, Of the fond hearts within a billet bound, Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound, The messages of love that mortals write Filled with intoxication of delight, Written in April and before the May time Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind's playtime, We dream that all white butterflies above, Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love, And leave their lady mistress in despair, To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair, Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies - “The Genesis of Butterflies”, Victor Hugo Though in some myths – notably, China’s Butterfly Lovers, Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai, and Japan’s tale of Takahama and Akiko – butterflies are symbols of eternal love and devotion. Most often, butterflies and moths represent change, transition, and metamorphosis. Butterflies are also seen as personifications of the soul,and symbols of mankind’s desire for spiritual evolution. They are harbingers of both love and death, and some believe that errant souls manifest in this form. Moths and butterflies are, to some, symbols of blind desire and madness, perilously drawn to the splendor of light and flame. This mad desire is also portrayed, at times, as transcendence: Tell it none except the wise, for the common crowd defames: of the living I shall praise that which longs for death in flames. In the love night which created you where you create, a yearning wakes: you see, intoxicated, far away a candle burning. Darkness now no longer snares you, shadows lose their ancient force, as a new desire tears you up to higher intercourse. Now no distance checks your flight, charmed you come and you draw night till, with longing for the light, you are burnt, O butterfly. And until you have possessed dying and rebirth, you are but a sullen guest on the gloomy earth. - “Blissful Yearning”, Goethe, translation by Walter Kaufmann This series, though seemingly simple, is a complex narrative in scent. It was created with the intention of illustrating the beauty of transformation and transcendence, the sweetness of romance, the joy of freedom and personal liberty, and the perpetuity of true love. Wake, butterfly - It's late, we've miles To go together. - Matsuo Basho + THE MOTHS GREAT GREY WITCH Orris root, Roman chamomile, white sugar, ambergris accord, and cimarrón. GYPSY Bourbon vanilla, Egyptian musk, tonka, white sugar, and cardamom. LUNA Touareg tea, Asian pear, carnation, lime sugar, green musk, armoise, and thyme. ROSY MAPLE Lemon blossom, vanilla bean, huckleberry, sweet pea, rose sugar, acai berry, and candyfloss. + THE BUTTERFLIES COMMON JEZEBEL Apricot, lemon sugar, coconut, red currant, and vetiver. MONARCH King mandarin, red ginger, sugar cane, golden amber, mango, and pumpkin. PAPER KITE Coconut, white sugar, angelica, and black pepper. SPICEBUSH SWALLOWTAIL Brown sugar, sassafras, clove, and wild plum. Lilith, this series is dedicated to you, my angel, for every time you say, "Bye Bye Butterfly", my heart expands with joy so fierce that it cannot be expressed in words. And last, but not least: a scent created solely to benefit the CBLDF –- BANNED IN BOSTON Banned in Boston was a phrase coined in the 19th century that was used to describe material, be it a motion picture, photograph, literary work, or other work of art, that contained objectionable or obscene content. Boston city officials and the Watch and Ward Society took their lead from the Comstock Law, which prohibited obscene materials from being distributed via the US Mail service, and formed their own strict censorship guidelines. Provocative or offensive material was prohibited from distribution or exhibition within Boston city limits. The effect was much like that of the RIAA’s Parental Advisory tags: if something was Banned in Boston, it only served to pique interest and spike sales or attendance. Obscene, lewd, lascivious, and decidedly objectionable. A filthy, post-coitus scent: sweaty and sweet, laced with laudanum, splashed with booze, and stained by tobacco. (Please note: the Banned in Boston label is NSFW.) Updated 26 April 2010: Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is thrilled to present a lone-awaited scent series inspired by Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere! Experience the scents of London Below! Original artwork created for this line by Enrique Alcatena.  MR. CROUP 'A fox and a wolf', thought Richard, involuntarily. The man in front, the fox, was a little shorter than Richard. He had lank, greasy hair, of an unlikely orange color, and a pallid complexion; as Richard opened the door, he smiled, widely, and just a fraction too late, with teeth that looked like an accident in a graveyard. Pompous and predatory: tonka bean, black musk, bourbon geranium, and crushed porcelain. MR. VANDEMAR The second of the visitors, a tall man, the one he had thought of as a wolf, his gray and black hair cut bristle-short, stood a little behind his friend, holding a stack of photocopies to his chest. He had said nothing until this moment---just waited, huge and impassive. Now he laughed, once, low and dirtily. There was something unhealthy about that laugh. Dark and gangly, with a glint of razor-sharp stainless steel behind it: opopponax, costus, black pepper, black sandalwood, and polished metal. DOOR She was dressed in a variety of clothes thrown over each other: odd clothes, dirty velvets, muddy lace, rips and holes through which other layers and styles could be seen. She looked, Richard thought, as if she's done a midnight raid on the History of Fashion section of the Victoria and Albert Museum, and was still wearing everything she had taken. Her short hair was filthy, but looked like it might have been a dark reddish color under the dirt. Golden honey, nicotiana, blue chamomile, and cistus. THE MARQUIS de CARABAS He wore a huge dandyish black coat that was not quite a frock coat nor exactly a trench coat, and high black boots, and, beneath his coat, raggedy clothes. His eyes burned white in an extremely dark face. And he grinned whie teeth, momentarily, as if at a private joke of his own, and bowed to Richard, and said, "De Carabas, at your service, and you are ? A splash of bay rum, leather, dusty black wool, massoia bark, and opium residue. THE RAT SPEAKERS For a moment, Richard was blinded by the sudden light. He was standing in a huge, vaulted room, and underground hall, filled with firelight and smoke. Small fires burned around the room. Shadowy people stood by the flames, roasting small animals on spits. People scurried from fire to fire. It reminded him of hell---or rather, the way that he had thought of Hell as a schoolboy. The smoke irritated his lungs, and he coughed. A hundred eyes turned, then, and stared at him; a hundred eyes, unblinking and unfriendly. A snuffling, brown scent: earthy patchouli, sage, russet sandalwood, grimy leather, fig leaf, and lemongrass. ANESTHESIA 'Ratty!' said the girl in something between a squeak and a horrified swallow. She had a large, water-stained red button pinned to her ragged clothes, the kind that comes attached to birthday cards. It said, in yellow letters, I AM 11. A scent that slips through the cracks: peppermint, lavender, bergamot, and mandrake. NIGHT'S BRIDGE And then they turned a corner, and saw the bridge. It could have been one of the bridges over the Thames, five hundred years ago, thought Richard; a huge stone bridge spanning out over a vast black chasm, into the night. But there was no sky above it, no water below. It rose into darkness. Stone and darkness. HUNTER He turned, and standing there was a tall woman, with long, tawny hair, and skin the color of burnt caramel. She wore dappled leather clothes, mottled in shades of gray and brown. She had a battered leather duffel bag over her shoulder. She was carrying a staff, and she had a knife at her belt and an electric flashlight strapped to her wrist. She was also, without question, the most beautiful woman that Richard had ever seen. Leonine amber, tanned hides, clove, and clary sage. THE FLOATING MARKET It was loud, and brash, and insane, and it was, in many ways, quite wonderful. People argued, haggled, shouted, sang. They hawked and touted their wares, and loudly declaimed the superiority of their merchandise. Music was playing---a dozen different kinds of music, being played a dozen different ways on a score of different instruments, most of them improvised, improved, improbable. Richard could smell food. All kinds of food---the smells of curries and spices seemed to predominate, with, beneath them, the smells of grilling meats and mushrooms. Stalls had been set up all throughout the shop, next to or even on, counters that, during the day, had sold perfume, or watches, or amber, or silk scarves. A cacophony of curious scents: copaiba balsam, petitgrain, citrus rind, sinicuichi accord, betel nut, wasabi root, coconut palm, and wattleseed layered atop innumerable strange herbs, spices, and woods. THE VELVETS Five almost identically dressed, pale young women walked past him. They wore long dresses made of velvet, each dress as dark as night, one each of dark green, dark chocolate, royal blue, dark blood, and pure black. Each woman had black hair and wore silver jewelry; each was perfectly coifed, perfectly made up. They moved silently: Richard was only aware of a swish of heavy velvet as they went past, a swish that sounded almost like a sigh. Smooth inky musk, cathedral incense, ylang ylang, violet leaf, rose-infused amber, red sandalwood, and iris. LAMIA 'And you said you'd pay me for being your guide. And it's what I want, as my payment. Warmth. Can I have some?' Anything she wanted. Anything. The honeysuckle and the lily of the valley wrapped around him, and his eyes saw nothing but her pale skin and her dark plum-bloom lips and her jet black hair. Deadly elegance: pale orchid, lily of the valley, vanilla amber, black currant, white peach, champaca, coconut, honeysuckle, Arabian myrrh, Burmese vetiver, and oude. This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture: proceeds from every single bottle from the Neverwhere series goes to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, which works to preserve and protect the First Amendment rights of the comics community. A million thanks to Neil for his friendship and support, and a million thanks to Enrique Alcatena for the fantastic illustrations that he created for the Neverwhere line! We love you, Neil!  What if you go from, you know, Captain America to Doctor Doom? What if you go from Superman to Lex Luthor? How do you go from being the greatest hero in the world - someone that everybody knows, and everybody loves, and everyone recognizes - to the greatest villain in the world? What is that path? It's not a light switch, it's not an on-off switch, it's not something that you wake up one day and just become evil. - Mark Waid Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is also thrilled to present our first collaboration with the wonderful people at Boom! Studios: a series of scents inspired by Mark Waid's phenomenal comic book series -- Irredeemable! Series writer and creator Mark Waid has written more than one thousand comics stories for every major publisher of the past two decades. Currently, he serves as Editor-In-Chief of BOOM! Studios. Artist Pete Krause has worked for a number of publishers over a twenty-year career, and has illustrated stories starring Captain Marvel, Superman and the cast from Star Trek: The Next Generation. Mark's writing is mesmerizing, and Irredeemable is, in our opinion, one of the best comics currently in print. We are extremely grateful to the wonderful people at Boom! Studios - people that are a true joy to work with - for the opportunity to interpret Mark's characters, locations, and stories through scent. PLUTONIAN Once the world's greatest, most beloved superhero, he has now become its greatest villain--a capricious and vengeful god who haunts the skies and toys daily with six billion lives. Soapy cleanliness sullied by blood and ashes. MR. QUBIT An eccentric genius and leader of the superhero team The Paradigm, Qubit can meld and shape technology with a gesture, allowing him to create whatever he can envision. Gleaming metal, electrical discharge, and a whiff of tinny cologne. BETTE NOIR The Paradigm's martial artist and weapons master, Bette carries a grim secret--that she alone knows Plutonian's one true vulnerability. Benzoin, wild plum, smoky amber, bergamot, orange blossom, myrrh, and dark berries. VOLT A living electrical battery, Volt plays the wiseass clown for his teammates, using humor to mask his awkwardness and his need for acceptance. Leather with a shock of eucalyptus, green mint, elemi, ravintsara and lime. KAIDAN Youngest of The Paradigm, when Kaidan recites the ghost stories of Japanese legend, she brings their spectral warriors to life. Rosehip, plum blossom, white sandalwood, jonquil, and amber-laden incense. YÜREI The most fearsome of Kaidan's conjured warriors, his sword can shear through anything--or anyone. White tea, hibiscus, Arabian sandalwood, white amber, ho leaf, pale Japanese flowers, and vetiver. ALANA PATEL Plutonian's one true love, newswoman Alana Patel broke his heart--and, in doing so, helped set in motion the series of events that forever turned the hero into a villain. Faded perfume, cigarette smoke, and gin.  Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, in conjunction with Top Cow Productions and the Hero Initiative, is also debuting the first in a new line of scents inspired by Top Cow's Witchblade! Proceeds from every bottle sold in the Witchblade line goes to the Hero Initiative, the first federally recognized not-for-profit organization dedicated to helping comic book creators, writers and artists in need. Founded in late 2000 by a consortium of comic book and trade publishers including Marvel Comics, Image Comics, Dark Horse Comics, Wizard Entertainment, CrossGen Comics and Dynamic Forces Inc., the 501(c)(3) charity aims to assist comic creators with health, medical, and quality-of-life assistance. Top Cow Productions, Inc., a Los Angeles-based entertainment company, was founded in December of 1992 by artist Marc Silvestri, who also co-founded Image Comics earlier that same year. WITCHBLADE Antediluvian, sacred metal, glowing red musk, blessed frankincense, and antiqued amber. The Witchblade perfume was created to layer seamlessly with Sara Pezzini's scent, and is made to be worn with all of the future Black Phoenix scents inspired by Witchblade wielders. SARA PEZZINI A hint of leather and an understated vintage musk layered over the scent of lightly perspiring, honey-dusted skin. DET. PATRICK GLEASON A classic men's cologne splashed over a leather trenchcoat and a hint of gunshot residue. THE CURATOR Mysterious herbs and ancient resins. Dust settled on ancient relics, both holy and malevolent. A special thanks to Kathy Flynn, Jim McLauchlin, Mark Waid, Ross Ritchie, Lori Matsumoto, Charles Brownstein, Cat Mihos, and Neil Gaimain for... well, everything. Without all of you, these scents would not have been possible. I love you guys. Panther Moon is also live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post!  PANTHER MOON Sein Blick ist vomVorübergehn der Stäbe so müd geworden, daß er nichts mehr hält. Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt. Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte, der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht, ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte, in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht. Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille sich lautlos auf - dann geht ein Bild hinein, geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille - und hört im Herzen auf zu sein. His gaze those bars keep passing is so misted with tiredness, it can take in nothing more. He feels as though a thousand bars existed, and no more world beyond them before. Those supply-powerful paddings, turning there in the tiniest of circles, well might be the dance of forces round a center where some mighty will stands paralyticly. Just now and then the pupil's noiseless shutter is lifted - then an image will indart, down through the limbs' intensive stillness flutter, and end its being in the heart. (Der Panther by Rainer Maria Rilke. Translation by Walter Arndt.) Gleaming black musk, mandrake, labdanum, black ginger, benzoin, champaca, ambergris accord, myrrh, and star anise. Artwork for the Panther Moon tee by the lovely Alicia Dabney! A few Paduan Killer Bees have strayed into the Lab, harbingers of spring's new general catalogue series: Rappaccini's Apiary. To introduce the line, we are offering a small selection of toxin-infused honeys for a limited time. The general catalogue annex will feature honeys that have been created using somewhat unsavory nectar and pollen sources, including black hellebore, oleander, rosary pea, monkshood, wintersweet, and hemlock, some of which are debuting now, in April of 2010. There are four infused honey scents in the Paduan Killer Bees limited edition line: DURIAN FRUIT INFUSED HONEY WITH BRANDY DOLL'S EYE INFUSED HONEY JERUSALEM CHERRY INFUSED HONEY YEW BERRY INFUSED HONEY As well as PADUAN KILLER SWARM A swarm of genetically modified, extremely aggressive European bees that were created by Dr. Giacomo Rappaccini. These bees are attracted to a peculiar set of pollens and nectars, and possess a particularly vicious temperament, a lethal apitoxin, and cruelly barbed stingers. Tonka, black licorice, amber, golden sandalwood, ginger cream, bitter clove, stinging nettle, cinnamon bark, and coconut shell. The following thrillingly toxic honeys are making their debut in Rappaccini's Apiary (located in the general catalogue): DEADLY NIGHTSHADE HONEY HEMLOCK HONEY OLEANDER HONEY YELLOW JESSAMINE HONEY (It goes without saying that the Rappaccini's Garden and Apiary scents do not truly contain poisonous plant materials.) Also new to the BPAL general catalogue ++ SIN AND SALVATION PARAMATMAN Like two birds of golden plumage, inseparable companions, the individual self and the immortal Self are perched on the branches of the selfsame tree. The former tastes of the sweet and bitter fruits of the tree; the latter, tasting of neither, calmly observes. Orange blossom, East Indian sandalwood, and champaca. ++ EXCOLO EHECATL The Aztec God of the Winds. He is one of the faces of the Feathered Serpent, and in this aspect he gave life to the sun and the moon, revives the dead, and breathes love into the hearts all of men. Hibiscus, matcha, white musk, and lime. ++ BEWITCHING BREWS THE FOREST REVERIE 'Tis said that when The hands of men Tamed this primeval wood, And hoary trees with groans of woe, Like warriors by an unknown foe, Were in their strength subdued, The virgin Earth Gave instant birth To springs that ne'er did flow That in the sun Did rivulets run, And all around rare flowers did blow The wild rose pale Perfumed the gale And the queenly lily adown the dale (Whom the sun and the dew And the winds did woo), With the gourd and the grape luxuriant grew. So when in tears The love of years Is wasted like the snow, And the fine fibrils of its life By the rude wrong of instant strife Are broken at a blow Within the heart Do springs upstart Of which it doth now know, And strange, sweet dreams, Like silent streams That from new fountains overflow, With the earlier tide Of rivers glide Deep in the heart whose hope has died-- Quenching the fires its ashes hide,-- Its ashes, whence will spring and grow Sweet flowers, ere long, The rare and radiant flowers of song! A sunlit ancient forest, dotted with wild roses, grape vine, and queenly lilies, clothed in swirls of opium smoke. L'EXAMEN DE MINUIT Enfin, nous avons, pour noyer Le vertige clans le délire, Nous, prêtre orgueilleux de la Lyre, Dont la gloire est de déployer L'ivresse des choses funèbres, Bu sans soif et mangé sans faim!... - Vite soufflons la lampe, afin De nous cacher dans les ténèbres! Finally, to cheat sadness, we Have reveled at the board of Greed, With neither thirst nor appetite - We, of the old Pierian breed, Whose pride was to win ecstasy From sorrow, loneliness, and need. - Hurry! Let us put out the light, That we be hidden in the night. The rapture of sorrowful things: frankincense, black plum, melancholy lilac, rose otto, and myrrh. And at Black Phoenix Trading Post, the next duet in the Great Loves and Tragedies of Ancient Greece is live - + PYRAMUS & THISBE Pyramus was the most handsomest youth, and Thisbe the loveliest maiden, of all the East lived in Babylon, where Semiramis reigned. Their parents occupied adjoining houses; and neighborhood brought the young people together, and acquaintance ripened into love. They longed to marry, but their parents forbade. One thing however they could not forbid - that love should glow with equal ardor in the bosoms of both. They conversed by signs and glances, and the fire burned more intensely for being covered up. In the wall that parted the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault in the structure. No one had remarked it before, but the lovers discovered it. What will not love discover! It afforded a passage to the voice; and tender messages used to pass backward and forward through the gap. As they stood, Pyramus on this side, Thisbe on that, their breaths would mingle. "Cruel wall," they said, "why do you keep two lovers apart? But we will not be ungrateful. We owe you, we confess, the privilege of transmitting loving words to willing ears." Such words they uttered on different sides of the wall; and when night came and they must say farewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side, he on his, as they could come no nearer. Next morning, when Aurora had put out the stars, and the sun had melted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed spot. Then, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed that next night, when all was still, they would slip away from watchful eyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and to insure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice, standing without the city's bounds, called the Tomb of Ninus, and that the one who came first should await the other at the foot of a certain tree. It was a white mulberry tree, and stood near a cool spring. All was agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to go down beneath the waters and night to rise up from them. Then cautiously Thisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family, her head covered with a veil, made her way to the monument and sat down under the tree. As she sat alone in the dim light of the evening she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. Thisbe fled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a rock. As she fled she dropped her veil. The lioness, after drinking at the spring, turned to retreat to the woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and rent it with her bloody mouth. Pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the place of meeting. He saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion, and the color fled from his cheeks at the sight. Presently he found the veil all rent and bloody. "O, hapless girl," said he, "I have been the cause of thy death! Thou, more worthy of life than I, hast fallen the first victim. I will follow. I am the guilty cause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril, and not being myself on the spot to guard thee. Come forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear this guilty body with your teeth." He took up the veil, carried it with him to the appointed tree, and covered it with kisses and with tears. "My blood also shall stain your texture," said he, and drawing his sword plunged it into his chest. The blood spurted from the wound, and tinged the white mulberries of the tree all red; and sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the red color mounted through the trunk to the fruit. By this time, Thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not to disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking anxiously for the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had escaped. When she came to the spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries she doubted whether it was the same place. While she hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in the agonies of death. She started back, a shudder ran through her frame as a ripple on the face of the still water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. But as soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and beat her breast; embracing the lifeless body, pouring tears into its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips. "O, Pyramus," she cried, "what has done this? Answer me, Pyramus; it is your own Thisbe that speaks. Hear me, dearest, and lift that drooping head!" At the name of Thisbe, Pyramus opened his eyes, then closed them again. She saw her veil stained with blood and the scabbard empty of its sword. "Thy own hand has slain thee, and for my sake," she said. "I too can be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine. I will follow thee in death, for I have been the cause; and death, which alone could part us, shall not prevent my joining thee. And ye, unhappy parents of us both, deny us not our united request. As love and death have joined us, let one tomb contain us. And thou, tree, retain the marks of slaughter. Let thy berries still serve for memorials of our blood." So saying, she plunged the sword into her breast. Her parents ratified her wish, the gods also ratified it. The two bodies were buried in one sepulchre, and the tree ever after brought forth purple berries, as it does to this day. (Translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis by Thomas Bulfinch.) PYRAMUS Dragon's blood resin, frankincense, amber, white tea, lavender, and golden musk. THISBE Diaphanous sandalwood, pink rose, lotus root, lemon orpur, and iris stained by mulberry juice. From the 28 March 2010 update: Egg Moon is live at Alchemy Lab & Trading Post! EGG MOON One egg's lower half transformed And became the earth below, And its upper half transmuted And became the sky above; From the yolk the sun was made, Light of day to shine upon us; From the white the moon was formed, Light of night to gleam above us; All the colored brighter bits Rose to be the stars of heaven And the darker crumbs changed into Clouds and cloudlets in the sky. The scent of Creation: frankincense, bdellium, sweet cane, cassia, cinnamon, and dammar gum.  The ancient symbol of the Orphic Mysteries was the serpent-entwined egg, which signified Cosmos as encircled by the fiery Creative Spirit. The egg also represents the soul of the philosopher; the serpent, the Mysteries. At the time of initiation the shell is broke, and man emerges from the embryonic state of physical existence wherein he had remained through the fetal period of philosophic regeneration. -- Manly P. Hall Artwork by Jennifer Williamson! Egg Moon will be live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab & Black Phoenix Trading Post until 31 March 2010. The much-anticipated Sock Dreams / Black Phoenix Trading Post collaboration is going live the second week of April, along with a gorgeous tee illustrated by Molly Crabapple! This month, Will Call will also be held at Area 51. This event is limited to resident extraterrestrials and military personnel with TS and SAP clearance, as well as SCI access, only. The date and time of this event is classified. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post will be vending at Sakuracon, C2E2, and Bat's Day this spring! - Sakura-Con 2010 The oldest and most well-attended Anime Con in the Pacific Northwest April 2 - 4, 2010 Seattle, WA C2E2 - Chicago Comic and Entertainment Expo April 16 - 18, 2010 Chicago, IL Booth 951 Bats Day Black Market May 1, 2010 Anaheim, CA At Sakuracon, we will have a large selection of scents from our general catalogue and current LE lines, and the following event exclusives will be available: Seattle Exclusive: GIANT SQUID Cannabis blossom, tonka bean, tobacco, frankincense, galangal, juniper berry, lantana, spiky aloe, green and white teas, and salty sea spray. Sakuracon Exclusives: FUWU BANSAKU IN RUINED TEMPLE WITH BLACK MONSTER ON UMBRELLA Black coconut, red sandalwood, black currant, tonka bean, vetiver, and Malasian oude. SHIRAFUJI GENTA WITH A KAPPA Lansium domesticum, sweetgrass, benzoin, white mint, lavender, juniper berry, cedarwood, osmanthus, and rice wine. THE WRESTLER ONOGAWA KISABURO BLOWING SMOKE AT A ONE-EYED MONSTER Peru balsam, Mysore sandalwood, bodark bark, tupelo gum, black pepper, tobacco absolute, and white honey. At C2E2, we will be vending all three days, and premiering several new lines, including Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere and Boom! Studios Irredeemable. A recap of event details that Kathy posted on the forum last week: If you're going to C2E2, you can find us at booth 951. While we are there we will also be taking part of a few outside events: Friday, April 16th, we will be at the Irredeemable 1st birthday party with Mark Waid, at Challengers Comics. What: THE IRREDEEMABLE 1ST BIRTHDAY PARTY W/MARK WAID Why: IRREDEEMABLE's record first year and the launch of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's IRREDEEMABLE Fragrance line Where: Challengers Comics + Conversation located at 1845 N. Western Ave. 2R Chicago, IL 60647 (PH: 773.278.0155 / www.challengerscomics.com) When: April 16th, 2010 8pm This event is free to the public and you don't need a Con badge to attend. Beer and wine will be served. Saturday, April 17th, the CBLDF will be hosting "An Evening with Neil Gaiman" at 7 PM in the Arie Crown Theater at McCormick Place in Chicago, IL. This is a paid, ticketed event. A small number of fans will also have the opportunity to attend the "Evening with Neil Gaiman Dream Experience", which includes front center row seats, a limited Meet & Greet mixer with Neil before the event, and a special gift set from The Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, in association with Neverwear and Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, which features a never-before-published poem presented on a beautiful and exclusive art print, and accompanying fragrance, with other surprises. Sunday, April 18th, Pop Culture 2 will be hosting a Black Phoenix Meet N Sniff at Reggie's Rock Club, 2109 South State Street, Chicago, Illinois 60616, between noon and 2pm. There will be a free movie playing in the background, and you will be able to purchase food and drinks. This event is free to the public and you don't need a Con badge to attend. If you are attending the Con, there is a free bus to take you to the event and back again. We've still got a few more surprises for you in Chicago, including some special scents to benefit The Hero Initiative. More details will be posted closer to the event. The price adjustment at Alchemy Lab is taking effect as of this update. Thank you so much to everyone for their patience and understanding! From the 26 February 2010 update: The Chaste Moon update is live at Black Phoenix Squared! CHASTE MOON 2010 Though March marks the end of the desolation and chill of winter, it is not yet Spring, the time of rebirth, fertility and the Earth's fecundity. March's Full Moon is a Virgin's Moon, pure, youthful, unsullied and innocent. This is the Moon of the Child, and the scent is as soft and gentle as a baby's breath: milky blossoms and soft cream touch the last buds of winter, coupled with crystalline, bright traditional Lunar oils.  Pale, luminous grey shimmer ink on black tee. Artwork for Trading Post's Lunacy tee by Jennifer Williamson! Also live this month at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab IDES OF MARCH 2010 The Ides marked an auspicious time in the Roman calendar. Depending on the month in question, the Ides fell on the thirteenth or fifteenth, and usually marked the Full Moon. As we all know, it was not an auspicious day for Julius Caesar, nor was it fortuitous for H.P. Lovecraft, who also met his maker on this infamous day. Tu quoque, Brute, fili mi! A mixture of springtime greenery and classical Roman cologne: dark musk, spikenard, bergamot, lemon rind and vervain with costus, benzoin, gray amber, cardamom, and white narcissus. The Bards of Ireland return for a limited engagement ++ LE: THE BARDS OF IRELAND 2010 Irish bards were members of a hereditary caste of learned poets. They were officials of the courts of their chieftains and kings, and served as historians, storytellers, and satirists. They were immersed in the rich history of their clan and country, and learned the intricacies of their craft from birth. Their words held so much power that it was believed that a glam dicing, or satirical incantation, spoken by a bard held the magic of a curse. This series is celebration of great Irish poets and storytellers. Through these poems, we touch the glory, beauty, and grief that permeates the soul of Ireland. THE HARP OF CNOC I'CHOSGAIR Gofraidh Fion O Dalaigh Harp of Cnoc I'Chosgair, you who bring sleep to eyes long sleepless; sweet subtle, plangent, glad, cooling grave. Excellent instrument with smooth gentle curve, trilling under red fingers, musician that has charmed us, red, lion-like of full melody. You who lure the bird from the flock, you who refresh the mind, brown spotted one of sweet words, ardent, wondrous, passionate. You who heal every wounded warrior, joy and allurement to women, familiar guide over the dark blue water, mystic sweet sounding music. You who silence every instrument of music, yourself a sweet plaintive instrument, dweller among the Race of Conn, instrument yellow-brown and firm. The one darling of sages, restless, smooth, sweet of tune, crimson star above the Fairy Hills, breast jewel of High Kings. Sweet tender flowers, brown harp of Diarmaid, shape not unloved by hosts, voice of cuckoos in May! I have not heard music ever such as your frame makes since the time of the Fairy People, fair brown many coloured bough, gentle, powerful, glorious. Sound of the calm wave on the beach, pure shadowing tree of pure music, carousals are drunk in your company, voice of the swan over shining streams. Cry of the Fairy Women from the Fairy Hill of Ler, no melody can match you, every house is sweet stringed through your guidance, you the pinnacle of harp music. Gilded amber, tiare, golden sandalwood, vanilla, cardamom, and tagetes. LITTLE BIRD Traditional Little bird! O little bird! I wonder at what thou doest, Thou singing merry far from me, I in sadness all alone! Little bird! O little bird! I wonder at how thou art Thou high on the tips of branching boughs, I on the ground a-creeping! Little bird! O little bird! Thou art music far away, Like the tender croon of the mother loved In the kindly sleep of death. Night air, wild jostaberry, melancholy thistle, meadowgrass, marsh marigold, and butterwort. THE TRAVELLER Oliver Goldsmith Vain, very vain, my weary search to find That bliss which only centres in the mind: Why have I stray'd from pleasure and repose, To seek a good each government bestows? In every government, though terrors reign, Though tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain, How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure! Still to ourselves in every place consign'd, Our own felicity we make or find: With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. The lifted axe, the agonizing wheel, Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel, To men remote from power but rarely known, Leave reason, faith, and conscience, all our own. A wanderer, poised at the point where three great countries meet, ruminating on government, nationalism, religion, and personal character: boot leather, pipe tobacco, and the dust of soft resins, herbs, and soil-flecked gravel picked on long, solitary travels. The next in our joint series inspired by Neil Gaiman's 15 Painted Cards From a Vampire Tarot is also live (undead) at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post: the Priestess.  Black ink on dusty cobalt burnout fabric. The tees are $35, and the tarot card and perfume set is $30. Artwork by the inimitable Madame Talbot! Proceeds from all sales from the Tarot series, both the scent and card set at Alchemy Lab and the tee at Black Phoenix Trading Post, benefit the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund! Also at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, some critters have flown into the Garden of Live Flowers: ++ MAD TEA PARTY: THE GARDEN OF LIVE FLOWERS ROCKING-HORSE-FLY ` -- then you don't like all insects?' the Gnat went on, as quietly as if nothing had happened. `I like them when they can talk,' Alice said. `None of them ever talk, where I come from.' `What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where YOU come from?' the Gnat inquired. `I don't REJOICE in insects at all,' Alice explained, `because I'm rather afraid of them -- at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the names of some of them." `Of course they answer to their names?' the Gnat remarked carelessly. `I never knew them do it.' `What's the use of their having names the Gnat said, `if they won't answer to them?' `No use to THEM,' said Alice; `but it's useful to the people who name them, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?' `I can't say,' the Gnat replied. `Further on, in the wood down there, they've got no names -- however, go on with your list of insects: you're wasting time.' `Well, there's the Horse-fly,' Alice began, counting off the names on her fingers. `All right,' said the Gnat: `half way up that bush, you'll see a Rocking-horse-fly, if you look. It's made entirely of wood, and gets about by swinging itself from branch to branch.' `What does it live on?' Alice asked, with great curiosity. `Sap and sawdust,' said the Gnat. `Go on with the list.' Alice looked up at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and made up her mind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so bright and sticky; and then she went on. Shellacked wood, sap, sawdust, and privet. SNAP-DRAGON-FLY `Look on the branch above your head,' said the Gnat, `and there you'll find a Snap-Dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings of holly-leaves, and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.' `And what does it live on?' `Frumenty and mince pie,' the Gnat replied; `and it makes its nest in a Christmas box.' Plum pudding, holly, and brandy-soaked raisin with frumenty, mince pie, and a hint of suet. BREAD-AND-BUTTERFLY `Crawling at your feet,' said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in some alarm), `you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin slices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump of sugar.' `And what does IT live on?' `Weak tea with cream in it.' Bread, lightly buttered, with weak tea, cream, and a lump of white sugar. And elsewhere, stories are being told: ++ MARCHEN TOADS AND DIAMONDS There once upon a time a widow who had two daughters. The eldest was so much like her in the face and humor that whoever looked upon the daughter saw the mother. They were both so disagreeable and so proud that there was no living with them. The youngest, who was the very picture of her father for courtesy and sweetness of temper, was withal one of the most beautiful girls ever seen. As people naturally love their own likeness, this mother even doted on her eldest daughter and at the same time had a horrible aversion for the youngest--she made her eat in the kitchen and work continually. Among other things, this poor child was forced twice a day to draw water above a mile and a-half off the house, and bring home a pitcher full of it. One day, as she was at this fountain, there came to her a poor woman, who begged of her to let her drink. "Oh! ay, with all my heart, Goody," said this pretty little girl; and rinsing immediately the pitcher, she took up some water from the clearest place of the fountain, and gave it to her, holding up the pitcher all the while, that she might drink the easier. The good woman, having drunk, said to her: You are so very pretty, my dear, so good and so mannerly, that I cannot help giving you a gift." For this was a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor country woman, to see how far the civility and good manners of this pretty girl would go. "I will give you for a gift," continued the Fairy, "that, at every word you speak, there shall come out of your mouth either a flower or a jewel." When this pretty girl came home her mother scolded her for staying so long at the fountain. "I beg your pardon, mamma," said the poor girl, "for not making more haste." And in speaking these words there came out of her mouth two roses, two pearls, and two diamonds. "What is it I see there?" said the mother, quite astonished. "I think I see pearls and diamonds come out of the girl's mouth! How happens this, child?" This was the first time she had ever called her child. The poor creature told her frankly all the matter, not without dropping out infinite numbers of diamonds. "In good faith," cried the mother, "I must send my child thither. Come hither, Fanny; look what comes out of thy sister's mouth when she speaks. Wouldst not thou be glad, my dear, to have the same gift given thee? Thou hast nothing else to do but go and draw water out of the fountain, and when a certain poor woman asks you to let her drink, to give it to her very civilly." "It would be a very fine sight indeed," said this ill- bred minx, "to see me go draw water." "You shall go, hussy!" said the mother; "and this minute." So away she went, but grumbling all the way, taking with her the best silver tankard in the house. She was no sooner at the fountain than she saw coming out of the wood a lady most gloriously dressed, who came up to her, and asked to drink. This was, you must know, the very fairy who appeared to her sister, but now had taken the air and dress of a princess, to see how far this girl's rudeness would go. "Am I come hither," said the proud, saucy one, "to serve you with water, pray? I suppose the silver tankard was brought purely for your ladyship, was it? However, you may drink out of it, if you have a fancy." "You are not over and above mannerly," answered the Fairy, without putting herself in a passion. "Well, then, since you have so little breeding, and are so disobliging, I give you for a gift that at every word you speak there shall come out of your mouth a snake or a toad." So soon as her mother saw her coming she cried out: "Well, daughter?" "Well, mother?" answered the pert hussy, throwing out of her mouth two vipers and two toads. "Oh! mercy," cried the mother; "what is it I see? Oh! it is that wretch her sister who has occasioned all this; but she shall pay for it"; and immediately she ran to beat her. The poor child fled away from her, and went to hide herself in the forest, not far from thence. The King's son, then on his return from hunting, met her, and seeing her so very pretty, asked her what she did there alone and why she cried. "Alas! sir, my mamma has turned me out of doors." The King's son, who saw five or six pearls and as many diamonds come out of her mouth, desired her to tell him how that happened. She thereupon told him the whole story; and so the King's son fell in love with her, and, considering himself that such a gift was worth more than any marriage portion, conducted her to the palace of the King his father, and there married her. As for the sister, she made herself so much hated that her own mother turned her off; and the miserable wretch, having wandered about a good while without finding anybody to take her in, went to a corner of the wood, and there died. ROSES, PEARLS, AND DIAMONDS Red roses, dazzling crystalline musks, and pearlescent coconut-tinged orris. ++ MARCHEN: AESOP'S FABLES GRIEF AND HIS DUE When Jupiter was assigning the various gods their privileges, it so happened that Grief was not present with the rest: but when all had received their share, he too entered and claimed his due. Jupiter was at a loss to know what to do, for there was nothing left for him. However, at last he decided that to him should belong the tears that are shed for the dead. Thus it is the same with Grief as it is with the other gods. The more devoutly men render to him his due, the more lavish is he of that which he has to bestow. It is not well, therefore, to mourn long for the departed; else Grief, whose sole pleasure is in such mourning, will be quick to send fresh cause for tears. GRIEF Inconsolable: lily of the valley, hyacinth, calamus, muguet, hydrangea, and elemi. PROMETHEUS AND TRUTH Olim Prometheus saeculi figulus noui cura subtili Veritatem fecerat, ut iura posset inter homines reddere. Subito accersitus nuntio magni Iouis commendat officinam fallaci Dolo, in disciplinam nuper quem receperat. Hic studio accensus, facie simulacrum pari, una statura, simile et membris omnibus, dum tempus habuit callida finxit manu. Quod prope iam totum mire cum positum foret, lutum ad faciendos illi defecit pedes. Redit magister, quo festinanter Dolus metu turbatus in suo sedit loco. Mirans Prometheus tantam similitudinem propriae uideri uoluit gloriam. Igitur fornaci pariter duo signa intulit; quibus percoctis atque infuso spiritu modesto gressu sancta incessit Veritas, at trunca species haesit in uestigio. Tunc falsa imago atque operis furtiui labor Mendacium appellatum est, quod negantibus pedes habere facile et ipse adsentio. Simulata interdum initio prosunt hominibus, sed tempore ipsa tamen apparet ueritas. Prometheus, the Titan of forethought and clever counsel, was a divine potter that was assigned the task of molding mankind out of clay. One day, he decided to dedicate his skill to sculpting the form of the spirit Veritas - Truth - so that he would be able to instill men with virtue. As he toiled, he was called away from his workshop by a sudden summons from the King of the Gods. Dolus - Trickery - had recently become one of Prometheus' apprentices, and was left in charge of the workshop in the titan's absence. Dolus used his time in the workshop to create a figure with the same size and possessing the same features as Veritas with his crafty, sly hands. When he was almost finished with his sculpture, which was truly almost identical to Prometheus' work, he ran out of clay to use for her feet. The divine potter returned, and Dolus scurried to his seat, trembling with fear that his master should discover what he had done and punish him. Prometheus was startled by the similarities between the two clay figures and decided he would take credit for both as a testament to his own skill. He put both statues in the kiln, and after they had been fired, he breathed life into them. Veritas walked with measured, steady steps, while her twin was immobile, stuck in her tracks. The imitation Veritas, a forgery and product of deception and artifice, aquired the name Mendacium - Falsehood. Falsehood has no feet: now and again something that is false can start off successfully, but with time, Truth will always prevail. VERITAS The essence of honesty, integrity, and veracity: frankincense, white carnation, angelica, chamomile, and heliotrope. Two new scents join Bewitching Brews: ++ BEWTICHING BREWS THE HARLOT'S HOUSE We caught the tread of dancing feet, We loitered down the moonlit street, And stopped beneath the harlot's house. Inside, above the din and fray, We heard the loud musicians play The "Treues Liebes Herz" of Strauss. Like strange mechanical grotesques, Making fantastic arabesques, The shadows raced across the blind. We watched the ghostly dancers spin To sound of horn and violin, Like black leaves wheeling in the wind. Like wire-pulled automatons, Slim silhouetted skeletons Went sidling through the slow quadrille. The took each other by the hand, And danced a stately saraband; Their laughter echoed thin and shrill. Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed A phantom lover to her breast, Sometimes they seemed to try to sing. Sometimes a horrible marionette Came out, and smoked its cigarette Upon the steps like a live thing. Then, turning to my love, I said, "The dead are dancing with the dead, The dust is whirling with the dust." But she--she heard the violin, And left my side, and entered in: Love passed into the house of lust. Then suddenly the tune went false, The dancers wearied of the waltz, The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl. And down the long and silent street, The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet, Crept like a frightened girl. The dead are dancing with the dead, the dust is whirling with the dust: angel's trumpet, violet, white sandalwood, oude, copaiba balsam, angelica, white tea, olibanum, and oakmoss. MELIAI Sisters to the Erinyes and the Gigantes, the ash tree nymphs were also born from the union of the blood gushing from Ouranos' castration wounds and Gaia's fertile womb. These nymphs were the mother of the Bronze Race of mankind's third age. Ash manna and ambrosial honey. And there's one new denizen in Diabolus: EKHIDNA This was the divine and haughty Ekhidna, and half of her is a Nymphe with a fair face and eyes glancing, but the other half is a monstrous ophis, terrible, enormous and squirming and voracious, there in earth's secret places. For there she has her cave on the underside of a hollow rock, far from the immortal gods, and far from all mortals. There the gods ordained her a fabulous home to live in which she keeps underground among the Arimoi, grisly Ekhidna, a Nymphe who never dies, and all her days she is ageless. Mother of Monsters, the Eel of Tartarus, Queen of the Dark Forest, Serpent Womb. Consort to Typhon, the Rotting Lamprey was born from the residual scum left behind after from the Great Deluge. All the corruptions of the earth: mandrake, dark myrrh, seaweed, swampy moss, black pepper, pimento, opoponax, tobacco absolute, and tarry clove. Black Phoenix Trading Post is celebrating its 5th anniversary with an epic update Trading Post is thrilled to present the Return of the Suds - We are proud to present our newest joint-venture: exquisite handmade soaps by Villainess, scented by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab. These gloriously luxuriant soaps were created with the finest skin-nurturing ingredients. They are made by hand, from scratch, by the fiercely talented master soaper Brooke Stant, and are generously scented with Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab brews. Each bar is at least 3.5oz (without any water weight), and are cut 1" thick from a 3" square block of soap. The faces of the bars are smooth and bear unique, undulating, surrealistically beautiful swirls and marbles, and the sides are textured and raw, exhibiting the complex landscape of unsculpted handmade soap. As always, no animals were harmed during the creation of this soap, and all products were tested on friends and family. $8.50 per bar! EMBALMING FLUID SOAP A light, pure scent: white musk, green tea, aloe and lemon. The soap: absolutely smooth, sheer, silken lather. PORT ROYAL SOAP Spiced rum and ship's wood mixed with the body-warmed trace of a prostitute's perfume and a hint of salty sea air on the dry-down. The soap: gunpowder-black clay, imported silk, and a thick crust of sea salt. SHUB-NIGGURATH SOAP A blend of ritual herbs and dark resins, shot through with three gingers and aphrodisiacal spices. The soap: absolutely smooth, sheer, silken lather. SNAKE OIL SOAP A blend of exotic Indonesian oils sugared with vanilla. The soap: absolutely smooth, sheer, silken lather enriched with milky kaolin and flecked with blackened vanilla bean. XMVLZENCAB SOAP The family of bee deities that governed creation in the Mayan lands. Their scent is wild honey, black laurel flower, plumeria, and South American ginger. The soap: absolutely smooth, sheer, silken lather drenched in sticky, humectant honey. To celebrate the union, we are offering a few corresponding bath oils for a limited time: ++ LIMITED EDITION BATH OILS EMBALMING FLUID BATH OIL SNAKE OIL BATH OIL XMVLZENCAB BATH OIL The chilled air of winter is harbinger to a limited scent series at Black Phoenix Trading Post: the Great Loves and Tragedies of Ancient Greece. Two doomed duets will appear every month for four months. The first - ++ THE GREAT LOVES AND TRAGEDIES OF ANCIENT GREECE: ECHO & NARKISSOS ECHO Fam'd far and near for knowing things to come, From him th' enquiring nations sought their doom; The fair Liriope his answers try'd, And first th' unerring prophet justify'd. This nymph the God Cephisus had abus'd, With all his winding waters circumfus'd, And on the Nereid got a lovely boy, Whom the soft maids ev'n then beheld with joy. The tender dame, sollicitous to know Whether her child should reach old age or no, Consults the sage Tiresias, who replies, "If e'er he knows himself he surely dies." Long liv'd the dubious mother in suspence, 'Till time unriddled all the prophet's sense. Narcissus now his sixteenth year began, Just turn'd of boy, and on the verge of man; Many a friend the blooming youth caress'd, Many a love-sick maid her flame confess'd: Such was his pride, in vain the friend caress'd, The love-sick maid in vain her flame confess'd. Once, in the woods, as he pursu'd the chace, The babbling Echo had descry'd his face; She, who in others' words her silence breaks, Nor speaks her self but when another speaks. Echo was then a maid, of speech bereft, Of wonted speech; for tho' her voice was left, Juno a curse did on her tongue impose, To sport with ev'ry sentence in the close. Full often when the Goddess might have caught Jove and her rivals in the very fault, This nymph with subtle stories would delay Her coming, 'till the lovers slip'd away. The Goddess found out the deceit in time, And then she cry'd, "That tongue, for this thy crime, Which could so many subtle tales produce, Shall be hereafter but of little use." Hence 'tis she prattles in a fainter tone, With mimick sounds, and accents not her own. This love-sick virgin, over-joy'd to find The boy alone, still follow'd him behind: When glowing warmly at her near approach, As sulphur blazes at the taper's touch, She long'd her hidden passion to reveal, And tell her pains, but had not words to tell: She can't begin, but waits for the rebound, To catch his voice, and to return the sound. The nymph, when nothing could Narcissus move, Still dash'd with blushes for her slighted love, Liv'd in the shady covert of the woods, In solitary caves and dark abodes; Where pining wander'd the rejected fair, 'Till harrass'd out, and worn away with care, The sounding skeleton, of blood bereft, Besides her bones and voice had nothing left. Her bones are petrify'd, her voice is found In vaults, where still it doubles ev'ry sound. A scent shrouded behind a veil: vanilla orchid, amyris, white sandalwood, grey amber, and tuberose. NARKISSOS Thus did the nymphs in vain caress the boy, He still was lovely, but he still was coy; When one fair virgin of the slighted train Thus pray'd the Gods, provok'd by his disdain, "Oh may he love like me, and love like me in vain!" Rhamnusia pity'd the neglected fair, And with just vengeance answer'd to her pray'r. There stands a fountain in a darksom wood, Nor stain'd with falling leaves nor rising mud; Untroubled by the breath of winds it rests, Unsully'd by the touch of men or beasts; High bow'rs of shady trees above it grow, And rising grass and chearful greens below. Pleas'd with the form and coolness of the place, And over-heated by the morning chace, Narcissus on the grassie verdure lyes: But whilst within the chrystal fount he tries To quench his heat, he feels new heats arise. For as his own bright image he survey'd, He fell in love with the fantastick shade; And o'er the fair resemblance hung unmov'd, Nor knew, fond youth! it was himself he lov'd. The well-turn'd neck and shoulders he descries, The spacious forehead, and the sparkling eyes; The hands that Bacchus might not scorn to show, And hair that round Apollo's head might flow; With all the purple youthfulness of face, That gently blushes in the wat'ry glass. By his own flames consum'd the lover lyes, And gives himself the wound by which he dies. To the cold water oft he joins his lips, Oft catching at the beauteous shade he dips His arms, as often from himself he slips. Nor knows he who it is his arms pursue With eager clasps, but loves he knows not who. What could, fond youth, this helpless passion move? What kindled in thee this unpity'd love? Thy own warm blush within the water glows, With thee the colour'd shadow comes and goes, Its empty being on thy self relies; Step thou aside, and the frail charmer dies. Still o'er the fountain's wat'ry gleam he stood, Mindless of sleep, and negligent of food; Still view'd his face, and languish'd as he view'd. At length he rais'd his head, and thus began To vent his griefs, and tell the woods his pain. "You trees," says he, "and thou surrounding grove, Who oft have been the kindly scenes of love, Tell me, if e'er within your shades did lye A youth so tortur'd, so perplex'd as I? I, who before me see the charming fair, Whilst there he stands, and yet he stands not there: In such a maze of love my thoughts are lost: And yet no bulwark'd town, nor distant coast, Preserves the beauteous youth from being seen, No mountains rise, nor oceans flow between. A shallow water hinders my embrace; And yet the lovely mimick wears a face That kindly smiles, and when I bend to join My lips to his, he fondly bends to mine. Hear, gentle youth, and pity my complaint, Come from thy well, thou fair inhabitant. My charms an easy conquest have obtain'd O'er other hearts, by thee alone disdain'd. But why should I despair? I'm sure he burns With equal flames, and languishes by turns. When-e'er I stoop, he offers at a kiss, And when my arms I stretch, he stretches his. His eye with pleasure on my face he keeps, He smiles my smiles, and when I weep he weeps. When e'er I speak, his moving lips appear To utter something, which I cannot hear. "Ah wretched me! I now begin too late To find out all the long-perplex'd deceit; It is my self I love, my self I see; The gay delusion is a part of me. I kindle up the fires by which I burn, And my own beauties from the well return. Whom should I court? how utter my complaint? Enjoyment but produces my restraint, And too much plenty makes me die for want. How gladly would I from my self remove! And at a distance set the thing I love. My breast is warm'd with such unusual fire, I wish him absent whom I most desire. And now I faint with grief; my fate draws nigh; In all the pride of blooming youth I die. Death will the sorrows of my heart relieve. Oh might the visionary youth survive, I should with joy my latest breath resign! But oh! I see his fate involv'd in mine." This said, the weeping youth again return'd To the clear fountain, where again he burn'd; His tears defac'd the surface of the well, With circle after circle, as they fell: And now the lovely face but half appears, O'er-run with wrinkles, and deform'd with tears. "Ah whither," cries Narcissus, "dost thou fly? Let me still feed the flame by which I die; Let me still see, tho' I'm no further blest." Then rends his garment off, and beats his breast: His naked bosom redden'd with the blow, In such a blush as purple clusters show, Ere yet the sun's autumnal heats refine Their sprightly juice, and mellow it to wine. The glowing beauties of his breast he spies, And with a new redoubled passion dies. As wax dissolves, as ice begins to run, And trickle into drops before the sun; So melts the youth, and languishes away, His beauty withers, and his limbs decay; And none of those attractive charms remain, To which the slighted Echo su'd in vain. She saw him in his present misery, Whom, spight of all her wrongs, she griev'd to see. She answer'd sadly to the lover's moan, Sigh'd back his sighs, and groan'd to ev'ry groan: "Ah youth! belov'd in vain," Narcissus cries; "Ah youth! belov'd in vain," the nymph replies. "Farewel," says he; the parting sound scarce fell >From his faint lips, but she reply'd, "farewel." Then on th' wholsome earth he gasping lyes, 'Till death shuts up those self-admiring eyes. To the cold shades his flitting ghost retires, And in the Stygian waves it self admires. For him the Naiads and the Dryads mourn, Whom the sad Echo answers in her turn; And now the sister-nymphs prepare his urn: When, looking for his corps, they only found A rising stalk, with yellow blossoms crown'd. Gently blushing vanilla, haughty opoponax, duosmon, oude, and narcissus. ++ THE GREAT LOVES AND TRAGEDIES OF ANCIENT GREECE: + CLYTIE AND HELIOS HELIOS The Sun, the source of light, by beauty's pow'r Once am'rous grew; then hear the Sun's amour. Venus, and Mars, with his far-piercing eyes This God first spy'd; this God first all things spies. Stung at the sight, and swift on mischief bent, To haughty Juno's shapeless son he went: The Goddess, and her God gallant betray'd, And told the cuckold, where their pranks were play'd. Poor Vulcan soon desir'd to hear no more, He drop'd his hammer, and he shook all o'er: Then courage takes, and full of vengeful ire He heaves the bellows, and blows fierce the fire: >From liquid brass, tho' sure, yet subtile snares He forms, and next a wond'rous net prepares, Drawn with such curious art, so nicely sly, Unseen the mashes cheat the searching eye. Not half so thin their webs the spiders weave, Which the most wary, buzzing prey deceive. These chains, obedient to the touch, he spread In secret foldings o'er the conscious bed: The conscious bed again was quickly prest By the fond pair, in lawless raptures blest. Mars wonder'd at his Cytherea's charms, More fast than ever lock'd within her arms. While Vulcan th' iv'ry doors unbarr'd with care, Then call'd the Gods to view the sportive pair: The Gods throng'd in, and saw in open day, Where Mars, and beauty's queen, all naked, lay. O! shameful sight, if shameful that we name, Which Gods with envy view'd, and could not blame; But, for the pleasure, wish'd to bear the shame. Each Deity, with laughter tir'd, departs, Yet all still laugh'd at Vulcan in their hearts. Thro' Heav'n the news of this surprizal run, But Venus did not thus forget the Sun. He, who stol'n transports idly had betray'd, By a betrayer was in kind repay'd. What now avails, great God, thy piercing blaze, That youth, and beauty, and those golden rays? Thou, who can'st warm this universe alone, Feel'st now a warmth more pow'rful than thy own: And those bright eyes, which all things should survey, Know not from fair Leucothoe to stray. The lamp of light, for human good design'd, Is to one virgin miserly confin'd. Sometimes too early rise thy eastern beams, Sometimes too late they set in western streams: 'Tis then her beauty thy swift course delays, And gives to winter skies long summer days. Now in thy face thy love-sick mind appears, And spreads thro' impious nations empty fears: For when thy beamless head is wrapt in night, Poor mortals tremble in despair of light. 'Tis not the moon, that o'er thee casts a veil 'Tis love alone, which makes thy looks so pale. Leucothoe is grown thy only care, Not Phaeton's fair mother now is fair. The youthful Rhodos moves no tender thought, And beauteous Porsa is at last forgot. Fond Clytie, scorn'd, yet lov'd, and sought thy bed, Ev'n then thy heart for other virgins bled. Leucothoe has all thy soul possest, And chas'd each rival passion from thy breast. To this bright nymph Eurynome gave birth In the blest confines of the spicy Earth. Excelling others, she herself beheld By her own blooming daughter far excell'd. The sire was Orchamus, whose vast command, The sev'nth from Belus, rul'd the Persian Land. Deep in cool vales, beneath th' Hesperian sky, For the Sun's fiery steeds the pastures lye. Ambrosia there they eat, and thence they gain New vigour, and their daily toils sustain. While thus on heav'nly food the coursers fed, And night, around, her gloomy empire spread, The God assum'd the mother's shape and air, And pass'd, unheeded, to his darling fair. Close by a lamp, with maids encompass'd round, The royal spinster, full employ'd, he found: Then cry'd, A-while from work, my daughter, rest; And, like a mother, scarce her lips he prest. Servants retire!- nor secrets dare to hear, Intrusted only to a daughter's ear. They swift obey'd: not one, suspicious, thought The secret, which their mistress would be taught. Then he: since now no witnesses are near, Behold! the God, who guides the various year! The world's vast eye, of light the source serene, Who all things sees, by whom are all things seen. Believe me, nymph! (for I the truth have show'd) Thy charms have pow'r to charm so great a God. Confus'd, she heard him his soft passion tell, And on the floor, untwirl'd, the spindle fell: Still from the sweet confusion some new grace Blush'd out by stealth, and languish'd in her face. The lover, now inflam'd, himself put on, And out at once the God, all-radiant, shone. The virgin startled at his alter'd form, Too weak to bear a God's impetuous storm: No more against the dazling youth she strove, But silent yielded, and indulg'd his love. The searing brightness of the sun: Gum Arabic, frankincense, liquid copal, cistus, neroli, golden cedarwood, and saffron. CLYTIE This Clytie knew, and knew she was undone, Whose soul was fix'd, and doated on the Sun. She rag'd to think on her neglected charms, And Phoebus, panting in another's arms. With envious madness fir'd, she flies in haste, And tells the king, his daughter was unchaste. The king, incens'd to hear his honour stain'd, No more the father nor the man retain'd. In vain she stretch'd her arms, and turn'd her eyes To her lov'd God, th' enlightner of the skies. In vain she own'd it was a crime, yet still It was a crime not acted by her will. The brutal sire stood deaf to ev'ry pray'r, And deep in Earth entomb'd alive the fair. What Phoebus could do, was by Phoebus done: Full on her grave with pointed beams he shone: To pointed beams the gaping Earth gave way; Had the nymph eyes, her eyes had seen the day, But lifeless now, yet lovely still, she lay. Not more the God wept, when the world was fir'd, And in the wreck his blooming boy expir'd. The vital flame he strives to light again, And warm the frozen blood in ev'ry vein: But since resistless Fates deny'd that pow'r, On the cold nymph he rain'd a nectar show'r. Ah! undeserving thus (he said) to die, Yet still in odours thou shalt reach the sky. The body soon dissolv'd, and all around Perfum'd with heav'nly fragrancies the ground, A sacrifice for Gods up-rose from thence, A sweet, delightful tree of frankincense. Tho' guilty Clytie thus the sun betray'd, By too much passion she was guilty made. Excess of love begot excess of grief, Grief fondly bad her hence to hope relief. But angry Phoebus hears, unmov'd, her sighs, And scornful from her loath'd embraces flies. All day, all night, in trackless wilds, alone She pin'd, and taught the list'ning rocks her moan. On the bare earth she lies, her bosom bare, Loose her attire, dishevel'd is her hair. Nine times the morn unbarr'd the gates of light, As oft were spread th' alternate shades of night, So long no sustenance the mourner knew, Unless she drunk her tears, or suck'd the dew. She turn'd about, but rose not from the ground, Turn'd to the Sun, still as he roul'd his round: On his bright face hung her desiring eyes, 'Till fix'd to Earth, she strove in vain to rise. Her looks their paleness in a flow'r retain'd, But here, and there, some purple streaks they gain'd. Still the lov'd object the fond leafs pursue, Still move their root, the moving Sun to view, And in the Heliotrope the nymph is true. Excess of love begetting excess of grief: heliotrope, frankincense, muguet, osmanthus, and neroli. $40 per set. On a lighter note -- The District atmosphere sprays are live! Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post are proud to present a scent series representing the people, places, and culture of New Orleans' Storyville, featuring artwork by the inimitable Molly Crabapple. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is pandering the perfumes, and Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is offering District-themed atmosphere sprays! Lavish bordellos and shady cribs, dazzling jazz, and swinging saloons: bounded by Basin, Iberville, Robertson, and St Louis, Storyville, known to locals as the District, was New Orleans' legal red light district from 1897 to 1917. This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture. Proceeds from every bottle go to Habitat for Humanity: New Orleans. Habitat for Humanity builds houses in partnership with sponsors, volunteers, communities, and homeowner families, whereby families are empowered to transform their own lives, and aids in eliminating poverty housing in the New Orleans area while serving as a catalyst to make decent shelter a matter of conscience and action. $27.50 per 4oz bottle. ++ THE DISTRICT GERTRUDE DIX'S White magnolias, vanilla orchid, and a cascade of champagne. MAHOGANY HALL Polished mahogany and teakwood and swirls of cigar smoke, with deep patchouli, tonka, cardamom, Spanish moss, and bourbon vanilla. PETE LALA'S CAFE Dusty leather, dry cedar and fir, fresh tobacco smoke, and the scent of tucked-away gris gris bags for luck in love, potency, and virility. New general catalogue bath oils are also live! - Recline in pleasurable, tranquil languor, or bathe with intent to stimulate your senses or replenish your joy while utilizing one of our therapeutic oils. Soak in your sins, or wash away all traces of your vices. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab offers you the best of both worlds, the heavenly and the diabolical, in your bathing experience. Whatever your predilection may be, our blend of softening and replenishing oils, with rosehip, shea, evening primrose, fractionated coconut, and vitamin E, will ensure that you experience the utmost in sublime (or fiendish!) pleasure. Superbly moisturizing without being greasy, lushly scented without being heavy-handed. Paraben & formaldehyde free. No sodium lauryl or sodium laureth sulfate. Labels printed on an Earth-friendly corn biopolymer. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab does not test on animals. All of our products are tested on friends and family. ++ VICES AND VIRTUES HUMANITAS No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted. - Aesop Carnation, black cherry, wild strawberry, helichrysum, and frankincense. IRA If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days of sorrow. - Chinese proverb Blood orange, patchouli, and vetiver. ++ THERAPEUTIC BATH OILS HEDONSIM He who allows his day to pass by without practicing generosity and enjoying life's pleasures is like a blacksmith's bellows: he breathes but does not live. - Proverb Awaken all of your senses with a bath that reawakens the passion of the soul. INTENSITY When the sun is shining I can do anything; no mountain is too high, no trouble too difficult to overcome. - Wilma Rudolph For concentration and clarity of thought. This bath helps you banish distractions, and gives you a renewed strength of purpose. GAUDIUM True joy is a serious thing - Seneca Enflame your delight in everyday things, and fill yourself with enthusiasm for life's little joys. New shiny things are also at Black Phoenix Trading Post! -- Graceful handmade Black Phoenix-inspired pendants created by Alicia Dabney. These pendants are exclusive to the Trading Post, and were created for Black Phoenix. They cannot be found anywhere else in all of Heaven and Earth. Each pendant is $39.00US, and comes in a Black Phoenix Trading Post velvet pouch.  Carnaval Diabolique/Triple Dagger: Pendant is a 1" square frame of antique copper with clear glass to cover the artwork, and a hematite drop with a copper daisy embellishment. It is strung on a 1.5mm ball chain that measures 18" and closes with a lobster clasp.  Bat-Woman Pendant is a 40x30 clear acrylic cabochon mounted onto the artwork, with in a two-tone antiqued silver bead ball rim setting. It is strung onto a 1.5mm ball chain that measures 18" and closes with a lobster clasp.  Ligeia Pendant is a 1-7/8" rectangular diamond glass tile over the artwork, and is sealed with a dark backing and diamond glaze. A 1.5mm ball chain that measures 18" and closes with a lobster clasp has been strung onto a silver plated aanraku bail. The current run for each style of pendant is twenty-five pieces. Since each piece is handmade the pendants will come down temporarily as they sell out in order for us to take the time and care necessary to create more. And last, but absolutely not least, Black Phoenix Trading Post is introducing its new kids' line: the Black Phoenix Imp Brigade! Clothing for the wee ones!  Mad Hatter  Poe  Rocking-Horse-Fly  White Rabbit And now for some not-so-happy news In the four years since our last price increase, we have tried our best to weather escalations in our operational expenses without having to raise our prices again, but we can't anymore. The cost of manufacturing materials, including packaging, labels, bottles, and the components themselves have gone up by an average of 10-30% over the past few years, as have in-house costs such as rent and utilities. Black Phoenix is a family. We strive to pay fair wages to our employees, which include cost of living pay increases and health benefits. Health insurance for our employees has gone up 10% every year since its inception, and in order to provide for our employees as best we can, we gave them the opportunity to add a dental plan. We have not raised our prices since August 3, 2006, and have made every effort to keep the price of our products as low as possible while maintaining diversity and our high standard of quality. We have also done our best to absorb the USPS postal increases. The last time BPAL adjusted our shipping prices was in June of 2007, and there have been three USPS postage hikes since then: May 2008, May 2009, and January 2010. Regrettably, we have to adjust our shipping prices. This is our new shipping grid, effective as of the Lunacy update on February 26, 2010 -- Domestic shipping rates for the US are as follows: Orders totaling up to $150.00: $7.50 up to $300.00: $12.00 up to $500.00: $14.00 The International Flat Rate shipping fee is $14.00 for all orders up to 20 bottles (or 240 imps); the rate jumps to $29.00 on orders containing more that 20 items that won't entirely fit in the Flat Rate box. Shipping is free for all orders that exceed $500. For Canadian orders, $12.00 will cover shipments up to 20 items; the price is $21.00 for shipping over 20 items. For orders to Russia and Poland, please email us for a freight quote. One 5ml = 1 item Twelve imps = 1 item Black Phoenix Trading Post is also forced to adjust their shipping rates: Orders weighing up to 1 lbs: $7.50 Orders weighing up to 2 lbs: $10.00 Orders weighing up to 4 lbs: $15.50 Orders weighing up to 6 lbs: $19.00 Orders weighing up to 7 lbs: $22.50 7 lbs + : $30.50 Shipping is free for all orders that exceed $500.00. The following prices will be in effect as of the Lunacy update on March 28, 2010: General Catalogue 5ml: $17.50 Carnaval Diabolique 5ml: $22.50 The Salon 5ml: $28.00 Panaceas 5ml: $28.00 Neil Gaiman series: $26.00 Hellboy series:$26.00 The District: $26.00 Sachs & Violens (Hero Initiative scents): $26.00 Gris Grimly series: $21.00 Dark Delicacies blends will continue vary by series. Price based on components. Single Imp's Ear: $4.00 6 pack of Imp's Ears: $22.00 The price for limited edition oils may vary, but will average $19.50 - $24.00 per 5ml, depending on the cost to manufacture. At this time, we are left with no choice but to bump our prices slightly. I truly hope you see the difficulty of our position; this is the last thing that we want to do. With all my heart, I hope you understand that we don't have a choice in this. We're not raising prices because we want to make more money; we're doing this because we have to in order to keep the business solvent. From the 28 January 2010 update: Happy New Year! Candles Moon is live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post! CANDLES MOON To-day is the Day of Bride, The serpent shall come from his hole, I will not molest the serpent, And the serpent will not molest me. The serpent will come from the hole On the brown day of Bride, Though there should be three feet of snow On the flat surface of the ground. Moonlight shining on the Quickening Tree, the heat and wax of sacred candles, the milk of ewes, Brigid's blackberry, the sting of keening wind, and the last flutter of the Cailleach's winter snow.  Both the tee and the perfume will be live until February 2, 2010. From the 19 January 2010 update: Love, lust, and tentacles are in the air at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab! To celebrate our favorite manufactured holiday, Valentine's Day, we present a vast and varied selection of scents that are sure to please the most ardent romantic and the filthiest libertine. This is, in part, a dirtybird update. There are naughty words in the Limited Edition section, and naughty pictures in the Novel Ideas For Secret Amusements Salon exhibit. Please exercise discretion. But first The following is a paid advertisement from the Miskatonic Valley Tourism Board: ++ THE MISKATONIC VALLEY IS FOR LOVERS! From the decaying waterfronts of Innsmouth to the sagging gambrel roofs and crumbling Georgian balustrades of Arkham, the Miskatonic Valley is a haven for lovers. This Valentine's Day, take your sweetheart on a stroll through the Valley's picturesque sites of natural beauty, including Billington's Wood, Devil's Reef, the sweeping Cliffs of Kingsport and Hangman's Brook, or dine at one of our many fine upscale restaurants. The Strange High Bistro in the Mist carries a 93 point rating from the Blackwood Survey, and offers marvelous wines from the Zadok Allen Vineyard. Looking for something a little different? The curious cuisine and desolate view at the Steeple are sure to make an impression! In search of the perfect gift? The Miskatonic Valley has much to offer! Dreamy arrangements are the house specialty at Enchanted Wood Florist, and no Valentine's Day is complete without a traditional box of chocolates from the Sugared She-Goat. Need something shiny to catch your mate's eye? Bijou Y'ha-Nthlei and Inganok Jewelers are masters of their craft, and can outfit your loved one with everything from engagement rings to custom-made thousand-pronged blackened Nyarlathotopic atef crowns. Single? Visit Dark Aeons Matchmakers! Now offering speed dating every full moon! Love may be fleeting, but madness is forever! Arkham Sanitarium's visiting hours have been extended for the holiday. Please phone the reception desk for details. This information has been provided by the Miskatonic Valley Tourism Board and the Miskatonic Valley Convention and Visitors Bureau. Iä! Iä! Cthulhu Fhtagn! Promotional artwork provided by Miskatonic University's Professor Julie Dillon, DFA. BIJOUX Y'HA-NTHLEI Innsmouth, MA New England's most exclusive jewelers since 1778. The Darlings first opened their shop in 1772 under the name Lower Innsmouth Ritual Implement and Fancy Goods Emporium, constructing sturdy household wares and cultists tools in their workshop and importing strange and fanciful items from all over the globe and points beyond. In 1777, Prudence Marsh, matriarch of the venerable Marsh family, came to the Darling twins with a request. She had obtained a sizable quantity of a strange metal alloy that her brother had acquired from an extraterrestrial ocean trench by mysterious means. She asked Absalom and Zephania Darling, twin brothers, favored disciples of Dagon, and youngest of the Darling clan-who happened to dabble in metalwork-if they could fashion a set of diadems for ceremonial use in a very important high festival honoring Mother Hydra. The brothers complied, and found that they had found that they had unparalleled natural skill with jewelry crafting, particularly with rare and strange materials. Within a generation, their graceful, fantastic, odd, and provocative bangles, bracelets, pendants, and tiaras were prized the world over by the most illustrious and nefarious princes and priests. To this day, Bijoux Y'ha-Nthlei is still family-owned and operated. Mathematically impossible, curiously irregular adornments fit to please the most discerning collector. A strangely proportioned, opulent, lustrous scent: neroli, Hawaiian ginger, white musk, tarragon, beeswax, heliotrope, yellow rose, oud, coriander, amber, and lime peel. ENCHANTED WOOD FLORIST Arkham, MA Unmatched artistry! Skilled in terrestrial, extra-terrestrial, and dreamscape floristry, these are the only artisans on Earth that are qualified to work with Moon-trees. Please note: the Enchanted Wood Florist will not deliver to any residence or place of business where cats are present. A burst of sweet, strange flowers, luminous Moon-tree sap, and ornamental grasses. THE GILMAN HOUSE HOTEL Innsmouth, MA The quintessential Valley vacation destination! With its distinctive bulging cupola pushing into the Massachusetts skyline, surrounded by gorgeous views of the majestic Manuxet River on the south and captivating swampland on the west, the Gilman House Hotel is an Innsmouth landmark. Built in 1750, this hotel is rich in Miskatonic Valley history, and is heralded as one of the Valley's most romantic getaways. By day, sail with the croaking, baying entities that lurk in the wharves, then come back to your room and bask in the many amenities that the hotel has to offer. Rest under the watchful eye of the Sleeping God, stroll through the boggy, vaporous central gardens, or unwind with your partner at the Gilman's House's renowned 4-star spa, famous for its sea salt scrubs and unique tentacle massage. The Gilman House's central location puts it easy reach of Innsmouth's open confluence of streets, its bustling downtown area, and the wharves, and it is a hop, skip, and jump from the Innsmouth Colony for the Insane. Banquet, convention, and ritual space available! Musty, dilapidated furnishings, peeling paint, swamp gas, and decay. INGANOK JEWELERS Arkham, MA Are you looking for the perfect ring to express your everlasting love? How about an amulet representing your sweetheart's devotion to Zo-Kalar, Hargag Ryonis, Tamash, or Nyarlathotep? Inganok Jewelers carries a vast selection of onyx jewelry, mined in Inganok, designed by the natives of Y'Pawfrm e'din Leng, and crafted by the skilled artisans of Celephaïs! Each piece is as unique as your last psychotic break! Gleaming stone and silver. THE STEEPLE Aylesbury, MA Specializing in mycological delights and housed in a converted church that was once dedicated to Saint Anthony the Abbot, this charming hideaway sits high atop Zaman's Hill and boasts a lovely view of the abandoned village below. Otherworldly fungus, Provençal herbs, and dark, shadowy woods. THE SUGARED SHE-GOAT CHOCOLATIER Arkham, MA Maddeningly addictive! This Valentine's Day, melt your lover's heart, figuratively, with a gift from the Miskatonic Valley's premiere boutique chocolatier! This season's specialty truffles are handmade by subjugated monks from Ghatanothoa's monestary at Mount Yaddith-Gho, under the watchful eye of Mother Shub's high priests. Imported to Arkham from Mu, they are distributed exclusively through the Sugared She-Goat. Iä, Shub-Niggurath, the Malefic She-Goat of Many Sugary Treats! Please note: each truffle is sold separately. Specify which truffle/s you are requesting when ordering if remitting payment via PayPal. DARK CHOCOLATE AND KEY LIME TRUFFLE DARK CHOCOLATE, WHISKEY, AND COGNAC TRUFFLE MILK CHOCOLATE AND MATCHA GREEN TEA GANACHE TRUFFLE MILK CHOCOLATE, COCONUT, CARDAMOM, RUM, AND GINGER TRUFFLE WHITE CHOCOLATE, BLACK RASPBERRY, AND APRICOT CORDIAL TRUFFLE WHITE CHOCOLATE, STRAWBERRY, AND WHITE PEPPER TRUFFLE THE ZADOK ALLEN VINYARD Innsmouth, MA Ut Sementem Feceris Ita Metes. Founded by the Esoteric Order of Dagon, and named after the man encased within the foundation of the winery, this fertile bastion of haphazard viticulture has been providing superb wines to the Miskatonic Valley since 1927. The site of the vineyard has been used for hundreds of years as an abattoir, and this environment lends a peculiar and exceptional terroir to all their wines and liquors. Visitors are welcome to observe Fishmen priests engaged in pigeage once a month. Please contact the vineyard for information on this as well as their scheduled wine tasting events. A deep velvety Cabernet Sauvignon with hints of plum, black cherry, rose petals, coffee bean, and smoky oak. Barrel and bottle aged, with a smooth and spicy hit mid-palate. Hints of Dagon's tarry black incense and clotted blood complete this well-rounded, robust indulgence. And now, back to your regularly scheduled update. Congratulations and be prosperous! METAL TIGER 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, cypress for longevity, and peach fruit and hemp to represent the fourth phase of Wu Xing, with a splash of blazing red of dragon's blood... to help you scare away the rampaging Nian. To counterbalance last year's Ode to Aphrodite, we present an Ode to her lover, the God of War: a series of eleven emboldening, strengthening, aggressive scents that embody dominance, power, conflict, vitality, wrath, vengeance, and sexual potency. Labels for this series were illustrated by Jennifer Williamson. ++ ODE TO ARES AATOS POLEMOIO Insatiate of War Cedar, black currant, and saffron. ANDREIPHONTÊS Destroyer of Men Tonka, benzoin, black sandalwood, and nutmeg. BROTOLOIGOS Murderous Tobacco, wenge, rose geranium, and myrrh. ENKHESPALOS Spear-Wielding Elder wood, leather, blonde tobacco, and cognac. ENYALIOS Lord of War Patchouli, frankincense, olibanum, thyme, cocoa absolute, Peru balsam, oakmoss, and juniper. KHALKOKORUSTÊS Armed With Bronze Champaca, pear, cedar, black pepper, jasmine, and red sandalwood. KHRYSOPÊLÊX Helmed in Gold Caraway, amber, saffron, bergamot, and neroli. MIAIPHONOS Blood-Stained Clove, anise, mandarin, and cumin. RHINOTOROS Skin-Piercing Vetiver, patchouli, white pepper, and grapefruit. THOOS Swift Tangerine, cypress, and white musk. THOUROS Furious Rose otto, lychee, and cistus absolute. From the passion of war, we move to the passion of love and sexual gratification - plus a few paeans to onanism. As always, our offerings during this Season of Schtupping contain adult material, and by clicking through to view the images and purchase our products, you are agreeing that you are a dirty bird who is 18 or older, and that you are permitted by law to view suggestive imagery. Blessed Lupercalia, everyone! The Season of Schtupping is here! ++ LUPERCALIA 2010 ANACTORIA 2010 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. LUPERCI 2010 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. OLISBOS 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. THE PERFUMED GARDEN 2010 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. SAINT FOUTIN DE VARAILLES Echoing the worship of ancient fertility gods, some early Christians attributed the power to grant blessings of reproductive fruitfulness to Christian saints through accidents of folk-etymology. A syncretic saint of questionable origin, he is possibly the result of a merging of the deity Priapus, or Mutinus Mutunus, and the sainted, semi-mythical first bishop of Lyons, Ponthius, often pronounced Fontin by the common folk of France where his veneration was concentrated. Saint Foutin's name is an amalgamation of Pothinus and the verb foutre, which means "to fuck", effectively granting this saint the prerogatives and powers of his predecessor, Priapus. Saint Foutin was said to cure venereal diseases and other genital maladies, grant fruitfulness to women, and restore potency to men. Scrapings of stone from the groin of one of the saint's statues in France was said to cure all sexual ailments. At other shrines, offerings of wine were poured onto the saint's penis, and worshippers molded ex votos in wax shaped to represent their afflicted body parts to leave in his care, either at the foot of his statue or hanging from the roof of his shrine. Beeswax, frankincense, dried rose petals, and a dribble of wine. SIGNIOR DILDO 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. SMUT 2010 After all these years, BPAL is smuttier than ever. Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes. TWO LOVES I dreamed I stood upon a little hill, And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed Like a waste garden, flowering at its will With buds and blossoms. There were pools that dreamed Black and unruffled; there were white lilies A few, and crocuses, and violets Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets Blue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun. And there were curious flowers, before unknown, Flowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shades Of Nature's willful moods; and here a one That had drunk in the transitory tone Of one brief moment in a sunset; blades Of grass that in an hundred springs had been Slowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars, And watered with the scented dew long cupped In lilies, that for rays of sun had seen Only God's glory, for never a sunrise mars The luminous air of Heaven. Beyond, abrupt, A grey stone wall. o'ergrown with velvet moss Uprose; and gazing I stood long, all mazed To see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair. And as I stood and marvelled, lo! across The garden came a youth; one hand he raised To shield him from the sun, his wind-tossed hair Was twined with flowers, and in his hand he bore A purple bunch of bursting grapes, his eyes Were clear as crystal, naked all was he, White as the snow on pathless mountains frore, Red were his lips as red wine-spilith that dyes A marble floor, his brow chalcedony. And he came near me, with his lips uncurled And kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth, And gave me grapes to eat, and said, 'Sweet friend, Come I will show thee shadows of the world And images of life. See from the South Comes the pale pageant that hath never an end.' And lo! within the garden of my dream I saw two walking on a shining plain Of golden light. The one did joyous seem And fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids And joyous love of comely girl and boy, His eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy; And in his hand he held an ivory lute With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair, And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute, And round his neck three chains of roses were. But he that was his comrade walked aside; He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight, And yet again unclenched, and his head Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death. A purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold With the device of a great snake, whose breath Was fiery flame: which when I did behold I fell a-weeping, and I cried, 'Sweet youth, Tell me why, sad and sighing, thou dost rove These pleasent realms? I pray thee speak me sooth What is thy name?' He said, 'My name is Love.' Then straight the first did turn himself to me And cried, 'He lieth, for his name is Shame, But I am Love, and I was wont to be Alone in this fair garden, till he came Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.' Then sighing, said the other, 'Have thy will, I am the love that dare not speak its name.' Love beyond reach: sunset tones of amber, red musk, and blood orange with three chains of roses, velvet moss, white lilies, crocuses, violets, poppies, blue musk, neroli, angel's trumpet, frankincense, benzoin, and night-blooming flowers. WOMB FURIE 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. An itch that needs to be scratched: Snake Oil and three types of honey. Keep on scratching those itches with our third installment of Novel Ideas For Secret Amusements:  Lupercalia, Metal Tiger, Iteru, Yule and Miskatonic Valley scents are $17.50 each, and the Anniversary, Resurrected, and Shunga scents are $20 each. The Anniversary and Yule scents will be live until February 2, 2010. Metal Tiger, The Lupercalias, Ode to Ares, and Valentine's Day in the Miskatonic Valley will be live until March 31, 2010. The Shungas will be live until April 30, 2010. They are the Pictures of Spring, after all. The Dark Delicacies / Black Phoenix Valentine's Day scents are live on the Dark Delicacies web site, and are also available at their brick and mortar shop in Burbank, CA! Black Lace, Black Heart, and Black Death are all vastly different but utterly complementary scents. They can be worn alone, or layered with one another seamlessly. BLACK HEART Sweet pea, vanilla-infused sandalwood, bourbon vanilla, white honey, carnation, pomegranate, Vitis riparia, plum, and cognac. BLACK DEATH East African patchouli, bay, tobacco, golden amber, blackened sandalwood, orange peel, lemon verbena, clove, and a touch of lime. Adorably spooky label artwork by Manda Lander! Dark Delicacies 4213 W. Burbank Blvd. Burbank, CA 91505 888-DARKDEL http://www.darkdel.com/ We are also thrilled to present Black Phoenix collaborations with the Mütter Museum and Space15Twenty! The Mütter Museum was founded to educate future doctors about anatomy and human medical anomalies. Today, it serves as a valuable resource for educating and enlightening the public about our medical past and telling important stories about what it means to be human. The Mütter Museum embodies the College of Physicians of Philadelphia's mission to advance the cause of health, and uphold the ideals and heritage of medicine. Their one-of-a-kind treasures include: The plaster cast of the torso of world-famous Siamese Twins, Chang & Eng, and their conjoined livers Joseph Hyrtl's collection of skulls Preserved body of the "Soap Lady" Collection of 2,000 objects extracted from people's throats Cancerous growth removed from President Grover Cleveland Tallest skeleton on display in North America The Mütter Museum is carrying Ü in their store. Created for the Mütter Museum by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, this scent is a mélange of balsams, leathers, and raw vanilla designed to evoke images of unearthed secrets and dusty, ancient libraries. The College of Physicians of Philadelphia Mütter Museum 19 South 22nd Street, Philadelphia, PA, 19103. http://www.collphyphil.org/MUTTER.ASP Located in Los Angeles, Space 15 Twenty is a unique retail setting, which creates an opportunity for Urban Outfitters to collaborate with creative brands that they find inspiring and interesting. Within the 12,690 square foot Urban Outfitters store, they showcase distinctive designers with a new pop-up shop every month. Each store is connected by an outdoor courtyard, which includes a performance space and adjacent gallery, both of which encourage participation in the curated environment. Aligning with local music, film and art venues, the courtyard and gallery present a rotating cast of musicians and artists. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has created two scents exclusively for Space15Twenty: Sweet Life, a luxurious blend of gardenia, pikaki, ylang ylang, and Casablanca lily, and Banshee Beat, a tousled, sexy mix of patchouli, vanilla, and hemp. Space15Twenty 1520 N. Cahuenga Blvd Los Angeles, CA 90028 http://www.space15twenty.com/ Due to component issues, Loviatar is being discontinued, effective immediately. We apologize for the suddenness of this pull, but we have no choice. Please accept our sincerest apologies! Once component issues stabilize, we will be able to confidently resume work on the general catalogue. General catalogue projects will be released once we're sure that any component issues are stable. Thank you for your patience during this challenging time! And last, but certainly not least -- the Black Phoenix Trading Post anniversary update is coming soon! Happiest of Happy Schtupping Days! From the 29 December 2009 update: The Blue Moon will soon be high in the sky, and to celebrate we are presenting the second Blue Moon scent of the month. This one was created by Brian Constantine, and the emphasis is on the moon's influences on the mysteries of the dreamscape. BLUE MOON 2009: BRIAN'S CREATION The spirit of the full moon is capricious, intense and passionate, yet still distant, aloof and cold. Luna herself governs glamours, bewitchments and dream-work, innocent wonder, transient pleasure and delight, the Moment, impulse, mystery and veils. The Blue Moon is one of her rarest manifestations, and this scent is formulated to encapsulate her most complex and profound nature: Mugwort, for psychic sensitivity... Yarrow, for divination through dreams... Styrax and frankincense, for wisdom and noscere... ... with a potent lunar-charged, oneirongenic blend of tolu balsam, moonflower, white musk, delicate woods, star anise, Florentine iris, Clary sage, Roman chamomile, Greek cypress, juniper berry, night-blooming cereus, and a touch of cardamom. This fragrance has been infused with Neptune's pine and grains of paradise to help part veils and spark the imagination. This year, we have two interpretations of Blue Moon. This is Brian's Moon. This scent is $17.50, and will be live until January 2, 2010. We hope that the blue moon will be a harbinger of amazing, wondrous things to come for all of you - and all of us! -- in this new year, and that 2010 is overflowing with joy, bursting with good fortune, punctuated by moments of true peace and tranquility and that it contains just enough filthiness to make things interesting! Happy New Year, everyone! From the 30 November 2009 update: HOLIDAY SHIPPING NOTICE: In order to receive your Alchemy Lab package by Christmas Eve... Internationals! Please place your order by midnight PST December 2nd. Domestics! Please place your order by midnight PST December 7th. In order to receive your Trading Post Package by Christmas Eve Internationals! Please place your order by midnight PST December 5th. Domestics! Please place your order by midnight PST December 7th. Black Phoenix Trading Post orders that include the Whirling Wind Moon tee and/or the Blue Moon tee are not guaranteed to arrive in time for Christmas. Lunacy tees and most LE tees do not go into production until we're done taking orders for them, and they take a few weeks to be made. Please bear in mind that we are not responsible for USPS shenanigans. We do promise that we will bust our asses to get you your orders asap. And... please do not take offense at our using Christmas, specifically, as a date marker. It is not meant as an affront to any other holidays, cultural celebrations, or religions. Without further ado Happy Yuletide, everyone! Whirling Wind is live at BPAL, as are the next scents in the Nile series! WHIRLING WIND MOON Swiftly walk o'er the western wave, Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, 'Which make thee terrible and dear, -- Swift be thy flight! Dreams of joy and fear: swirling dark and airy musks, mogra, plumeria, hyacinth, lily of the valley, dry white sandalwood, gardenia, pale amber, and oakmoss. SEASON OF THE EMERGENCE Month after month the gathered rains descend Drenching yon secret Aethiopian dells, And from the desert's ice-girt pinnacles Where Frost and Heat in strange embraces blend On Atlas, fields of moist snow half depend. Girt there with blasts and meteors Tempest dwells By Nile's aereal urn, with rapid spells Urging those waters to their mighty end. O'er Egypt's land of Memory floods are level And they are thine, O Nile--and well thou knowest That soul-sustaining airs and blasts of evil And fruits and poisons spring where'er thou flowest. Beware, O Man--for knowledge must to thee, Like the great flood to Egypt, ever be. During Peret the Nile's waters retreat, leaving a lush, fertile black silt behind. This is the time of plowing and seeding: crops and herbs were planted and cultivated, and prayers and sacrifices were offered to ensure a bountiful harvest later in the year. The seeds and the seedlings as the sprout forth from the deep black silt: cucumber, flax, wheat, radishes, leeks, sesame, and beans, with thyme, frankincense, chamomile, coriander, spikenard, cumin, hyssop, and juniper. HATMEHIT The Egyptian fish goddess, orginally a deification of the Nile River, the Great Flood, and the Waters of Creation. The scent of the depths of the River, teeming with aquatic life, sanctified by holy herbs. The Blue Moon will be manifesting this December, and we will be offering two interpretations of the event this time around. First, my take on it: BLUE MOON The spirit of the full moon is capricious, intense and passionate, yet still distant, aloof and cold. Luna herself governs glamours, bewitchments and dream-work, innocent wonder, transient pleasure and delight, the Moment, impulse, mystery and veils. The Blue Moon is one of her rarest manifestations, and this scent is formulated to encapsulate her most complex and profound nature: Mugwort, for psychic sensitivity... Calea Zacatechichi, for divination through dreams... Orchid and frankincense, for complexity, wisdom and noscere... ... with a potent lunar-charged, oneirongenic blend of blue musk, exquisite woods, moonflower, Madagascan ylang ylang, Florentine iris, Greek cypress, green tea absolute, palmarosa, cucumber, Clary sage, lavender, lemon balm, and passion fruit. At the end of the month, Brian's expression of the Blue Moon will be going live! The Whirling Wind and Blue Moon tees will be going live at Black Phoenix Trading Post tomorrow, and the next Vampire Tarot scent and card set and matching tee will be going live at BPAL and BPTP later this month! Whirling Wind Moon and all of the Iteru, Yule and Miskatonic Valley scents are $17.50 each, and Blue Moon and the Anniversary and Resurrected scents are $20 each. The anniversary and Yule scents will be live until January 2010. Blue-Moon-Beth-Style and Whirling Wind Moon will be live until December 5, 2009. Blue-Moon-Brian-Style will appear at the end of the month along with December's second full moon. The four Dark Delicacies Yule scents are live on the Dark Delicacies web site, and are available at their brick and mortar shop in Burbank, CA! -- Upon being discharged from his restful stay at Arkham Sanitarium, Del Howison and his wife, Sue, the former archivist and curator of the Cabot Museum in Beacon Hill, opened up a bookstore in Arkham specializing in hard-to-find grimoires, occult treatises, and mystical antiquities. They also cater to the lighter interests of the Valley’s cultists, and carry a vast selection of macabre books, DVDs, and ceremonial memorabilia. Every Saturday at midnight, Sue hosts Tiny Terror Story Time -- including interactive ritual indoctrination for tots AND milk and cookies! Each week features the songs, stories, and rites of a different Outer God or Great Old One! Fifteen years later, they have twelve stores across the Miskatonic Valley, and one in sunny Burbank, CA! STORY TIME AT DARK DELICACIES Heavy oak shelving, cracked leather bindings, incense-soaked parchment, ancient inks, baneful aromatic herbs, and crumbs of spilled sugar-glazed lemon butter cookies that have been accidentally dragged from the kiddie section of the store. SUE’S GREAT OLD PUPPET SHOW Sue’s adorable Cthulhu hand puppets and whirling Nyarlathotep marionettes help kids learn about ancient and terrible extraterrestrial beings! A wacky way to introduce your little ones to forbidden blood-chilling rites! Hot cocoa, tiny marshmallows, white glue, stick-on googly eyes, and felt! In 2000, Del Howison opened the Nameless City Drive-In theatre in Arkham, and eventually expanded to Innsmouth, Dunwich, and Kingsport. While Del focuses on blockbuster horror hits in his theatres, he also shows documentaries of local interest, and hosts the Dylath-Leen Film Festival which showcases the work of both prominent and up-and-coming Miskatonic Valley filmmakers. As a public service, Del provides shuttle transportation to Arkham Sanitarium at the conclusion of each film festival. Classic comedies are shown at the Nameless City Drive-In on the first Monday of every month! Abbot and Costello vs. the Lurking Ineffable Horror from the Depths of Space and Time is always a hit! Due to increased Mi-Go activity in recent months, convertibles and Minis are gently discouraged at the drive-in. THE NAMELESS CITY DRIVE-IN THEATRE Chrome bumpers gleaming in cold, exhaust-fume laden night air. Soggy foliage and crushed grass dotted with popcorn that has been crushed under rubber tires. Leather seats moist with skin musk and the sweat of groping hands fumbling under ceremonial robes. THE SNACK HUT Hot popcorn covered in a glowing golden liquid substance, fried things, and artificially flavored cherry frozen carbonated beverages, extra-loaded with high-fructose corn syrup. During this year’s Miskatonic Valley Yuletide Faire, Sue will be running the kid’s crafts booth, and Del will be showing holiday cinematic favorites throughout the season, including “It’s a Gibbering, Seething Life”, “All I Want For Yuletide is Bleating Madness”, and “’Twas the Night Before the Profane Horror Manifested”! (The oils are devoid of felt, googly eyes, high fructose corn syrup, artificial cherry flavoring, glue, and tentacles. Don’t be silly!) The Dark Delicacies scents are only available through Dark Delicacies! No imps ears exist for this series. From the 18 November 2009 update: Happy birthday, BPAL! Holy shit: we're seven years old! The past seven years have been some of the best years of my life, and I owe much of that to the family that has grown around Black Phoenix. Thank you to my brother and partner, Brian, who spearheads Production, and without whom Black Phoenix would not exist. I love you! Thank you to my husband, Teddy o'the Trading Post. Your love and support keeps me afloat, and you inspire me like no other. I love you! Thank you, Kathy, my right hand woman. You keep me sane, and you find my head for me when its not screwed on properly, and truly, I don't know what I'd do without you. I love you! Thank you, Jacquelynn, our general manager, whose gentle Virgo whip cracking ensures that the wheels of our strange machine run smoothly. I love you! Thank you to Bill, the patron saint of customer service. Your beautiful heart shines through your emails. I love you! Thank you to our production staff, who form the backbone of this company. You enable us to share our creations with the world, and I am eternally grateful. I love you! Thank you to the mods and administrators of bpal.org for being the best friends anyone could ask for. You take on a difficult, often thankless, job with love and dedication beyond the call of duty. Thank you for being my proofreaders, my sanity check, and my foundation. You are amazing women, and I love you! Thank you to Sue and Del at Dark Delicacies for giving BPAL a home away from home, for always being there for us, and for being wonderful grandparents to the Little Demoness. I love you! (And so does Lilith!) Thank you to the artists that work with us, Jennifer Williamson, Alicia Dabney, Julie Dillon, Madame Talbot, Quique Alcatena, Jennifer Rodgers, and Sarah Coleman, for bringing our scents to life! I love you! Thank you to Lisa and the crew at Whole Foods in Roswell, GA for giving their all to Dirty South will call! You are amazing people, and I love you! Thank you to the Mütter Museum, Le Pink, Whole Foods, Urban Outfitters, Wildilocks, and Healthy Living for giving our products a home in your stores! Thank you to the bloggers, journalists, magazines, and other media outlets that have shown interest in Black Phoenix, and have taken the time to do writeups on our shops! Thank you for your time and energy; it means the world to us! Thank you to Neil Gaiman for affecting me like no other author, for being such a supportive friend, and for allowing me the pleasure of interpreting your beautiful, witty, soul-moving stories through scent. I love you! Thank you to Amanda Palmer, Terry Pratchett, Terry Moore, Mike and Christine Mignola, George Perez, Peter David, Molly Crabapple, Mark Waid, Ross Ritchie, Jill Thompson, Brian Pulido, and Gris Grimly for giving us such all such joy through the beauty of your art, and for giving Black Phoenix the opportunity to interpret your work. Thank you to the kind people at the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund and the Hero Initiative. You help those who cannot help themselves, and you are an inspiration to us all. Thank you to all our clients. Thank you for being there for us, and for each other, throughout all these years. Thank you for sharing our happiness and holding our hands through times of grief, loss, and transition. Thank you for celebrating pivotal points in our lives with us the challenges of our rites of passage and difficult times of change beautiful moments weddings and births and comforting us in times of sorrow. Thank you for wit, your kind hearts, and your friendship. Without the amazing, beautiful people we have met through and because of Black Phoenix, this would all be ashes. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share all that I love, all that I fear, and all I desire with all of you. I love you! Now, before I start weeping like a loon, let's get on with the new stuffs The BPAL 7th Anniversary scents are live! ++ THE ALCHEMICAL PHOENIXES GOLD PHOENIX La Lumiere sortant des Tenebres. The noblest of the alchemical metals, representing the splendor of the Sun. It is the essence of pure consciousness and represents the divine, creative force present in all spirit and all matter. It is the symbol of the goal of perfection, and is capable of radiating all the colors of dawn and dusk while still retaining its unblemished purity. Three ambers representing common gold, astral gold, and elementary gold, with verbena, angelica, and heliotrope that has been purified by frankincense and Gum Arabic. SILVER PHOENIX Lustrous, pliable, delicate, and malleable, silver is as mysterious and radiant as the moon. Silver requires darkness in order to react, and receives light passively. Opalescent orris shimmering through a blend of mallow, moonflower, wild pear, iris, starwort, juniper, and mugwort. COPPER PHOENIX Copper's lustrous, rose-tinted Venusian energy inspires creativity and assists in balancing spiritual polarities. It can be utilized as a literal mirror, and a mirror reflecting the beauty of the soul. Rose-infused dark amber, with sweet orange, honey, cardamom, patchouli, apricot, pink pepper, and red sandalwood. IRON PHOENIX Blood and fire: a magnetic metal that burns brightly and easily. Iron illustrates the metabolic process and the need to control primal, brutal urges without quelling the fire of passion. Dragon's blood and dark, dense metal, black pepper, clove, red ginger, basil, and myrrh. TIN PHOENIX A malleable, pale metal with a flexible, crystalline structure that speaks out with a thunderous voice when bent or shaken. It is representative of the breath of life and the storminess of the spirit. Pale metals, crackling ozone, hyssop, white mint, tonka, and lemongrass. QUICKSILVER PHOENIX Mercury exists in three states of matter, just as Hermes, its patron, was the one deity that could move freely through the three classical worlds. In one of the alchemical processes, nitric acid, also called aqua fortis, is combined with Mercury, which then separates into a bed of red crystals and a cloud of red vapor. This experiment symbolizes the soul's transcendence over the polarities of mercy and severity, heaven and earth, light and darkness, life and death. Mercury is capable of forming complex compounds and amalgamating with elements that normally will not bind with others. Combined with phosphor and charged with electricity, it produces light. Cinnabar and silvery liquid droplets of mastic, white sandalwood, elemi, and lavender. LEAD PHOENIX Solid, heavy, and resistant to corrosion, lead is the first and oldest of the Seven Metals. It is the metal of ammunition and tombs, radiation shields and solder. Though it represents limitations and boundaries, it also transcends them when combined with other elements to create Philosophical Mercury. A dark and lusterless scent that contains the potential for limitless spiritual radiance: tobacco absolute, hemlock, plum, cypress, styrax, olibanum, and wild lettuce. And this year's resurrected scents ++ 2009 RESURRECTED BLENDS HOD Glory and Majesty, Kokab, God's Judgement. SPOOKY A maddeningly festive blend of warm, buttery rum, cocoa, coconut, vanilla and a jolt of peppermint. It's a sweet, decadent, slightly silly scent, reminiscent of rum-laced holiday cookies. Much is also new at Black Phoenix Trading Post! Several new claw polishes are live at the 'Post, inspired by BPAL's Bordello, Croquet, Malediction, Sed Non Satiata, and two Phoenix Steamworks-inspired colors: Smokestack and Robotic Scarab. A tee commemorating BPAL's annual Resurrection of the Smells is live!  Artwork by Jennifer Williamson! And last, but not least, Neil Gaiman's Snow, Glass, Apples locket is live!  Based on illustrations by Julie Dillon for the Snow, Glass, Apples chapbook produced by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab. We are tying up one remaining loose end with the Inquisition, and it will be live later this week! Please mark it on your calendars: Dark Delicacies will be hosting the final Black Phoenix trunk show of 2009 on November 29, 2009 from 12pm til 3pm! Details to come! Happy Friday the 13th! From the 28 October 2009 update: Peach Moon is ripening early at Alchemy Lab and Trading Post! Both will be live on their respective sites until November 5, 2009! PEACH MOON Smoke hangs on the stream, The peach-trees shed bright leaves in the water, Sound drifts in the evening haze Dew-covered peach blossom, white tea, moonlit musk, night-blooming jasmine, ho wood, and chrysanthemum.  Black Phoenix Trading Post has gone live with the next installment of Neil Gaiman's 15 Painted Cards From a Vampire Tarot: the Magician!  Bring home your memories of this year's Miskatonic Valley Yuletide Faire with a stylish commemorative tee! Doubles as a cultist robe in a pinch, and machine washable, too!  The Miskatonic Valley Yuletide Faire Official Event Tee! What else is new at Black Phoenix Trading Post? The Yule Bath Oils and Yule Atmosphere Sprays are back! - with a new addition! ++ YULE BATH OILS ICE PRINCE BATH OIL As beautiful and cold as a December storm. Crystalline musk, winter lily, bergamot, plum, and frozen pine boughs. PROSERPINA BATH OIL For thine came pale and a maiden, and sister to sorrow; but ours, Her deep hair heavily laden with odour and colour of flowers, White rose of the rose-white water, a silver splendour, a flame, Bent down unto us that besought her, and earth grew sweet with her name. The emergence of light in darkness. Frozen pomegranate and a hint of nocturnal blossoms. WINTER MAIDEN BATH OIL Ice-rimed innocence. The blush of youth, frozen for eternity. Snow-laden woods, iced blackberry and bergamot, white rose, and crystallized amber. HOLIDAY STRESS RELIEF BATH OIL Relax, revive, restore. Peppermint, spearmint, geranium bourbon, lavender, clary sage, white amber, juniper berry, laurel leaf, coriander, opoponax, and mandarin. ++ YULE ATMOSPHERE SPRAYS KRAMPUSUMZÜGE Dirt-spattered rags, rusted chains, and dry switches against a backdrop of black fir and snow. SNOW WHITE A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. Snow White and Krampusumzüge are $25 each. Ice Prince, Proserpina, and Winter Maiden are $30 each, and Holiday Stress Relief is $40. The Yule sprays and bath oils are available until December 15, 2009. BPTP's District collaboration with Molly Crabapple will be ready to go live in a few weeks time, and the Inquisition is coming up as soon as we iron out some of the kinks! Black Phoenix Trading Post customer service will be offline from Thursday, October 28 til Tuesday, November 3. Ted will be able to resume answering your questions and flirting long-distance on the 3rd. I, personally, will be offline, too, but BPAL customer service will be available and production and shipping at both BPAL and BPTP will continue as usual. A gentle reminder: West Coast Will Call will not be on the full moon in November, as many of our will call staffers will be out of town for the holiday. WCWC has been moved to Wednesday, November 4, 7-10pm. The theme this month is Dia de los Muertos! Costumes welcome and encouraged! We will be holding a canned food drive this month, so if you bring canned food, we will give you something in return. East Coast Will Call is at Whole Foods Market, aka Harry's Farmer's Market, in Roswell, GA on November 8, from 5-8. If you have any questions, please email us at willcall@blackphoenixalchemylab.com. Please note: there is a slight delay in shipping for BPAL and BPTP orders at this time. We're experiencing the holiday crunch, but we are endeavoring to get everything you order into your hands as quickly as possible! We hope everyone has a safe, yet stimulating, Halloween, a blessed All Saints Day, and a glorious Dia de los Muertos! From the 21 October 2009 update: A very merry early Yule to all! First things first while the Alchemy Lab update is going live now, the Trading Post update, including the Inquisition, winter seasonal offerings, the District Atmosphere Sprays, and the District tee, and the Vampire Tarot Magician tee, is slightly delayed. In the interests of staying sane, we're separating the two by a few days, but I'm planning to have the BPTP update live by the weekend. Fear not -- we'll be working our asses off getting all the Trading Post stuff ready to go! And without further adieu the Yuletide LE's are here! ++ YULETIDE 2009 BUT MEN LOVED DARKNESS RATHER THAN LIGHT The world's light shines, shine as it will, The world will love its darkness still. I doubt though when the world's in hell, It will not love its darkness half so well. The world will love its darkness: cistus labdanum, ginger, East Indian patchouli, pimento berry, oakmoss, saffron, smoky vanilla, sage, myrrh, and bitter blove. DED MOROZ Grandfather Frost! Accompanied by his granddaughter, Snegurochka, the Snow Maiden, he bestows gifts to virtuous and hard-working people, rewarding their decency and integrity, and punishes those who are lazy, shiftless, and unkind, killing their fields with frost, cracking the trunks of their trees, and destroying their homes. The first incarnation of Father Frost was not at all benevolent. He was the personification of the darkest aspects of winter, winter's destruction incarnate. He kidnapped unruly children, and slew people capriciously by freezing them to death. Light, darkness, kindness, and malice: golden amber, white amber, redwood, teak, bois du rose, sage, tree moss, and snow. DIABLE EN BOÎTE The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd, How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids, To see the enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows, white and azure laced With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design, To note the chamber: I will write all down: Such and such pictures; there the window; such The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures, Why, such and such; and the contents o' the story. Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables Would testify, to enrich mine inventory. O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! And be her sense but as a monument, Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off: As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To the madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' the bottom of a cowslip: here's a voucher, Stronger than ever law could make: this secret Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? Why should I write this down, that's riveted, Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down Where Philomel gave up. I have enough: To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear; Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. One, two, three: time, time! - Iachimo, Cymbeline Act II, Scene 2 There are few things more disturbing than a Jack in the Box. A strangely sinister, unnerving holiday scent: redwood, bitter clove, tonka, hemp accord, and tobacco with peach blossom, black currant, and red musk. EL DIA DE LOS REYES 2009 The Day of Kings, the Celebration of the Magi. In Mexico, on January 6th, children place their shoes by their windows. If they have been good during the previous year, the Wise Men tuck gifts into their shoes during the night. Hot cocoa with cinnamon, coffee, and brown sugar. EVENING CICADAS AND RED PEPPERS It is so, so cold! A cicada in the eaves With the red peppers. Frost-limned, ice-bejeweled branches, scattered blood-red maple leaves, a few camellia petals, red peppers, and nacreous, multi-colored musks that shimmer like gently-beating cicada wings. FAUNALIA Held on December 5th, this is the festival of the Horned God of the Forest, one of the di indigetes of Rome, god of cattle, fertility, wild, untamed nature, and prophecy through dreams. The scent of a thick, starlit, unspoiled forest, with a burst of wild musk, opobalsamum, black bryony, mandragora, and hemlock. THE FIRST SOFT SNOW The first soft snow! Enough to bend the leaves Of the jonquil low. Heavy drifts of snow blanketing winter's narcissus. THE FRUIT OF PARADISE 2009 While Persephone visited the realm of Hades, she tasted one single pomegranate seed, an act which compelled her to remain connected to the Land of the Dead for all eternity. Demeter's grief over her beloved daughter's absence that brings on the bleakness and barrenness of the winter months. The Fruit of Paradise, the Nectar of Death: bittersweet pomegranate, nurtured and cultivated in the hollow darkness of the Underworld. GACELA OF THE DARK DEATH I want to sleep the sleep of the apples, I want to get far away from the busyness of the cemeteries. I want to sleep the sleep of that child who longed to cut his heart open far out at sea. I don't want them to tell me again how the corpse keeps all its blood, how the decaying mouth goes on begging for water. I'd rather not hear about the torture sessions the grass arranges for nor about how the moon does all its work before dawn with its snakelike nose. I want to sleep for half a second, a second, a minute, a century, but I want everyone to know that I am still alive, that I have a golden manger inside my lips, that I am the little friend of the west wind, that I am the elephantine shadow of my own tears. When it's dawn just throw some sort of cloth over me because I know dawn will toss fistfuls of ants at me, and pour a little hard water over my shoes so that the scorpion claws of the dawn will slip off. Because I want to sleep the sleep of the apples, and learn a mournful song that will clean all earth away from me, because I want to live with that shadowy child who longed to cut his heart open far out at sea. Terebinth pine, pitch, and clove. HYPOTHERMIA Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm! How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these? Bone-chilling, heart-stopping cold. IN WINTER IN MY ROOM In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm -- Pink, lank and warm -- But as he was a worm And worms presume Not quite with him at home -- Secured him by a string To something neighboring And went along. A Trifle afterward A thing occurred I'd not believe it if I heard But state with creeping blood -- A snake with mottles rare Surveyed my chamber floor In feature as the worm before But ringed with power -- The very string with which I tied him -- too When he was mean and new That string was there -- I shrank -- "How fair you are"! Propitiation's claw -- "Afraid," he hissed "Of me"? "No cordiality" -- He fathomed me -- Then to a Rhythm Slim Secreted in his Form As Patterns swim Projected him. That time I flew Both eyes his way Lest he pursue Nor ever ceased to run Till in a distant Town Towns on from mine I set me down This was a dream. Pink, lank, and warm: grapefruit, yuzu, tuberose, peony, violet leaf, pikaki, Indian frankincense, and tonka. JOULUMUORI Old Lady Christmas, the sweet, smiling wife of Finland's Joulupukki. Her scent invokes the comforts of Christmastime and the warmth of love and cheerful companionship: a glowing hearth, luumukiisseli, riisipuuro, and sima. LICK IT TIL IT'S STICKY The stickiest thing you shouldn't lick this winter. Peppermint candy cane with an extra jolt of sugar. (As always, we have to state: don't lick perfume. Don't eat it, drink it, cook with it, or use it in any strange and unforeseen way. Black Phoenix is not responsible for that sort of irresponsible funnybusiness.) MIDNIGHT MASS 2009 I will wash my hands among the innocent; and will compass thy altar, O Lord: That I may hear the voice of thy praise: and tell of all thy wondrous works. I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house; and the place where thy glory dwelleth. Take not away my soul, O God, with the wicked: nor my life with bloody men: In whose hands are iniquities: their right hand is filled with gifts. But as for me, I have walked in my innocence: redeem me, and have mercy on me. My foot hath stood in the direct way: in the churches I will bless thee, O Lord. In Roman Catholic tradition, the Christmas season begins liturgically on Christmas Eve, though it is forbidden to celebrate the Christmas Mass before midnight. The most devout attend Midnight Mass, celebrating both the Eucharist and the drama of the Nativity. This perfume is a traditional Roman Catholic sacramental incense, most often used during a Solemn Mass. Traditionally, five tears of this incense, each encased individually in wax that has been fashioned into the shape of a nail, are inserted into the paschal candle. This is, of course, represents the Five Wounds of Our Risen Savior. Symbolically, the burning of the incense signifies spiritual fervor, the fragrance itself inspires virtue, and the rising smoke carries our prayers to God. Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, factorem caeli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium. Et in unum Dominum Iesum Christum, Filium Dei unigenitum, et ex Patre natum ante omnia saecula. Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine, Deum verum de Deo vero, genitum non factum, consubstantialem Patri; per quem omnia facta sunt. Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem descendit de caelis. Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est. Crucifixus etiam pro nobis sub Pontio Pilato, passus et sepultus est, et resurrexit tertia die, secundum Scripturas, et ascendit in caelum, sedet ad dexteram Patris. Et iterum venturus est cum gloria, iudicare vivos et mortuos, cuius regni non erit finis. Et in Spiritum Sanctum, Dominum et vivificantem, qui ex Patre procedit. Qui cum Patre et Filio simul adoratur et conglorificatur: qui locutus est per prophetas. Et unam, sanctam, catholicam et apostolicam Ecclesiam. Confiteor unum baptisma in remissionem peccatorum. Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum, et vitam venturi saeculi. Amen. NES GADOL HAYA SHAM But not long after the king sent a certain old man of Antioch, to compel the Jews to depart from the laws of their fathers and of God: And to defile the temple that was in Jerusalem, and to call it the temple of Jupiter Olympius: and that in Gazarim of Jupiter Hospitalis, according as they were that inhabited the place. And very bad was this invasion of evils and grievous to all. For the temple was full of the riot and reveling of the Gentiles: and of men lying with lewd women. And women thrust themselves of their accord into the holy places, and brought in things that were not lawful. The altar also was filled with unlawful things, which were forbidden by the laws. And neither were the sabbaths kept, nor the solemn days of the fathers observed, neither did any man plainly profess himself to be a Jew. But they were led by bitter constraint on the king's birthday to the sacrifices: and when the feast of Bacchus was kept, they wore compelled to go about crowned with ivy in honour of Bacchus. And there went out a decree into the neighboring cities of the Gentiles, by the suggestion of the Ptolemeans, that they also should act in like manner against the Jews, to oblige them to sacrifice: And whosoever would not conform themselves to the ways of the Gentiles, should be put to death: then was misery to be seen. For two women were accused to have circumcised their children: whom, when they had openly led about through the city with the infants hanging at their breasts, they threw down headlong from the walls. And others that had met together in caves that were near, and were keeping the sabbath day privately, being discovered by Philip, were burnt with fire, because they made a conscience to help themselves with their hands, by reason of the religious observance of the day. - The Second Book of the Maccabees, 6:1-11 In order to consolidate his power in Jerusalem and Hellenize the area, the Greek king Antiochus IV Epiphanes outlawed Judaism and ordered the population to worship Zeus and the Hellenic pantheon. As this was anathema to the Jews, they refused, and Antiochus moved to enforce his religious decree by extreme force. Some origin tales say that the dreidel was used at this time as a method by which the Jewish people were able to continue to study the Talmud in secret under the guise of gambling. Now, in addition to being a light gambling game, the dreidel is also a reminder of the strength, devotion, and perseverance of the Jewish people and the mercy of God. One scent in four parts: Nun, the Snake: nuun, nothing. Naḥš, in modern Arabic, means bad luck. Represented by scents of loss and remembrance: opoponax and lemon verbena. Gimel, the Camel: the Ship of the Desert. Represented by scents of abundance, fortitude, and determination: patchouli, heliotrope, pomegranate, and almond. He, the Window: sometimes used to represent the Unutterable Name of God, this is the window in our souls through which God's light touches us. Represented by scents of clarity and piety: frankincense, myrtle, and hyssop. Shin, the Tooth: also stands for Shaddai, one of the names of God. The hand formed into shin acts as a priestly blessing. Represented by scents of strength, generosity, kindness, and benediction: carnation, myrrh, red poppy, and hibiscus. The essences of Nun, Gimel, He, and Shin are blended to become Nes Gadol Haya Sham. NOW WINTER NIGHTS ENLARGE Now winter nights enlarge The number of their hours, And clouds their storms discharge Upon the airy towers. Let now the chimneys blaze, And cups o'erflow with wine; Let well-tuned words amaze With harmony divine. Now yellow waxen lights Shall wait on honey love, While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights Sleep's leaden spells remove. This time doth well dispense With lovers' long discourse; Much speech hath some defence, Though beauty no remorse. All do not all things well; Some measures comely tread, Some knotted riddles tell, Some poems smoothly read. The summer hath his joys And winter his delights; Though love and all his pleasures are but toys, They shorten tedious nights. Shorten those tedious nights with a surge of body heat: vanilla-infused red musk, champaca, petitgrain, ylang ylang, patchouli, nutmeg, honey, galbanum, and traces of caramel. ON DARKNESS 2009 You darkness, that I come from, I love you more than all the fires that fence in the world, for the fire makes a circle of light for everyone, and then no one outside learns of you. But the darkness pulls in everything; shapes and fires, animals and myself, how easily it gathers them! -- powers and people -- and it is possible a great energy is moving near me. I have faith in nights. An embrace: black poppy, lavender, thick black incense, black amber, rose geranium, Brazilian rosewood, and benzoin. THE PEACOCK QUEEN 2009 In dramatic contrast to the soft innocence of Snow White and the dew-kissed freshness of her sister, Rose Red, this is a blood red, voluptuous rose, velvet-petaled, at the height of bloom. Haughty and imperious, vain, yet incomparably lovely to the eye, but thick with thorns of jealousy, pride and hatred. PINK SNOWBALLS A lighthearted winter scent: chilly vanilla rose snowballs! Dainty, soft, and certainly unfit for flinging! THE SEASON OF GHOSTS In Latvia, the Ziemassvetki, or Winter Party, is a celebration of the birth of Dievs, the Sky God and Supreme Ruler of the Latvian pantheon. The two weeks prior to the Ziemassvetki is Ve?u laiks: the Season of Ghosts. Candles are lit to honor the gods and a fire is kept burning throughout the Season, burning away the unhappiness of the previous year so men's spirits can be renewed. At the feast of the Ziemassvetki, places are left as a courtesy to the ghosts, who arrive by sleigh. A scent created to burn away sorrow: bergamot, frankincense, rose geranium, ginger, lemongrass, and blood orange. THE SHIVERING BOY 2009 Cold, cold forever more. A winter storm roaring through empty stone halls, bearing echoes of despair, desolation, and death on its winds. The scent of frozen, dormant vineyards, bitter sleet, and piercing ozone, hurled through labdanum, benzoin, and olibanum. SLEIPNIR At Yule, Odin leads a divine hunting party through the heavens. On Yule Eve, children would fill their boots with sugar, carrots, and straw and place them by the chimneys for Odin's eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, to eat. To repay the children's kindness, Odin would refill the children's boots with sweets or small gifts. Confections spun of hazelnuts, honey, elderberries, and bilberries with a dusting of hay and a bit of carrot. SNOW-FLAKES 2009 Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow. Even as our cloudy fancies take Suddenly shape in some divine expression, Even as the troubled heart doth make In the white countenance confession, The troubled sky reveals The grief it feels. This is the poem of the air, Slowly in silent syllables recorded; This is the secret of despair, Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded, Now whispered and revealed To wood and field. The radiance and desolation of winter. THE SNOW MAIDEN 2009 The Snow Maiden is the daughter of Spring and Frost: as lovely as the first snowfall, and as striking as a sliver of icicle. Isolated because of her chilly otherworldly nature, and unable to know love, she longed for the companionship and warmth of mortals. One bright, white winter's day, the Snow Maiden came upon a gentle, handsome shepherd named Lel. She grows fond of him, and beseeches Mother Spring to grant her the ability to feel. Her mother is moved by her daughter's plight, and blesses her, but the moment the Snow Maiden is struck by the depth of love she feels for Lel, her heart warms, and she melts. SNOW WHITE 2009 A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. SNOWBALL FRACAS This means war. A scent tight with delirious adrenaline. Muddy dirt and frost-covered moss from the trenches rubbed into winter clothes and snow impact overspray. This scent hits like the sting from those dang icy hard snowballs... the ones that have been packed too hard by someone who is not playing nice... nailing you right in the face. SOL INVICTUS 2009 Sane, sol et in cloacam radios suos defert nec inquinatur. A radiant blend of solar oils: golden amber, saffron, heliotrope, hibiscus, citron, frangipani, frankincense, tangerine, mock orange, and orange blossom. WHEN THE WINTER CHRYSANTHEMUMS GO When the winter chrysanthemums go, there's nothing to write about but radishes. Lest the next few updates be dedicated solely to radishes, we've created this scent to keep the winter chrysanthemums alive. A gentle flurry of snow dusting the season's last chrysanthemums, illuminated by pale rays of winter's amber-tinted sunlight. YULE CAT The Yule Cat is a gargantuan Icelandic feline that feasts on indolent people who shirk their community responsibilities. Don't be lazy! - idle hands make for a very unpleasant Yule! Malevolent musk, a drop of infernal civet, vetiver, club moss, birch, goosefoot, and rowan. Hark! The Herald Angels Sing er Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn! The Miskatonic Valley Yuletide Faire is here! ++ THE MISKATONIC VALLEY YULETIDE FAIRE Welcome to Innsmouth, the Pearl of New England! Every December, the Esoteric Order of Dagon hosts the Miskatonic Valley Yuletide Faire, a holiday marketplace at the former Masonic Temple at New Church Green in Innsmouth. Mayor Obed Marsh, may the Deep Ones bless his eternal governance, lights the community sacrificial pyre on the first of the month, and the festivities begin! Amidst holiday entertainments, local artisans and craftspeople ply their wares. The Voices of Azathoth, our local children's choir, and the Servitor Flautists perform on the Grand Stage of Malignity throughout the month! "Dread Hymns Ancient and Modern" and the canonical cult scriptures are always lovingly reprinted and distributed by the kind folks at the Wilbur Whateley Memorial Library so that residents and visitors can sing and chant with the carolers, Esquimaux wizards, Louisiana swamp-priests, and local cultists. At midnight on Midwinter Eve, the liturgical play "the Adoration of the Mi-Go" is performed under the lights of a synathroesmus of iridescent globes by Arkham's world-famous acting troupe, the Haunters in the Dark, on the Great Stage. Get ready for holiday parties and ritual feasts with the help of our local farmers, bakers, and candymakers! Every year since 1928, Mother Shub has set up her tempting pastry and confections stand, the Yule Goat, and this year is no exception! Mason & Jenkin's Pantry will be selling their home made preserves, and the Innsmouth Canning Company will be offering a selection of fresh fish, true to their motto: You Are What You Eat! Shopping for holiday gifts is a breeze at the Miskatonic Valley Yuletide Faire! Old Man Ackerman, proprietor of Miskatonic Valley's renowned toy store and antiquities dealership, Elder Things, brings hand-crafted clockworks and tin machines that spout iridescent, prolately spheroidal bubbles to delight the wee ones. Old Man Ackerman's educational toys make non-Euclidean calculus fun! Curwen Imports brings a selection of exotic merchandise and antiquities from all over the globe and points beyond, including authentic 12th century illuminated manuscripts crafted by Bartolomeo Corsi. There's no better time to get a pet magah bird for little Billy or a new set of yellow Carcosan robes for yourself! Bargains galore! (For the pleasure of the adults, the Black Temple Burlesque Troupe performs nightly through January at the Vault of Zin in Innsmouth's Red Light District.) And that's just a sampling of what the Faire has to offer! Fun for the whole family! May this Yule season bring madness and the void's wild vengeance to all! THE ADORATION OF THE MI-GO The time-honored ecclesiastical drama that illustrates the piety of the Fungi and First Coming of the Crawling Chaos to the majestic black stone terraces of Yuggoth! Recapture the magic! Luminous, otherworldly wet and piquant odors mingling with black incense, the pitch-stench of Yuggoth, and fungal lichens. MOTHER SHUB'S SPICED LAIT DE CHÈVRE Nothing warms the cockles like a mug of Mother Shub's egg nog! Goat's milk egg nog with coffee liqueur and spices imported from the Crimson Desert! MOTHER SHUB'S PFANCY PFEFFERNEUSSE Fit for the finest oblation -- and your holiday table, too! Sugar-sprinkled pepper nuts with a bit of cinnamon, a bit of clove, a little cardamom, and a hint of nutmeg. MOTHER SHUB'S TOOTHSOME BANKETSTAAF A treat sure to please even the most finicky cultist! Tubular pastries oozing with spijs, glazed with apricot jam, and dotted with glace cherries. MASON & JENKIN'S PORT JELLY Red and sticky! From a genuine Old Salem recipe! OLD MAN ACKERMAN'S INSTRUCTIONAL TOYS Educational toys for tots! Learn non-Euclidean calculus, catoptric theory, quantum physics, and the mysteries of Elder magic the fun way! An ancient baetylus floating within an array of bizarre trapezoidal figures, glimmering tubes, rusting spheres, and whirling gogs formed from peculiar metals, glowing tektites, strangely suspended lead mirrors, and eerie driftings of meteoric dust. THE SMILIN' SERVITORS' HYPERDIMENSIONAL HOLIDAY HITS As seen on tv! A musical extravaganza of madness, terror, and woe! Twenty-three insane interstellar holiday hits from everyone's favorite amorphous toad pipers, including "Doom to the World" and "Here We Go to Sacrifice"! A discordant scent, silvery and strange like a lunatic's tinsel garland: freesia, eucalyptus, and yuzu, with sicilian lemon, massoia, opoponax, night-blooming jasmine, white bergamot, and copaiba oleoresin. PET MAGAH BIRD Every kid wants a pet magah bird! A prism of scent, an explosion of multi-colored feathers: blood orange, black plum, sugar cane, guava, frangipani, coconut, pimento berry, violet, caramel, and pear. THE BLACK TEMPLE BURLESQUE TROUPE Straight from the pits of black, lightless N'kai: the voluptuous bat-winged vixens of the Black Temple Burlesque Troupe! Cacao, black musk, and tobacco absolute. The Miskatonic Valley Yuletide Faire was illustrated the eldritch and diabolical Julie Dillon! The next card in Neil Gaiman's Vampire Tarot is also here! -- the Magician! ++ 15 PAINTED CARDS FROM A VAMPIRE TAROT: THE MAGICIAN They asked St. Germain's manservant if his master was truly a thousand years old, as it was rumored he had claimed. "How would I know?" the man replied. "I have only been in the master's employ for three hundred years. Burmese rosewood, olibanum, benzoin, turmeric, currant leaf, and oude. And finally, the latest addition to the GC the District! A collaboration between Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, Black Phoenix Trading Post, and Molly Crabapple that benefits Habitat For Humanity: New Orleans! ++ THE DISTRICT Honi Soit Qui Mal Y Pense Shame to Him Who Evil Thinks Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post are proud to present a scent series representing the people, places, and culture of New Orleans' Storyville, featuring artwork by the inimitable Molly Crabapple. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is pandering the perfumes, and Black Phoenix Trading Post is offering District-themed atmosphere sprays and a gorgeous District tee illustrated by Molly! Lavish bordellos and shady cribs, dazzling jazz, and swinging saloons: bounded by Basin, Iberville, Robertson, and St Louis, Storyville, known to locals as the District, was New Orleans' legal red light district from 1897 to 1917. This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture. Proceeds from every bottle go to Habitat for Humanity: New Orleans. Habitat for Humanity builds houses in partnership with sponsors, volunteers, communities, and homeowner families, whereby families are empowered to transform their own lives, and aids in eliminating poverty housing in the New Orleans area while serving as a catalyst to make decent shelter a matter of conscience and action. Molly Crabapple is an award winning illustrator, and the founder of Dr. Sketchy's Anti-Art School. Molly has drawn for the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Marvel Comics, the Bloomberg Corporation, the Coagula Art Journal, and Playgirl, and she has illustrated eight books including Scarlett Takes Manhattan. She has also turned her talents to 30-foot theatrical backdrops, children's books, parade installations, burlesque posters, critically acclaimed webcomics, pornographic comic books, art writing, and gallery shows around the world. More about the lovely Miss Molly can be found through a feature on her in the Art & Design section of the New York Times. Thank you, Molly, for inspiring this series! http://www.mollycrabapple.com/ http://www.drsketchy.com/ http://www.habitat-nola.org/ COUNTESS WILLIE Sophisticated, dramatic, well-traveled, glamorous, and worldly, Countess Willie V. Piazza, owner of the French Studio, was a trendsetter in style and fashion. Countess Willie was an educated woman, a patron of the arts, and possessed an impressive library of rare volumes. She featured many historic jazz musicians in her House, including Tony Jackson and Jelly Roll Morton. Unlike many of her counterparts, she was known for having a kind heart and a generous, loving nature. She was fiercely protective: when a patron of her establishment, the nephew of a prominent New Orleans cleric, committed a heinous act of sadism against one of her ladies, Countess Willie shot him dead. Chocolate plum musk, red musk, amaretto, candied fruits, and red ginger. CRIB GIRLS Situated on of the lowest rungs in the Red Light District's hierarchy, the crib girls solicited from their windows and doorways, entertaining their clients in sparsely furnished, dingy two-room apartments. Seven honeys under one unkempt roof, with fiery-tart cubeb and dusty cardamom. EMMA Better known as the "Parisian Queen of America," needs little introduction in this country. Emma's "House of all Nations," as it is commonly called, is one place of amusement you can't very well afford to miss while in the Tenderloin District. Everything goes here. Fun is the watchword. Business has been on such an increase at the above place of late that Mdme. Johnson had to occupy an "Annex." Emma has never less than twenty pretty women of all nations, who are clever entertainers. Remember the name, Emma Johnson 331 and 333 Basin Street Vanilla bourbon, tea rose, jasmine, pink pepper, and patchouli. FLORA Everybody in the sporting world knows Miss Flora Meeker and she knows everybody worth knowing. So it is unnecessary at this time to make any introductory remarks about Miss Meeker, suffice it to say she is still at her same old place where she has been for a number of years past, doing a boss business which deserves, Miss Flora is well thought of by all and her house is patronized by the best element. Carnival visitors should not overlook this swell mansion where the cream of female loveliness will be found which is situated at No. 211 Basin avenue. Miss Flora Meeker's Palace of Mirth Sweet, wet fruits, sibilant Eastern musk, apple blossom, tuberose, calla lily, osmanthus, wild orchid, amber, and sandalwood. HILMA The amiable, ebullient proprietor of the Mirror Ballroom, where Jelly Roll Morton got his first gig. Miss Burt, while very young, is of a type that pleases most men of today - the witty, pretty, and natty - a lady of fashion. Her managerial possibilities are phenomenal, to say the least, and her success here has proven itself beyond a doubt. Miss Burt has been with us but a short while but has won all hearts. Her palace is second to none. It is good for one who loves the beautiful to visit Miss Burt's handsome palace. There are no words for the ladies - one can only realize the grandeur of feminine beauty and artistic settings after an hour or so in the palace of Hilma Burt. Miss Burt, aside from having two handsome homes here, has one in St. Louis and one in Kansas City, Mo., where, it is said, she is as popular as in New Orleans. Don't forget to converse with her, as she is very clever, jolly, and cultured. 205 N. Basin Honeysuckle, Bulgarian rose, night blooming jasmine, sweet clove, cedarwood, black tea, and nectarine. JOSIE The brooding, raucous, and hot-blooded proprietress of the Château Lobrano d'Arlington, the gaudiest bordello in the District. Miss Josie had a true talent for hype, and promoted her ladies in an effusively romanticized, over-the-top fashion. La Belle Stewart, who was in actuality a circus hoochie koochie girl from Chicago, was billed as "a bona-fide baroness, direct from the court of St. Petersburg." Heady magnolia and honeyed peaches. LULU The Diamond Queen. An expert showman and entrepreneur, the eccentric Miss Lulu was the Mistress of Mahogany Hall until 1917. She invested heavily, but not always successfully, and at the end of her career as a madam, wanted to fund production houses for the budding movie industry in California. The 1934 Mae West film, "the Belle of the Nineties", was loosely based on Lulu's exploits. Tobacco flower, white gardenia, bergamot, and bourbon geranium. The Magician is $30 for the card and scent set, all scents in the District series are $25 per bottle, and all the Yules (including the Miskatonic Valley Yuletide Faire scents) are $17.50 each. And that's it for now! Please stay tuned for the upcoming Black Phoenix Trading Post update! From the 4 October 2009 update: Happy Halloweenie Month, everyone! The Lunacy this month is from the Algonquin calendar, Raven Moon, and the scent itself is inspired by a quote by Edgar Allan Poe: RAVEN MOON The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? Mournful and Never-ending Remembrance: shining, moonlit ebony musk with benzoin, myrrh, smoky vanilla, patchouli, nutmeg, and dried red chili.  The gorgeous accompanying tee was drawn by Jennifer Williamson, and is available at Black Phoenix Trading Post. Both the scent and the tee will be live until 6 October 2009. This month, we are also presenting a scent dedicated to our beloved friend, Pa-pow PA-POW Such glorious faith as fills your limpid eyes, Dear little friend of mine, I never knew. All-innocent are you, and yet all-wise. (For Heaven's sake, stop worrying that shoe!) You look about, and all you see is fair; This mighty globe was made for you alone. Of all the thunderous ages, you're the heir. (Get off the pillow with that dirty bone!) A skeptic world you face with steady gaze; High in young pride you hold your noble head, Gayly you meet the rush of roaring days. (Must you eat puppy biscuit on the bed?) Lancelike your courage, gleaming swift and strong, Yours the white rapture of a winged soul, Yours is a spirit like a Mayday song. (God help you, if you break the goldfish bowl!) "Whatever is, is good" - your gracious creed. You wear your joy of living like a crown. Love lights your simplest act, your every deed. (Drop it, I tell you- put that kitten down!) You are God's kindliest gift of all - a friend. Your shining loyalty unflecked by doubt, You ask but leave to follow to the end. (Couldn't you wait until I took you out?) -- Verse For a Certain Dog, Dorothy Parker Pa-Pow, Ted's best friend and companion for 17 years, passed away on September 1st, 2009. To celebrate her life and the joy she brought to all of us, we have created a scent evocative of bright days running through the grass and sun-warmed puppy fur dusted with California wildflowers. The proceeds from the sale of this scent will go to the Pasadena Humane Society so she can help care for the animals that were displaced and injured during this summer's Station Fires. To find out more about the Pasadena Humane Society, please visit: http://www.pasadenahumane.org/. Pa-Pow, we love you so much. At long last, there are some additions to the general catalogue ++ MARCHEN: GODFATHER DEATH GODFATHER DEATH He went onwards, and then came Death striding up to him with withered legs, and said, "Take me as godfather." The man asked, "Who art thou?" "I am Death, and I make all equal." Then said the man, "Thou art the right one, thou takest the rich as well as the poor, without distinction; thou shalt be godfather." Death answered, "I will make thy child rich and famous, for he who has me for a friend can lack nothing." The man said, "Next Sunday is the christening; be there at the right time." Death appeared as he had promised, and stood godfather quite in the usual way. Olibanum, elemi, Bulgarian rose, yew, and oppoponax. THY GODFATHER'S PRESENT When the boy had grown up, his godfather one day appeared and bade him go with him. He led him forth into a forest, and showed him a herb which grew there, and said, "Now shalt thou receive thy godfather's present. I make thee a celebrated physician. When thou art called to a patient, I will always appear to thee. If I stand by the head of the sick man, thou mayst say with confidence that thou wilt make him well again, and if thou givest him of this herb he will recover; but if I stand by the patient's feet, he is mine, and thou must say that all remedies are in vain, and that no physician in the world could save him. But beware of using the herb against my will, or it might fare ill with thee." A bruised purple bundle of herbs with hyssop and life-everlasting. THE LIGHTS OF MEN'S LIVES When Death saw that for a second time he was defrauded of his own property, he walked up to the physician with long strides, and said, "All is over with thee, and now the lot falls on thee," and seized him so firmly with his ice-cold hand, that he could not resist, and led him into a cave below the earth. There he saw how thousands and thousands of candles were burning in countless rows, some large, others half-sized, others small. Every instant some were extinguished, and others again burnt up, so that the flames seemed to leap hither and thither in perpetual change. "See," said Death, "these are the lights of men's lives. The large ones belong to children, the half-sized ones to married people in their prime, the little ones belong to old people; but children and young folks likewise have often only a tiny candle." "Show me the light of my life," said the physician, and he thought that it would be still very tall. Death pointed to a little end which was just threatening to go out, and said, "Behold, it is there." The wax and smoke of millions upon millions of candles illuminating the walls of Death's shadowy cave: some tall, straight, and strong, blazing with the fire of life, others dim and guttering. ++ MARCHEN: VASILISSA THE BEAUTIFUL THE LITTLE WOODEN DOLL "My little Vasilissa, my dear daughter, listen to what I say, remember well my last words and fail not to carry out my wishes. I am dying, and with my blessing, I leave to thee this little doll. It is very precious for there is no other like it in the whole world. Carry it always about with thee in thy pocket and never show it to anyone. When evil threatens thee or sorrow befalls thee, go into a corner, take it from thy pocket and give it something to eat and drink. It will eat and drink a little, and then thou mayest tell it thy trouble and ask its advice, and it will tell thee how to act in thy time of need." So saying, she kissed her little daughter on the forehead, blessed her, and shortly after died. Little Vasilissa grieved greatly for her mother, and her sorrow was so deep that when the dark night came, she lay in her bed and wept and did not sleep. At length she be thought herself of the tiny doll, so she rose and took it from the pocket of her gown and finding a piece of wheat bread and a cup of kvass, she set them before it, and said: "There, my little doll, take it. Eat a little, and drink a little, and listen to my grief. My dear mother is dead and I am lonely for her." Then the doll's eyes began to shine like fireflies, and suddenly it became alive. It ate a morsel of the bread and took a sip of the kvass, and when it had eaten and drunk, it said: "Don't weep, little Vasilissa. Grief is worst at night. Lie down, shut thine eyes, comfort thyself and go to sleep. The morning is wiser than the evening." So Vasilissa the Beautiful lay down, comforted herself and went to sleep, and the next day her grieving was not so deep and her tears were less bitter. Gently carved wood warm with a maternal love that reaches beyond death: rose-infused amber and soft golden sandalwood. THE WHITE RIDER The wood was very dark, and she could not help trembling from fear. Suddenly she heard the sound of a horse's hoofs and a man on horseback galloped past her. He was dressed all in white, the horse under him was milk-white and the harness was white, and just as he passed her it became twilight. White leather and sandalwood. THE RED RIDER She went a little further and again she heard the sound of a horse's hoofs and there came another man on horseback galloping past her. He was dressed all in red, and the horse under him was blood-red and its harness was red, and just as he passed her the sun rose. Red leather, red moss, and balsam. THE BLACK RIDER As she stood there a third man on horseback came galloping up. His face was black, he was dressed all in black, and the horse he rode was coal-black. He galloped up to the gate of the hut and disappeared there as if he had sunk through the ground and at that moment the night came and the forest grew dark. But it was not dark on the green lawn, for instantly the eyes of all the skulls on the wall were lighted up and shone till the place was as bright as day. When she saw this Vasilissa trembled so with fear that she could not run away. Black leather, oppoponax, tobacco, and black amber. THE CHICKEN-LEGGED HUT But at evening she came all at once to the green lawn where the wretched little hut stood on its hens' legs. The wall around the hut was made of human bones and on its top were skulls. There was a gate in the wall, whose hinges were the bones of human feet and whose locks were jaw-bones set with sharp teeth. The sight filled Vasilissa with horror and she stopped as still as a post buried in the ground. Creaky wood and sun-dried thatching, clacking bones, leering skulls, burnt herbs, and enormous magical chicken feet. BABA YAGA Then suddenly the wood became full of a terrible noise; the trees began to groan, the branches to creak and the dry leaves to rustle, and the Baba Yaga came flying from the forest. She was riding in a great iron mortar and driving it with the pestle, and as she came she swept away her trail behind her with a kitchen broom. Spell-soaked herbs and flowers, cold iron, broom twigs, bundles of moss and patchouli root, and moth dust. THE WITCH'S REPAST "Well," said the old witch, "I know them. But if I give thee the fire thou shalt stay with me some time and do some work to pay for it. If not, thou shalt be eaten for my supper." Then she turned to the gate and shouted: "Ho! Ye, my solid locks, unlock! Thou, my stout gate, open!" Instantly the locks unlocked, the gate opened of itself, and the Baba Yaga rode in whistling. Vasilissa entered behind her and immediately the gate shut again and the locks snapped tight. When they had entered the hut the old witch threw her self down on the stove, stretched out her bony legs and said: "Come, fetch and put on the table at once everything that is in the oven. I am hungry." So Vasilissa ran and lighted a splinter of wood from one of the skulls on the wall and took the food from the oven and set it before her. There was enough cooked meat for three strong men. She brought also from the cellar kvass, honey, and red wine, and the Baba Yaga ate and drank the whole, leaving the girl only a little cabbage soup, a crust of bread and a morsel of suckling pig. Kvass, honey-drizzled bread, roasted meat, and wine. FIRE FOR THY STEPMOTHER'S DAUGHTERS Vasilissa ran to the yard, and behind her she heard the old witch shouting to the locks and the gate. The locks opened, the gate swung wide, and she ran out on to the lawn. The Baba Yaga seized from the wall one of the skulls with burning eyes and flung it after her. "There," she howled, "is the fire for thy stepmother's daughters. Take it. That is what they sent thee here for, and may they have joy of it!" Flaming coals, hellfire, and blackened bone. VASILISSA "Take it, then," the Tsar said, "and bid her do it for me." The old woman brought the linen home and told Vasilissa the Tsar's command: "Well I knew that the work would needs be done by my own hands," said Vasilissa, and, locking herself in her own room, began to make the shirts. So fast and well did she work that soon a dozen were ready. Then the old woman carried them to the Tsar, while Vasilissa washed her face, dressed her hair, put on her best gown and sat down at the window to see what would happen. And presently a servant in the livery of the Palace came to the house and entering, said: "The Tsar, our lord, desires himself to see the clever needlewoman who has made his shirts and to reward her with his own hands." Vasilissa rose and went at once to the Palace, and as soon as the Tsar saw her, he fell in love with her with all his soul. He took her by her white hand and made her sit beside him. "Beautiful maiden," he said, "never will I part from thee and thou shalt be my wife." So the Tsar and Vasilissa the Beautiful were married, and her father returned from the far-distant Tsardom, and he and the old woman lived always with her in the splendid Palace, in all joy and contentment. And as for the little wooden doll, she carried it about with her in her pocket all her life long. She herself had cheeks like blood and milk and grew every day more and more beautiful: creamy skin musk and blushing pink musk with soft sandalwood, white amber, dutiful myrrh, and star jasmine. ++ WANDERLUST EL DORADO Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of Eldorado. But he grew old This knight so bold And o'er his heart a shadow Fell as he found No spot of ground That looked like Eldorado. And, as his strength Failed him at length, He met a pilgrim shadow "Shadow," said he, "Where can it be This land of Eldorado?" "Over the Mountains Of the Moon, Down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride," The shade replied "If you seek for Eldorado!" Copal resin incense blowing through halls of dazzling gold. OGYGIA On to Pieria he stepped from the upper air, and swooped down upon the sea, and then sped over the wave like a bird, the cormorant, which in quest of fish over the dread gulfs of the unresting sea wets its thick plumage in the brine. In such wise did Hermes ride upon the multitudinous waves. But when he had reached the island which lay afar, then forth from the violet sea he came to land, and went his way until he came to a great cave, wherein dwelt the fair-tressed nymph; and he found her within. A great fire was burning on the hearth, and from afar over the isle there was a fragrance of cleft cedar and juniper, as they burned; but she within was singing with a sweet voice as she went to and fro before the loom, weaving with a golden shuttle. Round about the cave grew a luxuriant wood, alder and poplar and sweet-smelling cypress, wherein birds long of wing were wont to nest, owls and falcons and sea-crows with chattering tongues, who ply their business on the sea. And right there about the hollow cave ran trailing a garden vine, in pride of its prime, richly laden with clusters. And fountains four in a row were flowing with bright water hard by one another, turned one this way, one that. And round about soft meadows of violets and parsley were blooming. There even an immortal, who chanced to come, might gaze and marvel, and delight his soul; and there the messenger Argeiphontes stood and marvelled. Sea air, kelp, and climbing vines, flame-singed cedarwood and juniper branches, cypress boughs, alder wood, violets, selino, parsley, glistritha, and white sage. PAÍS DE LA CANELA The legendary Valley of Cinnamon located east of Quito, deep in the Selva Amazónica. A thick tangle of deep green leaves, wild orchids, soft lichen, Patauá and Babassu palm spiced by the scent of deep, rich cinnamon. The bad news: De Sade is the latest to fall victim to misfortune. He's being discontinued as of today. Pending orders will still be filled, but we do not have enough stock to accept new orders for this scent. The good news: later this month, a Vampire Tarot card enters the deck, we take you on a trip through the red light district, a sticky bat flits into the house, and snow falls early in New England. (The Stars Are Right!) At Black Phoenix Trading Post, they're oiling the racks and heating up the pokers for an upcoming Inquisition! From the 2 September 2009 update: Happy birthday to Miss Lilith Victoria and her beloved Uncle Brian! Neil Gaiman's 15 Painted Cards From a Vampire Tarot is live on BPAL & BPTP! Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is proud to present a 15-month scent and art series based on Neil Gaiman's short story, "15 Painted Cards from a Vampire Tarot." Each package comes with a 5ml bottle of perfume inspired by the tale and a corresponding tarot card, created by Madame Talbot. The Fool's perfume: apple blossom, peppermint, allspice, and yellow sandalwood speckled with grave loam and clods of grave dirt. The Fool premiered at San Diego Comic Con 2009 through the CBLDF, along with a Limited Edition variant of the Fool, created by Alicia Dabney. The Fool is going live online with this September update. A new set will be added to the collection each month, spanning 15 months. T-shirts featuring Madame Talbot's artwork are available through Black Phoenix Trading Post.  The Fool tee will begin to ship on September 14, 2009. We chose to utilize tees that have been put through the burnout process in order to mimic parchment. It is an extensive and expensive process, and along with the 2-sided print, it makes for a higher price point. The fabric is weathered and has been washed over and over again. It looks deliberately vintage, and has a comfy, well-loved feel to it. The fabric is garment dyed 50% cotton and 50% polyester, and was made in the good ol' US of A. Due to the burnout process, no two tees are exactly the same. We tested the burnouts for two years prior to offering them. The tees we tested withstood innumerable washings over the years, in addition to the abuse of being worn by Ted while he plays hockey (yowch!), and they just keep getting softer and more comfortable over time. (No, we are not selling tees that Ted has worn during hockey. That would be a biohazard.) The fit of the tees, both babydoll and standard crew, are slightly smaller than the usual Black Phoenix Trading Post tees. Please refer to the size chart on the Trading Post site for more information. The babydolls are crews, have a "boyfriend" fit, and were created to hang gently on the body and slide across your figure; they are not skin-tight. Black ink on grey-brown parchment fabric. The oil and tarot card set is $30, and the tee is $45. This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture: proceeds from every single set and tee go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, which works to preserve the First Amendment rights of the comic community. Also new this month! The Hellboy series is live! So much thanks to Mike and Christine Mignola for their support and friendship, and for the opportunity to interpret the world of Hellboy through scent! HELLBOY Aftershave, candy wrappers, brimstone, and cat. TREVOR BRUTTENHELM A classic men's cologne mixed with the scent of old, yellowed books, a splash of bay rum, and summoning incense. KROENEN Shining black leather, gleaming metal, labdanum, and myrrh. LIZ A light, feminine vanilla floral perfume and a swirl of smoke and leather. PLAGUE OF FROGS Rubbery, wet, and warty. ABE SAPIEN A soft aquatic musk with kelp and juniper. The Hellboy scents are $25 each! Also new this month - scents inspired by Gris Grimly's illustrations for Tales of Death & Dementia! These scents debuted at the Tales of Death & Dementia Launch Party at Dark Delicacies, and will be carried here and on the Mad Creator website. To Commemorate the 200th anniversary of Edgar Allan Poe, Gris Grimly fully illustrated four of Poe's short stories, the Tell-Tale Heart, the System of Dr Tarr and Professor Fether, the Oblong Box, and the Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar. We are thrilled beyond belief to have the opportunity to translate a few of Gris' illustrations into merrily macabre complimentary scents! A FIT OF ARTISTIC ENTHUSIASM Inspired by Gris Grimly's illustrations for the Oblong Box. Electric jolts of mania: a salt-crusted coffin bobbing through tumultuous ocean waves. DETESTABLE PUTRESCENCE Inspired by Gris Grimly's illustrations for the Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar. Melty vanilla ice cream! HIDEOUS HEART Inspired by Gris Grimly's illustrations for the Tell-Tale Heart. A macabre Valentine: wild black cherries, licorice root, and cinnamon. SOOTHING SYSTEM Inspired by Gris Grimly's illustrations for the System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether. A lunatic's vintage cabernet. These scents are $20 each! And let's not forget this month's Lunacy FALLING LEAF MOON My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane. The first autumn rains dripping onto fallen leaves against a backdrop of opoponax, labdanum, patchouli, agarwood, and oakmoss. Unfortunately, our illustrator is running a little late, so we're not able to post the Lunacy tee for another day or two. We're truly sorry for the delay, and will be extending the ordering time on the tee. It has been a very strange year. There's been a little revamping and clean-upping happening on the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab web site! A million thanks to our lovemuffin, Alicia Dabney, for the new menu bar art on the main site, and for the artwork featured on the new Neil Gaiman menu page! We do have a bit of bad news: Bat-woman has been discontinued due to component issues. We apologize sincerely for the lack of warning; it hit us suddenly. The price for the Salon series 1 imp packs has been adjusted to reflect this change, as well. There's a whole lot new at Black Phoenix Trading Post, too - Two new Atmosphere sprays! EREBOS Thus saying, from her side the fatal Key, Sad instrument of all our woe, she took; And towards the Gate rouling her bestial train, Forthwith the huge Porcullis high up drew, Which but her self not all the STYGIAN powers Could once have mov'd; then in the key-hole turns Th' intricate wards, and every Bolt and Bar Of massie Iron or sollid Rock with ease Unfast'ns: on a sudden op'n flie With impetuous recoile and jarring sound Th' infernal dores, and on thir hinges great Harsh Thunder, that the lowest bottom shook Of EREBUS. She op'nd, but to shut Excel'd her power; the Gates wide op'n stood, That with extended wings a Bannerd Host Under spread Ensigns marching might pass through With Horse and Chariots rankt in loose array; So wide they stood, and like a Furnace mouth Cast forth redounding smoak and ruddy flame. Before thir eyes in sudden view appear The secrets of the hoarie deep, a dark Illimitable Ocean without bound, Without dimension, where length, breadth, and highth, And time and place are lost; where eldest Night And CHAOS, Ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal ANARCHIE, amidst the noise Of endless warrs and by confusion stand. Solace in darkness, the personification of shadow: lavender, black vanilla, white melon, night-blooming jasmine, rose, cedar, cyclamen, violet, and hyacinth. THE FAINTING ROOM Lush velvet cushions and prim tea rose, a splash of rose water on a lace doily, strong black tea, a whiff of pomander, and an orris root sachet. Also new to the Post! - the SKELETON LIBRARIAN PLAQUES!  The Skeleton Librarian Plaques are here! Inspired by the Skeleton Librarian t-shirt, this plaque is based on artwork created for Black Phoenix Trading Post by Kali of Johnny Ace Studios! Hand cast and hand painted, these plaques come in two styles: cold cast bronze and cold cast resin with a bone finish. These plaques aren't simply decorative: they hold eight bottles for display. Due to the handcrafted nature of these plaques, no two are exactly the same! Dimensions are 15"x9.5" This is a limited stock item: there are seventy-five bone plaques, and twenty-five bronze plaques. Once they're gone, they're gone. Suitable for indoor or outdoor use. Please note: the cold cast bronze plaque will patina over time. The Post is also thrilled to offer some Halloween treats! The Wanton Voluptuousness series - At Black Phoenix, we have a real thing for Lucy. This collection contains a bath oil, Oceans of Love and Millions of Kisses, which is innocent sensuality and sweetness personified. There are two room sprays: Lucy's Boudoir, which embodies Lucy's youth, beauty, and coquettish innocence, and another, Lucy's Darkness, that is the scent wafting through her room during her room during her final days among the living. They can be used alone, or the latter can be sprayed to corrupt the former. Lucy, Kissed is a perfume illustrating the scent of her undeath. $29 per 8oz Bath Oil $25 per 4oz Room Spray $17.50 per 5ml Perfume Oil No squirts or samples are available for this series. OCEANS OF LOVE AND MILLIONS OF KISSES BATH OIL Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble? Orange blossom and honey. LUCY'S BOUDOIR ATMOSPHERE SPRAY Rose water and lavender with stargazer lily, white carnation, bois de rose, white iris, violet, and honey. LUCY IN DARKNESS ATMOSPHERE SPRAY And then insensibly there came the strange change which I had noticed in the night. Her breathing grew stertorous, the mouth opened, and the pale gums, drawn back, made the teeth look longer and sharper than ever. In a sort of sleep-waking, vague, unconscious way she opened her eyes, which were now dull and hard at once, and said in a soft, voluptuous voice, such as I had never heard from her lips, "Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come! Kiss me!" Denn die Todten reiten Schnell. Black opium poppy, laudanum, blood, and a chaplet of garlic flowers. LUCY, KISSED PERFUME OIL There was a long spell of silence, big, aching, void, and then from the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s!" He pointed, and far down the avenue of yews we saw a white figure advance, a dim white figure, which held something dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of moonlight fell upon the masses of driving clouds, and showed in startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of the grave. We could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we saw to be a fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and dreams. We were starting forward, but the Professor's warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew tree, kept us back. And then as we looked the white figure moved forwards again. It was now near enough for us to see clearly, and the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognized the features of Lucy Westenra. Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed. The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness. Van Helsing stepped out, and obedient to his gesture, we all advanced too. The four of us ranged in a line before the door of the tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide. By the concentrated light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the lips were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her chin and stained the purity of her lawn death-robe. Diabolical voluptuousness, a siren song from the grave: juniper and yew brushing against blackened violets and funeral roses, red musk and hot blood, veined white marble and icy, brittle musk, all pulsing with the sinister, hypnotic scent of patchouli, amber, oude, and cubeb. (Many thanks to Aunt Beastie for inspiring the perfume's name! You were born to be an undead seductress, woman!) There are also some traditional Halloween offerings! - PUMPKIN PIE BATH OIL Devilishly decadent and a little bit ridiculous! BARMBRACK ATMOSPHERE SPRAY An Irish Halloween tradition! This fruit bread is used as a method of divination: a medallion of the Virgin Mary, a sliver of rag, a pea, a coin, a stick, and a ring are baked into the pastry. On Halloween night, it is cut up and served to the household. If you received the stick, you would spend the next year in conflict if you received the medallion, you would be called to the priesthood if you received the rag, you would be plagued with misfortune if you received the ring, you would be married within the year if you received the pea, you would not marry within the year Each bottle of Barmbrack spray comes with a toy coin and a wish for your good fortune in 2010! KNOCK-A-DOLLY Ding Dong Ditch! Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's Samhain scent with cinnamon sugar and candy dust! Every single order placed with Black Phoenix Trading Post from now til November 2nd will receive an imp of the Last Squished Jelly Bean. And that's that for now! From the 5 August 2009 update: The Sachs and Violens Collection is live! Scents based on the title characters from George Pérez and Peter David's groundbreaking comic book mini-series, 'Sachs and Violens'! Part of Marvel's Heavy Hitters line, "Sachs and Violens" was a 4 issue comic book miniseries written by Peter David with art by George Pérez. The series was published by Marvel's Epic Comics imprint from 1993 to 1994. George Pérez is one of the most popular and influential comic book artists currently working. He is best known for his work on Crisis on Infinite Earths, New Teen Titans, Wonder Woman, Superman, and the Avengers, and has most recently worked on DC's Final Crisis. Peter David is an Eisner Award-winning Writer of Stuff, including epic runs with the Incredible Hulk, She-Hulk, Aquaman, and Spider Man. Proceeds from every bottle sold go to the Hero Initiative, the first federally recognized not-for-profit organization dedicated to helping comic book creators, writers and artists in need. Founded in late 2000 by a consortium of comic book and trade publishers including Marvel Comics, Image Comics, Dark Horse Comics, Wizard Entertainment, CrossGen Comics and Dynamic Forces Inc., the 501(c)(3) charity aims to assist comic creators with health, medical, and quality-of-life assistance. SACHS A sensual scent, compelling and passionate, that stays close to the skin: Roman chamomile, bourbon vanilla, and smoky vanilla bean. VIOLENS Rugged and understated: five sandalwoods, dusty leather, and light musk. Help a truly worthy cause, and smell like a badass in the process! The Hero Initiative: because everyone deserves a Golden Age. Updated 5 August 2009: Black Butterfly Moon is live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab & Black Phoenix Trading Post! BLACK BUTTERFLY MOON Sister of the first-born light, Type of sorrowing gentleness! Quivering mists in silv'ry dress Float around thy features bright; When thy gentle foot is heard, From the day-closed caverns then Wake the mournful ghosts of men, I, too, wake, and each night-bird. O'er a field of boundless span Looks thy gaze both far and wide. Raise me upwards to thy side! Grant this to a raving man! And to heights of rapture raised, Let the knight so crafty peep At his maiden while asleep, Through her lattice-window glazed. Soon the bliss of this sweet view, Pangs by distance caused allays; And I gather all thy rays, And my look I sharpen too. Round her unveil'd limbs I see Brighter still become the glow, And she draws me down below, As Endymion once drew thee. Soft, deep, and luminous: Lady of the Night orchid, benzoin, opopponax, currant, black chypre, white gardenia, ambergris, damp, wooded mosses, and black lily. Black Phoenix Trading Post's Black Butterfly tee!  Artwork by Jennifer Williamson! One flat grey, one shimmer grey, two-sided tee. BPAL also has a selection of late summer scents in the LE section: THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER 'Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone; No flower of her kindred, No rosebud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, To give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter, Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow, When friendships decay, From Love's shining circle The gems drop away. When true hearts lie withered And fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit, This bleak world alone? A quiet, solitary scent: white rose, frankincense, Arabian sandalwood, neroli, orris root, and patchouli. SHADOWLESS LIKE SILENCE I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like Silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;-- Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright With tangled gossamer that fell by night, Pearling his coronet of golden corn. Where are the songs of Summer?--With the sun, Oping the dusky eyelids of the south, Till shade and silence waken up as one, And Morning sings with a warm odorous mouth. Where are the merry birds?--Away, away, On panting wings through the inclement skies, Lest owls should prey Undazzled at noonday, And tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes. Where are the blooms of Summer?--In the west, Blushing their last to the last sunny hours, When the mild Eve by sudden Night is prest Like tearful Proserpine, snatch'd from her flow'rs To a most gloomy breast. Where is the pride of Summer,--the green prime,-- The many, many leaves all twinkling?--Three On the moss'd elm; three on the naked lime Trembling,--and one upon the old oak-tree! Where is the Dryad's immortality?-- Gone into mournful cypress and dark yew, Or wearing the long gloomy Winter through In the smooth holly's green eternity. The squirrel gloats on his accomplish'd hoard, The ants have brimm'd their garners with ripe grain, And honey bees have stored The sweets of Summer in their luscious cells; The swallows all have wing'd across the main; But here the Autumn melancholy dwells, And sighs her tearful spells Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain. Alone, alone, Upon a mossy stone, She sits and reckons up the dead and gone With the last leaves for a love-rosary, Whilst all the wither'd world looks drearily, Like a dim picture of the drowned past In the hush'd mind's mysterious far away, Doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the last Into that distance, gray upon the gray. O go and sit with her, and be o'ershaded Under the languid downfall of her hair: She wears a coronal of flowers faded Upon her forehead, and a face of care;-- There is enough of wither'd everywhere To make her bower,--and enough of gloom; There is enough of sadness to invite, If only for the rose that died, whose doom Is Beauty's,--she that with the living bloom Of conscious cheeks most beautifies the light: There is enough of sorrowing, and quite Enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear,-- Enough of chilly droppings for her bowl; Enough of fear and shadowy despair, To frame her cloudy prison for the soul! Dry leaves and white sandalwood, rock moss, cypress, and dry, lifeless roses. SUMMER'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT What pleasure always lasts? No joy endures: Summer I was, I am not as I was; Harvest and age have whitened my green head; On Autumn now and Winter must I lean. Needs must he fall, whom none but foes uphold. Thus must the happiest man have his black day: Omnibus una manet nox, & calcanda semel via lethi. This month have I lain languishing abed, ... Looking each hour to yield my life and throne; And died I had indeed unto the earth, But that Eliza, England's beauteous Queen, On whom all seasons prosperously attend, Forbad the execution of my fate, Until her joyful progress was expired. For her doth Summer live, and linger here, And wisheth long to live to her content; But wishes are not had when they wish well. I must depart, my death-day is set down; ... To these two must I leave my wheaten crown. So unto unthrifts rich men leave their lands, Who in an hour consume long labor's gains. Doomed summer, supported on the shoulders of winter and autumn: citrus-infused Baltic amber, red valerian, marigold, blood orange, and sunflower subdued by somber myrrh and dry geranium alongside the leaves of autumn and a breath of winter wind. UNDER THE HARVEST MOON Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Death, the gray mocker, Comes and whispers to you As a beautiful friend Who remembers. Under the summer roses When the flagrant crimson Lurks in the dusk Of the wild red leaves, Love, with little hands, Comes and touches you With a thousand memories, And asks you Beautiful, unanswerable questions. Blue and white musk, summer roses, wild crimson leaves, grey amber, carnation, lavender bud, and vanilla bean. Its August and you know what that means at BPAL - ++ HALLOWEENIES BITE ME Well, we *are* doing a vampire update finally. Croquembouche with almond silk and a drizzle of caramel. BOO Eerie billows of spun sugar, fluttering white cotton, and sheets of cream. CARLIN The Spirit of the Eve of Samhain, an aspect of Cailleach, the Divine Hag, in her Destroyer aspect. While Brìghde rules the time between Beltane and Sahmain, Cailleach rules the Dark of the Year. On the night of Samhain, she transforms into Carlin, harbingering the death of the land and the onset of the snows. On Beltane, the Great Crone is slain by Brìghde so springtime can reinvigorate the land. Black sage, ivy-twined rowan, thistle, snapdragon, heather, gorse, fumitory, and anise. CREEPY 2009 A return of 2006's Ridiculous Scent! As creepy as Spooky was spooky, this is the scent of butterscotch-kissed, caramel-smothered red apples spiked with a blast of coconut rum. DEVIL'S NIGHT 2009 Devil's Eve, Devil's Night, Gate Night, Trick Night, Mischief Night; whatever your name for it might be, the chaos is still the same. Contrary to popular belief, this festival of pandemonium isn't unique to Detroit. Falling on October 30th, it is an evening of mayhem and destruction. On the gentler side, it may be celebrated by practical jokes, an egging, Ding-Dong-Ditch, or enthusiastic TP'ing of your most hated neighbor's trees, and on the more violent side, arson and vandalism. This is the scent of autumn night, fires in the distance, with a touch of boozy swoon, playful sugar and thuggish musk. DIA DE LOS MUERTOS 2009 A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte... Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fêted, as the celebrant "...chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love." This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda: dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus. FEEDING THE DEAD A barrel of beer, a pyramid of cakes, and three sticks of incense. THE HELL-GATE OF IRELAND The Cave of Cruachan in Connaught, a province that was given to the Formorians after the Battle of Mag Tuired. On the first of November, a flock of malevolent copper-colored birds bursts forth from the mouth of the cave, ushering a host of restless ghosts and wicked goblins that torment the living by blighting crops, killing livestock, stealing away brides-to-be, and replacing infants with changelings. Smoldering brimstone, bitter labdanum, clove, black musk, and copper-colored feathers. LAMBS-WOOL According to William Shepard Walsh, the Gentleman's Magazine for May of 1784 stated, "this is a constant ingredient at merrymaking on Holy Eve." He also quotes Vallancey's etymological speculation: "The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, etc., and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, -- that is, the day of the apple fruit, -- and being pronounced Lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to Lambs-wool." A popular holy day beverage in 18th century Ireland: roasted apples mashed into warmed milk and ale, with nutmeg, sugar, ginger, and clove. POMONA I am the ancient apple-queen. As once I was so am I now -- For evermore a hope unseen Betwixt the blossom and the bough. Ah, where's the river's hidden gold! And where's the windy grave of Troy? Yet come I as I came of old, From out the heart of summer's joy. The Roman festival for Pomona, Goddess of fruit, orchards, and gardens, was celebrated on November 1. On this day, the stores amassed during summer were opened for winter. Azaroles, nuts, and apple blossoms with red apple pulp, mulberry, blackberry, and pomegranate juice. SAMHAIN 2009 Truly the scent of autumn itself -- damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein. SUCK IT A companion to Bite Me. Layers well with Lick It. Hee! Sexy and suckable: black cherry brandy. TRICK OR TREAT 2009 The sticky sweet scent of candy corn! Even cornier for 2009! - cuz corny is how we roll at BPAL. (Sorry to be a spoilsport, but please don't suck Suck Me or bite Bite Me. Don't lick them, drink them, or put them where your bathing suit covers.) And the Pumpkin Patch is back! -- ++ HALLOWEENIE: PUMPKIN PATCH 2009 The 'Patch is back, and there are five new pumpkin blends to choose from. Pick individual pumpkins from the field, or snatch up the whole shebang! Pumpkin Patch I Pumpkin, almond, brown musk, and honey. Pumpkin Patch II Pumpkin, rosewood, red sandalwood, and tea rose. Pumpkin Patch III Pumpkin, fir needle, pitch, rosemary, and tomato. Pumpkin Patch IV Pumpkin, black musk, tobacco, myrrh, and clove. Pumpkin Patch V Pumpkin, chocolate, coffee bean, vanilla bean, and hazelnut. PUMPKIN BOOTY If you purchase Pumpkin Booty, you will receive an imp of Tattie Bogle: a scent created to compliment and complete the collection. TATTIE BOGLE Alane upon the field she stood, The tattie-bogle, tall an' prood. But certie, she wis smairt an' braw, A bonnie lass, tho' made o' straw. Her gowden hair wis made o' oo. Her dentie goon when it wis new Langsyne, hid been the guidwife's best. Sae trigly wis the bogle drest! The beasts they cam' frae a' the airts. (The tod ran tours frae furrin' pairts.) They cam' by day, they cam' by nicht, To see a maist byordnar sicht. An' craws an sparras by the score, A wale o' burds, mair nor afore. The fermer roared an' raged aboot. 'A'll cast yon tattie-bogle oot!' Pair tattie-bogle, she wis wae. 'Eh!' said the houlet, 'Whits a dae?' He flew doon frae the elder tree. 'Noo, dry yer e'en an' herk tae me. 'See, lassie, tak ma guid advice. There is nae yiss ye bein' nice. Can ye nae glower an' skreich an' a' Tae sen' thae cooardie burds awa'?' The bogle grat nae mair: instead 'A'm much obleeged tae ye,' she said 'Ma voice is lood - jist like the craik!' 'Then sing,' he said, ' for ony sake!' It chilled the verra bluid tae hear The bogle's sang : frae far an' near The burds rose up, a' frichtit sair An' nivver cam back ony mair. Sae should ye pass at skreich o' day Alang the road frae Auchenblae, An' hear a strange uncanny soun, That scares the burds for miles aroon, A soon like pincils on a sclate, Be on yer way an' dinna wait. Ye can be shair as onything Ye've heard the tattie-bogle sing. Hay, gunpowder, patchouli, autumn herbs, and sun-baked wood. The next part of our Halloween LE update was spoilered a bit by Bite Me and Suck It. Ah, well - ++ THE LITERARY VAMPIRE A cypress-bough, and a rose-wreath sweet A wedding-robe, and a winding-sheet, A bridal-bed and a bier. Thine be the kisses, maid, And smiling Love's alarms; And thou, pale youth, be laid In the grave's cold arms. Each in his own charms, Death and Hymen both are here; So up with scythe and torch, And to the old church porch, While all the bells ring clear: And rosy, rosy the bed shall bloom, And earthy, earthy heap up the tomb. Now tremble dimples on your cheek, Sweet be your lips to taste and speak, For he who kisses is near: By her the bridegod fair, In youthful power and force; By him the grizard bare, Pale knight on a pale horse, To woo him to a corpse. Death and Hymen both are here; So up with scythe and torch, And to the old church porch, While all the bells ring clear: And rosy, rosy the bed shall bloom, And earthy, earthy heap up the tomb. -- Songs from "Death's Jest-Book", Athulf's Death Song, Thomas Lovell Beddoes ARIADNE BRUNNELL (The Vampire Maid, Hume Nisbet) This contact seemed also to have affected her as it did me; a clear flush, like a white flame, lighted up her face, so that it glowed as if an alabaster lamp had been lit; her black eyes became softer and more humid as our glances crossed, and her scarlet lips grew moist. She was a living woman now, while before she had seemed half a corpse. She permitted her white slender hand to remain in mine longer than most people do at an introduction, and then she slowly withdrew it, still regarding me with steadfast eyes for a second or two afterwards. Fathomless velvety eyes these were, yet before they were shifted from mine they appeared to have absorbed all my willpower and made me her abject slave. They looked like deep dark pools of clear water, yet they filled me with fire and deprived me of strength. I sank into my chair almost as languidly as I had risen from my bed that morning. Yet I made a good breakfast, and although she hardly tasted anything, this strange girl rose much refreshed and with a slight glow of colour on her cheeks, which improved her so greatly that she appeared younger and almost beautiful. I had come here seeking solitude, but since I had seen Ariadne it seemed as if I had come for her only. She was not very lively; indeed, thinking back, I cannot recall any spontaneous remark of hers; she answered my questions by monosyllables and left me to lead in words; yet she was insinuating and appeared to lead my thoughts in her direction and speak to me with her eyes. I cannot describe her minutely, I only know that from the first glance and touch she gave me I was bewitched and could think of nothing else. It was a rapid, distracting, and devouring infatuation that possessed me; all day long I followed her about like a dog, every night I dreamed of that white glowing face, those steadfast black eyes, those moist scarlet lips, and each morning I rose more languid than I had been the day before. Sometimes I dreamt that she was kissing me with those red lips, while I shivered at the contact of her silky black tresses as they covered my throat; sometimes that we were floating in the air, her arms about me and her long hair enveloping us both like an inky cloud, while I lay supine and helpless. Poppy flowers, peat, sphagnum moss, gardenia, and white water lily. CLARIMONDE (La Morte Amoureuse, Theophile Gautier) I do not know whether it was an illusion or a reflection of the lamplight, but it seemed to me that the blood was again commencing to circulate under that lifeless pallor, although she remained all motionless. I laid my hand lightly on her arm; it was cold, but not colder than her hand on the day when it touched mine at the portals of the church. I resumed my position, bending my face above her, and bathing her cheeks with the warm dew of my tears. Ah, what bitter feelings of despair and helplessness, what agonies unutterable did I endure in that long watch! Vainly did I wish that I could have gathered all my life into one mass that I might give it all to her, and breathe into her chill remains the flame which devoured me. The night advanced, and feeling the moment of eternal separation approach, I could not deny myself the last sad sweet pleasure of imprinting a kiss upon the dead lips of her who had been my only love. . . . Oh, miracle! A faint breath mingled itself with my breath, and the mouth of Clarimonde responded to the passionate pressure of mine. Her eyes unclosed, and lighted up with something of their former brilliancy; she uttered a long sigh, and uncrossing her arms, passed them around my neck with a look of ineffable delight. "Ah, it is thou, Romuald!" she murmured in a voice languishingly sweet as the last vibrations of a harp. "What ailed thee, dearest? I waited so long for thee that I am dead; but we are now betrothed; I can see thee and visit thee. Adieu, Romuald, adieu! I love thee. That is all I wished to tell thee, and I give thee back the life which thy kiss for a moment recalled. We shall soon meet again." Her head fell back, but her arms yet encircled me, as though to retain me still. A furious whirlwind suddenly burst in the window, and entered the chamber. The last remaining leaf of the white rose for a moment palpitated at the extremity of the stalk like a butterfly's wing, then it detached itself and flew forth through the open casement, bearing with it the soul of Clarimonde. The lamp was extinguished, and I fell insensible upon the bosom of the beautiful dead. Pallid skin musk, white roses, and a languorous vapor of Oriental perfume. CRISTINA (For the Blood is the Life, F. Marion Crawford) He was near the village now; it was half an hour since the sun had set, and the cracked church bell sent little discordant echoes across the rocks and ravines to tell all good people that the day was done. Angelo stood still a moment where the path forked, where it led toward the village on the left, and down to the gorge on the right, where a clump of chestnut trees overhung the narrow way. He stood still a minute, lifting his battered hat from his head and gazing at the fast-fading sea westward, and his lips moved as he silently repeated the familiar evening prayer. His lips moved, but the words that followed them in his brain lost their meaning and turned into others, and ended in a name that he spoke aloud -- Cristina! With the name, the tension of his will relaxed suddenly, reality went out and the dream took him again, and bore him on swiftly and surely like a man walking in his sleep, down, down, by the steep path in the gathering darkness. And as she glided beside him, Cristina whispered strange, sweet things in his ear, which somehow, if he had been awake, he knew that he could not quite have understood; but now they were the most wonderful words he had ever heard in his life. And she kissed him also, but not upon his mouth. He felt her sharp kisses upon his white throat, and he knew that her lips were red. So the wild dream sped on through twilight and darkness and moonrise, and all the glory of the summer's night. But in the chilly dawn he lay as one half dead upon the mound down there, recalling and not recalling, drained of his blood, yet strangely longing to give those red lips more. Then came the fear, the awful nameless panic, the mortal horror that guards the confines of the world we see not, neither know of as we know of other things, but which we feel when its icy chill freezes our bones and stirs our hair with the touch of a ghostly hand. Once more Angelo sprang from the mound and fled up the gorge in the breaking day, but his step was less sure this time, and he panted for breath as he ran; and when he came to the bright spring of water that rises half way up the hillside, he dropped upon his knees and hands and plunged his whole face in and drank as he had never drunk before -- for it was the thirst of the wounded man who has lain bleeding all night upon the battle-field. She had him fast now, and he could not escape her, but would come to her every evening at dusk until she had drained him of his last drop of blood. It was in vain that when the day was done he tried to take another turning and to go home by a path that did not lead near the gorge. It was in vain that he made promises to himself each morning at dawn when he climbed the lonely way up from the shore to the village. It was all in vain, for when the sun sank burning into the sea, and the coolness of the evening stole out as from a hiding-place to delight the weary world, his feet turned toward the old way, and she was waiting for him in the shadow under the chestnut trees; and then all happened as before, and she fell to kissing his white throat even as she flitted lightly down the way, winding one arm about him. Chestnut trees, juniper berries, violet leaf, labdanum, dazzling, moonlit white musk, and night-blooming summer flowers. COUNTESS DOLINGEN OF GRATZ (Dracula's Guest, the omitted introduction to Bram Stoker's Dracula) Now and again, through the black mass of drifting cloud, came a straggling ray of moonlight, which lit up the expanse, and showed me that I was at the edge of a dense mass of cypress and yew trees. As the snow had ceased to fall, I walked out from the shelter and began to investigate more closely. It appeared to me that, amongst so many old foundations as I had passed, there might be still standing a house in which, though in ruins, I could find some sort of shelter for a while. As I skirted the edge of the copse, I found that a low wall encircled it, and following this I presently found an opening. Here the cypresses formed an alley leading up to a square mass of some kind of building. Just as I caught sight of this, however, the drifting clouds obscured the moon, and I passed up the path in darkness. The wind must have grown colder, for I felt myself shiver as I walked; but there was hope of shelter, and I groped my way blindly on. I stopped, for there was a sudden stillness. The storm had passed; and, perhaps in sympathy with nature's silence, my heart seemed to cease to beat. But this was only momentarily; for suddenly the moonlight broke through the clouds, showing me that I was in a graveyard, and that the square object before me was a great massive tomb of marble, as white as the snow that lay on and all around it. With the moonlight there came a fierce sigh of the storm, which appeared to resume its course with a long, low howl, as of many dogs or wolves. I was awed and shocked, and felt the cold perceptibly grow upon me till it seemed to grip me by the heart. Then while the flood of moonlight still fell on the marble tomb, the storm gave further evidence of renewing, as though it was returning on its track. Impelled by some sort of fascination, I approached the sepulchre to see what it was, and why such a thing stood alone in such a place. I walked around it, and read, over the Doric door, in German: IN STYRIA SOUGHT AND FOUND DEATH 1801 On the top of the tomb, seemingly driven through the solid marble-for the structure was composed of a few vast blocks of stone-was a great iron spike or stake. On going to the back I saw, graven in great Russian letters: There was something so weird and uncanny about the whole thing that it gave me a turn and made me feel quite faint. I began to wish, for the first time, that I had taken Johann's advice. Here a thought struck me, which came under almost mysterious circumstances and with a terrible shock. This was Walpurgis Night! Walpurgis Night, when, according to the belief of millions of people, the devil was abroad-when the graves were opened and the dead came forth and walked. When all evil things of earth and air and water held revel. This very place the driver had specially shunned. This was the depopulated village of centuries ago. This was where the suicide lay; and this was the place where I was alone-unmanned, shivering with cold in a shroud of snow with a wild storm gathering again upon me! It took all my philosophy, all the religion I had been taught, all my courage, not to collapse in a paroxysm of fright. And now a perfect tornado burst upon me. The ground shook as though thousands of horses thundered across it; and this time the storm bore on its icy wings, not snow, but great hailstones which drove with such violence that they might have come from the thongs of Balearic slingers-hailstones that beat down leaf and branch and made the shelter of the cypresses of no more avail than though their stems were standing-corn. At the first I had rushed to the nearest tree; but I was soon fain to leave it and seek the only spot that seemed to afford refuge, the deep Doric doorway of the marble tomb. There, crouching against the massive bronze door, I gained a certain amount of protection from the beating of the hailstones, for now they only drove against me as they ricocheted from the ground and the side of the marble. As I leaned against the door, it moved slightly and opened inwards. The shelter of even a tomb was welcome in that pitiless tempest, and I was about to enter it when there came a flash of forked-lightning that lit up the whole expanse of the heavens. In the instant, as I am a living man, I saw, as my eyes were turned into the darkness of the tomb, a beautiful woman, with rounded cheeks and red lips, seemingly sleeping on a bier. As the thunder broke overhead, I was grasped as by the hand of a giant and hurled out into the storm. The whole thing was so sudden that, before I could realise the shock, moral as well as physical, I found the hailstones beating me down. At the same time I had a strange, dominating feeling that I was not alone. I looked towards the tomb. Just then there came another blinding flash, which seemed to strike the iron stake that surmounted the tomb and to pour through to the earth, blasting and crumbling the marble, as in a burst of flame. The dead woman rose for a moment of agony, while she was lapped in the flame, and her bitter scream of pain was drowned in the thundercrash. The last thing I heard was this mingling of dreadful sound, as again I was seized in the giant-grasp and dragged away, while the hailstones beat on me, and the air around seemed reverberant with the howling of wolves. The last sight that I remembered was a vague, white, moving mass, as if all the graves around me had sent out the phantoms of their sheeted-dead, and that they were closing in on me through the white cloudiness of the driving hail. Hailstone-pounded cypress boughs, olibanum, and an ozone blast of lightning. THE GIRL (The Singular Death of Morton, Algernon Blackwood) Then, suddenly, as they had turned to go, after much vain shouting and knocking at the door, a face appeared for an instant at a window, the shutter of which was half open. His friend saw it first, and called aloud. The face nodded in reply, and presently a young girl came round the corner of the house, apparently by a back door, and stood staring at them both from a little distance. And from that very instant, so far as he could remember, these queer feelings had entered his heart-fear, distrust, misgiving. The thought of it now, as he lay in bed in the darkness, made his hair rise. There was something about that girl that struck cold into the soul. Yet she was a mere slip of a thing, very pretty, seductive even, with a certain serpent?like fascination about her eyes and movements; and although she only replied to their questions as to refreshment with a smile, uttering no single word, she managed to convey the impression that she was a managing little person who might make herself very disagreeable if she chose. In spite of her undeniable charm there was about her an atmosphere of something sinister. He himself did most of the questioning, but it was his older friend who had the benefit of her smile. Her eyes hardly ever left his face, and once she had slipped quite close to him and touched his arm. The strange part of it now seemed to him that he could not remember in the least how she was dressed, or what was the colouring of her eyes and hair. It was almost as though he had felt, rather than seen, her presence. A seductive, serpentine white scent, elusive, crystalline, and spellbinding: white amber, silver birch, immortelle, davana, pale musk, star jasmine, and ylang ylang. MIRCALLA, COUNTESS KARNSTEIN (Carmilla, Sheridan LeFanu) Sometimes after an hour of apathy, my strange and beautiful companion would take my hand and hold it with a fond pressure, renewed again and again; blushing softly, gazing in my face with languid and burning eyes, and breathing so fast that her dress rose and fell with the tumultuous respiration. It was like the ardor of a lover; it embarrassed me; it was hateful and yet over-powering; and with gloating eyes she drew me to her, and her hot lips traveled along my cheek in kisses; and she would whisper, almost in sobs, "You are mine, you shall be mine, you and I are one for ever." Then she had thrown herself back in her chair, with her small hands over her eyes, leaving me trembling. Languid, melancholy fire: red musk, purple orchid, frankincense, smoky vanilla, Styrian herbs, peru balsam, tonka, Zanzibar clove, and patchouli. LORD RUTHVEN (the Vampyre, John Polidori) It happened that in the midst of the dissipations attendant upon London winter, there appeared at the various parties of the leaders of the ton a nobleman more remarkable for his singularities, than his rank. He gazed upon the mirth around him, as if he could not participate therein. Apparently, the light laughter of the fair only attracted his attention, that he might by a look quell it and throw fear into those breasts where thoughtlessness reigned. Those who felt this sensation of awe, could not explain whence it arose: some attributed it to the dead grey eye, which, fixing upon the object's face, did not seem to penetrate, and at one glance to pierce through to the inward workings of the heart; but fell upon the cheek with a leaden ray that weighed upon the skin it could not pass. His peculiarities caused him to be invited to every house; all wished to see him, and those who had been accustomed to violent excitement, and now felt the weight of ennui, were pleased at having something in their presence capable of engaging their attention. In spite of the deadly hue of his face, which never gained a wanner tint, either from the blush of modesty, or from the strong emotion of passion, though its form and outline were beautiful, many of the female hunters after notoriety attempted to win his attentions, and gain, at least, some marks of what they might term affection: Lady Mercer, who had been the mockery of every monster shewn in drawing-rooms since her marriage, threw herself in his way, and did all but put on the dress of a mountebank, to attract his notice -- though in vain; -- when she stood before him, though his eyes were apparently fixed upon hers, still it seemed as if they were unperceived; -- even her unappalled impudence was baffled, and she left the field. But though the common adultress could not influence even the guidance of his eyes, it was not that the female sex was indifferent to him: yet such was the apparent caution with which he spoke to the virtuous wife and innocent daughter, that few knewhenever addressed himself to females. He had, however, the reputation of a winning tongue; and whether it was that it even overcame the dread of his singular character, or that they were moved by his apparent hatred of vice, he was as often among those females who form the boast of their sex from their domestic virtues, as among those who sully it by their vices. The father of all dandy aristocrat vampires: Aqua Admirabilis with polished boot leather and blood. SARAH (The Tomb of Sarah, F.G. Loring) By half-past ten we were both getting very tired, and I began to think that perhaps after all we should see nothing that night. However, soon after eleven we observed a light mist rising from the 'Sarah Tomb'. It seemed to scintillate and sparkle as it rose, and curled in a sort of pillar or spiral. I said nothing, but I heard the Rector give a sort of gasp as he clutched my arm feverishly. 'Great Heaven!' he whispered, 'it is taking shape.' And, true enough, in a very few moments we saw standing erect by the tomb the ghastly figure of the Countess Sarah! She looked thin and haggard still, and her face was deadly white; but the crimson lips looked like a hideous gash in the pale cheeks, and her eyes glared like red coals in the gloom of the church. Unholy mist congealing into soft, white flesh, with black marble, remnants of liturgical incense, wolf's fur, and black flecks of froth. JULIA STONE (The Room in the Tower, E.F. Benson.) And then, with a sudden start of unexplained dismay, I saw that there were two rather conspicuous objects which I had not seen before in my dreams: one a life-sized oil painting of Mrs. Stone, the other a black-and-white sketch of Jack Stone, representing him as he had appeared to me only a week before in the last of the series of these repeated dreams, a rather secret and evil-looking man of about thirty. His picture hung between the windows, looking straight across the room to the other portrait, which hung at the side of the bed. At that I looked next, and as I looked I felt once more the horror of nightmare seize me. It represented Mrs. Stone as I had seen her last in my dreams: old and withered and white-haired. But in spite of the evident feebleness of body, a dreadful exuberance and vitality shone through the envelope of flesh, an exuberance wholly malign, a vitality that foamed and frothed with unimaginable evil. Evil beamed from the narrow, leering eyes; it laughed in the demon-like mouth. The whole face was instinct with some secret and appalling mirth; the hands, clasped together on the knee, seemed shaking with suppressed and nameless glee. Then I saw also that it was signed in the left-hand bottom corner, and wondering who the artist could be, I looked more closely, and read the inscription, "Julia Stone by Julia Stone." Rotting once-white fabric, spotted with mold. PERLE VON MAUREN (Revelations in Black by Carl Jacobi) I stumbled forward, my eyes quickly accustoming themselves to the half-light from the almost opaque windows. At the end of the corridor a second door barred my passage. I thrust it open - and stood swaying there on the sill staring inward. Beyond was a small room, barely ten feet square, with a low-raftered ceiling. And by the light of the open door I saw side by side in the center of the floor - two white wood coffins. How long I stood there leaning weakly against the stone wall I don't know. There was an odor drifting from out of that chamber. Heliotrope! But heliotrope defiled by the rotting smell of an ancient grave. Then suddenly I leaped to the nearest coffin, seized its cover and ripped it open. Would to heaven I could forget that sight that met my eyes. There the woman in black - unveiled. That face - it was divinely beautiful, the hair black as sable, the cheeks a classic white. But the lips - ! I grew suddenly sick as I looked upon them. They were scarlet.... and sticky with human blood. Heliotrope, grave soil, and blood. All of our current LE's are $17.50 each, and the Pumpkin Booty set is $85 for all five pumpkins. Black Butterfly Moon will be live until August 9, 2009. The Feast For the Greatly Revered Ones, Labores Solis, Nonae Caprotina, Season of the Inundation, and the Festival of Anuket will be live until 8 August 2009. The Summer Garden series, the Last Rose of Summer, Shadowless Like Silence, Summer's Last Will and Testament, Under the Harvest Moon, and Stinky will be live until 6 September 2009. The Halloweenies and Vampire scents will be live (undead) until November 5, 2009. The Literary Vampire series is available here on the Black Phoenix site, and will also be available through the Dark Delicacies booth at Vampire Con. (Del will also be on the vampire panel on Sunday!) That's all for the moment, ladies and gents! Happy (early!) Halloween! From the 30 July 2009 update: SUNBIRD IS LIVE! They were all so hungry the following morning. Zebediah T. Crawcrustle had a comedic apron on, with the words KISS THE COOK written upon it in violently green letters. He had already sprinkled the brandy-soaked raisins and grain beneath the stunted avocado tree behind the house, and he was arranging the scented woods, the herbs, and the spices on the bed of charcoal. Mustapha Stroheim and his family had gone to visit relatives on the other side of Cairo. "Does anybody have a match?" Crawcrustle asked. Jackie Newhouse pulled out a Zippo lighter, and passed it to Crawcrustle, who lit the dried cinnamon leaves and dried laurel leaves beneath the charcoal. The smoke drifted up into the noon air. "The cinnamon and sandalwood smoke will bring the Sunbird," said Crawcrustle. "Bring it from where?" asked Augustus TwoFeathers. "Why, where it always is, third lane after the old market in the Suntown district, just before you reach the old drainage ditch that was once an irrigation canal, and if you find yourself outside One-eye Khayam's carpet shop you have gone too far, "began Crawcrustle. "But I see by the expressions of irritation upon your faces that you were expecting a less succinct, less accurate description. Very well. It is in Suntown, and Suntown is in Cairo, in Egypt, where it always is, or almost always." Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is thrilled to present a numbered, limited edition chapbook of Neil Gaiman's acclaimed short story, Sunbird, beautifully illustrated by Julie Dillon. Each package includes a 5ml bottle of perfume, created by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, that was inspired by the tale. In Neil's words, "'Sunbird' smells like resin and deserts and the phoenix." This set is a limited run of 1000. 250 were sold by CBLDF at San Diego Comic Con 2009, and the remainder are available through the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab web site. Sunbird will be available on the BPAL site as long as supplies last. A million thanks and all our love to Neil, and to Charles Brownstein and his staff at the CBLDF! This August, we are beginning a series dedicated to Neil Gaiman's 15 Painted Cards From a Vampire Tarot. Each month, a new card will be featured on both the Alchemy Lab and Trading Post sites. Debuting in August: the Fool. Both the perfume oil's label and the corresponding tee were illustrated by the phenomenally ghoulish Madame Talbot. Each scent is a combination of notes inspired by Neil's story and the symbolically correct oils for the card. The Vampire Tarot series made an advance appearance at San Diego Comic Con. Madam Talbot's Fool was joined by a variant set created by our beloved friend, Alicia Dabney. Please keep an eye on the CBLDF's web site for release information on the remaining A. Dabney sets. Sunbird and the 15 Painted Cards From a Vampire Tarot are charitable, not-for-profit ventures: proceeds from every single product go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, which works to preserve and protect the First Amendment rights of the comics community. Also upcoming this August - The Death & Dementia Launch Party Commemorating the 200th anniversary of Edgar Allan Poe! Please join Gris Grimly & Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab at Dark Delicacies Sunday, August 23 2009 from 2-4pm Featuring the premiere of + Gris Grimly's new book Tales of Death and Dementia + Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's new line of scents inspired by Gris Grimly's illustrations + Original artwork from the book on display and for sale + Limited edition silkscreened event posters + Limited edition event t-shirts Dark Delicacies 4213 W. Burbank Burbank, CA 91505 August really is an exciting month here this year! -- This August, BPAL will be presenting a limited edition set of scents based on George Pérez's groundbreaking comic book mini-series, "Sachs and Violens". Part of Marvel's Heavy Hitters line, "Sachs and Violens" was a 4 issue comic book miniseries written by Peter David with art by George Pérez. The series was published by Marvel's Epic Comics imprint from 1993 to 1994. These two scents will debut at Wizard World Chicago at the Hero Initiative booth. They will be available concurrently at www.blackphoenixalchemylab.com. Proceeds from every bottle sold go to the Hero Initiative, the first federally recognized not-for-profit organization dedicated to helping comic book creators, writers and artists in need. Founded in late 2000 by a consortium of comic book and trade publishers including Marvel Comics, Image Comics, Dark Horse Comics, Wizard Entertainment, CrossGen Comics and Dynamic Forces Inc., the 501(c)(3) charity aims to assist comic creators with health, medical, and quality-of-life assistance. George Pérez is one of the most popular and influential comic book artists currently working. He is best known for his work on Crisis on Infinite Earths, New Teen Titans, Wonder Woman, Superman, and the Avengers, and has most recently worked on DC's Final Crisis. Wizard World Chicago will be held August 6 - 9th, 2009 at the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center. The Hero Initiative can be found at booth #1340. The Hero Initiative will be hosting a really, really kickass, unique event at Wizard World Chicago to launch the line. Keep yer eyes peeled for details! Please stay tuned, as we'll be posting purchasing information for the Who Killed Amanda Palmer series as soon as we have it, and for information regarding the debut of the Hellboy series! Up-to-date information can be snagged here in the Shiny & New section of our site, through our mailing list, on the bpal.org forum, or through Twitter (@bpal & @bethshepsut). From the 5 July 2009 update: Berry Moon is live at BPAL and BPTP! BERRY MOON In August, the large masses of berries, which, when in flower, had attracted many wild bees, gradually assumed their bright velvety crimson hue, and by their weight again bent down and broke their tender limbs. -- Henry David Thoreau A golden summer musk with warm fig, orange blossom honey, sweet blueberries, and bright velvety crimson raspberries.  Both the tee and the perfume will be live at their respective sites until July 9, 2009. Also new to the LE's this month STINKY A cure for sweaty bits and sticky wilting. Stinky is a summer refresher 'foom for people that don't dig run-of-the-mill "clean" scents: newly-washed skin with a dusting of rice milk, white honey, and baby powder. Ars Amatoria has two new perfumes APEROTOS EROS Strong as death, and cruel as the grave, Clothed with cloud and tempest's blackening breath, Known of death's dread self, whom none outbrave, Strong as death, Love, brow-bound with anguish for a wreath, Fierce with pain, a tyrant-hearted slave, Burns above a world that groans beneath. Hath not pity power on thee to save, Love? hath power no pity? Nought he saith, Answering: blind he walks as wind or wave, Strong as death. Unloving love: benzoin, Indian musk, massoia bark, myrrh, ambrette seed, galbanum, bergamot, and fir. WHOSO LIST TO HUNT Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind! But as for me, alas, I may no more; The vain travail hath wearied me so sore, I am of them that furthest come behind. Yet may I by no means my wearied mind Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore Fainting I follow; I leave off therefore, Since in a net I seek to hold the wind. Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt, As well as I, may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plain, There is written her fair neck round about, "Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am, And wild for to hold, though I seem tame." Sensual brown musk, rich amber, English rose, oak bark, and moss. And a whole lot is going on at the Mad Tea Party ALICE'S EVIDENCE There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really clever thing the King had said that day. 'That proves his guilt,' said the Queen. 'It proves nothing of the sort!' said Alice. 'Why, you don't even know what they're about!' 'Read them,' said the King. The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. 'Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?' he asked. 'Begin at the beginning,' the King said gravely, 'and go on till you come to the end: then stop.' These were the verses the White Rabbit read:- They told me you had been to her, And mentioned me to him: She gave me a good character, But said I could not swim. He sent them word I had not gone (We know it to be true): If she should push the matter on, What would become of you? I gave her one, they gave him two, You gave us three or more; They all returned from him to you, Though they were mine before. If I or she should chance to be Involved in this affair, He trusts to you to set them free, Exactly as we were. My notion was that you had been (Before she had this fit) An obstacle that came between Him, and ourselves, and it, Don't let him know she liked them best, For this must ever be A secret, kept from all the rest, Between yourself and me. 'That's the most important piece of evidence we've heard yet,' said the King, rubbing his hands; 'so now let the jury-' 'If any one of them can explain it,' said Alice, (she had grown so large in the last few minutes that she wasn't a bit afraid of interrupting him,) 'I'll give him sixpence. I don't believe there's an atom of meaning in it.' The jury all wrote down on their slates, 'She doesn't believe there's an atom of meaning in it,' but none of them attempted to explain the paper. 'If there's no meaning in it,' said the King, 'that saves a world of trouble, you know, as we needn't try to find any ' Containing nary a neutron of meaning: rum-quince-cassis with prune and a bit of black ginger. ALL IN THE GOLDEN AFTERNOON All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little skill, By little hands are plied While little hands make vain pretence Our wanderings to guide Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour Beneath such dreamy weather, To beg a tale of breath too weak To stir the tiniest feather! Yet what can one poor voice avail Against three tongues together? Imperious Prima flashes forth Her edict to 'begin it'- In gentler tone Secunda hopes 'There will be nonsense in it!' - While Tertia interrupts the tale Not more than once a minute. Anon, to sudden silence won, In fancy they pursue The dream-child moving through a land Of wonders wild and new, In friendly chat with bird or beast - And half believe it true. And ever, as the story drained The wells of fancy dry, And faintly strove that weary one To put the subject by, 'The rest next time -It is next time!' The happy voices cry. Thus grew the tale of Wonderland Thus slowly, one by one, Its quaint events were hammered out - and now the tale is done, And home we steer, a merry crew, Beneath the setting sun. Alice! a childish story take, And with a gentle hand Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined In Memory's mystic band, Like pilgrim's wither'd wreath of flowers Plucked in far-off land A bizarre blend of pineapple, tangerine, tobacco, apricot, and seltzer coated with hazy amber and heady sun-baked flowers. TWINKLE, TWINKLE LITTLE BAT Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you're at! Up above the world you fly, Like a teatray in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle little bat! How I wonder what you're at! A sparkly, batty little scent: green tea, melon, mint, lime rind, and champagne grape with lemon balm, mullein, and toadflax. Two new subsections have been added to MTP - ++ THE GARDEN OF LIVE FLOWERS This time she came upon a large flower-bed, with a border of daisies, and a willow-tree growing in the middle. IMPERIOUS TIGER-LILY `O Tiger-lily,' said Alice, addressing herself to one that was waving gracefully about in the wind, `I wish you could talk!' `We can talk,' said the Tiger-lily: `when there's anybody worth talking to." Alice was so astonished that she could not speak for a minute: it quite seemed to take her breath away. At length, as the Tiger-lily only went on waving about, she spoke again, in a timid voice -- almost in a whisper. `And can all the flowers talk?' `As well as you can,' said the Tiger-lily. `And a great deal louder.' (Tiger-lily, ginger root, neroli, purple fruits, and frankincense.) SNOOTY ROSE `It isn't manners for us to begin, you know,' said the Rose, `and I really was wondering when you'd speak! Said I to myself, "Her face has got some sense in it, thought it's not a clever one!" Still, you're the right colour, and that goes a long way.' `I don't care about the colour,' the Tiger-lily remarked. `If only her petals curled up a little more, she'd be all right.' (Red rose, oud, plum, bergamot, and red sandalwood.) Alice didn't like being criticised, so she began asking questions. `Aren't you sometimes frightened at being planted out here, with nobody to take care of you?' `There's the tree in the middle,' said the Rose: `what else is it good for?' `But what could it do, if any danger came?' Alice asked. HIGH-STRUNG DAISIES `It says "Bough-wough!" cried a Daisy: `that's why its branches are called boughs!' `Didn't you know that?' cried another Daisy, and here they all began shouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill voices. `Silence, every one of you!' cried the Tiger-lily, waving itself passionately from side to side, and trembling with excitement. `They know I can't get at them!' it panted, bending its quivering head towards Alice, `or they wouldn't dare to do it!' `Never mind!' Alice said in a soothing tone, and stooping down to the daisies, who were just beginning again, she whispered, `If you don't hold your tongues, I'll pick you!' There was silence in a moment, and several of the pink daisies turned white. `That's right!' said the Tiger-lily. `The daisies are worst of all. When one speaks, they all begin together, and it's enough to make one wither to hear the way they go on!' (Daisy, pink carnation, pink pepper, and sugar.) `How is it you can all talk so nicely?' Alice said, hoping to get it into a better temper by a compliment. `I've been in many gardens before, but none of the flowers could talk.' `Put your hand down, and feel the ground,' said the Tiger-lily. `Then you'll know why. Alice did so. `It's very hard,' she said, `but I don't see what that has to do with it.' `In most gardens,' the Tiger-lily said, `they make the beds too soft -- so that the flowers are always asleep.' This sounded a very good reason, and Alice was quite pleased to know it. `I never thought of that before!' she said. `It's my opinion that you never think at all,' the Rose said in a rather severe tone. BRUSQUE VIOLET `I never saw anybody that looked stupider,' a Violet said, so suddenly, that Alice quite jumped; for it hadn't spoken before. `Hold your tongue!' cried the Tiger-lily. `As if you ever saw anybody! You keep your head under the leaves, and snore away there, till you know no more what's going on in the world, that if you were a bud!' (Violet petal, violet leaf, osmanthus, orris, mint, and opoponax.) `Are there any more people in the garden besides me?' Alice said, not choosing to notice the Rose's last remark. `There's one other flower in the garden that can move about like you,' said the Rose. `I wonder how you do it -- ' (`You're always wondering,' said the Tiger-lily), `but she's more bushy than you are.' `Is she like me?' Alice asked eagerly, for the thought crossed her mind, `There's another little girl in the garden, somewhere!' `Well, she has the same awkward shape as you,' the Rose said, `but she's redder -- and her petals are shorter, I think.' `Her petals are done up close, almost like a dahlia,' the Tiger-lily interrupted: `not tumbled about anyhow, like yours.' `But that's not your fault,' the Rose added kindly: `you're beginning to fade, you know -- and then one can't help one's petals getting a little untidy.' And ++MORAL HYMNODY AND NONSENSE Lewis Carroll used the Looking Glasses and Rabbit Holes of his fantasy world to mock many contemporary conventions and demonstrate, through nonsense, the strangeness of the human condition. The madness of Wonderland illustrated the absurdities he perceived in the strict, orderly world he lived in. In the first perfumes of this subseries, our scents parallel the poetic parodies: Lewis Carroll versus Isaac Watts. HOW DOTH THE LITTLE CROCODILE How doth the little crocodile Improve his shining tail, And pour the waters of the Nile On every golden scale! How cheerfully he seems to grin, How neatly spreads his claws, And welcomes little fishes in With gently smiling jaws! Chocolate peppermint, mint-soaked vanilla, pistachio, oakmoss, and green cedar. Mocks AGAINST IDLENESS AND MISCHIEF How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour And gather honey all the day From every opening flower! How skilfully she builds her cell! How neat she spreads the wax! And labours hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labour or of skill, I would be busy too; For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play, Let my first years be passed, That I may give for every day Some good account at last. Pollen-dusted honey, diligent tonka, steadfast chamomile, and goodly hyssop. And 'TIS THE VOICE OF THE LOBSTER 'Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare 'You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.' As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes. When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, And will talk in contemptuous tones of the shark; But, when the tide rises and sharks are around, His voice has a timid and tremulous sound. I passed by his garden and marked, with one eye, How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie: The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat. When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon, Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, And concluded the banquet by- A woody, musky-weird base glooping over with blackberry preserves, a twist of mandarin, strawberry juice, pulverized watermelon, and a handful of smushed gardenia petals. Thumbs its nose at THE SLUGGARD 'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain, "You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again." As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy head. "A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;" Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without number, And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands, Or walks about sauntering, or trifling he stands. I pass'd by his garden, and saw the wild brier, The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher; The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags; And his money still wastes till he starves or he begs. I made him a visit, still hoping to find That he took better care for improving his mind: He told me his dreams, talked of eating and drinking; But scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking. Said I then to my heart, "Here's a lesson for me," This man's but a picture of what I might be: But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding, Who taught me betimes to love working and reading. Pious frankincense, angelic gardenia, unsoiled pear, and staunch ho wood conflict with prickly, overgrown thistle, idle labdanum, and lethargic lavender. Tiger Lily (Mad Tea Party) is also being discontinued due to the pressure of the current economic stress on our associates. Sincerest apologies for the suddenness of all these discontinuation! - we had no notice at all of two of the primary components of TL going dry, and just received the email with the bad news this morning. All current orders will be filled, and it will be coming down with the Lunacy on July 9th. Imperious Tiger Lily was intended to be a complimentary scent - the Tiger Lily in her element, ordering the other garden inhabitants about and berating Alice - she was meant to be the queen of the Garden of Live Flowers subsection, so to speak. Looks like her inception was fortunate, as her original incarnation has to come down. Or it was a jinx. o.O I wish there was more we could do to stem the hemorrhage. Component issues have been plaguing BPTP, causing bottlenecks with the Warrior Queens. We're doing everything in our power to get all the WQ's out as quickly as possible. Thank you so much for your patience! But enough of the gloomy gussitude We have so many amazing, exciting projects coming up this season. The next set of DD Summer Blockbuster scents will be featured at our upcoming trunk show at Dark Delicacies, and a limited run of the first scents in our California series (these are exclusive to C15) will be available at Convergence 15. We're still busting our asses to get the next act of CD out as quickly as possible - finalizing some additional artwork now, cleaning up the copy, and securing final sources for the components. Some really fucking great stuff will be debuting at Comic Con on behalf of the CBLDF (details forthcoming!), and we are working with a few brilliant illustrators, authors, musicians, and comic gods on scents that will be debuting late this summer. A new duets series is due at BPTP, and new baths, soaps, and atmospheric schpritzers are coming soon. From the 2 July 2009 update: Due to circumstances beyond out control, the following scents have been discontinued: Erich Zahn Eris Madrid Masabakes Marianne Severin Succubus Tannin'iver Thank you so much for understanding! From the 6 June 2009 update: Smoky Moon is live at BPAL and BPTP! SMOKY MOON 2009: TRISTESSES DE LA LUNE The Smoke-Veiled Moon of July brought a poem of Baudelaire’s to my mind: Ce soir, la lune rêve avec plus de paresse; Ainsi qu'une beauté, sur de nombreux coussins, Qui d'une main distraite et légère caresse Avant de s'endormir le contour de ses seins, Sur le dos satiné des molles avalanches, Mourante, elle se livre aux longues pâmoisons, Et promène ses yeux sur les visions blanches Qui montent dans l'azur comme des floraisons. Quand parfois sur ce globe, en sa langueur oisive, Elle laisse filer une larme furtive, Un poète pieux, ennemi du sommeil, Dans le creux de sa main prend cette larme pâle, Aux reflets irisés comme un fragment d'opale, Et la met dans son coeur loin des yeux du soleil. - - - Tonight the moon dreams with more indolence, Like a lovely woman on a bed of cushions Who fondles with a light and listless hand The contour of her breasts before falling asleep; On the satiny back of the billowing clouds, Languishing, she lets herself fall into long swoons And casts her eyes over the white phantoms That rise in the azure like blossoming flowers. When, in her lazy listlessness, She sometimes sheds a furtive tear upon this globe, A pious poet, enemy of sleep, In the hollow of his hand catches this pale tear, With the iridescent reflections of opal, And hides it in his heart afar from the sun's eyes. (English translation by William Aggeler, 1954) Soft sandalwood, nicotiana, and velvety orris drifting over lustrous pale musks, stephanotis, elemi, and cyclamen. The tee --  Artwork for this lunacy is the Woman in the Moon by Aubrey Beardsley. The scent and the tee will be live until 10 June 2009. This summer, we are celebrating the Aztec Feast For the Greatly Revered Ones! THE FEAST FOR THE GREATLY REVERED ONES Huey Tecuilhuitl, the Great Festival of Lords, occurs on the 8th month of the 260-day Mexica sacred calendar of Tonalpualli. This festival honors Chicomecoatl, also known as Xilonen, the Goddess of Nourishment and Plenty, Seven Snakes. She represents the female aspect of corn, and she is the counterpart of Centeotl, -- the female sheath to his phallic cob. The celebration of the Feast assured the return of the rains and a good corn harvest. Cacao mixed with ground maize, agave wine, and octli, mixed with herbs and spices native to central Mexico. A tee celebrating the Feast For the Greatly Revered Ones is also live!  Artwork by Jennifer Williamson! The scent and the tee will be live until 8 August 2009. Also new to the LEs LABORES SOLIS Nothing there is beyond hope, nothing that can be sworn impossible, nothing wonderful, since Zeus, father of the Olympians, made night from mid-day, hiding the light of the shining Sun, and sore fear came upon men. On July 22, we will be experiencing a total solar eclipse. This is the Labores Solis: the sun’s rays expressed through frankincense, amber, heliotrope, saffron, and chamomile, crossed with Luna’s Artemisias, manifesting in darkness. NONAE CAPROTINA The Nones of the Wild Fig, held on the 7th of July and celebrated only by women, is a festival of fertility honoring Juno Caprotina. Both goats and figs are sacred to Juno in this aspect, goats being notoriously randy, and figs being prolifically seedy. The milky sap of the fig tree also links to the concept of fertility, and to Juno as Mother Goddess. The scent is of goat’s milk, ripe fig, and a hint of sweet myrrh. Please note: no goats were milked in the process of creating this scent. It is an accord, and this scent is vegan. Nonae Caprotina and Labores Solis will be live until 8 August 2009. We are also pleased to announce the first scents in our Nile series ++ ITERU SEASON OF THE INUNDATION Hail to thee, O Nile! Who manifests thyself over this land, and comes to give life to Egypt! Come and prosper! Come and prosper! O Nile, come and prosper! O you who make men to live through his flocks and his flocks through his orchards! Come and prosper, come, O Nile, come and prosper! Akhet: the advent of the rising of the Nile floods -- the heart of the fertility and prosperity of Egypt. As Sirius climbs the horizon, Hapi begins to collect the tears of Isis, causing the waters of the Nile to rise. As the flood ebbed, the waters left a rich, black silt that was integral to the fecundity of the land. Sweet, black silt mingled with holy myrrh, melilot, hyssop, spikenard, balsam, cedar, and a hint of melting snow from the Abyssinian hills. THE FESTIVAL OF ANUKET Anuket is the Embracer, a Goddess of Passion and of the waters of the Nile that caress the land and bring forth fruitfulness. She is the Nourisher of the Fields, the Giver of Life, and She Who Shoots Forth. A goddess of the hunt, archers, movement, and speed, she has the head of a gazelle, and sometimes wears a headdress of ostrich feathers. She is a protector of children at birth, and nursed many of the great pharaohs of Egypt. Shimmering offerings of gold scattered through life-giving, fertile waters. We will be following the pathways of the Nile this year, through the Season of the Emergence and the Season of the Harvest. Season of the Inundation and the festival of Anuket will be live until 8 August 2009. And lastly, our Summer Garden Miniseries! ++ SUMMER GARDEN MINISERIES LAWN GNOME Benevolent groundskeepers, these carefree plaster and stone companions lighten the hearts of passers by. Red currant, molasses, vanilla cream, moss, and patchouli. PLASTIC PINK FLAMINGO Vigilant day-glo guardians of lawn and patio, stalwart protectors of the home. Pink sugar-crusted marshmallow, dandelion, and sap. SPINNING MULTICOLORED METALLIC PINWHEEL Polycarbonate and metallic film monuments to domestic whimsy, whirling merrily in the summer breeze. Raspberry, lime, blueberry, tangerine, lemon, juniper, and white grape. We live near a cemetery, and on one of the streets that butts up against the graveyard -- the homes share a wall with the cemetery -- there is an abundance of stuff on many, many people’s lawns. Gnome motropolises, massive flocks of flamingos, elaborate witch ball dotted trees, plastic butterflies and dragonflies, plump pastel cherubs, and whipping, brightly colored flags. Its amazing. Its not just one house it’s at least a quarter of the homes over the span of about a mile and a half. I can’t help but think something interesting is permeating these homes because of their proximity to this particular City of the Silent. Driving down that street all the time was part of the inspiration for the Summer Garden series! And truth be told this series was also inspired, in part, by the many hours I spend staring at my own yard from my home office’s window! I have a demented fondness for gnomes, flamingos (with seasonal outfits), pinwheels, tin birds, stone toads, clay mushrooms, and spinning plastic sunflowers. Garden kitsch: I friggin’ love it all. And that’s it for now! We’re currently working on getting Act VI of the Carnaval ready to go (wewt!) as well as new additions to the GC (at long last!). Please stay tuned. From the 8 May 2009 update: Oh, man. I’m so tired, all I can really do is grunt. Teething: Fun for the Whole Family. Without further grunting, we present STRAWBERRY MOON 2009 Strawberries that in gardens grow Are plump and juicy fine, But sweeter far as wise men know Spring from the woodland vine. No need for bowl or silver spoon, Sugar or spice or cream, Has the wild berry plucked in June Beside the trickling stream. One such to melt at the tongue's root, Confounding taste with scent, Beats a full peck of garden fruit: Which points my argument. May sudden justice overtake And snap the froward pen, That old and palsied poets shake Against the minds of men. Blasphemers trusting to hold caught In far-flung webs of ink, The utmost ends of human thought Till nothing's left to think. But may the gift of heavenly peace And glory for all time Keep the boy Tom who tending geese First made the nursery rhyme. Wild strawberries, strawberry flower, vanilla-infused sugar, early summer grasses, and milky dandelion sap. And a handful of seasonal pleasures -- JUNE GLOOM It’s May in Los Angeles, and we’re baking slowly as the weather hits the low 100’s Here at the Lab, we are praying for a little June Gloom. Bright summer flowers, fresh herbs, and a bit of citrus rind dampened by the scent of morning mist and rain. LITHA 2009 Midsummer, Ukon Juhla, Alban Heruin, the Light of the Shore. This is the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, marking the sun's highest path across the sky. The Sun God and the Lord of the Forest are at the apex of their strength, and the Holy Day itself is a celebration of light's triumph over darkness. The world around us is teeming with light and life, and on this day fertility rituals for both the land and its people are observed. Golden honey and moss, with honeysuckle, chamomile, parsley, white gardenia, frankincense, carnation, vervain, gum arabic, yarrow, and liquid copal. ST JOHN’S EVE Verily I say unto you, Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist: notwithstanding he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. -- Matthew 11:11 The birth of John the Baptist coincides with the Summer Solstice, and in keeping with the eternal rhythm of the universe, John understood that as the sun’s strength begins to wane after the Summer Solstice, so did he move aside after preparing the way for the Winter King, Christ. Ye yourselves bear me witness, that I said, I am not the Christ, but that I am sent before him. He that hath the bride is the bridegroom: but the friend of the bridegroom, which standeth and heareth him, rejoiceth greatly because of the bridegroom's voice: this my joy therefore is fulfilled. He must increase, but I decrease. -- John 3:28-30 St. John’s holy day is full of holy significance that is so primal and archetypal that it transcends any one faith. It is a merging of the rituals of Midsummer with symbols of Biblical faith. On this eve, prayers to God for bountiful harvests and fertility are said over St. John’s blessed bonfires, a leap over the sacred flames brings good fortune in new undertakings and unions, and the waters of rivers and lakes bring renewed strength, vitality, and spiritual cleansing. A summer bonfire, with frankincense and myrrh, bay rum, and white rose. The ‘Post is presenting its Lunacy tee in two colors this month pink and white!  And the ‘Post is also offering a lovely, empowering summer Inquest WARRIOR QUEENS I am the queen of war. I am the queen of the thunderbolt. I stir up the sea and calm it. I am the rays of the Sun. We live in a challenging time. Conflict, uncertainty, tension All of us sometimes feel that adversity threatens to overwhelm us, and that we are facing -- both on a personal and worldwide scale -- insurmountable difficulty. To help combat this, we present the Warrior Queens series -- a very different sort of Goblin Inquest. This is an Inquest of Self-Empowerment. Both men and women can find strength within the tales of these Warrior Queens, and may see that through these archetypes, they enable themselves to draw upon a deeper well of internal fortitude. It's at times like this that we need to look within ourselves and celebrate our triumphs, remember our victories, and use these memories, and the stories of those who came before us, to find courage amidst chaos and hardship. We invite you to share tales of your personal victories with us as you tell us which Warrior you identify with most, and why. A little about our Heroines BOADICEA Rebel Queen of the Iceni, she led an uprising of the tribes against the Roman Empire. After Claudius’ conquest of the area, the Iceni voluntarily allied themselves to Rome, though Rome was not a gentle parent state. The Romans conquered much of Brittania, desecrated the sacred groves at Mona, and slaughtered the druids. When Boadicea’s husband, Prasutagus, died, his will was ignored and his massive financial debt to Rome was called in forcefully. Iceni was annexed as though it was a conquered territory, property and estates were seized, both tribal nobility and the common folk were enslaved. When Boadicea objected to the treatment of her lands and her people, she was flogged, and her children were grievously injured. Boadicea took her vengeance. Under the leadership of Boadicea, the Iceni and Trinovantes united with their neighbors and the surviving druids of Mona to instigate a rebellion. They cut a swath of furious destruction. Her warriors slaughtered Legionary forces, and destroyed Camulodunum, Londinium, and Verulamium -- so scorching the earth beneath Londinium that the scar is still visible beneath modern London. HER PERFUME Amber, fig, vanilla flower, oak, patchouli, vetiver, dragon’s blood resin, leather, and neroli. HER BATH Fig, neroli, amber, vanilla, patchouli, pine needle, and vetiver. HUA MULAN Click, click, for ever click, click; Mulan sits at the door and weaves. Listen, and you will not hear the shuttle’s sound, But only a girl’s sobs and sighs. ‘Oh, tell me, lady, are you thinking of your love, Oh, tell me, lady, are you longing for your dear?’ ‘Oh no, oh no, I am not longing for my dear. But last night I read the battle-roll; The Khan has ordered a great levy of men. The battle-roll was written in twelve books, And in each book stood my father’s name. My father’s sons are not grown men, And of all of my brothers, none is older than me. Oh let me to the market to buy saddle and horse, And ride with the soldiers to take my father’s place.’ In the eastern market she’s bought a gallant hors. In the western market she’s bought saddle and cloth. In the southern market she’s bought snaffle and reins. In the northern market she’s bought a tall whip. In the morning she stole from her father’s and mother’s house. At night she was camping by the Yellow River’s side. She could not hear her father and mother calling to her by name, But only the voice of the Yellow River as its waters swirled through the night. At dawn they left the River and went on their way; At dusk they came to the Black Water’s side. She could not hear her father and mother calling to her by her name, She could only hear the muffled voices of foreign horsemen riding on the hills of Yen. A thousand leagues she tramped on the errands of war. Frontiers and hills she crossed like a bird in flight. Through the northern air echoed the watchman’s tap; The wintry light gleamed on coats of mail. The captain had fought a hundred fights, and died; The warriors in ten years had won their rest. The went home, they saw the Emperor’s face; The Son of Heaven was seated in the Hall of Light. The deeds of the brave were recorded in twelve books; In prizes he gave a hundred thousand cash. Thus spoke the Khan and asked her what she would take. ‘Oh, Mulan asks not to be made A counsellor at the Khan’s court; I only beg for a camel that can march A thousand leagues a day, To take me back to my home.’ When her father and mother heard that she had come, They went out to the wall and led her back to the house. When her little sister heard that she had come, She went to the door and rouged herself afresh. When her little brother heard that his sister had come, He sharpened his knife and darted like a flash Towards the pigs and sheep. She opened the gate that leads to the eastern tower, She sat on her bed that stood in the western tower. She cast aside her heavy soldier’s cloak, And wore again her old-time dress. She stood at the window and bound her cloudy hair; She went to the mirror and fastened her yellow combs. She left the house and met her messmates in the road; Her messmates were startled out of their wits. The had marched with her for twelve years of war And never know that Mulan was girl. For the male hare sits with its legs tucked in, And the female hare is known for her bleary eye; But set them both scampering side by side, And who so wise could tell you ‘This is he’? HER PERFUME Pink musk, white ginger, tea leaf, night blooming jasmine, bergamot, and leather. HER BATH White ginger, tea leaf, night blooming jasmine, neroli, rose, and lotus root. JINGU Known as Pimoko, the sun-daughter, Jingu was an Empress of Japan who served as regent and de facto ruler between the time of the death of her husband and the ascension of her son, Emperor Ojin. Sure that knowledge of her husband’s death would bring discord to her realm, she managed to keep his passing a secret, and successfully put down numerous insurrections in his name. Although she was pregnant with the future emperor of Japan, she donned armor and rode into battle, leading the conquest of Silla. HER PERFUME Sakura, white orchid, mandarin, bamboo, red sandalwood, plum blossom, and lilac. HER BATH Sakura, plum wine, and rice flower. SEMIRAMIS A legendary Assyrian queen, often identified with Sammu-Ramat, the wife of Shamshi-Adad V, she was believed to be the daughter of the goddess Atargatis. Her youth was filled with mythic adventure, and her otherworldly beauty and voluptuous sexuality ensured her two advantageous marriages. When she took the reins of power of Empress of Assyria, she expanded her kingdom by conquering much of Mesopotamia and Asia. She beautified and revitalized Babylon, and implemented improvements in Nineveh that helped to moderate the flow of the Tigris. She was renowned for her military and political prowess, as well as her ferocious and merciless sexual appetite. HER PERFUME Red musk, pomegranate, orange blossom, and melon. HER BATH Red musk, pomegranate, red cherry, myrrh, and blood orange. TOMOE GOZEN A "warrior worth a thousand, ready to confront a demon or a god, mounted or on foot." Tomoe Gozen was a fierce, noble, and courageous samurai, first captain, as well as a renowned beauty. She was an excellent swordswoman, famed for her riding ability and her skill at archery. She fought for Minamoto no Yoshinaka at Battle of Awazu, and her forces were defeated. Legend says she was seen holding the severed head of one of her foes on the battlefield, and vanished, never to be seen again. HER PERFUME Red currant, golden amber, blackberry, honey, and pink pepper. HER BATH Red currant and honey. YSABEL Isabella I, Queen of Castile and León, was a proponent of education, establishing lasting institutions of higher learning, a patron of scholars and artists, and an enthusiastic sponsor of exploratory expeditions, including Christopher Columbus’ voyage to the New World. She possessed a great military mind, and was integral in the retaking of Grenada, thus sealing the Reconquista. With her husband, Ferdinand, she ruled with equal authority and power, unifying Spain and laying the foundations of the Spanish Empire. HER PERFUME Red carnation, red roses, Spanish cedar, velvet musk, pomegranate, clove, and incense. HER BATH Frankincense, benzoin, carnation, and balsam of Peru. ZENOBIA Zenobia was Queen of the Palmyrene Empire. She assumed leadership of her nomadic tribe after her father’s death, eventually marrying King Septimius Odaenathus. Zenobia seemed a contradiction: chaste, dark-eyed, and lovely, but able to drink, fight, and make war like a man. She fought, on horseback, alongside her husband in many battles, and ruled the Empire with a fair and just hand after her husband’s passing. To her people, she was the Lady of Victory, conquering several Roman provinces, including Egypt, and expelling the prefect, Tenagino Probus, who was beheaded after he led an attempt to seize back control of the territory for Rome. Her conquests enabled her to control many vital trade routes, further earning her the ire of the Romans. Unfortunately, she eventually overextended her reach. She was betrayed, and then captured by Emperor Aurelian, displayed in chains in a triumphal procession through Rome, her Empire dissolved. Rather than capitulate to misfortune, she made a new life for herself, and became a Roman matron, philosopher, and socialite. HER PERFUME Orris, clove, costus storax, patchouli, hyssop, frankincense, balsam, and saffron. HER BATH Orris, amber, balsam, calamus, and frankincense. Each set comes with a 5ml bottle of the Queen’s perfume, a 4oz bottle of the Queen’s bath oil, and a squirt of Templum Victoriae Atmospheric Spray: frankincense, olive leaf, champaca, beeswax, amber, and bay myrtle. If you choose not to submit a story, you can leave the selection up to us, or you can specify your choice of Queen in the comments field. Each of the Warrior Queens are only sold as a set, the packs cannot be split up, and the products in this LE cannot be sold on their own. You may place an order for multiple sets, or place multiple orders; in either case, each will be considered separately in the course of the Inquest process. If you are placing an order for more than one set, you may submit multiple tales, applicable to each order. Please indicate which statement or quiz result pertains to which order. You have until May 31, 2009 to participate, at which point the Inquest will end. Please note: Inquests will not begin to ship until May 22, 2009. And with that, I’m going to crawl into bed. Good night, all! From the 7 April 2009: Planting Moon is live at BPAL and BPTP! PLANTING MOON As is the garden such is the gardener, A man’s nature runs either to herbs or to weeds. –Francis Bacon This Full Moon marks a time for new growth, both within nature and within our spirits. It is a time of fertility and fruitfulness, for sowing seeds to ensure blessings and bounty later in the year. The scent of Planting Moon is that of summer squashes, pole beans, tomato leaves, upturned earth, and sun-warmed herbs.  The scent (at BPAL) and the tee (at BPTP) will be live until April 11, 2009. The Velvet Painting Exhibit will be departing the Salon on June 1, 2009, and Le Mat will also vanish from Black Phoenix Trading Post that day. From the 13 March 2009 update: Happy Friday the 13th! o.O From the 9 March 2009 update: Flower Moon is live at BPAL and BPTP! FLOWER MOON April, too, marks the apex of the year's fertility, expresses the reawakening of the sexuality of the Earth and her inhabitants, and May's full moon celebrates both the fecundity of the creatures and flora of this world and the vibrancy, rejuvenation and life-affirming energy of Spring. Flower Moon embodies the unrestrained bliss, energy and color of the season: a bouquet of vivid, sexy blooms, coated in thick, golden honey... wisteria, swamp jasmine, honeysuckle, daffodil, rhododendron, phlox, and a mix of California wildflowers. Trading Post presents a lovely, petal-dappled phoenix tee by Jennifer Williamson! --  And in the spirit of springtime flora, there are some new additions to the Garden at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab! THE APPLE OF SODOM their vine is of the vine of Sodom, and of the fields of Gomorrah: their grapes are grapes of gall, their clusters are bitter. The tree’s bark is grey and cork-like, and the fruit, when ripe, is bright yellow, comely and sweet-scented. After their success in tempting Adam and Eve to the knowledge of sin, Satan and his cronies celebrated by partaking of the Apple: There stood A Grove hard by, sprung up with this thir change, His will who reigns above, to aggravate Thir penance, laden with Fruit like that Which grew in Paradise, the bait of Eve Us'd by the Tempter: on that prospect strange Thir earnest eyes they fix'd, imagining For one forbidden Tree a multitude Now ris'n, to work them furder woe or shame; Yet parcht with scalding thurst and hunger fierce, Though to delude them sent, could not abstain, But on they rould in heaps, and up the Trees Climbing, sat thicker then the snakie locks That curld Megæra: greedily they pluck'd The Frutage fair to sight, like that which grew Neer that bituminous Lake where Sodom flam'd; This more delusive, not the touch, but taste Deceav'd; they fondly thinking to allay Thir appetite with gust, instead of Fruit Chewd bitter Ashes, which th' offended taste With spattering noise rejected: oft they assayd, Hunger and thirst constraining, drugd as oft, With hatefullest disrelish writh'd thir jaws With soot and cinders fill'd; so oft they fell Into the same illusion, not as Man Whom they triumph'd once lapst. Thus were they plagu'd And worn with Famin, long and ceasless hiss, Till thir lost shape, permitted, they resum'd, Yearly enjoynd, some say, to undergo This annual humbling certain number'd days, To dash thir pride, and joy for Man seduc't. Native to the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, this fruit turns to ashes when plucked as a sign of God’s displeasure. BOHUN UPAS The Tree of Poisons. Every aspect of this tree is toxic, from the narcotic, lethal fumes that it emits, to its oozing, poisonous sap. A deceptively tranquil scent: heady fruits, dry bark, and deep green leaves, enveloped by a dark and sinister murk. THE LOTUS TREE Thence the winds bore me, blowing fierce and fell, Across the fish-abounding ocean swell A nine-days’ space: and on the tenth we reached The land where the Lotus-eaters dwell, Who fed on flowery food: there landed we And drew us water, and by the sea By the swift ships taking our midday meal We drank and ate bread in sufficiency. Then of my crew I sent to bring me word, Exploring inland, what they saw or heard Of dwellers on the acres, choosing out Twain, and as a herald with them for the third. And straightway going forth, anigh they drew The Lotus-eaters; who against our crew Devised not hurt, but gave them of the fruit To taste upon the lotus-trees that grew. But whoso of them once began to eat The lotus-fruit, that is as honey sweet, Had no will longer in him to return Or bring back tidings, but desired to fleet His days among the lotus-eating men, Eating the lotus, nor return again. Howbeit I drove them weeping to the ships, And to the ships’ hold haled and bound them then Under the benches: but I bade anon My fellows to the swift ships get them gone In haste, that none might of the lotus-fruit Eat, and forget the way he went upon. Honey-sweet and soporific. THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL After these things, surveying the entrances of the north, above the mountains, I perceived seven mountains replete with pure nard, odoriferous trees, cinnamon and papyrus. From there I passed on above the summits of those mountains to some distance eastwards, and went over the Erythraean sea. And when I was advanced far beyond it, I passed along above the angel Zateel, and arrived at the garden of righteousness. In this garden I beheld, among other trees, some which were numerous and large, and which flourished there. Their fragrance was agreeable and powerful, and their appearance both varied and elegant. The tree of knowledge also was there, of which if any one eats, he becomes endowed with great wisdom. It was like a species of the tamarind tree, bearing fruit which resembled grapes extremely fine; and its fragrance extended to a considerable distance. I exclaimed, How beautiful is this tree, and how delightful is its appearance! Then holy Raphael, an angel who was with me, answered and said, This is the tree of knowledge, of which your ancient father and your aged mother ate, who were before you; and who, obtaining knowledge, their eyes being opened, and knowing themselves to be naked, were expelled from the garden. Whiffs of cinnamon bark, almond, and spikenard surround a perfect fruit, whose scent is akin to a tamarind, with the grace of a fine grape, as warm and rich as a fresh fig, glistening red like pomegranate seeds, and as crisp as an apple. YA-TE-VO Travelers have told us of a plant, which they assert grows in Central Africa and also in South America, that is not contented with myriad of larger insects which it catches and consumes, but its voracity extends to making even humans its prey. This marvelous vegetable Minotaur is represented as having a short, thick trunk, from the top of which radiate giant spines, narrow and flexible but of extraordinary tenaciousness, the edges of which are armed with barbs, or dagger-like teeth. Instead of growing upright, or at an inclined angle from the trunk, these spines lay their outer ends upon the ground, and so gracefully are they distributed that the trunk resembles an easy couch with green drapery around it. The unfortunate traveler, ignorant of the monstrous creation which lies in his way, and curious to examine the strange plant, or to rest himself upon its inviting stalk approaches without a suspicion of his certain doom. The moment his feet are set within the circle of the horrid spines, they rise up, like gigantic serpents, and entwine themselves about him until he is drawn upon the stump, when they speedily drive their daggers into his body and thus complete the massacre. The body is crushed until every drop of blood is squeezed out of it and becomes absorbed by the gore-loving plant, when the dry carcass is thrown out and the horrid trap set again. Barbed, sanguinary greenery, fleshy and sharp. THE ZIEBA TREE A massive tree that held, in its lowest boughs, a nest of bare-breasted men and women. The souls sprawled within the Zieba Tree’s branches were trapped in reverie, lost for all eternity in their fantasies. A dreamlike, listless scent, misty and hazed, with wisps of white sandalwood, eddying musks the colors of eventide, shimmering pale resins, davana, lemon blossom, orange blossom, and white peach. The world is in the midst of massive upheaval, and to help keep the uncertainty, fear, and fretting at bay, we present a new type of Chaos Theory that melds the comfort and harmony of the familiar with a injection of jolly tumult... CHAOS THEORY V: RECURSIVE SELF-SIMILARITY You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star. - Friedrich Nietzsche A new take on Chaos! For this series, we decided to try a different type of chaotic experimentation. Each CT:5 scent has a base of one of the following scents, in wildly varying proportions: Dorian O Penitence Snake Oil From these bases comes a new series of flowing, fragrant fractals that emanate from these four roots. Random combinations of oils have been added to every individual bottle, resulting in a truly unique blend that retains some of the tone, essence, and soul of the original. This is an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct. Most common allergens have been omitted from the experiment. No pennyroyal, no nuts, no cinnamon, no cassia. Regardless, if you have any sensitivities, please do not participate in Chaos Theory. The contents of the oils are not recorded [that's the whole point!] and we will not be able to answer questions about specific bottles of CT:5 or guarantee that an allergen is not present in your order. By purchasing CT:5, you agree to absolve Black Phoenix of any responsibility related to an allergic reaction to one of the oils in this series. Please make a responsible choice, and use caution and discretion when ordering. This is intended to be a fun, exciting project. Please bear in mind that all Black Phoenix oils are made in an environment that contains nuts, both literally and figuratively. The Chaos blends were created by m‘self, Doc Constantine, and Mister Teddy from Black Phoenix Trading Post, so you get an extra dollop of chaos! We hope that you enjoy these scents as much as we enjoyed creating them! CHAOS THEORY V: RECURSIVE SELF-SIMILARITY V1 The Dorian Series CHAOS THEORY V: RECURSIVE SELF-SIMILARITY V2 The O Series CHAOS THEORY V: RECURSIVE SELF-SIMILARITY V3 The Penitence Series CHAOS THEORY V: RECURSIVE SELF-SIMILARITY V4 The Snake Oil Series A portion of all the proceeds from CT:5 will go to United Way. Flower Moon will be live until March 13th, and CT:5 will be live until April 15th! Black Phoenix Trading Post is OVERJOYED to present the first in a series of lockets and pendants inspired by the short stories of Neil Gaiman! This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture: proceeds from every single piece go to Match It For Pratchett, which is raising money to match Terry Pratchett’s $1,000,000.00 donation to the Alzheimer’s Research Trust. Thank you so much, Neil, for giving us so many years of joy, wonder, and inspiration, and for the pleasure of working with you on this project! Heartfelt thanks to Alicia Dabney and Julie Dillon for providing the artwork for the lockets and pendant! Also new to the Post -- the Brimstone and Triple Dagger pendants! Until next time, ladies and gents! From the 1 March 2009 update: Beware the Ides of March! -- THE IDES OF MARCH 2009 The Ides marked an auspicious time in the Roman calendar. Depending on the month in question, the Ides fell on the thirteenth or fifteenth, and usually marked the Full Moon. As we all know, it was not an auspicious day for Julius Caesar, nor was it fortuitous for H.P. Lovecraft, who also met his maker on this infamous day. Tu quoque, Brute, fili mi! A mixture of Italian greenery, gleaming metal, and classical Roman cologne: rosemary, bergamot, lemon rind and vervain with costus, balsam, benzoin, gray amber, dittany, white narcissus and iris. Irish bards were members of a hereditary caste of learned poets. They were officials of the courts of their chieftains and kings, and served as historians, storytellers, and satirists. They were immersed in the rich history of their clan and country, and learned the intricacies of their craft from birth. Their words held so much power that it was believed that a glam dicing, or satirical incantation, spoken by a bard held the magic of a curse. This series is celebration of great Irish poets and storytellers. Through these poems, we touch the glory, beauty, and grief that permeates the soul of Ireland. ++ BARDS OF IRELAND THE DESERTED VILLAGE OLIVER GOLDSMITH Good heaven! What sorrows gloomed that parting day, That called them from their native walks away; When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, Hung round their bowers and fondly looked their last, And took a long farewell, and wished in vain For seats like these beyond the western main; And shuddering still to face the distant deep, Returned and wept, and still returned to weep. The good old sire the first prepared to go To new-found worlds, and wept for others' woe; But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, He only wished for worlds beyond the grave. His lovely daughter, lovelier in her years, Silent went next, neglectful of her charms, And left a lover's for a father's arms. With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, And blessed the cot where every pleasure rose; And kissed her thoughtless babes with many a tear, And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear; Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief In all the silent manliness of grief. O luxury! thou cursed by heaven's decree, How ill exchanged are things like these for thee! How do thy potions with insidious joy Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy! Kingdoms, by thee to sickly greatness grown Boast of a florid vigour not their own. At every draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe; Till sapped their strength and every part unsound, Down, down they sink and spread a ruin round. Even now the devastation has begun, And half the business of destruction done; Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land. Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, That idly waiting flaps with every gale, Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore and darken all the strand. Contented toil and hospitable care, And kind connubial tenderness are there; And piety, with wishes placed above, And steady loyalty and faithful love. And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid Still first to fly where sensual joys invade; Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame, To catch the heart or strike for honest fame; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride; Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first and keep'st me so; Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel, Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well! Farewell, and oh, where'er thy voice be tried, On Torno's cliffs or Pambamarca's side, Whether where equinoctial fervours glow, Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, Still let thy voice, prevailing over time, Redress the rigours of the inclement clime; Aid slighted truth; with thy persuasive strain Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain; Teach him that states of native strength possessed, Though very poor, may still be very blest; That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, As ocean sweeps the laboured mole away; While self-dependent power can time defy, As rocks resist the billows and the sky. Where wealth accumulates and men decay. A scent of opulence, luxury, depredation, and dissolusion: velvety orris root and glittering bergamot, ambergris, red currant, honey, and neroli, with red oakmoss, patchouli, labdanum, and black musk. THE DOLE OF THE KING’S DAUGHTER OSCAR WILDE Even stars in the still water, And seven in the sky; Seven sins on the King's daughter, Deep in her soul to lie. Red roses at her feet, (Roses are red in her red-gold hair) And O where her bosom and girdle meet Red roses are hidden there. Fair is the knight who lieth slain Amid the rush and reed, See the lean fishes that are fain Upon dead men to feed. Sweet is the page that lieth there, (Cloth of gold is goodly prey,) See the black ravens in the air, Black, O black as the night are they. What do they there so stark and dead? (There is blood upon her hand) Why are the lilies flecked with red? (There is blood on the river sand.) There are two that ride from the south to the east, And two from the north and west, For the black raven a goodly feast, For the King's daughter to rest. There is one man who loves her true, (Red, O red, is the stain of gore!) He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew, (One grave will do for four.) No moon in the still heaven, In the black water none, The sins on her soul are seven, The sin upon his is one. Red roses, blood-flecked lilies, upturned earth, yew branches, and blood mingled with river sand. EANACH DHÚIN ANTOINE Ó RAIFTEIRI If my health is spared I'll be long relating Of that boat that sailed out of Anach Cuain. And the keening after of mother and father And child by the harbour, the mournful croon! King of Graces, who died to save us, T'were a small affair but for one or two, But a boat-load bravely in calm day sailing Without storm or rain to be swept to doom. What wild despair was on all the faces To see them there in the light of day, In every place there was lamentation, And tearing of hair as the wreck was shared. And boys there lying when crops were ripening, From the strength of life they were borne to clay In their wedding clothes for their wake they robed them O King of Glory, man's hope is in vain. Unutterable grief expressed through the scent of balsam, frankincense, blackberry leaf, oud, white rose, driftwood, zdravetz, and bitter clove, beneath the cold waters of the River Corrib. THE HOST OF THE AIR WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS O'Driscoll drove with a song The wild duck and the drake From the tall and the tufted reeds Of the drear Hart Lake. And he saw how the reeds grew dark At the coming of night-tide, And dreamed of the long dim hair Of Bridget his bride. He heard while he sang and dreamed A piper piping away, And never was piping so sad, And never was piping so gay. And he saw young men and young girls Who danced on a level place, And Bridget his bride among them, With a sad and a gay face. The dancers crowded about him And many a sweet thing said, And a young man brought him red wine And a young girl white bread. But Bridget drew him by the sleeve Away from the merry bands, To old men playing at cards With a twinkling of ancient hands. The bread and the wine had a doom, For these were the host of the air; He sat and played in a dream Of her long dim hair. He played with the merry old men And thought not of evil chance, Until one bore Bridget his bride Away from the merry dance. He bore her away in his arms, The handsomest young man there, And his neck and his breast and his arms Were drowned in her long dim hair. O'Driscoll scattered the cards And out of his dream awoke: Old men and young men and young girls Were gone like a drifting smoke; But he heard high up in the air A piper piping away, And never was piping so sad, And never was piping so gay. Peat and rolling grass-covered hills, with wine-dappled heather, white clover, cloudberry, juniper berry, bluebell, dandelion, and cross-leaved heath. The Ides of March and the Bards of Ireland will be with us until 15 April 2009! Happy Friday the 13th! From the 6 February 2009 update: Windy Moon is live! WINDY MOON Stinging wind whips past the trees, stripping the dead and decaying bark from their trunks. This is a time of renewal, both earthly and spiritual. The scent of wind and wood, and the smoke of council fires burning in the distance. Windy Moon will be live until February 11, 2009. From the 10 January 2009 update: Bony Moon and Earth Ox are live at Black Phoenix! BONY MOON In the stark darkness of February, food is so scarce that some are forced to chew bones and make marrow soup for nourishment. It is a time when we honor our ancestors with fasting, solemn ritual, and reflection on the triumphs and accomplishments of those who have passed before us. White sandalwood, dry cedar, and radiant, crisp lunar herbs. EARTH OX 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, peach blossom for longevity, oakmoss, plum, and tobacco for stability, and a splash of blazing red of dragon's blood... to help you scare away the rampaging Nian. Lupercalia is upon us, and the world is suffused with symbols of love and lust. Here at Black Phoenix, that is triply true! Our offerings during this Season of Schtupping contain adult material, and by clicking through to view the images and purchase our products, you are agreeing that you are a dirty bird who is 18 or older, and that you are permitted by law to view suggestive imagery. For your pleasure, we are thrilled to present another whimsical sojourn to the bedrooms of Edo-era Japan -- Novel Ideas For Secret Amusements II: A Shunga Exhibition.  And Ode to Aphrodite, a series inspired by the timeless beauty of vintage nude postcard photography; in our vision, each of these women illustrates a facet of the splendor of the goddess of love.  Before we go any further, we present a scent whose proceeds support the work of the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund: 413 U.S. 15 / Miller Vs California In 1974, a court ruling established a litmus test for obscenity in the United States. Does the First Amendment protect dirty birds? Yes, and no; it depends on where you are and what your neighbors perceive as naughty. The Court's majority opinion stated that material could only be defined as obscene if "(a) the average person, applying contemporary community standards, would find that the work, taken as a whole, appeals to the prurient interest; [and] (b) the work depicts or describes, in a patently offensive way, sexual conduct specifically defined by the applicable state law; and (c) the work, taken as a whole, lacks serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value" If all three conditions are satisfied, voilà! - your work is obscene. But is it art? Although a work considered to have literary, artistic, political, or scientific value cannot, in theory, constitutionally be found to be obscene regardless of whether it appeals to prurient interest or is patently offensive, the question lies in how we can possibly determine with certainty whether or not a film, photograph, tale, or limerick has social value when philosophical and moral compasses vary so wildly from person to person and community to community. Is a perfume inspired by an 18th Century painting of a dildo obscene? What would your friends and neighbors say? 413 U.S. 15 / MILLER VS CALIFORNIA Leather, cognac, fig, ripe berry, and cream, stuffed into a plain brown paper bag. For traditionalists with a sweet tooth, we present Box of Chocolates! - Dark Chocolate and Cherry Dark Chocolate and Pepper-Smoked Caramel Milk Chocolate Buttercream White Chocolate, Marshmallow, and Coconut White Chocolate and Strawberry White Chocolate and Sugared Violets The whole Box can be purchased as a set for $100. Inspired by the sensuality and smuttiness of the season, we have added two new scents to the general catalogue: ++ EXCOLO EROS And eros again the loosener of limbs makes me tremble A sweet-bitter unmanageable creature. Myrrh, lilac, and honey wine with crimson tea leaf and sweet resins. ++ ARS AMATORIA PRURIENCE An unwholesome scent. A craving, an itch. This scent smoulders with a lust that singes the edge of your nerves and leaves your soul chilled: red amber and scorched musk with voluptuous carnation, charred vetiver, sensuous tonka, and orris. Box of Chocolates, Ode to Aphrodite, Bony Moon, Earth Ox, The Yules, and Wind in the Willows are $17.50 each, the Resurrected and Anniversary scents are $20.00 each, Miller Vs California is $25.00, and the Shunga scents are $23.50 each. The whole Box of Chocolates is available for $100US. The Yules, Resurrected, Anniversary, and Wind in the Willows scents will be live until January 15, 2009, and Miller Vs California, the Box, Ode to Aphrodite, and the Shunga series will be live until March 13, 2009. Bony Moon and Eath Ox will be live until January 13, 2009. Bony Moon is live at the 'Post!  Adorable artwork by Jennifer Williamson! It will be live until January 13, 2009. Love is in the air at BPTP, and to celebrate, we're offering a complete Valentine's Day sensory experience: A room spray LUPANAR Good God, what a night that was, The bed was so soft, and how we clung, Burning together, lying this way and that, Our uncontrollable passions Flowing through our mouths. If I could only die that way, I'd say goodbye to the business of living. Honey, myrrh, ylang ylang, and almond. An exercise in control and release: GLACIES BATH OIL For cooling the libido and soothing the senses. Cucumber mint, sea lettuce, French lavender, geranium bourbon, and lemon balm. INCENDIA For stimulating the libido and arousing the senses. Vanilla, palmarosa, patchouli, jasmine, cocoa absolute, bergamot, sweet orange, nutmeg, ylang ylang, rose otto, and Haitian vetiver. And a set of perfumes designed to illustrate the synergy of love and lust: In alchemy, the white and red roses symbolize the male / female polarity, the active and receptive, the light and the dark. Together, the roses become the alchemical concept of Mercury: perfect unity. Our Red Rose scent is the embodiment of vigorous passion, and our White Rose personifies purity, virtue, and unconditional love. The scents individually are powerful, but layered together - combined - they become their perfected self. RED ROSE Red rose buds, with amber, clove, tonka, Indian musk, fir, and tobacco. WHITE ROSE White rose buds, with vanilla tea, benzoin, orris, coconut meat, and frankincense. The Trading Post Valentine offerings will be available until March 13, 2009. From the 11 December 2008 update: Before I get to the good stuff, here's the bad stuff As many of you out there know, the USPS site has been on the fritz for the past few days, which is hindering our ability to get orders out smoothly. At this time, we're utilizing other methods of processing postage. Your orders will still be going out via USPS, but you may not receive a Click n'Ship notification. Due to all of the redass the USPS site is giving us, we're going a little slower on the shipping than usual. This applies to both BPAL and BPTP orders. Currently, BPAL and BPTP are shipping orders from the middle through end of November. We are working diligently to find ways to circumvent the problems with the USPS site, and we'll do everything in our power to get your orders out to you asap. Thanks for your patience, guys! December just isn't an easy month, is it? Now onto the good stuff The Moon of the Terrible is live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab! On New Year's Day each thought a loneliness as winter dusk descends Desolation at the last moment in the gloaming on New Year's Day: winter snow with lavender, benzoin, lychee, white resins, and a cluster of melancholy, lachrymose lunar herbs and florals. And... the Moon of the Terrible tee is at Black Phoenix Trading Post!  Mauve and slate grey ink on black tee. Artwork by the inimitable Jennifer Williamson. Please note: orders that include the Moon of the Terrible tee will not ship in time for Christmas. Lunacy tees do not go into production until we're done taking orders for them, and they take a few weeks to be made. Now that Storytime has come down at Black Phoenix Trading Post, the goblins are able to get crackin' on reading the pleas. Due to the nature of this project, there is a delay in getting these out so we can ensure that every order gets the attention it deserves. Storytime packs will begin to ship after the 15th. The Moon of the Terrible will be live on both sites until 14 December 2008! Happy holidays, everyone! We hope you have the happiest of happy 2009s! From the 22 November 2008 BPTP update: The 'Post has a whole bunch o'new stuff! New to the GC Bath Oils: INVIDIA O, beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on. White grapefruit, tea leaf, white ginger, orange blossom, jasmine, honey myrtle, and lime. PATIENTIA Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish. -- John Quincy Adams Sandalwood, benzoin, cardamom, calamus, palmarosa, and sage. And new to the GC Atmosphere Sprays: DOC CONSTANTINE'S MEDICINE SHOW Polished wood, olibanum, questionable medicinal herbs, sarsaparilla, and a splash of bay rum. OKIYA Cherry blossom, green tea, and sake. SALOON #10 Nuttal & Mann's Saloon No. 10, Deadwood, Black Hills, Dakota Territory: sweaty leather, chewing tobacco, and Red Eye. We are phasing out the 8oz room sprays, so only the Queen's Croquet Ground, Cathouse, and Down the Rabbit Hole will be offered in that size. All of the GC sprays are available in 4oz bottles, and in Goblin Squirt form! We are thrilled to present this season's limited edition offerings: The Bah Humbug tee!  ++ WINTER ATMOSPHERE SPRAY SNOW WHITE A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. ++ WINTER BATH OILS ICE PRINCE BATH OIL As beautiful and cold as a December storm. Crystalline musk, winter lily, bergamot, plum, and frozen pine boughs. PROSERPINA BATH OIL For thine came pale and a maiden, and sister to sorrow; but ours, Her deep hair heavily laden with odour and colour of flowers, White rose of the rose-white water, a silver splendour, a flame, Bent down unto us that besought her, and earth grew sweet with her name. The emergence of light in darkness. Frozen pomegranate and a hint of nocturnal blossoms. WINTER MAIDEN BATH OIL Ice-rimed innocence. The blush of youth, frozen for eternity. Snow-laden woods, iced blackberry and bergamot, white rose, and crystallized amber. HOLIDAY STRESS RELIEF BATH OIL Relax, revive, restore. Peppermint, spearmint, geranium bourbon, lavender, clary sage, white amber, juniper berry, laurel leaf, coriander, opoponax, and mandarin. Please note: Snow White Atmosphere Spray is only offered in the 4oz size. The bath oils are all 8oz. Holiday Stress Relief is $40US due to the cost of the components, and Winter Maiden, Ice Prince, and Proserpina are $30US. And This season's Inquisition is live! The Goblins of Yuletide Storytime! Tell your tale and receive an atmosphere spray and a perfume oil in a fancy schmancy green velveteen pouch! Storytime and the Bah Humbug tee will be live until December 5, 2008, and the winter room spray and bath oils will be live until December 15, 2008. A quickie public service announcement: Please note that all Black Phoenix Trading Post orders, including domestic orders, are currently taking an excess of 14 - 21 business days to process, pack and ship out due to a heavy workload. Lunacy and Inquisition items may exceed 21 - 28 days to process. All of our products are handmade, and the tees are hand-screened. Due to the nature of the beast, Trading Post cannot guarantee Christmas shipping on orders that contain Storytime, but we will do our very best. Thank you for understanding! Pendants and new scent lockets are coming soon! And that's it for now! From the 18 November 2008 update: OMFG, happy sixth anniversary to Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab! We are overjoyed to present six phoenixes that represent what we strive for, and two Resurrected blends: METAL PHOENIX Tenacity, force, strength, stability, and determination: Chinese musk and gleaming white metal with honeysuckle, rose mallow, verbena, and carnation. WOOD PHOENIX Flexibility, cooperation, expansiveness, and altruism: Chinese musk and five woods with newly budding bamboo shoots, hyssop, chamomile, pink clove, magnolia, walnut, and fig. WATER PHOENIX Compassion, eloquence, introspection: Chinese musk and rain, with salty oceanic notes, frankincense, juniper berry, lily of the valley, lavender, cinquefoil, and sweet pea. FIRE PHOENIX Enterprise, adventure, restlessness, impulsiveness, and dynamism: Chinese musk and red musk with hyacinth, cactus flower, cubeb berry, galangal, tobacco, pink pepper, and sarsaparilla. EARTH PHOENIX Hard work, patience, and harmony: Chinese musk, dark musk, and moist soil with black cherry, opoponax, night-blooming jasmine, plum, woodland tobacco, snakeweed, and cypress. And because its just plain silly to take yourself too seriously CANDY PHOENIX A dusky, effervescent mix of pomegranate and black currant candies, with a dusting of sugared pear and white apple. 2008's Resurrected scents are: BEAVER'VERSARY Cheesecake and cupcakes, yo! This is Beaver Moon 2005 resurrected! SNAKE CHARMER: RESURRECTED Sensual, sibilant, sexual and hypnotic: Arabian musk and exotic spices slinking through Egyptian amber, enticing vanilla, and a serpentine blend of black plum, labdanum, ambrette, benzoin and black coconut. The Anniversary and Resurrected scents are $20 each, and will be live until January 15, 2009. Moon of Small Spirits (BPAL, not BPTP) and the Halloweenies have been extended til November 19, 2008. The BPTP update will be live this week. Keep those eyes peeled! (Ew. Peeled eyes.) A little bit of biz'ness schtuff In order to receive your package by Christmas Eve... Internationals! Please place your order by December 6th. Domestics! Please place your order by December 13th. Please bear in mind that we are not responsible for USPS shenanigans. We do promise that we will bust our asses to get you your orders asap! Holy. Moly. SIX FRIGGIN' YEARS! A million thanks to our beloved customers for being our friends and our extended family, for helping us make our dreams a reality, and for celebrating anniversaries, births, and unions with us! A million thanks to the administrators and moderators of the bpal.org forum for their love, support, and crazyhard work! And a million thanks to our wonderful staff for helping us stink up the world! From the 12 November 2008 update: Moon of Small Spirits is live at BPAL! It will be available until November 15, 2008! This month's lunacy was inspired by the cold fullness of the moon, the beauty of the season, the quiet renewal of life that winter symbolizes, and by Carl Sandburg's Poem "Early Moon": MOON OF SMALL SPIRITS The baby moon, a canoe, a silver papoose canoe, sails and sails in the Indian west. A ring of silver foxes, a mist of silver foxes, sit and sit around the Indian moon. One yellow star for a runner, and rows of blue stars for more runners, keep a line of watchers. O foxes, baby moon, runners, you are the panel of memory, fire-white writing to-night of the Red Man's dreams. Who squats, legs crossed and arms folded, matching its look against the moon-face, the star-faces, of the West? Who are the Mississippi Valley ghosts, of copper foreheads, riding wiry ponies in the night?-no bridles, love-arms on the pony necks, riding in the night a long old trail? Why do they always come back when the silver foxes sit around the early moon, a silver papoose, in the Indian west? Snow-blanketed wild grasses, sage, swamp tea, cedar, giniminagawunj, copal, rosehip, juniper, clover, elderberry, sweet flag, butterfly weed, wood sorrel, and pine. The BPTP Small Spirits update will be a little bit late - its going to be live tomorrow night. The winter Inquisition will be live at BPTP soon. Apologies for the delay on the BPTP update and the Inquisition! Your humble narrator is still adjusting to motherhood. Hee. From the Halloween 2008 update: Happy Halloween, everybody! We are overjoyed to present a new perfume series celebrating Neil Gaiman's brilliant new novel, the Graveyard Book. I truly adore this story, and have already read it several times to Miss Lilith. The story is light, yet melancholy, witty and charming, suspenseful and sweet -- it is an absolute pleasure in every way. Like all of Neil's work, it runs through the full spectrum of emotion, and I'll admit to you guys I cried quite a few times while I read it. I love stories that move me. Thank you, Neil, for the opportunity to interpret your story in scent! We love the Graveyard Book, and we love you! ++ THE GRAVEYARD BOOK BANANA PEEL IN A GRAVEYARD "We can put the food here," said Silas. "It's cool, and the food will keep longer." He reached into the box, pulled out a banana. "And what would that be when it was at home?" asked Mrs Owens, eyeing the yellow and brown object suspiciously. "It's a banana. A fruit, from the tropics. I believe you peel off the outer covering," said Silas, "Like so." The child - Nobody - wriggled in Mrs Owens arms, and she let it down to the flagstones. It toddled rapidly to Silas, grasped his trouser-leg and held on. Silas passed it the banana. Mrs Owens watched the boy eat. "Ba-na-na," she said, dubiously. "Never heard of them. Never. What's it taste like?" "I've absolutely no idea," said Silas, who consumed only one food, and it was not bananas. "You could make up a bed in here for the boy, you know." A banana peel discarded among tombstones and crypts. THE CONVOCATION A small sign in the hotel lobby announced that the Washington Room was taken that night by a private function, although there was no information as to what kind of function this might be. Truthfully, if you were to look at the inhabitants of the Washington Room that night, you would have no clearer idea of what was happening, although a rapid glance would tell you that there were no women in there. They were all men, that much was clear, and they sat at round dinner tables, and they were finishing their dessert. There were about a hundred of them, all in sober black suits, but the suits were all they had in common. They had white hair or dark hair or fair hair or red hair or no hair at all. They had friendly faces or unfriendly, helpful or sullen, open or secretive, brutish or sensitive. The majority of them were pink-skinned, but there were black-skinned men and brown-skinned. They were European, African, Indian, Chinese, South American, Filipino, American. They all spoke English when they talked to each other, or to the waiters, but the accents were as diverse as the gentlemen. They came from all across Europe and from all over the world. A macabre mélange of swanky men's colognes. EAU DE GHOUL They all started telling stories, then, of how fine and wonderful a thing it was to be a ghoul, of all the things they had crunched up and swallowed down with their powerful teeth. Impervious they were to disease or illness, said one of them. Why, it didn't matter what their dinner had died of, they could just chomp it down. They told of the places they had been, which mostly seemed to be catacombs and plague-pits ("Plague Pits is good eatin'," said the Emperor of China, and everyone agreed.) They told Bod how they had got their names and how he, in his turn, once he had become a nameless ghoul, would be named, as they had been. "But I don't want to become one of you," said Bod. "One way or another," said the Bishop of Bath and Wells, cheerily, "you'll become one of us. The other way is messier, involves being digested, and you're not really around very long to enjoy it." "But that's not a good thing to talk about," said the Emperor of China."Best to be a Ghoul. We're afraid of nuffink!" And all the ghouls around the coffin-wood fire howled at this statement, and growled and sang and exclaimed at how wise they were, and how mighty, and how fine it was to be scared of nothing. Dessicated skin coated in blackened ginger, cinnamon, and mold-flecked dirt, with cumin, bitter clove, leather, and dried blood. GHÛLHEIM Ghouls do not build. They are parasites and scavengers, eaters of carrion. The city they call Ghûlheim is something they found, long ago, but did not make. No one they call knows (if anyone human ever knew) what kind of creatures it was that made those buildings, who honeycombed the rock with tunnels and towers, but it is certain that no-one but the ghoul-folk could have wanted to stay there, or even to approach that place. Even from the path below Ghûlheim, even from miles away, Bod could see that all of the angles were wrong -- that the walls sloped crazily, that it was every nightmare he had ever endured made into a place, like a huge mouth of jutting teeth. It was a city that had been built just to be abandoned, in which all the fears and madnesses and revulsions of the creatures who built it were made into stone. The ghoul folk had found it and delighted in it and called it home. A dark and disjointed scent: smoke and black musk, bladderwrack, opopponax, galangal, and pepper. THE LADY ON THE GREY A huge white horse, of the kind that the people who know horses would call a "grey", came ambling up the side of the hill. The pounding of its hooves could be heard before it was seen, along with the crashing it made as it pushed through the little bushes and thickets, through the brambles and the ivy and the gorse that had grown up on the side of the hill. The size of a Shire horse it was, a full nineteen hands or more. It was a horse that could have carried a knight in full armour into combat, but all it carried on its naked back was a woman, clothed from head to foot in grey. Her long skirt and her shawl might have been spun out of old cobwebs. Her face was serene, and peaceful. They knew her, the graveyard folk, for each of us encounters the lady on the grey at the end of our days, and there is no forgetting her. The horse paused beside the obelisk. In the east the sky was lightening gently, a pearlish, pre-dawn luminescence that made the people of the graveyard uneasy and made them think about returning to their comfortable homes. Even so, not a one of them moved. They were watching the lady on the grey, each of them half-excited, half-scared. The dead are not superstitious, not as a rule, but they watched her as a Roman Augur might have watched the sacred crows circle, seeking wisdom, seeking a clue. And she spoke to them. In a voice like the chiming of a hundred tiny silver bells she said only, "The dead should have charity." And she smiled. Ethereal, opalescent, and radiant: pearly sandalwood, white amber, tobacco flower, orris, castoreum bouquet, soft resins, and pale petals. THE MACABRAY Mistress Owens pushed him out of the Owens's little tomb. "Get along with you," she said. "I've got business to attend to." Bod looked at his mother. "But it's cold out there," he said. "I should hope so," she said, "it being Winter. That's as it should be. Now," she said, more to herself than to Bod, "shoes. And look at this dress - it needs hemming. And cobwebs--there are cobwebs all over, for heaven's sakes. You get along," this to Bod once more. "I've plenty to be getting on with, and I don't need you underfoot." And then she sang to herself, a little couplet Bod had never heard before. "Rich man, poor man, come away. Come to dance the Macabray." "What's that?" asked Bod, but it was the wrong thing to have said, for Mistress Owens looked dark as a thundercloud, and Bod hurried out of the tomb before she could express her displeasure more forcefully. It was cold in the graveyard, cold and dark, and the stars were already out. Bod passed Mother Slaughter in the ivy-covered Egyptian Walk, squinting at the greenery. "Your eyes are younger than mine, young man," she said. "Can you see blossom?" "Blossom? In winter?" "Don't you look at me with that face on, young man," she said. "Things blossom in their time. They bud and bloom, blossom and fade. Everything in its time." She huddled deeper into her cloak and bonnet and she said, "Time to work and time to play, Time to dance the Macabray. Eh, boy?" "I don't know," said Bod. "What's the Macabray?" White winter flowers plucked from a snow-covered graveyard. MISS LUPESCU "Bod," said Silas. "This is Miss Lupescu." Miss Lupescu was not pretty. Her face was pinched and her expression was disapproving. Her hair was grey, although her face seemed too young for grey hair. Her front teeth were slightly crooked. She wore a bulky mackintosh, and a man's tie around her neck. "How do you do, Miss Lupescu?" said Bod. Miss Lupescu said nothing. She sniffed. Then she looked at Silas and said, "So. This is the boy." She got up from her seat and walked all around Bod, nostrils flared, as if she were sniffing him. When she had made a complete circuit, she said, "You will report to me on waking, and before you go to sleep. I have rented a room in a house over there." She pointed to a roof just visible from where they stood. "However, I shall spend my time in this graveyard. I am here as a historian, researching the history of old graves. You understand, boy? Da?" "Bod," said Bod. "It's Bod. Not boy." "Short for Nobody," she said. "A foolish name. Also, Bod is a pet name. A nickname. I do not approve. I will call you 'boy'. You will call me 'Miss Lupescu'." Bod looked up at Silas, pleadingly, but there was no sympathy on Silas's face. He picked up his bag and said, "You will be in good hands with Miss Lupescu, Bod. I am sure that the two of you will get on." "We won't!" said Bod. "She's horrible!" "That," said Silas, "Was a very rude thing to say. I think you should apologise, don't you?" Bod didn't, but Silas was looking at him and he was carrying his black bag, and about to leave for no-one knew how long, so he said, "I'm sorry Miss Lupescu." At first she said nothing in reply. She merely sniffed. Then she said, "I have come a long way to look after you, boy. I hope you are worth it." Animalic musk, with amber, patchouli, ho wood, cypress, almond blossom, golden sandalwood, and strange spices. THE OWENS' TOMB "I'll do no such thing, with Owens and me having a lovely little tomb over by the daffodil patch. Plenty of room in there for a little one." Marble and dust surrounded by burdock, knotweed, dandelions, daffodils, and long-dead calla lilies. THE POTTER'S FIELD Silas walked across the path without disturbing a fallen leaf, and sat down on the bench, beside Bod. "There are those," he said, in his silken voice, "who believe that all land is sacred. That it is sacred before we come to it, and sacred after. But here, in your land, they blessed the churches and the ground they set aside to bury people in, to make it holy. But they left land unconsecrated beside the sacred ground, potter's fields to bury the criminals and the suicides or those who were not of the faith." "So the people buried in the ground on the other side of the fence are bad people?" Silas raised one perfect eyebrow. "Mm? Oh, not at all. Let's see, it's been a while since I've been down that way. But I don't remember anyone particularly evil. Remember, in days gone by you could be hanged for stealing a shilling. And there are always people who find their lives have become so unsupportable they believe the best thing they could do would be to hasten their transition to another plane of existence." Rich loam, fragrant grasses, murky vetiver, wild herbs, and dry cedar bark. The artwork on the page is by the amazing Jennifer Rodgers! Thank you, Jennifer! The proceeds from every single bottle in this series go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, which works to preserve and protect the First Amendment rights of the comics community! More Graveyard Book scents are in the works, so please do stay tuned! We at Black Phoenix hope you have the happiest and most horrific of Halloweens! May your candy bags overflow with candy, and your homes stay free of rotten eggs and wads of toilet paper! From the 13 October 2008 update: The Lunacy is live at BPAL and BPTP! ++ A LITTLE LUNACY MOURNING MOON As virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls, to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say, 'The breath goes now,' and some say, 'No:' So let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move; 'Twere profanation of our joys To tell the laity our love. Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears; Men reckon what it did, and meant; But trepidation of the spheres, Though greater far, is innocent. Dull sublunary lovers' love (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit Absence, because it doth remove Those things which elemented it. But we by a love so much refin'd, That ourselves know not what it is, Inter-assured of the mind, Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss. Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat. If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two; Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if the' other do. And though it in the centre sit, Yet when the other far doth roam, It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to me, who must Like th' other foot, obliquely run; Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end, where I begun. Ethereal, somber, and woeful: Chinese musk, wisteria, white grapefruit, calla lily, violet leaf, orange, gaiac wood, balsam of Peru, and Florentine iris. We *love* this month's lunacy tee! --  Artwork by Jennifer Williamson! The Lunacy will be live on both sites until October 17 2008! I've got a crazybad head cold, and that can only mean one thing: autumn is upon is, and the Yule update is live! Ha HA! First, let's tackle what's new in the GC - Please give an enthusiastic round of applause and a warm welcome to all the Prince Charmings, Wicked Witches, Bitchy Stepsisters, and Fair Damsels in the crowd - Marchen is live! ++ MARCHEN: BEAUTY AND THE BEAST BELLE VINU There was once a very rich merchant, who had six children, three boys and three girls. As he was himself a man of great sense, he spared no expense for their education. The three daughters were all handsome, but particularly the youngest; indeed, she was so very beautiful, that in her childhood every one called her the Little Beauty; and being equally lovely when she was grown up, nobody called her by any other name, which made her sisters very jealous of her. This youngest daughter was not only more handsome than her sisters, but also was better tempered. The two eldest were vain of their wealth and position. They gave themselves a thousand airs, and refused to visit other merchants' daughters; nor would they condescend to be seen except with persons of quality. They went every day to balls, plays, and public walks, and always made game of their youngest sister for spending her time in reading or other useful employments. As it was well known that these young ladies would have large fortunes, many great merchants wished to get them for wives; but the two eldest always answered, that, for their parts, they had no thoughts of marrying any one below a duke or an earl at least. Beauty had quite as many offers as her sisters, but she always answered, with the greatest civility, that though she was much obliged to her lovers, she would rather live some years longer with her father, as she thought herself too young to marry. It happened that, by some unlucky accident, the merchant suddenly lost all his fortune, and had nothing left but a small cottage in the country. Upon this he said to his daughters, while the tears ran down his cheeks, "My children, we must now go and dwell in the cottage, and try to get a living by labour, for we have no other means of support." The two eldest replied that they did not know how to work, and would not leave town; for they had lovers enough who would be glad to marry them, though they had no longer any fortune. But in this they were mistaken; for when the lovers heard what had happened, they said, "The girls were so proud and ill-tempered, that all we wanted was their fortune: we are not sorry at all to see their pride brought down: let them show off their airs to their cows and sheep." But everybody pitied poor Beauty, because she was so sweet-tempered and kind to all, and several gentlemen offered to marry her, though she had not a penny; but Beauty still refused, and said she could not think of leaving her poor father in this trouble. At first Beauty could not help sometimes crying in secret for the hardships she was now obliged to suffer; but in a very short time she said to herself, "All the crying in the world will do me no good, so I will try to be happy without a fortune." Red sandalwood, vanilla, rosewood, osmanthus, and white peach. THE ROSE When they found that their father must take a journey to the ship, the two eldest begged he would not fail to bring them back some new gowns, caps, rings, and all sorts of trinkets. But Beauty asked for nothing; for she thought in herself that all the ship was worth would hardly buy everything her sisters wished for. "Beauty," said the merchant, "how comes it that you ask for nothing: what can I bring you, my child?" "Since you are so kind as to think of me, dear father," she answered, "I should be glad if you would bring me a rose, for we have none in our garden." Now Beauty did not indeed wish for a rose, nor anything else, but she only said this that she might not affront her sisters; otherwise they would have said she wanted her father to praise her for desiring nothing. The promise of a rose: red rose petals, fresh sap, and the sharp green scent of stem and leaf. ++ MARCHEN: EGLE, QUEEN OF SERPENTS EGLE In another time, long ago lived an old man and his wife. Both of them had twelve sons and three daughters. The youngest being named Egle. On a warm summer evening all three girls decided to go swimming. After splashing about with each other and bathing they climbed onto the riverbank to dress and groom their hair. But the youngest, Egle, only stared for a serpent had slithered into the sleeve of her blouse. What was she to do? The eldest girl grabbed Egle's blouse. She threw the blouse down and jumped on it, anything to get rid of the serpent. But the serpent turned to the youngest, Egle, and spoke to her in a man's voice: Egle, promise to become my bride and I will gladly come out. Egle began to cry how could she marry a serpent? Through her tears she answered: Please give me back my blouse and return from whence you came, in peace. But the serpent would not listen: Promise to become my bride and I will gladly come out. There was nothing else she could do; she promised the serpent to become his bride. Ocean water, hyacinth petals, star jasmine, and fir. When you return go alone, just you and the children and when you approach the beach then call for me: Zilvine, Zilvineli, If alive, may the sea foam milk If dead, may the sea foam blood... And if you see coming towards you foaming milk then know that I am still alive, but if blood comes then I have reached my end. While you, my children, let not the secret out, do not let anyone know how to call for me. THE SEA FOAMS MILK Milk cresting on an ocean wave. THE SEA FOAMS BLOOD Blood rising through an ocean wave. ++ MARCHEN: PRUNELLA PRUNELLA There was once upon a time a woman who had an only daughter. When the child was about seven years old she used to pass every day, on her way to school, an orchard where there was a wild plum tree, with delicious ripe plums hanging from the branches. Each morning the child would pick one, and put it into her pocket to eat at school. For this reason she was called Prunella. Now, the orchard belonged to a witch. One day the witch noticed the child gathering a plum, as she passed along the road. Prunella did it quite innocently, not knowing that she was doing wrong in taking the fruit that hung close to the roadside. But the witch was furious, and next day hid herself behind the hedge, and when Prunella came past, and put out her hand to pluck the fruit, she jumped out and seized her by the arm. 'Ah! you little thief!' she exclaimed. 'I have caught you at last. Now you will have to pay for your misdeeds.' Ripe purple plums, wildflowers, and cream. BENSIABEL As the years passed Prunella grew up into a very beautiful girl. Now her beauty and goodness, instead of softening the witch's heart, aroused her hatred and jealousy. One day she called Prunella to her, and said: 'Take this basket, go to the well, and bring it back to me filled with water. If you don't I will kill you.' The girl took the basket, went and let it down into the well again and again. But her work was lost labour. Each time, as she drew up the basket, the water streamed out of it. At last, in despair, she gave it up, and leaning against the well she began to cry bitterly, when suddenly she heard a voice at her side saying 'Prunella, why are you crying?' Turning round she beheld a handsome youth, who looked kindly at her, as if he were sorry for her trouble. 'Who are you,' she asked, 'and how do you know my name?' 'I am the son of the witch,' he replied, 'and my name is Bensiabel. I know that she is determined that you shall die, but I promise you that she shall not carry out her wicked plan. Will you give me a kiss, if I fill your basket?' 'No,' said Prunella, 'I will not give you a kiss, because you are the son of a witch.' 'Very well,' replied the youth sadly. 'Give me your basket and I will fill it for you.' And he dipped it into the well, and the water stayed in it. Then the girl returned to the house, carrying the basket filled with water. When the witch saw it, she became white with rage, and exclaimed 'Bensiabel must have helped you.' And Prunella looked down, and said nothing. Plum juice, lilac, leather, and a smattering of herbs. ++ MARCHEN: RAPUNZEL RAPUNZEL Rapunzel was the most beautiful child under the sun. When she was twelve years old the Witch shut her up in a tower, in the middle of a great wood, and the tower had neither stairs nor doors, only high up at the very top a small window. When the old Witch wanted to get in she stood underneath and called out: `Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your golden hair,' for Rapunzel had wonderful long hair, and it was as fine as spun gold. Whenever she heard the Witch's voice she unloosed her plaits, and let her hair fall down out of the window about twenty yards below, and the old Witch climbed up by it. Angel's trumpet, bois de rose, orris, and wild lettuce. THE WITCH'S GARDEN `What ails you, dear wife?' `Oh,' she answered, `if I don't get some rampion to eat out of the garden behind the house, I know I shall die.' The man, who loved her dearly, thought to himself, `Come! rather than let your wife die you shall fetch her some rampion, no matter the cost.' So at dusk he climbed over the wall into the witch's garden, and, hastily gathering a handful of rampion leaves, he returned with them to his wife. She made them into a salad, which tasted so good that her longing for the forbidden food was greater than ever. If she were to know any peace of mind, there was nothing for it but that her husband should climb over the garden wall again, and fetch her some more. So at dusk over he got, but when he reached the other side he drew back in terror, for there, standing before him, was the old witch. Morning glory vines twisting around a patch of rampion, carrot, and parsley, with monkshood, hemlock, elfwort, sage, wormwood, and mandrake. THORNS `Ah, ah! you thought to find your lady love, but the pretty bird has flown and its song is dumb; the cat caught it, and will scratch out your eyes too. Rapunzel is lost to you for ever--you will never see her more.' The Prince was beside himself with grief, and in his despair he jumped right down from the tower, and, though he escaped with his life, the thorns among which he fell pierced his eyes out. Then he wandered, blind and miserable, through the wood, eating nothing but roots and berries, and weeping and lamenting the loss of his lovely bride. Thorn-spiked vines, blood, and tears. ++ MARCHEN: RUMPELSTILZCHEN RUMPELSTILZCHEN I have not been able to find a single new name; but as I came over a high mountain by a wood, where the fox and the hare bid each other good-night, I saw a little house, and before the house was burning a little fire, and round the fire danced a very funny little man, who hopped upon one leg, and cried out: - "To-day I brew, to-morrow I bake, Next day the queen's child I shall take; How glad I am that nobody knows; My name is Rumpelstilzchen!" Firewood and ash with an oddly otherworldly blend of patchouli, cardamom, nutmeg, black pepper, tonka, vetiver, and myrrh. THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER There was once a miller who was very poor, but he had a beautiful daughter. Now, it happened that he came to speak to the king, and, to give himself importance, he said to him, "I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold." The king said to the miller, "That is a talent that pleases me well; if she be as skilful as you say, bring her to-morrow to the palace, and I will put her to the proof." When the maiden was brought to him, he led her to a room full of straw, gave her a wheel and spindle, and said, "Now set to work, and if by the morrow this straw be not spun into gold, you shall die." He locked the door, and left the maiden alone. Spun gold, tear-soaked straw, and rose-infused amber. ++ MARCHEN: THE SPARROW WITH THE SLIT TONGUE THE LITTLE SPARROW One day the old man was sitting in front of his cottage, as he was very fond of doing, when he saw flying towards him a little sparrow, followed by a big black raven. The poor little thing was very much frightened and cried out as it flew, and the great bird came behind it terribly fast, flapping its wings and craning its beak, for it was hungry and wanted some dinner. But as they drew near the old man, he jumped up, and beat back the raven, which mounted, with hoarse screams of disappointment, into the sky, and the little bird, freed from its enemy, nestled into the old man's hand, and he carried it into the house. He stroked its feathers, and told it not to be afraid, for it was quite safe; but as he still felt its heart beating, he put it into a cage, where it soon plucked up courage to twitter and hop about. The old man was fond of all creatures, and every morning he used to open the cage door, and the sparrow flew happily about until it caught sight of a cat or a rat or some other fierce beast, when it would instantly return to the cage, knowing that there no harm could come to it. Dusty seeds, sedge, brown amber, and sandalwood. SERPENTS WITH GLITTERING EYES AND FORKY TONGUES It was a long way to her own house, and the chest seemed to grow heavier at every step. Sometimes she felt as if it would be impossible for her to get on at all, but her greed gave her strength, and at last she arrived at her own door. She sank down on the threshold, overcome with weariness, but in a moment was on her feet again, fumbling with the lock of the chest. But by this time night had come, and there was no light in the house, and the woman was in too much hurry to get to her treasures, to go and look for one. At length, however, the lock gave way, and the lid flew open, when, O horror! instead of gold and jewels, she saw before her serpents with glittering eyes and forky tongues. And they twined themselves about her and darted poison into her veins, and she died, and no man regretted her. Serpentine green herbs, glistening red currant, sparkling yellow lemon rind, green musk, lime, and snakeskin. To access the full text of each tale, please click on the name of the story on the Marchen page! The Yule update is live, as is our winter subseries, Wind in the Willows! ++ LIMITED EDITION: YULE 2008 BUTTER RUM COOKIE A boozy addition to the devil's bake sale! Rum-soaked butter cookies, crusted with sugar, soaked in almond and garnished with orange rind. FRAU HOLLE Frau Holle, or Holda, is the personification of the changes wrought when winter seizes the land: she rides the chill winds in her chariot, shaking out her featherbeds in order to precipitate snowfall. The rolling fog is the smoke from her hearth fire, and thunder claps when she reels her flax. Holda is a goddess of matrons, who governs spinning, domestic chores, witchcraft and witches, and the Wild Hunt. She presides over the transition of souls, both to and from this world. Though she is childless, she watches over children, and the spirits of newborns spring forth from her sacred pool. Her festival falls during midwinter, when the dead roam free. She holds court in Hörselberg, from which the Wild Hunt is issued, and all the beasts in the land heed her call. Snow-covered pines, witches herbs, bestial musk, flax, and ethereal flowers that represent both birth and death. GELT Sevivon, sov, sov, sov Chanukah, hu chag tov Chanukah, hu chag tov Sevivon, sov, sov, sov! Chag simcha hu la-am Nes gadol haya sham Nes gadol haya sham Chag simcha hu la-am. A bounty of chocolate coins! Dry cocoa and golden amber! HANEROT HALALU Hanerot halalu anachnu madlikin Al hanissim ve'al haniflaot Al hatshu-ot ve'al hamilchamot She-asita la'avoteynu Bayamim hahem, bazman hazeh Al yedey kohanecha hakdoshim. Vechol shmonat yemey Chanukah Hanerot halalu kodesh hem, Ve-ein lanu reshut lehishtamesh bahem Ela lirotam bilvad Kedai lehodot leshimcha Al nissecha veal nifleotecha ve-al yeshuotecha. We light these lights For the miracles and the wonders, For the redemption and the battles That you made for our forefathers In those days at this season, Through your holy priests. During all eight days of Chanukah These lights are sacred And we are not permitted to make Ordinary use of them, But only to look at them; In order to express thanks And praise to your great Name For your miracles, your wonders And your salvations. Olive oil, beeswax, and smoke. THE HEAD OF HOLOFERNES And when it was grown late, his servants made haste to their lodgings, and Vagao shut the chamber doors, and went his way. And they were all overcharged with wine. And Judith was alone in the chamber. But Holofernes lay on his bed, fast asleep, being exceedingly drunk. And Judith spoke to her maid to stand without before the chamber, and to watch: And Judith stood before the bed praying with tears, and the motion of her lips in silence, Saying: Strengthen me, O Lord God of Israel, and in this hour look on the works of my hands, that as thou hast promised, thou mayst raise up Jerusalem thy city: and that I may bring to pass that which I have purposed, having a belief that it might be done by thee. And when she had said this, she went to the pillar that was at his bed's head, and loosed his sword that hung tied upon it. And when she had drawn it out, she took him by the hair of his head, and said: Strengthen me, O Lord God, at this hour. And she struck twice upon his neck, and out off his head, and took off his canopy from the pillars, and rolled away his headless body. And after a while she went out, and delivered the head of Holofernes to her maid, and bade her put it into her wallet. And they two went out according to their custom, as it were to prayer, and they passed the camp, and having compassed the valley, they came to the gate of the city. And Judith from afar off cried to the watchmen upon the walls: Open the gates for God is with us, who hath shewn his power in Israel. And it came to pass, when the men had heard her voice, that they called the ancients of the city. And all ran to meet her from the least to the greatest: for they now had no hopes that she would come. And lighting up lights they all gathered round about her: and she went up to a higher place, and commanded silence to be made. And when all had held their peace, Judith said: Praise ye the Lord our God, who hath not forsaken them that hope in him. And by me his handmaid he hath fulfilled his mercy, which he promised to the house of Israel: and he hath killed the enemy of his people by my hand this night. Then she brought forth the head of Holofernes out of the wallet, and shewed it them, saying: Behold the head of Holofernes the general of the army of the Assyrians, and behold his canopy, wherein he lay in his drunkenness, where the Lord our God slew him by the hand of a woman. Dried blood, boiled wine, leather, galbanum, onycha, tonka bean, and pomegranate. JACOB'S LADDER 2008 And Jacob went out from Beersheba, and went toward Haran. And he lighted upon a certain place, and tarried there all night, because the sun was set; and he took of the stones of that place, and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep. And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it. And, behold, the Lord stood above it, and said, I am the Lord God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac: the land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed; And thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and thou shalt spread abroad to the west, and to the east, and to the north, and to the south: and in thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed. And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into this land; for I will not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of. And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not. And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven. The meeting of Heaven and Earth: golden amber, galbanum, benzoin, ambrette, rockrose, costus and tonka. LARENTALIA The festival of Roman goddess of death, Larenta, who was also known as Dea Tacita, the Silent Goddess. Spells to silence and bind slanderous enemies were cast on her holy days, as were spells of closure and suppression. During this time, offerings to the dead are left on thresholds, where spirits are said to dwell. A Roman funeral garden: cypress, thyme, oleander, crocus, gladiola, amaranth, and myrtle shrouded by herbs and flowers sacred to the Silent One. LE PÈRE FOUETTARD Once upon a time, there lived a stone-hearted, evil butcher and his grasping, covetous wife. Their shop was located near a parochial boarding school in a small village in eastern France. One day, three little boys passed the butcher's shop. Their clothes were neat and starched, and the wicked couple fancied that they could see gold stitching on the little boys' shirtcuffs. The butcher's eyes gleamed with avarice, and he hatched an evil plan to rob the children. His wife enticed the little boys into the shop and fed them poisoned sweets. Her husband then slit their throats, chopped their little bodies into pieces, and put the pieces into barrels. Good Saint Nicholas discovered the monstrous crime, and, through God's grace, resurrected the little boys. He confronted the vile butcher and forced him to atone for his crime. The butcher became Le Père Fouettard, Saint Nicholas' partner on his Christmas travels. Dressed in a soot-covered black suit that mirrors Father Christmas' suit of red and white, he travels with Saint Nick and dispenses coal and floggings to naughty children. Whip leather, coal dust, gaufrette, and black licorice. LICK IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT Every holiday season should be full of lewd suggestions and filthy double entendres, right? Lick it in earnest! Lick it with vigor! Peppermint candy cane with an extra jolt of sugar. (As always, we have to state: don't lick perfume. Don't eat it, drink it, cook with it, or use it in any strange and unforeseen way. Black Phoenix is not responsible for that sort of irresponsible funnybusiness. For real. Don't lick it.) LINES WRITTEN AMONG THE EUGANEAN HILLS Senseless is the breast and cold Which relenting love would fold; Bloodless are the veins and chill Which the pulse of pain did fill; Every little living nerve That from bitter words did swerve Round the tortur'd lips and brow, Are like sapless leaflets now Frozen upon December's bough. Skin musk, white sandalwood, balsam fir, frozen black berries, cedar, winter rose, and white amber. THE MAGI Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him. When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. And when he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the people together, he demanded of them where Christ should be born. And they said unto him, In Bethlehem of Judaea: for thus it is written by the prophet, And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda: for out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rule my people Israel. Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, inquired of them diligently what time the star appeared. And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search diligently for the young child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship him also. When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way. And when they were departed, behold, the angel of the Lord appeareth to Joseph in a dream, saying, Arise, and take the young child and his mother, and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I bring thee word: for Herod will seek the young child to destroy him. When he arose, he took the young child and his mother by night, and departed into Egypt: And was there until the death of Herod: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, Out of Egypt have I called my son. Then Herod, when he saw that he was mocked of the wise men, was exceeding wroth, and sent forth, and slew all the children that were in Bethlehem, and in all the coasts thereof, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had diligently inquired of the wise men. Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy the prophet, saying, In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not. But when Herod was dead, behold, an angel of the Lord appeareth in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, Saying, Arise, and take the young child and his mother, and go into the land of Israel: for they are dead which sought the young child's life. And he arose, and took the young child and his mother, and came into the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus did reign in Judaea in the room of his father Herod, he was afraid to go thither: notwithstanding, being warned of God in a dream, he turned aside into the parts of Galilee: And he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, He shall be called a Nazarene. An offering of frankincense, gold, and myrrh, with coriander, cumin, ambergris, white wine grape, and vanilla bean. Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye, In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones, And all their helms of silver hovering side by side, And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more, Being by Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied, The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor. MIDNIGHT MASS 2008 I will wash my hands among the innocent; and will compass thy altar, O Lord: That I may hear the voice of thy praise: and tell of all thy wondrous works. I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house; and the place where thy glory dwelleth. Take not away my soul, O God, with the wicked: nor my life with bloody men: In whose hands are iniquities: their right hand is filled with gifts. But as for me, I have walked in my innocence: redeem me, and have mercy on me. My foot hath stood in the direct way: in the churches I will bless thee, O Lord. In Roman Catholic tradition, the Christmas season begins liturgically on Christmas Eve, though it is forbidden to celebrate the Christmas Mass before midnight. The most devout attend Midnight Mass, celebrating both the Eucharist and the drama of the Nativity. This perfume is a traditional Roman Catholic sacramental incense, most often used during a Solemn Mass. Traditionally, five tears of this incense, each encased individually in wax that has been fashioned into the shape of a nail, are inserted into the paschal candle. This is, of course, represents the Five Wounds of Our Risen Savior. Symbolically, the burning of the incense signifies spiritual fervor, the fragrance itself inspires virtue, and the rising smoke carries our prayers to God. Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, factorem caeli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium. Et in unum Dominum Iesum Christum, Filium Dei unigenitum, et ex Patre natum ante omnia saecula. Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine, Deum verum de Deo vero, genitum non factum, consubstantialem Patri; per quem omnia facta sunt. Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem descendit de caelis. Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est. Crucifixus etiam pro nobis sub Pontio Pilato, passus et sepultus est, et resurrexit tertia die, secundum Scripturas, et ascendit in caelum, sedet ad dexteram Patris. Et iterum venturus est cum gloria, iudicare vivos et mortuos, cuius regni non erit finis. Et in Spiritum Sanctum, Dominum et vivificantem, qui ex Patre procedit. Qui cum Patre et Filio simul adoratur et conglorificatur: qui locutus est per prophetas. Et unam, sanctam, catholicam et apostolicam Ecclesiam. Confiteor unum baptisma in remissionem peccatorum. Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum, et vitam venturi saeculi. Amen. NUCLEAR WINTER 2008 Annihilation. The ice, desolation and barrenness of nuclear devastation shot through by a beam of radioactive mints. ON DARKNESS You darkness, that I come from, I love you more than all the fires that fence in the world, for the fire makes a circle of light for everyone, and then no one outside learns of you. But the darkness pulls in everything; shapes and fires, animals and myself, how easily it gathers them! -- powers and people -- and it is possible a great energy is moving near me. I have faith in nights. An embrace: black poppy, lavender, thick black incense, black amber, rose geranium, Brazilian rosewood, and benzoin. PERCHTA Perchta, the Shining One, is the Lady of the Beasts, an incarnation of the goddess Holda. She, too, leads the Wild Hunt, and is the protectress of wild animals, and appears to mortals as either a white-clad, white-skinned, white-haired beauty, or as a brutish, bestial hag. She is called Berhte Mit Dem Fuoze; one of her feet is shaped like a beast's, which gives away her superhuman nature no matter how she is disguised. She is also called Perchta the Belly-Slitter, for, at Yuletide, she castigates the wicked, slovenly, and idle, and rewards those that are generous, good-natured, and kind. The Belly-Slitter enforced community taboos, punishing those that spun during holy days and those who failed to partake in sacred feasts, thus jeopardizing the next year's harvest. Her punishments can be a bit over-the-top, though: they include disemboweling the transgressor and filling the empty cavity with refuse. Her scent is a blend of wild musk, snow, and alpine flora: Nigritella lithopolitanica, aconite, crocus, touch-me-not, edelweiss, Iris variegate, and violet. ROSE RED 2008 The perfected winter rose, dew covered and freshly cut. SNOW BUNNY 2008 Not so spooky, right? Here's to finally being able to hit the slopes again! Soft white powder snow with a touch of youthful girlie perfume. SNOW WHITE 2008 A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. SUGAR COOKIE 2008 Affectionately nicknamed 'The Devil's Bake Sale'. THERE'S A CERTAIN SLANT OF LIGHT There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons - That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes - Heavenly Hurt, it gives us - We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are - None may teach it - Any - 'Tis the Seal Despair - An imperial affliction Sent us of the Air - When it comes, the Landscape listens - Shadows - hold their breath - When it goes, 'tis like the Distance On the look of Death - Thin, tinny ozone with frankincense, white sandalwood, white amber, hyssop, bitter violet leaf, and shadowy wisps of smoke. VISITING THE TEMPLE OF AUSPICIOUS FORTUNE ALONE ON THE WINTER SOLSTICE Deep at the bottom of the well no warmth has yet returned, The rain which sighs and feels so cold has dampened withered roots. What sort of man at such a time would come to visit the teacher? As this is not a time for flowers, I find I've come alone. Temple incense, rain, and dust. WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT 2008 Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now, -- instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, -- He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, -- that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; -- Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity: And therefore, -- since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, -- I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, To set my brother Clarence and the king In deadly hate the one against the other: And if King Edward be as true and just As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, -- About a prophecy which says that G Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. Dive, thoughts, down to my soul... Embrace your villainy: balsam, myrrh, mandarin orange, bitter clove, artemesia, rosewood, nutmeg, dark musk, smoke and cypress. ++ LIMITED EDITION: THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS ALL THEY HAD SEEN, AND ALL THEY HAD LOST As they stared blankly in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realised all they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze, dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the dewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with its soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift that the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has revealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and lighthearted as before. Mist and dewy roses, aspen leaves, and translucent yellow blossoms. BADGER "How on earth, Badger." he said at last, "did you ever find time and strength to do all this? It's astonishing!" "It would be astonishing indeed," said the Badger simply, "if I had done it. But as a matter of fact I did none of it only cleaned out the passages and chambers, as far as I had need of them. There's lots more of it, all round about. I see you don't understand, and I must explain it to you. Well, very long ago, on the spot where the Wild Wood waves now, before ever it had planted itself and grown up to what it now is, there was a city a city of people, you know. Here, where we are standing, they lived, and walked, and talked, and slept, and carried on their business. Here they stabled their horses and feasted, from here they rode out to fight or drove out to trade. They were a powerful people, and rich, and great builders. They built to last, for they thought their city would last for ever." "But what has become of them all?'" asked the Mole. "Who can tell?" said the Badger. "People come they stay for a while, they flourish, they build and they go. It is their way. But we remain. There were badgers here, I've been told, long before that same city ever came to be. And now there are badgers here again. We are an enduring lot, and we may move out for a time, but we wait, and are patient, and back we come. And so it will ever be." Warm earth, deep-reaching roots, dark myrrh, galangal, and Atlas cedar. THE GAOLER'S DAUGHTER Now the gaoler had a daughter, a pleasant wench and good-hearted, who assisted her father in the lighter duties of his post. She was particularly fond of animals, and, besides her canary, whose cage hung on a nail in the massive wall of the keep by day, to the great annoyance of prisoners who relished an after-dinner nap, and was shrouded in an antimacassar on the parlour table at night, she kept several piebald mice and a restless revolving squirrel. This kind-hearted girl, pitying the misery of Toad, said to her father one day, "Father! I can't bear to see that poor beast so unhappy, and getting so thin! You let me have the managing of him. You know how fond of animals I am. I'll make him eat from my hand, and sit up, and do all sorts of things." Gardenia, neroli, and white peach with vanilla amber, cream, and honey. MOLE The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing. Antiqued sandalwood, patchouli, and soft mosses. NOWHERE IN PARTICULAR Late in the evening, tired and happy and miles from home, they drew up on a remote common far from habitations, turned the horse loose to graze, and ate their simple supper sitting on the grass by the side of the cart. Toad talked big about all he was going to do in the days to come, while stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow moon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came to keep them company and listen to their talk. The scent of a moonlit night on the road, orchards in the distance, and swirling dust. THE PIPER AT THE GATES OF DAWN Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, though the piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed still dominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself waiting to strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on things rightly kept hidden. Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble head; and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while Nature, flushed with fullness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her breath for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper; saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growing daylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that were looking down on them humourously, while the bearded mouth broke into a half-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on the arm that lay across the broad chest, the long supple hand still holding the pan-pipes only just fallen away from the parted lips; saw the splendid curves of the shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last of all, nestling between his very hooves, sleeping soundly in entire peace and contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the baby otter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered. Sublime peace, ecstatic joy, and thunderstruck awe: terebinth pine, patchouli, brown musk, linden blossom, honey, mallow, blood orange, heliotrope, and golden amber. RAT During luncheon -- which was excellent, of course, as everything at Toad Hall always was -- the Toad simply let himself go. Disregarding the Rat, he proceeded to play upon the inexperienced Mole as on a harp. Naturally a voluble animal, and always mastered by his imagination, he painted the prospects of the trip and the joys of the open life and the roadside in such glowing colours that the Mole could hardly sit in his chair for excitement. Somehow, it soon seemed taken for granted by all three of them that the trip was a settled thing; and the Rat, though still unconvinced in his mind, allowed his good-nature to override his personal objections. He could not bear to disappoint his two friends, who were already deep in schemes and anticipations, planning out each day's separate occupation for several weeks ahead. Orangewood, pine, wood moss, and vetiver. THE SEA RAT "Right," replied the stranger. "I 'm a seafaring rat, I am, and the port I originally hail from is Constantinople, though I 'm a sort of a foreigner there too, in a manner of speaking. You will have heard of Constantinople, friend? A fair city and an ancient and glorious one. And you may have heard too, of Sigurd, King of Norway, and how he sailed thither with sixty ships, and how he and his men rode up through streets all canopied in their honour with purple and gold; and how the Emperor and Empress came down and banqueted with him on board his ship. When Sigurd returned home, many of his Northmen remained behind and entered the Emperor's body-guard, and my ancestor, a Norwegian born, stayed behind too, with the ships that Sigurd gave the Emperor. Seafarers we have ever been, and no wonder; as for me, the city of my birth is no more my home than any pleasant port between there and the London River. I know them all, and they know me. Set me down on any of their quays or foreshores, and I am home again." "I suppose you go great voyages," said the Water Rat with growing interest. "Months and months out of sight of land, and provisions running short, and allowanced as to water, and your mind communing with the mighty ocean, and all that sort of thing?" "By no means," said the Sea Rat frankly. "Such a life as you describe would not suit me at all. I 'm in the coasting trade, and rarely out of sight of land. It's the jolly times on shore that appeal to me, as much as any seafaring. O, those southern seaports! The smell of them, the riding-lights at night, the glamour!" Seaweed, ambergris, and sea buckthorn berry with exotic herbs, incense smoke, ship wood, and Burmese musk. TOAD " It's never the wrong time to call on Toad. Early or late, he's always the same fellow. Always good-tempered, always glad to see you, always sorry when you go!" "He must be a very nice animal," observed the Mole, as he got into the boat and took the sculls, while the Rat settled himself comfortably in the stern. "He is indeed the best of animals," replied Rat. "So simple, so good-natured, and so affectionate. Perhaps he's not very clever -- we can't all be geniuses; and it may be that he is both boastful and conceited. But he has got some great qualities, has Toady." Dapper cologne, scorched waistcoat, a bit of pipe tobacco, and motor oil. TOAD HALL will be available at the Black Phoenix booth at Bat's Day Black Market along with a Toady commemorative tee! Please stop by if you can! In other news Please welcome our newest authorized retailers: Whole Foods Market 3100 Cahaba Village Plaza Birmingham, AL 35243 (205)912-8400 Whole Foods Market 3540 Wade Ave Raleigh NC 27607 (919)828-1589 and for for UK customers: Posh Brats Ltd 13 Swan Bank Congleton, Cheshire CW12 1AN UK 01260 290555 They have joined our happy family of retail outlets -- Nail Polish Etc. 132 E. Main St Palmyra, PA 17078 (717)832-3388 (Home of East Coast Will Call!) Whole Foods Market aka Harry's Farmer's Market 1180 Upper Hembree Rd. Roswell, GA (770)664-6300 Whole Foods 5945 State Bridge Road Duluth, GA 30097 (678)514-2400 Whole Foods Market 81 S. Elliott Rd Chapel Hill, NC 27514 (919)968-1983 Healthy Living Market 222 Dorset Street South Burlington, VT 05403 (802)863-2569 Le Pink&Co 3820 W. Sunset Blvd Los Angeles, CA 90026 (323)661-7465 Stop by and show them some love! More this n'that -- Coming soon to BPAL - the Graveyard Book series! It is a wonderful, sweet, spooky story, and we are thrilled to have the opportunity to work with Neil again! We will, hopefully, be ready to go when the UK release date happens! The FAQ and Media sections on the site need some serious updating. Someday, someday. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand . The Inquisition will be rearing its head at Black Phoenix Trading Post in about two weeks or so. Also comin' to the post in the next few months bath powders, new garments, new lockets, pendants, and a whole heap of shiny, fun stuff! From the 15 September 2008 update: Your humble narrator is falling asleep sitting up. Lilith is 13 days old, and it feels like we haven't slept in 13 years! Meanwhile, back at the ranch... Blood Moon 2008 is live! In October, the crop harvest has past, and all hands turn to the Hunt: the third and final harvest before winter. Blood Moon shines over huntsmen as they ride over reaped grain in pursuit of their prey. In Christian mythology, Blood Moon may have a darker significance: "And I looked when He broke the sixth seal, and there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth made of hair, and the whole moon became like blood; and the stars of the sky fell to the earth, as a fig tree casts its unripe figs when shaken by a great wind." -- Revelation 6:12-13 The feral scent of the heat of the chase, deep woods, undulating musks, brushed by forest flora, swirled in the incense of the anointed cherub that covereth, and touched by blood-dimmed lunar oils.  The MVJBA has also posted an update! Sorry to send you guys on an Easter Egg hunt for the MVJBA details, but I can't type anymore -- my face is about to smack down on the keyboard. Hard. From the 14 August 2008: Its pretty much T minus zero til Baby Barrial pops, and as such, your faithful narrator is a little brain fried! Add a little SoCal August humidity to the mix, and you've got yourself a preggo zombie. So, rather than babble nonsensically (as I am starting to do), let's get straight to the update schtuff! - Harvest Moon is live at BPAL and BPTP! HARVEST MOON 2008 Harvest Moon is celebrated in almost every culture, and the bounty of the season is marked in a myriad of ways. Harvest Moon touches the Equinox, the festival of Janus, the culmination of Homowo, the "crying of the neck" in Cornwall, and the Women's Festival of the Moon. This is a day that celebrates abundance and beauty, fertility and progress, and the light of this full moon blesses new undertakings and reunites lost loves. The Harvest Moon, by definition, is the Full Moon that falls closest to the Autumnal Equinox, and thus, it shares some of that Sabbat's characteristics. This Full Moon was thus named because it rises within half an hour of the sun's setting, in the Northern Hemisphere, and at this time farmers are able to work longer into the night by the light of this Moon. As the year draws to a close, the Full Moon rises an average of fifty minutes later each night, with the exception of a few nights surrounding the Harvest Moon, which only rises 10-30 minutes later. This moon is also, to the human eye, the fullest and largest of the year's Moons, hanging gloriously huge, yellow and low in the night sky, and many lunar illusions play tricks our eyes at this time. The Harvest ushers in many celebrations, including the Equinox and the Festival of Janus, God of Doors. Janus is the Roman Lord of Gateways, beginnings and endings, and transitions. Thus, the Harvest Moon is a time for blessing new ventures, the onset of new and progressive phases in one's life, and rites of passage into adulthood. This time of year also marks one of the Festivals of Dionysus, Lord of Ecstasy and the Vine. This Harvest lunacy combines the autumnal scents of balsam fir, cedar, juniper berry, clove, saffron, damson plum, sage, black cherry, and fennel with the crushed wine grapes of Dionysus and Janus' lingum aloes.  Also in our LE section this month HELLHOUND ON MY TRAIL blues falling down like hail And the day keeps on remindin' me, there's a hellhound on my trail August 16th marks the day the Devil came to call on the King of the Delta Blues. Bay rum, bourbon vanilla, galangal, hyssop, High John the Conqueror root, tobacco, life everlasting, and brimstone. Aaaaaand its that time of year again! Halloween at Black Phoenix! - ++ HALLOWEENIE 2008 A BLADE OF GRASS Said a blade of grass to an autumn leaf, "You make such a noise falling! You scatter all my winter dreams." Said the leaf indignant, "Low-born and low-dwelling! Songless, peevish thing! You live not in the upper air and you cannot tell the sound of singing." Then the autumn leaf lay down upon the earth and slept. And when spring came she waked again -- and she was a blade of grass. And when it was autumn and her winter sleep was upon her, and above her through all the air the leaves were falling, she muttered to herself, "O these autumn leaves! They make such a noise! They scatter all my winter dreams." Autumn leaves scattered among blades of grass. AUTUMN COOLNESS Heat lingers As days are still long; Early mornings are cool While autumn is still young. Dew on the lotus Scatters pure perfume; Wind on the bamboos Gives off a gentle tinkling. I am idle and lonely, Lying down all day, Sick and decayed; No one asks for me; Thin dusk before my gates, Cassia blossoms inch deep. The scent of wisteria, Cymbidium, lotus blossom, and cassia buds drifting on a breeze through gently swaying bamboo reeds. JOHN BARLEYCORN There was three men come out o' the west their fortunes for to try, And these three men made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn must die, They plowed, they sowed, they harrowed him in, throwed clods upon his head, And these three men made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn was dead. Barley, beer, blood, and whiskey. CHANT D'AUTOMNE I Bientôt nous plongerons dans les froides ténèbres; Adieu, vive clarté de nos étés trop courts! J'entends déjà tomber avec des chocs funèbres Le bois retentissant sur le pavé des cours. Tout l'hiver va rentrer dans mon être: colère, Haine, fr |