limited edition scents

alchemists local 93
ars amatoria
ars draconis
ars moriendi
bewitching brews
mad tea party
fairy tales and moral parables
periodic table of elements
doc constantine
miskatonic alumni
rappaccinis garden
sin and salvation
phoenix steamworks

carnaval diabolique
vampires don't sleep alone

neil gaiman
fraggle rock
the district
gris grimly
hero initiative
Lady Death

black phoenix trading post
black phoenix gazette
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Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

Limited Edition
No imp’s ears are available for Limited Edition scents.
Presented in an amber apothecary glass vial.

Note: only 5ml bottles are offered in our limited edition scents. Please check the BPAL forum for stock updates. No samples can be requested for any limited edition scents, as they are not taken into consideration or assimilated into stock when the limited edition oils are made. Simply put: there are none to give. If you request a sample of a limited edition scent, we will swap for a random “permanent” scent.

All limited edition scents, with the exception of the Miskatonic Valley Philharmonic line, are $23!

Lil's birthday scents and the Garden of Proserpine will be live til November, and the Halloweenies will be live til December!

Teddy's scent dedicated to Lilith, Capax Infiniti, and Black Phoenix Trading Post's 13 tees can be found at Black Phoenix Trading Post!

The Miskatonic Valley Philharmonic scents are $24 each, and will be live until December!

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 white lavender, benzoin, lychee, white resins, and a cluster of melancholy, lachrymose lunar herbs.
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The Moon of the Terrible tee is available now at Black Phoenix Trading Post! Illustration for Moon of the Terrible by our dear friend, the limitlessly talented Tanya Bjork!

Happy birthday to my oldest child, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab! Mama's little punim...

Visions of the Phoenix throughout history.

Fenix Arabie avis dicta quod colorem feniceum
habeat, vel quod sit in toto orbe singularis et
unica. Hec quingentos ultra annos vivens, dum
se viderit senuisse, collectis aromatum virgultis, ro
gum sibi instruit, et conversa ad radium solis alarum
plausu voluntarium sibi incendium nutrit, seque urit.

And he took me and led me where the sun goes forth; and he showed me a chariot and four, under which burnt a fire, and in the chariot was sitting a man, wearing a crown of fire, (and) the chariot (was) drawn by forty angels. And behold a bird circling before the sun, about nine cubits away. And I said to the angel, What is this bird?

And he said to me, This is the guardian of the earth. And I said, Lord, how is he the guardian of the earth? Teach me. And the angel said to me, This bird flies alongside of the sun, and expanding his wings receives its fiery rays. For if he were not receiving them, the human race would not be preserved, nor any other living creature. But God appointed this bird thereto. And he expanded his wings, and I saw on his right wing very large letters, as large as the space of a threshing-floor, the size of about four thousand modii; and the letters were of gold. And the angel said to me, Read them. And I read, and they ran thus: Neither earth nor heaven bring me forth, but wings of fire bring me forth. And I said, Lord, what is this bird, and what is his name? And the angel said to me, His name is called Phoenix. (And I said), And what does he eat ? And he said to me, The manna of heaven and the dew of earth. And I said, Does the bird excrete? And he said to me, He excretes a worm, and the excrement of the worm is cinnamon, which kings and princes use. But wait and thou shalt see the glory of God. And while he was conversing with me, there was as a thunder-clap, and the place was shaken on which we were standing. And I asked the angel, My Lord, what is this sound? And the angel said to me, Even now the angels are opening the three hundred and sixty-five gates of heaven, and the light is being separated from the darkness. And a voice came which said, Light giver, give to the world radiance. And when I heard the noise of the bird, I said, Lord, what is this noise? And he said, This is the bird who awakens from slumber the cocks upon earth. For as men do through the mouth, so also does the cock signify to those in the world, in his own speech. For the sun is made ready by the angels, and the cock crows.

And I said, And where does the sun begin its labours, after the cock crows? And the angel said to me, Listen, Baruch: All things whatsoever I showed thee are in the first and second heaven, and in the third heaven the sun passes through and gives light to the world. But wait, and thou shall see the glory of God. And while I was conversing with him, I saw the bird, and he appeared in front, and grew less and less, and at length returned to his full size. And behind him I saw the shining sun, and the angels which draw it, and a crown upon its head, the sight of which we were not able to gaze upon; and behold. And as soon as the sun shone, the Phoenix also stretched out his wings. But I, when I beheld such great glory, was brought low with great fear, and I fled and hid in the wings of the angel. And the angel said to me, Fear not, Baruch, but wait and thou shalt also see their setting.

And he took me and led me towards the west; and when the time of the setting came, I saw again the bird coming before it, and as soon as he came I saw the angels, and they lifted the crown from its head. But the bird stood exhausted and with wings contracted. And beholding these things, I said, Lord, wherefore did they lift the crown from the head of the sun, and wherefore is the bird so exhausted? And the angel said to me, The crown of the sun, when it has run through the day four angels take it, and bear it up to heaven, and renew it, because it and its rays have been defiled upon earth; moreover it is so renewed each day. And I Baruch said, Lord, and wherefore are its beams defiled upon earth? And the angel said to me, Because it beholds the lawlessness and unrighteousness of men, namely fornications, adulteries, thefts, extortions, idolatries, drunkenness, murders, strife, jealousies, evil-speakings, murmurings, whisperings, divinations, and such like, which are not well-pleasing to God. On account of these things is it defiled, and therefore is it renewed. But thou askest concerning the bird, how it is exhausted. Because by restraining the rays of the sun through the fire and burning heat of the whole day, it is exhausted thereby. For, as we said before, unless his wings were screening the rays of the sun, no living, creature would be preserved.
- Greek Apocalypse of Baruch

Born in radiance, defiled, and resplendently renewed: Atlas cedar, white fig, sugared date, sweet orange, golden honey, white sandalwood, benzoin, galbanum, and bitter almond.
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Another living creature we saw,
full wondrous, such as man has never seen;
'twas near in scope to twice the eagle's size,
with plumage iridescent, rainbow-hued.
Its breast appeared deep-dyed with purple's shade,
its legs were red like ochre, and its neck
was furnished round with tresses saffron-hued;
like a coxcomb did its crest appear,
with amber-tinted eye it gazed about,
the pupil like some pomegranate seed.
Exceeding all, its voice pre-eminent;
of every wing'd thing, the king,
it did appear. For all the birds, as one,
in fear did haste to follow after him,
and he before, like some triumphant bull
went striding forth with rapid step apace.
- Ezekiel the Tragedian, the Exagoge

Its breast appeared deep-dyed with purple's shade, its legs were red like ochre, and its neck was furnished round with tresses saffron-hued; like a coxcomb did its crest appear, with amber-tinted eye it gazed about, the pupil like some pomegranate seed: wild plum, North African saffron, frankincense, pomegranate, limonite accord, and golden amber.
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They have also another sacred bird called the phoenix which I myself have never seen, except in pictures. Indeed it is a great rarity, even in Egypt, only coming there (according to the accounts of the people of Heliopolis) once in five hundred years, when the old phoenix dies. Its size and appearance, if it is like the pictures, are as follow:- The plumage is partly red, partly golden, while the general make and size are almost exactly that of the eagle. They tell a story of what this bird does, which does not seem to me to be credible: that he comes all the way from Arabia, and brings the parent bird, all plastered over with myrrh, to the temple of the Sun, and there buries the body. In order to bring him, they say, he first forms a ball of myrrh as big as he finds that he can carry; then he hollows out the ball, and puts his parent inside, after which he covers over the opening with fresh myrrh, and the ball is then of exactly the same weight as at first; so he brings it to Egypt, plastered over as I have said, and deposits it in the temple of the Sun. Such is the story they tell of the doings of this bird.
- Herodotus, Histories

A fragrant shroud: myrrh from Yemen, Oman, and West Africa with a touch of copal and frankincense.
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A chattering crow lives out nine generations of aged men, but a stag's life is four times a crow's, and a raven's life makes three stags old, while the phoenix outlives nine ravens, but we, the rich-haired Nymphs, daughters of Zeus the aegis-holder, outlive ten phoenixes.
- Hesoid, the Precepts of Chiron
Golden amber, bourbon vanilla, and sweet oudh.
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There is one bird which reproduces and renews itself: the Assyrians gave this bird his name-the Phoenix. He does not live either on grain or herbs, but only on small drops of frankincense and juices of amomum. When this bird completes a full five centuries of life straightway with talons and with shining beak he builds a nest among palm branches, where they join to form the palm tree's waving top. As soon as he has strewn in this new nest the cassia bark and ears of sweet spikenard, and some bruised cinnamon with yellow myrrh, he lies down on it and refuses life among those dreamful odors.-And they say that from the body of the dying bird is reproduced a little Phoenix which is destined to live just as many years. When time has given to him sufficient strength and he is able to sustain the weight, he lifts the nest up from the lofty tree and dutifully carries from that place his cradle and the parent's sepulchre. As soon as he has reached through yielding air the city of Hyperion, he will lay the burden just before the sacred doors within the temple of Hyperion.
- Ovid, Metamorphoses

Fitful dreams of the cradle and sepulchre: honey, cassia bark, sweet spikenard, cinnamon, and yellow myrrh.
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The phoenix, of which there is only one in the world, is the size of an eagle. It is gold around the neck, its body is purple, and its tail is blue with some rose-colored feathers. It has a feathered crest on its head. No one has ever seen the Phoenix feeding. In Arabia it is sacred to the sun god. It lives 540 years; when it is old it builds a nest from wild cinnamon and frankincense, fills the nest with scents, and lies down on it until it dies. From the bones and marrow of the dead phoenix there grows a sort of maggot, which grows into a bird the size of a chicken. This bird performs funeral rites for its predecessor, then carries the whole nest to the City of the Sun near Panchaia and places it on an altar there.
- Pliny, Natural History

Wild cinnamon and frankincense.
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That it is a creature sacred to the sun, differing from all other birds in its beak and in the tints of its plumage, is held unanimously by those who have described its nature. As to the number of years it lives, there are various accounts. The general tradition says five hundred years. Some maintain that it is seen at intervals of fourteen hundred and sixty-one years, and that the former birds flew into the city called Heliopolis successively in the reigns of Sesostris, Amasis, and Ptolemy, the third king of the Macedonian dynasty, with a multitude of companion birds marvelling at the novelty of the appearance. But all antiquity is of course obscure. From Ptolemy to Tiberius was a period of less than five hundred years. Consequently some have supposed that this was a spurious phoenix, not from the regions of Arabia, and with none of the instincts which ancient tradition has attributed to the bird. For when the number of years is completed and death is near, the phoenix, it is said, builds a nest in the land of its birth and infuses into it a germ of life from which an offspring arises, whose first care, when fledged, is to bury its father. This is not rashly done, but taking up a load of myrrh and having tried its strength by a long flight, as soon as it is equal to the burden and to the journey, it carries its father's body, bears it to the altar of the Sun, and leaves it to the flames. All this is full of doubt and legendary exaggeration. Still, there is no question that the bird is occasionally seen in Egypt.
- Tacitus, Annals

The Incense of the Altar of the Sun: ambrette seed, olibanum, benzoin, labdanum, galbanum, frankincense, calamus, clove bud, and orange peel.
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In order to help alleviate the suffering caused by Typhoon Haiyan, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is releasing Single Note: Sampaguita a month early. Proceeds from the sale of every single bottle will go to support local recovery efforts through Community and Family Services International and the Philippine Red Cross.

Little sampaguita
With the wondering eye
Did a tiny fair
Drop you where you lie?
In the witching hour
Of the tropic night
Did the careless moonbeam
Leave you in its fight?

- Natividad Marquez (Ana Maria Chavez)

A symbol of purity, strength, and humility, sampaguita is the national flower of the Philippines, my mother's homeland.

Heady, yet cool and slightly green: jasmine sambac with a hint of tea leaf.
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In 1863, a coterie of opium-addled Massachusetts musicians were drawn to the dark, forested foothills of the Silent Mountains. Upon their arrival, they heard the monotonous piping of an unseen flute that led them to a dark sigil that had been burned into a strange stone outcropping. On that day, both the Society of the Gibbering Sons of Hideous Azathoth and the Miskatonic Valley Philharmonic were born...

Please join us in ringing in the Miskatonic Valley Philharmonic's 150th season!

Commemorative scents are available at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, and MVP tees are available at Black Phoenix Trading Post!

There are two Friday the 13th tees over at Black Phoenix Trading Post!

The Black Cat Friday the 13th Tee by Abigail Larson!

~ and ~

The Unlucky Day Friday the 13th Tee by Aiden Casserly!

October was a beautiful month at Green Gables, when the birches in the hollow turned as golden as sunshine and the maples behind the orchard were royal crimson and the wild cherry trees along the lane put on the loveliest shades of dark red and bronzy green, while the fields sunned themselves in aftermaths.

Anne reveled in the world of color about her.

"Oh, Marilla," she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs" 'I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it? Look at these maple branches. Don't they give you a thrill--several thrills? I'm going to decorate my room with them."

An armload of maple boughs and a swirl of autumn leaves.
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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.
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Faded the clover now ;-- sere and withered the grasses:
What dreams the matsumushi in the desolate autumn-fields?

Strangely sad, I thought, sounded the bell of evening; --
Haply that tone proclaimed the night in which autumn dies!

Viewing this autumn-moon, I dream of my native village
Under the same soft light, -- and the shadows about thy home.

Dry grasses bathed in amber light, muted by gentle shadows.
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In Bolivia, many people hold to the tradition of keeping the skulls of their ancestors with them in their homes, caring for their remains. It is believed that each person has seven souls, and one of those souls stays with the skull after death, enabling a spirit to grant protection and prophetic dreams to their descendants, and to bless their families with good health and prosperity.

The Bolivian Fiesta de las Natitas, or Dia de los Natitas, is a day of honor for these ancestors. Their skulls are dressed with fragrant blossoms, and offerings of cocoa leaves, alcohol, and cigarettes are made.

White sandalwood, beeswax, and frankincense crowned by hydrangea, rose, and kantuta blossoms, dressed with tobacco, cocoa leaves and flowers from the sacred Cactus of the Four Winds.
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Thick, heady pumpkin mead sweetened with clover honey and a hint of maple.
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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.
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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.
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"Tell me, where do ghosts in love
Find their bridal veils?"

"If you and I were ghosts in love
We'd climb the cliffs of Mystery,
Above the sea of Wails.
I'd trim your gray and streaming hair
With veils of Fantasy
From the tree of Memory.
'Tis there the ghosts that fall in love
Find their bridal veils."

- Vachel Lindsay

White sandalwood, tobacco flower, lily of the valley, white carnation, and magnolia blossom with tea rose, labdanum, and oudh.
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Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries,
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches...

Like honey to the throat, but poison in the blood.
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All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.

We have no title-deeds to house or lands;
Owners and occupants of earlier dates
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,
And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.

Our little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite attractions and desires;
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,
And the more noble instinct that aspires.

These perturbations, this perpetual jar
Of earthly wants and aspirations high,
Come from the influence of an unseen star
An undiscovered planet in our sky.

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud
Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd
Into the realm of mystery and night,-

So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Quiet, ineffective ghosts haunting the realm of mystery and night, stretching dusty hands back to homes and lifetimes unforgotten: pale gossamer musks swirling in thick, dense otherworldly vapours through cracks in dry wood and old, old stones.
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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.
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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.
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Comme les anges à l'oeil fauve,
Je reviendrai dans ton alcôve
Et vers toi glisserai sans bruit
Avec les ombres de la nuit;

Et je te donnerai, ma brune,
Des baisers froids comme la lune
Et des caresses de serpent
Autour d'une fosse rampant.

Quand viendra le matin livide,
Tu trouveras ma place vide,
Où jusqu'au soir il fera froid.

Comme d'autres par la tendresse,
Sur ta vie et sur ta jeunesse,
Moi, je veux régner par l'effroi.

- - -

Like angels with wild beast's eyes
I shall return to your bedroom
And silently glide toward you
With the shadows of the night;

And, dark beauty, I shall give you
Kisses cold as the moon
And the caresses of a snake
That crawls around a grave.

When the livid morning comes,
You'll find my place empty,
And it will be cold there till night.

I wish to hold sway over
Your life and youth by fear,
As others do by tenderness.

-- Charles Baudelaire, translation by William Aggeler.

A shroud of gardenia, narcissus, and sandalwood with ambrette seed, white cognac, muguet, davana, and white musk.
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Known as the Mistress of Bones and the Lady of the Dead, she is the Queen of Mictlan, the Aztec Underworld, who still presides over today's Day of the Dead rituals. Sometimes known now as La Huesuda, she brings peace and joy to the spirits of the deceased, and blesses the living who do honor to those who have passed before them.

Copal, precious woods, South American spices, agave nectar, cigar tobacco, and roses.
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2013's Ridiculous Halloweenie! Less spooky than Spooky, and nowhere near as creepy as Creepy, this is the scent of lightly spiced pumpkin candies, decorated with thick marzipan, sweetened with buttercream, an decorated with a touch of lemon zest.
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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.
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Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
     Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
     Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
     Snow-hushed and heavy.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,
While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,
As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,
     Lest they forget them.

- Sara Teasdale

A myrrh-darkened amber chypre sweetened by newly-ripened black pomegranate.
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I spot the hills
With yellow balls in autumn.
I light the prairie cornfields
Orange and tawny gold clusters
And I am called pumpkins.
On the last of October
When dusk is fallen
Children join hands
And circle round me
Singing ghost songs
And love to the harvest moon;
I am a jack-o'-lantern
With terrible teeth
And the children know I am fooling.

- Carl Sandburg

Ghost songs and love to the harvest moon: fresh pumpkins warmed by candlelight and aglow with Halloween joy.
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There's all manner of shenanigans in this year's pumpkin patch! Pumpkin'ized hybrids of GC BPAL scents abound!

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...none more skilled than he to insinuate grasping terror and to steal courage from the heart; voices and hands innumerable has the monster, and aspects to assume at will; all-persuasive is he, and his onslaughts drive cities mad with horror.
       - Statius

Fear of darkness. Oppressive, stifling, suffocating, blinding: black patchouli, tobacco absolute, opoponax, and inky black musk.
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Fear of nighttime. The vast, endless canopy of the night sky, dotted with cold, harsh pinpoints of light under a bulging white moon.
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Fear of ghosts. Whispers in the darkness and cold breath upon your neck: calla lilies, white sandalwood, snow rose, white amber, and iced wine.
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Fear of tombstones. Jagged claws of crumbling stone thrusting through tear-soaked moss.
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Fear of Halloween. Menacing Haitian vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.
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Happy birthday to our beloved little angel! Five already!? Where does the time go?

Preschool graduation celebration! Blueberry-swirled blue lollipops!
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Take the Fair Face of Woman, and Gently Suspending,
With Butterflies, Flowers, and Jewels Attending,
Thus Your Fairy is Made of Most Beautiful Things

Inspired by the moment in time frozen in this photo - my fairy child, laughing and playing amongst gargantuan flowers. An ethereal, iridescent, twilit scent, sparkling with mystery and innocent joy: white patchouli with provence rose, delicate freesia, pink tuberose, jasmine sambac, orange blossom, butterfly musk, vanilla orchid, and delicate spices.
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One day, Lilith digs up one of my old crystal balls and asks me what it does. I tell her that some people read the future in crystal balls, so she asks me to tell her what's going to happen tomorrow.

"I see a little girl waking up and asking for spaghetti for breakfast."
"I see a yellow building and a yellow toy bus."
"I see a big brown dog. The dog is trying to steal a little girl's dinner."
"I see a little girl surrounded by stuffed animals. Her mother is trying to get her to go to sleep, but the little girl keeps asking for more stories."

This went on every day for weeks. She'd pull out the ball, and ask (demand) that I tell her what was going to happen to her tomorrow. Fun stuff, motherhood!

Crystalline white musk, Somalian olibanum, smoky benzoin, Damascus rose, dark myrrh, sacred sandalwood, life everlasting, rock rose, and gummy bear fingerprint residue.
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This summer, Lilith spent Tuesdays and Thursdays with us here at the Lab. One day, she decides that she wants to make a perfume for herself that all her friends can wear, too. We talk for a little while, and I let her smell some components before she finally decides that she wants her fragrance to smell like bubblegum and roses.

Little lady, your wish is my command.

Lilith's creation: a spray of pink roses, red rose petals, and pink sticky bubblegum!
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I've been trying to teach Lilith a little bit about herbalism, aromatherapy, and plant lore. We talk about all the plants that are growing in the yard, we talk about all the tinctures, simples, and other concoctions that mom makes, and we play a board game that's all about wildharvesting herbs.

Lilith and I were talking about oils one day at work, and she told me that she wanted to make a perfume with all the "feel better flowers". I told her that I'd put in every flower whose purpose she could remember...

... so here's what she made:

+ carnations ("to make people happy")
+ lavender ("for sleeping and keeping away bedroom monsters")
+ honey ("it's for smiles and good throats")
+ ginger ("for tummies")
+ aloe ("for too much sun")
+ blessed thistles ("for buronic (sic) plague")
+ chamomile ("for happy families")
+ chocolate peppermint ("because mom grows it just for me")

Please remember! - this is a perfume, not a medicine! Please don't drink, rub on wounds, use as a suppository, or anything else nutty.
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Ever since toddler'dom, Lilith has had a thing for tarot cards. What kid wouldn't? They're big, they're colorful, and each of them has a story to tell. She has her own decks now (Rider Waite and Thoth), but she still steals mine all the time.

This pic was accidental, and, to me, hilarious. She was playing with her Thoth deck when out of nowhere, she grabbed these cards and smooshed them on her cheeks. I'm not sure why she did it, but I'm hella glad I had a camera handy! (Channeling Uncle Al, perhaps?)

An incense for a budding baby magus: vanilla frankincense and rose champaca with a little bit of red licorice.
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This summer, Lilith got to play with a ton of bugs, reptiles, and other wigglies during a special event at her preschool. She made a new friend that day - Ursula the Tarantula.

"Lilith, what would a tarantula smell like?"

"Maybe fuzzy chocolate? With stripes?"

Done and done: fuzzy cacao-drenched hazelnut with hay absolute, black pepper, and nutmeg, laced with stripes of wild plum and white sandalwood.
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An ode to pale-limbed Persephone, inspired by Algernon Swinburne with artwork by Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
...'tis thine in earth's profundities to dwell, fast by the wide and dismal gates of hell.

I am tired of tears and laughter,
        And men that laugh and weep
Of what may come hereafter
        For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
        And everything but sleep.

White lavender, oudh, and Siamese benzoin.
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No growth of moor or coppice,
        No heather-flower or vine,
But bloomless buds of poppies,
        Green grapes of Proserpine,
Pale beds of blowing rushes
Where no leaf blooms or blushes,
Save this whereout she crushes
        For dead men deadly wine.

Poppy wine, chthonic incense, Balm of Gilead, and pomegranate.
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Pale, without name or number,
        In fruitless fields of corn,
They bow themselves and slumber
        All night till light is born;
And like a soul belated,
In hell and heaven unmated,
By cloud and mist abated
        Comes out of darkness morn.

Greek musk, violet leaf, carrot seed, and ho wood.
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Though one were strong as seven,
        He too with death shall dwell,
Nor wake with wings in heaven,
        Nor weep for pains in hell;
Though one were fair as roses,
His beauty clouds and closes;
And well though love reposes,
        In the end it is not well.

Somalian myrrh, purple roses, orris root concrete, French cypress, and pomegranate juice.
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Pale, beyond porch and portal,
        Crowned with calm leaves she stands
Who gathers all things mortal
        With cold immortal hands;
Her languid lips are sweeter
Than love's who fears to greet her
To men that mix and meet her
        From many times and lands.

A diadem of narcissus blossoms and pale daffodils.
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There go the loves that wither,
        The old loves with wearier wings;
And all dead years draw thither,
        And all disastrous things;
Dead dreams of days forsaken,
Blind buds that snows have shaken,
Wild leaves that winds have taken,
        Red strays of ruined springs.

15- year aged patchouli, Egyptian cumin, white frankincense, labdanum, and bitter almond.
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We are not sure of sorrow,
        And joy was never sure;
To-day will die to-morrow;
        Time stoops to no man's lure;
And love, grown faint and fretful,
With lips but half regretful
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful
        Weeps that no loves endure.

Siamese benzoin, white lilac, tuberose, aniseseed, and white carnation.
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From too much love of living,
        From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
        Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
        Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Bourbon vanilla and 10-year aged frankincense.
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Then star nor sun shall waken,
        Nor any change of light:
Nor sound of waters shaken,
        Nor any sound or sight:
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,
Nor days nor things diurnal;
Only the sleep eternal
        In an eternal night.

Opium tar, asphodel, and lavender, with tuberose, grave moss, frankincense, and mandrake root.
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An accord is a single note – a distinct, precise concept distilled down to its purest form. It can be something as simple as the scent of a tomato stem, a carnation petal or a crushed violet leaf, or can encompass an idea that is just as precise, but more ephemeral: a dew drop, lightning at midnight, a moth-eaten lace shawl. Each perfumer will have a different interpretation of an accord; an interpretation based on the perfumer's life experiences, expectations, and dreams.

By combining these accords, we construct the complex scents that you find in our catalogue. We create our accords from the finest ingredients, with loving care for detail. In even the simplest scents, we find an expression for our passion.

The Black Phoenix accords are the notes with which the symphonies of our perfumes are created.

The availability of our single notes is limited: one or two will be offered each lunar cycle, full moon til full moon, for the next twelve months.

White sage is a potent herb of purification, protection, and healing, and has been used as a ceremonial incense for hundreds of years. Medicinally, white sage can be used as an antiseptic, and I think this makes an excellent metaphor: the herb and oil are spiritual disinfectants, preventing putrefaction of the soul.
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Oakmoss is a lichen that grows on the branches and trunks of conifers and deciduous trees. Oakmoss' scent can vary, depending on how it is grown and which tree has housed it. Generally, it is deep, earthy, green, moist, and tenacious, though oakmoss grown on pine trees may possess a thinner, sharper scent. Some extractions smell vaguely leathery, and some are velvety green, while others can be dry and woodsy.

In perfumery, oakmoss is considered a base note, and it is often employed as a fixative. It adds depth, a sense of grounding, and solemnity, and acts as an anchor for more capricious notes.
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BLACK PHOENIX ALCHEMY LAB, BPAL, IMP'S EARS, A LITTLE LUNACY, CARNAVAL DIABOLIQUE and all oil names are trademarks of the Black Phoenix Partnership. All rights reserved. Don't be a schnook.