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From today until the October will call, Dark Delicacies will only be carrying the DD-specific blends in-house; our displays, testers, and retail stock will all be in transit, or in New York, until will call. Everything will be reassembled at Dark Delicacies in time for the epic October will call event. After October will call, our space in Dark Delicacies will be permanent, and we'll have a separate set of travellin’ displays. For more information (and some silly pics), please shoot on over to our blog. (Caveat: I have no idea if my blog entry made any sense. It has been really, really, really hot here.)

If you managed to get a shot of tonight's amazing Harvest Moon, please share it on BPAL's blog!

+ WEST HOLLYWOOD BOOK FAIR LIMITED EDITION SCENT SIBYL This play was good enough for us, Harry. It was Romeo and Juliet. I must admit that I was rather annoyed at the idea of seeing Shakespeare done in such a wretched hole of a place. Still, I felt interested, in a sort of way. At any rate, I determined to wait for the first act. There was a dreadful orchestra, presided over by a young Hebrew who sat at a cracked piano, that nearly drove me away, but at last the drop-scene was drawn up and the play began. Romeo was a stout elderly gentleman, with corked eyebrows, a husky tragedy voice, and a figure like a beer-barrel. Mercutio was almost as bad. He was played by the low-comedian, who had introduced gags of his own and was on most friendly terms with the pit. They were both as grotesque as the scenery, and that looked as if it had come out of a country-booth. But Juliet! Harry, imagine a girl, hardly seventeen years of age, with a little, flowerlike face, a small Greek head with plaited coils of dark-brown hair, eyes that were violet wells of passion, lips that were like the petals of a rose. She was the loveliest thing I had ever seen in my life. You said to me once that pathos left you unmoved, but that beauty, mere beauty, could fill your eyes with tears. I tell you, Harry, I could hardly see this girl for the mist of tears that came across me. And her voice--I never heard such a voice. It was very low at first, with deep mellow notes that seemed to fall singly upon one's ear. Then it became a little louder, and sounded like a flute or a distant hautboy. In the garden-scene it had all the tremulous ecstasy that one hears just before dawn when nightingales are singing. There were moments, later on, when it had the wild passion of violins. You know how a voice can stir one. Your voice and the voice of Sibyl Vane are two things that I shall never forget. When I close my eyes, I hear them, and each of them says something different. I don't know which to follow. Why should I not love her? Harry, I do love her. She is everything to me in life. Night after night I go to see her play. One evening she is Rosalind, and the next evening she is Imogen. I have seen her die in the gloom of an Italian tomb, sucking the poison from her lover's lips. I have watched her wandering through the forest of Arden, disguised as a pretty boy in hose and doublet and dainty cap. She has been mad, and has come into the presence of a guilty king, and given him rue to wear and bitter herbs to taste of. She has been innocent, and the black hands of jealousy have crushed her reedlike throat. I have seen her in every age and in every costume. Ordinary women never appeal to one's imagination. They are limited to their century. No glamour ever transfigures them. One knows their minds as easily as one knows their bonnets. One can always find them. There is no mystery in any of them. They ride in the park in the morning and chatter at tea-parties in the afternoon. They have their stereotyped smile and their fashionable manner. They are quite obvious. But an actress! How different an actress is! Harry! why didn't you tell me that the only thing worth loving is an actress? Bourbon vanilla, Egyptian musk, olibanum, summer honey, white tea, Spanish mandarin, tea rose, cognac, and a faint trace of prussic acid. Sibyl, part of our Dorian Gray series, will be available exclusively at our booth at the West Hollywood Book Fair. + NYCC LIMITED EDITION SCENTS THE ELEPHANTINE COLOSSUS Perfect for a Victorian Seaside Fornicatress! The Elephant Hotel, or Elephantine Colossus, was a 122 foot high elephant-shaped hotel that opened on Coney Island in 1885. Though it was a marvel of its time, it was also sullied by its proximity to the Gut, a particularly seedy section of West Brighton that seethed with persons of ill repute, and the Elephantine Colossus soon became as famous for its prostitutes as it was for its unusual architecture. Seaside hanky panky: a strumpet's red musk with a merry splash of root beer, a swirl of exotic pipeweed, and a whiff of sweets carrying over from the boardwalk. THE LADY OF LAKE RONKONKOMA Lake Ronkonkoma is rumored to be a bottomless lake and conduit to the netherworld. The gods of the Lake demand an annual sacrifice, using the restless spirit of a long-dead Seatauket maiden to lure unsuspecting men to their doom. Balsamic, reedy water, sweetgrass, algae, loosestrife, and ladys slipper. THE LINCOLN TUNNEL VORTEX Not merely a pathway between Manhattan and Weehawken, the Lincoln Tunnel is also a site of mystery. Cars have been reported missing in mid-voyage as they passed through the tunnel, and individuals have claimed that they have exited the tunnel disoriented, with strange gaps in their memories. Are these accounts a side-effect of sanity-shattering traffic or is this a genuine highway to an alternate dimension? Swirls of discordant, high-pitched notes, pavement, and a thin coating of sweet, green-glowing radiator fluid. MOUNT MISERY AND SWEET HOLLOW ROADS Both Mount Misery and Sweet Hollow Roads are believed to be intensely haunted, and are pathways of misfortune and sorrow whose history of horrors descends deep into pre-Colonial American folklore. Black spruce boughs, packed dirt, gravel, brush, fallen chestnuts, wild tuberose, galbanum, and dead leaves. THE WHITE LADY OF DURAND EASTMAN PARK In the early nineteenth century, a woman and her daughter took up residence in Rochester, where the Durand Eastman Park now stands. The woman was fleeing an abusive husband, and fled to Rochester to in an attempt to find solitude and safety for herself and her child. One terrible day, her daughter went missing. The grief-stricken mother searched the area frantically, but her daughter had disappeared without a trace. Over many weeks of searching, the woman became convinced that her daughter had been a victim of foul play at the hands of a local farmer. Unable to find her child, mad with sorrow, she flung herself into the chilly waters of Lake Ontario. Her spirit haunts Durand Eastman Park now, accompanied by a pair of phantom hounds. She is believed to be a protectress of women in peril, and exacts vengeance on any man that she encounters that have done any woman harm. Bittersweet and ethereal: bergamot, cacao, white tea, jasmine bud, narcissus, and tobacco flower. West Hollywood Book Fair We will be vending at Booth D20, alongside Dark Delicacies. Also at the Book Fair, I will be appearing on the FOOD FOR THOUGHT: VAMPIRES, WEREWOLVES & WHY WE LOVE TO BE BITTEN panel in the SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror Pavilion, along with Del Howison, Amber Benson (Among the Ghosts), VMK Fewings (Orpheus: A Vampires Rise), and S.S. Wilson (Tuckers Monsters). There will be a signing following the panel in the Dark Delicacies booth, D17-19. West Hollywood Park 647 N. San Vicente Blvd. West Hollywood, CA Sunday, September 26th, 10:00am to 6:00pm New York Comic Con October 8 - 10th at the Javits Center in New York City. Black Phoenix will be pitching a tent in booth 2851.

Artwork by Manda Lander! The Harvest Moon update is live at BPAL & BPTP! 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!

Bumping myself.

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. West Coast and Dirty South Will Calls will proceed as usual! 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 martyrs 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-told The story of Cambuscan bold; &c." How 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 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. This update possess a great deal of personal significance for me for reasons that would tl;dr the hell out of you. Suffice to say, it gives me enormous pleasure to be able to share these scents with you, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed making them. 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… Much love and many thanks to Marz and Kathy, our Wickedgoddess, for all of their help getting this update live! I love you both! And… that’s all the news that’s fit to print!

O, hello: http://bit.ly/8U0hHN

Good afternoon, all! Just a friendly reminder that Black Phoenix's West Coast Will Call is now being held monthly at Dark Delicacies, and is no longer being held at our North Hollywood location: Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Blvd. Burbank, CA 91505 818-556-6660

On behalf of Dark Delicacies and even more so for me individually I want to take a moment to say a couple of things about BPAL. In the few years since we've come to be acquainted with Beth, Brian, Ted and the entire BPAL staff I cannot think of a more rewarding experience. Their work ethic, imagination, drive for perfection and just downright humanitarian approach to their business is a rare thing. We are so thankful for the opportunities we have had to work with them on various projects and are absolutely thrilled for the current pairing of some of our business models with an aim to bring both businesses to an even higher playing field. Their dedication and caring is most obvious in their customer base which (according to the countless individuals we have met face-to-face and the large amount we have dealt with on-line) seems thrilled to be a part of this growing enterprise and voices that excitment in their support for the various projects we (BPAL and Dark Delicacies) have taken together. Today was the signing event for the release of Elizabeth's and my book "Vampires Don't Sleep Alone" and the outpouring of support was almost overwhelming. We sold out and are awaiting more copies to come in-house the beginning of this week while the orders continue to stream in. Thank you folks. I couldn't be more pleased to be able to serve you as customers and get to know you as friends than I am right at this moment. Whether it was cupcakes or just a really honest smile and a friendly hello, you have truly made the entire trip up to this point quite memorable and my wife and I thank you for that opportunity. Sincerely, Del & Sue Howison Dark Delicacies

As some of you may know, I co-authored a book with Del Howison last winter, “Vampires Don’t Sleep Alone”. This is a bit about the book that I posted elsewhere on the forum earlier this evening… Last year, Del and I were hired to write a guide to dating vampires. The idea of vampire romance has been intriguing to people since Bram Stoker popularized the genre and added a tangible complex sexuality to the lore. Nowadays, you’re the odd man out if you don’t have vampire fantasies. 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. 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. It became both more serious and more tongue-in-cheek as it fleshed out. I’m really, really happy with the way that we tweaked the vampire mythos. In the end, after months of research, innumerable conversations, eleventybillion rewrites, and much love and tears, the book went to the editor… and here we are. This is my first time writing in this capacity, with publishers and all that snazzy stuff, and it was a nerve-wracking, wonderful, educational, and exciting experience. I want to thank Del (from the bottom of my heart!) and the people at Ulysses Press for this opportunity, and I hope that our book does them proud! I will be signing the book alongside Del Howison at Dark Delicacies this Sunday, July 11, at 2pm. Fellow vampire writers V. M. K. Fewings and Maggie MacKeever will also be signing their books that afternoon! At the signing event, we will be debuting ten scents inspired by the book, and an imp of an eleventh scent, Bocal de Sang, will be included with every purchase of the book at the signing, and will also be included with every purchase of the book through Dark Delicacies. There have been quite a few scholars and historians among the vampire population, and over the centuries, repositories of their collective knowledge have been established all over the globe, the most notable libraries being in Vienna, Baghdad, Madrid, Kiev, Venice, Kyoto, Santo Domingo, Damascus, Thebes, and Detroit, though their specific locations remain shrouded in secrecy. Even in the twenty-first century, there is still very little trust between Homo sapiens and Homo striga, and vampires generally feel safer keeping their information among their own kind, so it is almost impossible for non-vampires to access the historical records. From time to time, however, information does leak out, and the following is partially based on Valentina Luzio’s dissertation on intercultural vampire stereotypes, but it has also been pieced together through information we have gleaned through conversations with our vampire associates. Over the centuries, vampires have classified their own kind, and in the past, these classifications became the root of a rough caste system that some vampires still adhere to today. For the most part, though, the terms are now used as loose slang, similar to the way that humans have coined phrases to describe those who share related predilections, tastes, and behaviors. The terms of vampire classification that we have come across are Cicuta, Interfector, Tombeur, Silenti, Transeo, Philologi, Misericordia, Vespillo, and Sanctus. The Cicuta, also called the Rictus, are least likely to be accepted by human society, and are, sadly, also the least likely to be accepted by other vampires in general. Some vampires have a peculiar adverse reaction to the transference of the vampiric pathogen whereby their physical appearance is drastically altered: They lose their hair, their features become elongated, their eyes protrude, and a permanent and irreversible inflammation of their joints causes stiff movement and a clawlike rigidity in the hands and feet. Cicuta minds function as any other vampire’s, but their appearance is so startlingly different that they find it almost impossible to find any acceptance whatsoever among humans or vampires. Usually these afflicted vampires choose to live in isolation, either on secluded estates or literally underground. Occasionally, small groups of Cicutas can be found cohabitating, finding comfort and companionship with those that share their condition. The Cicuta were parodied somewhat in F. W. Murnau’s 1922 film Nosferatu. CICUTA Dry, dusty rose petals, candle smoke, frankincense, and saffron. There are two types of vampires that humans, and often other vampires, need to be wary of: the Interfectors and the Tombeur. The Interfectors are ruthless killers, ultimate hunters who view humans as livestock. They are brutal, but not necessarily cruel, and rarely toy with their prey. Universally, Interfectors perceive their transition into the vampiric state to be an initiation into a higher state of being, not transcendent or spiritual in nature, but rather a promotion to the top of the food chain. The Interfectors’ cousins in savagery, the Tombeur, are much more complex in their hunting habits and their perceptions. Like the Interfectors, they perceive their vampirism to be an initiation into a higher state of being and relegate humans to base foodstuffs. Unlike the Interfectors, however, the Tombeur are not straightforward predators, and there is a secondary purpose to their hunt: sexual gratification. They take full advantage of their saliva’s hypnotic and psychotropic effects on humans, the mystique that surrounds vampires, the seemingly unnatural attraction some humans have toward vampires, and the potency of the Tombeurs’ own sexual drive to lure humans into complex carnal relationships that culminate in feeding. They are consummate seducers, and some Tombeur feed, completely and terminally, on their conquests, while others create henchmen that are little more than sex slaves. Neither fate is something we would recommend to any of our readers. 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. The Silenti reject human society completely, and are, quite literally, the living dead. Either due to trauma, sociopathic psychological conditions they possessed while human, or through a desire to embrace this peculiar aesthetic, they adopt many of the stereotypes and trappings of the vampire-as-undead. Some act as monstrous killers, akin to the murderous ways of Interfectors, while others are more peaceable, but no less strange. Most of these vampires choose to live in crypts, haunting graveyards like proverbial ghouls. Many vampire death cults have sprung from the philosophies and writings of Silenti, including the House of Azrael, whose members venerate death itself as the supreme deity and oblivion as heaven. SILENTI Grave beauty: Spanish moss, lilac, wisteria, myrrh, and olibanum. The Transeo are vampires that have assimilated into human society, often reaching positions of power. Among the Transeo there are many celebrated politicians, scientists, businessmen, philosophers, artists, writers, and musicians, and, surprisingly, a large number of influential clergy and militarists. Not every Transeo is an illustrious public figure; many simply desire the comforts associated with reentering society. In the past, most Transeo posed as humans as best they could, concealing their true natures. In the twenty-first century, more and more Transeo are coming out in the open, and they form the backbone of most vampire-acceptance movements. TRANSEO A 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. The Misericordia, or Tristis, are vampires that are consumed with a longing to regain their lost humanity, some to the point of being driven mad by the desire to be human once more. The shock of their transition into vampirism and the rejection they faced from friends and loved ones was devastating, and it compromises their ability to find solace and comfort. Unlike the Transeo, Misericordia cannot merge into human society, but are relegated by their own grief to the position of outsiders. Their inherent melancholy and morose temperaments make it difficult for them to cultivate relationships with either humans or vampires. Most vampires treat the Misericordia with a fair amount of derision, and they are sometimes hunted by Interfectors who see the perspective of the Misericordia as an affront to their way of thinking. MISERICORDIA Eons of grief and unending hunger: magnolia, black currant, castoreum accord, lavender, labdanum, amber, rose otto, and opoponax. The Philologi are scholars and philosophers that have dedicated themselves to the pursuit of knowledge, utilizing their extended lifespan to further their research. They are usually reclusive, and some were once Transeo that have rejected the bustle of human society in favor of solitude. PHILOLOGUS Ancient books, crackled parchment, faded incense, and candle wax. The Vespillo are dedicated to assisting newly infected vampires in understanding and accepting their condition and learning to live with the challenges that vampires face. Vespillo, like the Transeo, tend to become members of vampire-acceptance movements, pushing for a wider understanding of vampires among the human population. VESPILLO A grounded, earthy scent, evocative of the soul’s finer qualities: patchouli, clove, neroli, night-blooming jasmine, sage, and iris. The Sanctus are considered by some pious vampires to be the saints of their kind, and from what we have gleaned, they are very likely the stuff of myth. These vampires are paragons that possess impossible, phenomenal powers that defy known physics, including the ability to shift shape, turn into a gaseous form, and command other vampires through will alone. The mythological Sanctus are venerated by some, but we have no evidence whatsoever that they truly exist. 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. The artwork on all the labels, except for Bocal de Sang, were illustrated by the inimitable Julie Dillon! I know that this announcement is coming very close to the wire, and I apologize. We needed to make sure that the components would be available for a full LE run, and that took more time than I had anticipated. If you have purchased the book from another vendor before this announcement, we’ll take your word for it and will send you an imp of Bocal de Sang -- we don’t want anyone to feel left out or upset! =) Just email the kindly folks at Dark Delicacies (darkdel@darkdel.com), and they’ll be happy to send you an imp of Bocal de Sang for the cost of shipping ($4.95 for domestic, as we're using USPS Priority -- imps are fragile lil' guys, and first class mail can be hard on them). If you have already ordered the book from Dark Delicacies, the book will come signed, and will automatically ship with an imp of the event exclusive scent. Please direct any questions about the signing event or book sales to darkdel@darkdel.com, and any questions about the scents to answers@blackphoenixalchemylab.com. Vampires Don't Sleep Alone Signing Event at Dark Delicacies July 11, 2010 @ 2pm Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Blvd. Burbank, CA 91505

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. (Oh hey – what’s this?) 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.

The Dark Delicacies / BPAL Spring 2010 series is live at Dark Delicacies! Four Horrid Novels from Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey come to life! “Dear creature! how much I am obliged to you; and when you have finished Udolpho, we will read The Italian together; and I have made out a list of ten or twelve more of the same kind for you.” “Have you, indeed! How glad I am! — What are they all?” “I will read you their names directly; here they are, in my pocket-book. Castle of Wolfenbach, Clermont, Mysterious Warnings, Necromancer of the Black Forest, Midnight Bell, Orphan of the Rhine, and Horrid Mysteries. Those will last us some time.” “Yes, pretty well; but are they all horrid, are you sure they are all horrid?” CLERMONT Opium tar and Damask rose. HORRID MYSTERIES A savage, dark, lurid scent: blackened woods, pomegranate rind, mossy earth, mimosa, and thick, black wine. MIDNIGHT BELL Diabolical monastic incense and crumbling stone. MYSTERIOUS WARNING A scent evocative of poisonous family secrets: dry lavender-infused amber, battered leather, nicotiana, osmanthus, and jasmine tea. Label artwork by the inimitable Julie Dillon! The scents are live on the Dark Delicacies web site, and are available now at their store: Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Blvd Burbank, CA 91505

(Forum burp!) 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.)

Dark Delicacies will be reopening at their new location tomorrow, May 20th! If you’re in the neighborhood, please swing by and help christen the new joint with some good cheer! The new DD scent series will go on sale this month, but testers are already at the new place for your sniffing pleasure. On June 4th, Black Phoenix will be hosting a trunk show from 7 to 9 pm at the new Dark Delicacies. We’re clearing out the cobwebs again! Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Blvd Burbank, CA 91505 www.darkdel.com This summer, Black Phoenix Apothecary will be invading Dark Delicacies in earnest! Please stay tuned for more information!

A portion of all sales from the Black Phoenix Bats Day Exclusives will go to the Surfrider Foundation. The Surfrider Foundation is a non-profit environmental organization dedicated to the protection and enjoyment of the world's oceans, waves and beaches for all people, through conservation, activism, research and education. The Bats Day 2010 exclusives affectionately portray a handful of goth subculture tropes! Voila – GEEK.GOTH Highly caffeinated, profoundly sugared lemon-lime soda. GOTHABILLY Black vanilla, Egyptian musk, Rožolj liqueur, and black cherries. LOLI.GOTH An effervescent combination of pink musk, white peach, wild strawberry, pale woods, iris, and raspberry leaf. RIVET.GOTH Black leather, tobacco absolute, rust, gritty musk, and machine oil. ROMANTI.GOTH Dark vintage musk enrobed in a velvet black swirl of plum, precious resins, opium tar, sweet incense, and Nepalese amber. VICTORIANA.GOTH English rose, lilac, frankincense, violet leaf, French lavender, and wisteria encased in amber and splashed lightly with a ghastly garden herb tincture. And the Black Phoenix Trading Post Bats Day 2010 Atmospheric Spray is a scent that embodies the essence of dark club life -- THRIAMBUS A tribute to club life, a modern day hymn to Dionysus: shiraz, clove cigarettes, tobacco, spilled absinthe, latex, vinyl, and artificial fog. The label artwork for the BPAL Bats Day exclusives were doodled by our beloved Alicia Dabney! Bats Day Black Market May 1, 2010 Anaheim, CA http://www.batsday.net/

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. 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©(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.

Much awesomeness will making its debut at C2E2! Scents inspired by Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere will make their first live appearance at our booth: ++ NEVERWHERE ANESTHESIA A scent that slips through the cracks: peppermint, lavender, bergamot, and mandrake. MR. CROUP Pompous and predatory: tonka bean, black musk, bourbon geranium, nd crushed porcelain. DOOR Golden honey, nicotiana, blue chamomile, and cistus. THE FLOATING MARKET 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. HUNTER Leonine amber, tanned hides, clove, and clary sage. LAMIA Deadly elegance: pale orchid, lily of the valley, vanilla amber, black currant, white peach, champaca, coconut, honeysuckle, Arabian myrrh, Burmese vetiver, and oude. THE MARQUIS de CARABAS A splash of bay rum, leather, dusty black wool, massoia bark, and opium residue. NIGHT’S BRIDGE Stone and darkness. THE RAT SPEAKERS A snuffling, brown scent: earthy patchouli, sage, russet sandalwood, grimy leather, fig leaf, and lemongrass. MR. VANDEMAR Dark and gangly, with a glint of razor-sharp stainless steel behind it: opopponax, costus, black pepper, black sandalwood, and polished metal. THE VELVETS Smooth inky musk, cathedral incense, ylang ylang, violet leaf, rose-infused amber, red sandalwood, and iris. The Neverwhere scents are part of an ongoing not-for-profit project, and proceeds from the sales of all Neil-inspired perfumes go to benefit the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, which works to preserve and protect the First Amendment rights of the comics community. Neil Gaiman will be performing a theatrical reading benefiting the CBLDF on Saturday, April 17th, at the Arie Crown Theater at McCormick Place. If you purchased the Dream Experience package for this event, you will receive a gorgeous, extremely limited print courtesy of Neverwear and a bottle of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab perfume created specifically for the event. What’s the scent? In Neil’s own words it is: “Earth and Moss and Heather and Islands...” In addition to the new Neverwhere series scents, we will have all of Black Phoenix’s current Neil catalogue, including a few Sunbird sets and the three currently live tarot sets from 15 Painted Cards From a Vampire Tarot, and Black Phoenix Trading Post will have the three live 15 Painted Cards tees and a selection of Neil’s short story lockets. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is thrilled to present their first collaboration with the wonderful people at Boom! Studios. The first scents in Black Phoenix’s new Boom! line are inspired by Mark Waid’s phenomenal comic book series, Irredeemable: 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 + IRREDEEMABLE PLUTONIAN Soapy cleanliness sullied by blood and ashes. BETTE NOIR Benzoin, wild plum, smoky amber, bergamot, orange blossom, myrrh, and dark berries. KAIDAN Rosehip, plum blossom, white sandalwood, jonquil, and amber-laden incense. ALANA PATEL Faded perfume, cigarette smoke, and gin. MR. QUBIT Gleaming metal, electrical discharge, and a whiff of tinny cologne. VOLT Leather with a shock of eucalyptus, green mint, elemi, ravintsara and lime. YUREI White tea, hibiscus, Arabian sandalwood, white amber, white tea, ho leaf, pale Japanese flowers, and vetiver. Two additional Irredeemable scents will be available exclusively at C2E2: SKY CITY (BEFORE) Urban paradise: fresh air, lush green parks dotted with dandelions, blooming gardens, glossy marble, shining metal, and a hint of asphalt. SKY CITY (AFTER) The smoldering ashes of a dead city: smoke and cinders, scorched wood, creosote, tar-smeared concrete, singed bone, and dried blood. And one scent, Tony, will only be available at the Irredeemable 1st birthday party at Challengers Comics on April 16th at 7pm. TONY Soap and water, hair gel, and a hint of aftershave. Also debuting at C2E2 – the first in a line of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab scents inspired by Top Cow's Witchblade! + WITCH BLADE THE CURATOR Mysterious herbs and ancient resins. Dust settled on ancient relics, both holy and malevolent. DET. PATRICK GLEASON A classic men’s cologne splashed over a leather trenchcoat and a hint of gunshot residue. SARA PEZZINI A hint of leather and an understated vintage musk layered over the scent of lightly perspiring, honey-dusted skin. 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. Proceeds from every bottle sold from the Top Cow Witchblade series 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©(3) charity aims to assist comic creators with health, medical, and quality-of-life assistance. As is always the case, Black Phoenix will be offering exclusive scents inspired by the locale: + C2E2 Exclusives: Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab THE ANTI-SALOON LEAGUE Our version of a Black Cow, a 1920’s virgin thirst-quencher: sarsaparilla and cream. BATHTUB GIN Homebrew gin, thick with juniper, with hints of wormwood, clove, and nutmeg. GUN MOLL As sexy as ox blood lipstick and a Chicago typewriter: honeycomb, red amber, narcissus, bergamot, Zanzibar clove, opium poppy, tobacco leaf, skin musk, dark fruits, night blooming jasmine, tarragon, and gunpowder. THE VOLSTEAD ACT A bootlegger’s paradise. The scent of a Bizzy Izzy Highball: rye, sherry wine, pineapple syrup, and lemon. Black Phoenix Trading Post’s C2E2 offerings are inspired by the comic world’s villainous hideouts and heroic bastions -- + C2E2 Exclusives: Black Phoenix Trading Post LAIR OF NEFARIOUS MISDEEDS ATOMOSPHERE SPRAY A twisted, smoky, power-mad scent that inspires cackling, gleeful wickedness and unchecked depravity. Sinuous black incense, ambergris, polished leather, oakmoss, guiac, and Siamese benzoin. CITADEL OF AWESOME ATMOSPHERE SPRAY Sugary sweet and squeaky clean! The perfect background scent for those who kick ass for the good of mankind! Crystalline musks, spun sugar, ginger lily, neroli, violet feuilles, and white amber. The C2E2 exclusives will only be offered at our booth at the event, and are available while supplies last. In addition, Black Phoenix will be debuting 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.) Now, you may be wondering… other than that, what all’s going to be at your booth, Black Phoenix people? So glad you asked! Alchemy Lab will have the bulk of its general catalogue, the Hellboy scents, the Gris Grimly scents, and the Shojo Beat scents. BPAL will also be selling… * The Black Helicopter series * The District * Valentine’s Day in the Miskatonic Valley * The 2010 Shungas * The Ode to Ares * the Bards * Ides of March Trading Post will have the current tees from the 15 Painted Cards From a Vampire Tarot series, as well as… * ID Cases * Imp Cases * BPTP’s full line of pendants and lockets, including those inspired by Neil Gaiman’s short stories * The Elements & Artifacts BPAL Pendants * The Leather Imp Pouches & Clutches * The Triple Dagger Wristband * Shot Glasses * Courtesan Pill Boxes * Black Phoenix Claw Polish And yes… the Sock Dreams / BPTP socks! We will be located at booth 951, and we’ll also be attending the following 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. And that, my friends, is all the news that’s fit to spew! Lord, I hope I’m not forgetting anything. Hope to see you in Chicago!

BPAL / BPTP mystery bundles up for auction at http://www.darkdel.com! Money raised goes to Dark Delicacies' moving costs!

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!

The Lunacy update will go live Sunday, March 28th, at 11am Pacific Time, barring incident. As of the update going live, the price adjustment will be in effect. The price change will be in effect at WCWC and ECWC this month. Thank you!

In my emotional urgh of having to post the price adjustment grid, I somehow omitted part of the flat rate explanation for BPAL’s international shipping. Please, please accept my apologies; yesterday was a very emotional, difficult day, and I screwed the pooch on posting the correct info for international orders. We use USPS Flat Rate on most international shipments. The Flat Rate service offered by USPS features a fixed price per package, regardless of weight. As a rule, we can fit up to 20 items in International Flat Rate packaging with occasional exceptions. 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. We have looked at other shipping methods often in the past, and did so again recently. USPS has the most competitive rates on international shipping by far. Here are some sample rate quotes for a one pound shipment from other freight carriers: FedEx: To Canada $20.06; to UK $57.85; to Australia $65.61 UPS: To Canada $27.72; to UK $83.05; to Australia $94.12 DHL: To Canada $53.44; to UK $72.71; to Australia $77.69 Under no circumstances will we ship USPS First Class. We tried in years past, and there was an unmanageable series of problems with that method of shipping, ranging from damaged and missing packages to absurdly long times that the packages spent in transit. I understand that First Class is the cheapest option, but it is not a reliable method of shipping, and we just won’t do it. It is expensive for us to reship orders, and, in the end, First Class is a frustrating experience for our international customers all-around. I have corrected my omission on my initial post about the shipping charges. Apologies for the error!

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 we 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.

I wanted to use images of menfolk for the Ode to Ares, but there wasn't enough vintage boy booty to go around.

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.

Posting here against my better judgment. I don’t want to be perceived as shit-stirring in any way; that isn’t my intent. The bulk of our reasons for not using prefab oils stem from their incompatibility with our vision for the company. They do not comply with my personal tastes, first of all, and Black Phoenix is really an extension of me… of what I enjoy, what I love, and what interests me. I don’t compromise my vision, even if it seems idiotic or Velveeta-cheap to others, and that goes from the concepts themselves through to the components we use to create our products. To me, it isn’t possible to achieve the aesthetic effects I’m trying for with prefab materials. I don’t want this to sound artsy-fartsy and high-handed – its just a fact: they aren’t conducive to me creating the scents that I want to create. If we went with most any prefab company on the market, it would be quickly evident, and the uniqueness of our product – which may be offensive, but is incontestable – would be nonexistent. There are many reasons that we do not use prefab oils to make our scents, and the least ethics-based one is that, quite bluntly, our customer base is not stupid. If we ever began using prefab candle fragrance oils in our products, our customers, who are intelligent, enthusiastic consumers, many of whom use prefab oils themselves for b&b crafts, would figure it out. It’s that simple. I respect our customers, many, MANY of whom I consider close personal friends, and my life is enriched a hundred-fold by the community that has grown around Black Phoenix and the friendships that I would never, ever have made had it not been for that community. Cutting corners with regards to my work is unethical to me, and there is no benefit whatsoever in bullshit. Our customers are not fools, and I have no intention of compromising my company’s integrity by taking shortcuts. I am in no way slamming people that use prefab scents for crafting bath and body products. That’s what they’re there for! They’re just not appropriate for the way Black Phoenix tackles perfumery, is all. Upwards and onwards… We purchase component oils from many, many small companies because we believe in small business, and we want to help people like us. We used to extract oils in-house YEARS ago, but it became impossible to continue in that vein and still fill orders in a timely manner and keep costs down. We could outsource to a fragrance chemist, our costs would be significantly reduced, and it would alleviate all of our problems with batch consistency and component issues. That, too, doesn’t fit into my vision for Black Phoenix. I like working with my hands, being immersed in the concepts and the scents. If we outsourced to a fragrance chemist, my life would be much easier, but I would derive very little personal joy from my work. I don’t consult fragrance wheels, or worry too much about harmonious or traditional top, middle, or base notes. I’m sure that to most perfumers this sounds idiotic. That’s ok. Creating scents is one of the great joys of my life, and even if we had no customers whatsoever, I would still do this because it is what I love to do. To me, outsourcing our needs to a fragrance chemist would be tantamount to me hiring a copywriter and a marketing consultant. This outsourced creative team could write words for Black Phoenix, create a sophisticated-yet-edgy image for Black Phoenix, and this team of experts could tell me exactly what scents are going to be fashionable next season. I will venture a guess that they wouldn’t have given a green light to Black Annis or Gore Shock. But BPAL would be soulless… dead. Black Phoenix is my way of expressing myself, and I do things the way I do it because it brings me joy to do so. We create everything, words and scents, from the ground up, while supporting other small businesses and using the safest possible ingredients. And onto the next point… In order to maintain a consistent price point for our customers, we had to calculate an average cost per bottle. The range of the prices for component oils is staggering. Orange oil and rose otto are galaxies apart in price. In truth, there are some GCs and some LEs that we do lose money on, and some that make a significant profit. It evens out. I could calculate the precise cost to manufacture each bottle, but that would not only make the whole catalogue a pain in the fucking ass for our customers (we would have to calculate SAMPLE PRICES individually, too, ffs) but the prices themselves would fluctuate often because the market price for oils changes based on everything from the quality of a crop in a season to supply and demand. Frankly, we would go nuts, it would be an accounting shitswamp, and our customers would be incredibly frustrated. Better that we take a loss here and there and just price things on an average. How do we keep costs down? We don’t have a huge advertising budget, and our choices of advertising outlets and sponsorship programs reflect our feelings about working with and supporting other small businesses. We don't pay for celebrity endorsements or hire marketing firms to polish our image and push our products. We don't pay for placement in television or movie spots. We don’t have fancy packaging or ornate bottles. We print most of our labels in-house, and do all of our own ads. We are hands-on in every aspect of the work, from concept to customer service and shipping. Our prices are not elevated much above the cost to manufacture. We generate a living wage for us and for our employees and provide our staff with benefits like health and dental while keeping prices reasonable for our customers. And on and on and on… I saw some mention of corporate charity work, ours and others. I don’t want to go around slapping my ass over this in a fit of pride, but I do have something to say about it. Charity, to me, is a labor of love. It’s not something that should come easily, and it isn’t something done for props or for a tax deduction. I know a lot of corporations donate to charities out of compassion, kindness, and genuine altruism. I truly respect that. I am fiercely proud of all the work that we have done for the CBLDF, Red Cross, UNICEF, BatCon international, the Orangutan Foundation UK, Hero Initiative, AIDS Project LA, Habitat For Humanity, the SPCA, and other charitable organizations. We take a considerable financial hit every time we run a fundraiser or do a charity scent or series. It costs us far more during the scent creation process, especially since we do not outsource, than we are able to recuperate. In this economy, taking the profits off of the oils for the Haiti fundraiser is very hard on us, but we do it because we give a fuck, and because life is a shitty, shabby thing if you don’t use your good fortune to give back a little. Not being all We’re So Fucking Awesome, but we donated more to charity in 2008 and 2009 than my fucking salary. Like I said, I am damn proud of what we do to help others, and I am damn proud to be associated with individuals like Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, George Perez, and Molly Crabapple who are so giving of their time, their intellectual property, and their resources to promote charity and goodwill. I’m all about the tl;dr today. I know Black Phoenix isn’t for everyone. It isn’t meant to be. Black Phoenix is for… me. I don’t mean that in a selfish way, but it’s true. I do what I love because I love it and I do it the way I want to do it, period, and if someone doesn’t like it, that’s really ok. It doesn’t diminish the happiness I feel when I’m able to create things that I find beautiful, interesting, or disturbing based on concepts that move me. It thrills me more than I can say that there are other people out there that like what we do and that I’m able to share the things I love with them. But it is also fine with me when someone doesn't dig what I do. Have I covered everything? If not, I apologize. If I’m a little terse in this post, I apologize for that, too. I’m not keen on having my company’s integrity called into question. You can say you don’t like our stuff, you can snerk at how prolific we are, and you’re always welcome to dislike my choices in theme or the scents themselves. All that is ample fodder for derision, I suppose. But I won’t stand for shadows being cast over our shop’s integrity. I like being able to look in the mirror and respect the person I see there. I’m never going to intentionally do anything to jeopardize my own peace of mind or jeopardize the reputation of the good, hard working, honest people that are employed at Black Phoenix. We work too fucking hard for that. I want my daughter to be able to look at what her family does for a living and be proud. Now I’m going to back out of this thread because, in all honesty, I’m juggling a ton of work, problems arising from the absence of DSL access at the lab, and a toddler, and I don’t have the energy to do much else right now. The Little Demoness is demanding my attention, and I can’t keep the Queen of the Household waiting! (ETA -- VF, you're right. We don't test on animals, and we do everything we can to ensure that we never work with companies that test on animals.) (ETA -- I prefer cake to pie, but I'm split on the ninja / pirate issue.)