kebechet

Sorry, guys!

BPTP is down for a moment. We're working on getting it fixed, and I'll post as soon as repairs are completed. Thanks!

http://www.blackphoenixtradingpost.com Bitter Moon is live! The Doodle Goddess has outdone herself. Bitter Moon KICKS ASS! Bitter Moon will be rockin' the house until November 7, 2006. Also new this month, our Mad Tea Party tee: Black ink on white crew! ... and, also new, the first of our long-sleeved tees: Coming soon: more imp cases, more bling, stuff that pops, fizzes, and suds, and some wacky fuzzy things!

Happy anniversary to us! Four years, baby, and we’re still chugging along! A sincere, heartfelt, and loving thanks to all of our clients for being so supportive through all our trials, for giving us the opportunity to pursue our heart’s desire, and for gifting us with an unrivaled extended family of the most phenomenal, fascinating, and multi-faceted people on this planet. Now, before I get all sappy – as I am wont to do – let’s get on with the show! Bitter Moon is live! BITTER MOON Kokoro no oni ga mi wo semeru. The body is tortured only by the demon of the heart. Nepal poppy, lotus root, wild rose, and blue hibiscus with blackberry, tonka, sage, lavender, peony and vetiver. Our Doodle Goddess, Jennifer Williamson, has provided some incredibly sexy artwork for the Bitter Moon tee – artwork that is amazingly appropriate for the BPALiversary, too. It will be live, along with a few more new items, on the Black Phoenix Trading Post site tomorrow. With this, we close the Year of Asian Moons. Bitter Moon will be live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab until November 7, 2006. To commemorate our anniversary, we’re bringing back some discontinued scents. Live until December 1, 2006… ++ RESURRECTION BAT'S BLOOD Vengeance can be yours. FEU FOLLET Deceptively gentle and lethally alluring. Jasmine and rose, touched with sparkling heliotrope. GLASYA Created in honor of the fiery, vicious Princess of Hell and bloodthirsty general who governs thirty-six legions of infernal warriors. Her lust for bloodshed and manslaughter is matched only by her love of the classical arts and sciences - definitely a woman that we respect. A seething, fiery blend of dragon's blood, deep myrrh, red and black musks, civet and thick red patchouli, glistening with drops of rose and ylang ylang. GLITTER All flash and glam: white wine, heliotrope, d'Anjou pear, and lotus. SILENTIUM AMORIS As oftentimes the too resplendent sun Hurries the pallid and reluctant moon Back to her sombre cave, ere she hath won A single ballad from the nightingale, So doth thy Beauty make my lips to fail, And all my sweetest singing out of tune. And as at dawn across the level mead On wings impetuous some wind will come, And with its too harsh kisses break the reed Which was its only instrument of song, So my too stormy passions work me wrong, And for excess of Love my Love is dumb. But surely unto Thee mine eyes did show Why I am silent, and my lute unstrung; Else it were better we should part, and go, Thou to some lips of sweeter melody, And I to nurse the barren memory Of unkissed kisses, and songs never sung. Unspoken love. Inspired by Oscar Wilde's poem. A scent brimming with pathos and memories of longing and loss. Rose touched with ylang ylang. TYPHON A fearsome creature from Greek lore. Typhon was born from the marriage of Earth and Hell, and is said to be so terrible in aspect that even the gods themselves flee from his venomous gaze. Our own blend of Earth and Hell: red patchouli, sandalwood, black musk and vetiver. YUKI-ONNA The Lady of the Snow, Winter Ghost, Snow Queen. A chilling, haunted blend of bergamot, lemon verbena, sandalwood and jasmine. And finally… this year’s commemorative Phoenix: PURPLE PHOENIX Porphyrogenitus, indeed; we worked for it! Not simply the color of royalty, purple is also the color of sorrow and mourning, reconciliation and forgiveness. A regal, majestic, and somber blend of myrrh, plum blossom, African violet, cognac, fig, orris, lilac, wisteria, black plum, and Burgundy wine grapes. Many things are still on the calendar for this year at BPAL, BPTP, and TAL, so keep poking around! Carnaval Diabolique moves into its next chapter, some long-awaited scents from the 2006 preview are making their debut, spooky new designs and some shiny bling is arriving at the Trading Post, and TAL will have some new tricks up its proverbial sleeve. This year ain’t over yet, friends and neighbors! Thank you again for four amazing fucking years. Our lives are truly enriched by every single one of you, and we hope that we can continue to share our dreams, nightmares, and perversities for many, many years to come!

After will call, come hang out at Malediction. =) DJ Xian has generously offered a discount to everyone who shows up at the door with a BPAL flyer. Miss Forest will be doing tarot readings in the Red Room while the rest of us get our booze on. Hee! The scoop: Club: MALEDICTION SOCIETY Night: Every Sunday DJs: Amanda Jones and Xian Genre: Darkwave Industrial EBM / Steampunk NeoVictorian Decadence Time: 10PM - 2AM Policy: 21+, $7 (varying discount passes) Address: 3100 Wilshire Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90010 (Wilshire & Vermont, entrance on S. Westmoureland.) Website: http://www.maledictionsociety.com

Plugging a friend's tv show. From the release: - - - Hello All - Just wanted to let everyone know that the trailer for Reality Inc is now available for viewing! Everyone involved put in a ton of hard work, and we're very proud of the results - hopefully you'll enjoy watching it as much as we enjoyed making it. For those who don't know about the show, the official description is below - in a nutshell, it's an indie sit-com we've created and are now putting on the market. And since we're keeping to the indie ethos (and budget) we're counting on viral marketing to spread the word about the show - and that means you! If you like the show, please leave a positive comment on youtube, and send the link on to a friend. Better yet, send it to all your friends! We would very much appreciate it, and we'll be sure to buy you all a drink when we're big scripted TV moguls. Cheers, The Reality Inc. Team View the show at: Official description: Shot on nights and weekends, "Reality Inc." was created by reality TV veterans who realized their lives and jobs were far too ridiculous to pass without parody. The result? "Reality Inc." - a sitcom about a struggling production company searching for the next big hit. With shades of the Office and a touch of Arrested Development, it's a fictional look at a world that's all too real. Remember, it's not real...It's Reality Now on Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/povproductions

As you know, F_S, this isn't directed at you. =P I felt I needed to clarify.

DING! My turn. I can’t fucking believe this. Now I’m getting emails from people ASKING me to step in on the Heaven & Earth debacle. Do these people really want me to come into the thread and rant? You want to know why I haven’t spoken up? Two things: first, I was trying very hard to show someone more respect than they have shown me or our company, and second… the great, all-powerful, and almighty entity that is my attorney. He has a fantastic way of shutting me up. I can’t add anything to what Filigree has already stated in her blog, suffice to say that I think it is very telling that the Heaven and Earth thread is perpetually rife with drama. I’m sure Michelle is a delightful person, but I do not agree with her business practices. I think that her attempts to circumvent the forum’s regulations are shady, and I think her explanations for the origins of her products are tall-tales. This is my opinion. I have seen bottles on her site that cost less than a dollar to purchase from a local company that are being sold for $10+ dollars, and are being touted as imported goods. This isn’t the way we do things at BPAL, but who am I to judge another’s company? I kept quiet for many reasons, and it is PREPOSTEROUS that people should email me and ask me to defend my silence. As if being quiet or respectful or attempting to shut up and allow people to work things out on their own is some sign of weakness. Give me a fucking break, please. We’re in the middle of the busiest time of our year, and the last thing I have time to do is blather about my issues with another person’s company. It is just such a pitiful cop-out when people blame the moderators for a kerfuffle that erupts. Can’t take responsibility for your actions? Blame it on the mods! While I think that loyalty is commendable, it is ridiculous that one would ignore that she has repeatedly violated the terms of service on this forum, and I think it is preposterous that Shriekingviolet’s motives or the legitimacy of the forum suspension are in question at all. If you are of the mind that this forum is run in that fashion, you don’t need to be here. The truth is: that is BULLSHIT. The administrators and moderators here are nothing BUT fair, and they jump through HOOPS to make sure that people are given a million fucking chances before any measures are taken. On just about any other retail forum, official or unofficial, posting with the sole intent of shilling is frowned upon, dupe accounts and sock puppets are a no-go, and let me tell you… it boggles the mind that anyone would think that the deliberate violation of the rules here would go unnoticed. Personally, I think the issues that were brought up in the H&E thread have been extremely HELPFUL to the company’s owner, and, as an example, if I were in a position where my right to muscle in on someone else’s intellectual property was in question, and if I had no knowledge of how trademark law, IP law, or copyright law worked, I would truly appreciate being notified before someone was forced to hammer me with a cease & desist.

All Pumpkin Queen and Castle backorders are shipping now, and have been for about four business days. =)

http://www.blackphoenixalchemylab.com/102006.html

Happy Friday the 13th! 13 has been reformulated this month. There are thirteen different lucky and unlucky components: cocoa and vanilla beans, Mysore sandalwood, star fruit, orange rind, red amber, fig leaf, mimosa, rooibos tea, bourbon geranium, rose otto, nutmeg, and lavender. This scent is as sexy as a black cat and as much fun as finding a four-leafed clover. Four new plants have bloomed in the Garden: ++ RAPPACCINI'S GARDEN BLACK LILY -- Breathtaking darkness, a vision of grace in shadow. DEVIL'S CLAW -- A yellow-bright and smoky brown-black scent, horned, pronged and strange. LOVE-LIES-BLEEDING -- The velvet flower. A lush, thick, luxuriant bloom, bold and red. SLOBBERING PINE -- Dewy, wet, whiplike and sticky. The Grim Reaper once again graces Funereal Oils with his smiling mug: ++ FUNEREAL OILS THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS -- There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. "Shall I have naught that is fair?" Saith he; "Having naught but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again," He gazed at the flowers with tearful eye, He kissed their drooping leaves; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. "My Lord has need of these flowerets gay," The Reaper said, and smiled: "Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child." "They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by my care, And saints, upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear." And the mother gave, in tears and pain, The flowers she most did love: She knew she should find them all again In the fields of light above. O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, The Reaper came that day; 'Twas an angel visited the green earth, And took the flowers away. A funereal bouquet laid on cemetery grass: longiflorum lilies, white rose, chrysanthemum, and carnation. Two new Love Potions make their debut: ++ LOVE POTIONS LILIUM INTER SPINAS -- I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys. As a lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banquet hall. His banner over me is love. Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples; For I am faint with love. His left hand is under my head. His right hand embraces me. I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, or by the hinds of the field, that you not stir up, nor awaken love, until it so desires. The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes, leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills. My beloved is like a roe or a young hart. Behold, he stands behind our wall! He looks in at the windows. He glances through the lattice. My beloved spoke, and said to me, "Rise up, my love, my beautiful one, and come away. For, behold, the winter is past. The rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth. The time of the singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. The fig tree ripens her green figs. The vines are in blossom. They give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away." My dove in the clefts of the rock, In the hiding places of the mountainside, Let me see your face. Let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely. Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards; for our vineyards are in blossom. My beloved is mine, and I am his. He browses among the lilies. Until the day is cool, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be like a roe or a young hart on the mountains of Bether. Hibiscus syriacus, white sandalwood, lily of the valley, apple blossom, and green fig. THE TEMPTATION -- The Demon, in my chamber high, This morning came to visit me, And, thinking he would find some fault, He whispered: "I would know of thee Among the many lovely things That make the magic of her face, Among the beauties, black and rose, That make her body's charm and grace, Which is most fair?" Thou didst reply To the Abhorred, O soul of mine: "No single beauty is the best When she is all one flower divine. When all things charm me I ignore Which one alone brings most delight; She shines before me like the dawn, And she consoles me like the night. The harmony is far too great, That governs all her body fair, For impotence to analyse And say which note is sweetest there. O mystic metamorphosis! My senses into one sense flow -- Her voice makes perfume when she speaks, Her breath is music faint and low!" An expression of love, adoration, and desire, of beauty that transcends mortal desire and piques the interest of hell itself: attar of rose, calla lily, palmarosa, peach blossom, wisteria, rice flower, and black musk. Mania dances through Excolo, and, at long last, a new perfume joins Diabolus' infernal ho-down: ++ EXCOLO MANIA -- The personification of insanity, Mother of Manes, Goddess of Night Spirits, Mistress of Undeath, She Who Gives Life to the Dead. With Mantus, she rules the Etruscan underworld, and her scent is roiling chaos and churning madness, but because she is the mother of the Lares, benevolent household spirits, her perfume also bears an underlying gentleness, and, like madness, a strange sweetness. Screeching white musk collides with a howl of red musk, with sharp white grapefruit and pale strawberry leaf. ++ DIABOLUS HORREUR SYMPATHIQUE -- From livid skies that, without end, As stormy as your future roll, What thoughts into your empty soul (Answer me, libertine!) descend? — Insatiable yet for all That turns on darkness, doom, or dice, I'll not, like Ovid, mourn my fall, Chased from the Latin paradise. Skies, torn like seacoasts by the storm! In you I see my pride take form, And the huge clouds that rush in streams Are the black hearses of my dreams, And your red rays reflect the hell, In which my heart is pleased to dwell. The perfume of a hellbound soul, gleefully lost to iniquity: blood musk, golden honey, thick black wine, champagne grapes, tobacco flower, plum blossom, tonka bean, oakmoss, carnation, benzoin, opoponax, and sugar cane. Hm. Seems like I’m forgetting something… Ah, yes! The Yuletide update is live! Yes, I know that we’re not even out of autumn yet, and here I am… piling snow and sleet on all of you. We always put the winter scents up early to ensure that people have ample time to order them for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, Diwali, Shichi-Go-San, Luciadagen, Jongwol Daeborum, Tet, and all other winter holidays. Please note: we respectfully request that any orders you want to receive in time for Christmas be placed by November 20th. (Yes, we know… Christmas isn’t the only holiday in winter, but it is the one that most Westerners are primarily concerned about when it comes to gift-giving issues. No offense intended to anyone, obee kaybee?) And now that I’ve laid down the disclaimers and whatnot, let’s get on to the good part: ++ YULETIDE 2006 BLACK ICE -- Lovely, dangerous, slick, and bitterly cold: chilly white sleet-like notes with a hint of vetiver, a breath of smoky asphalt, and winter wind. THE DARKLING THRUSH -- I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-gray, And Winter's dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sought their household fires. The land's sharp features seemed to be The Century's corpse outleant, His crypt the cloudy canopy, The wind his death-lament. The ancient pulse of germ and birth Was shrunken hard and dry, And every spirit upon earth Seemed fevourless as I. At once a voice arose among The bleak twigs overhead In a full-hearted evensong Of joy illimited; An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul Upon the growing gloom. So little cause for carolings Of such ecstatic sound Was written on terrestrial things Afar or nigh around, That I could think there trembled through His happy good-night air Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew And I was unaware. The hope of springtime penetrating winter darkness. Snow, darkness, and icy air illuminated by the thrush’s song: warm amber, soft orris, and melancholy violet. HALÔA -- Sacred to both Demeter and Dionysus, this is a celebration of the of the pruning of the vines, the first fermentation of the year’s wine, and of the consecration of the next year’s planting. The service was lead by the heterai and the Eleusinian Arkhontes, and began with the preparation of a banquet that honors Demeter’s bounty and the fertility aspect of Dionysus with pudenda- and phallus-shaped cakes. After the preliminary feast, the magistrates departed, and the heterai held a second rite that consisted of copious wine consumption, ritual symbolic fornication, and formal offerings of incense, grain, and cakes to sacred statues of the deities and to clay images of genitalia. Finally, the magistrates and priests were permitted to rejoin the ritual. A Priest and Priestess bore torches that symbolizes Demeter and her daughter Persephone presided over the final ceremony, which culminated in the ultimate celebration of fertility: an orgy that lasted til dawn. Wine grapes, myrrh, frankincense and olive leaf, and the warm scent of offertory cakes. HERR DROSSELMEYER 2006 -- Magus, toymaker, and Godfather to Klara. An enigmatic man, seemingly somewhat sinister, but bearing a gentle air and a sincere love for children. This scent is dignified, refined, but dark, and hints towards esoteric mysteries and the secrets that tie mechanics to magick. Pipe smoke, sweet leather, woods and linen. JACOB'S LADDER 2006 -- And Jacob went out from Beersheba, and went toward Haran. And he lighted upon a certain place, and tarried there all night, because the sun was set; and he took of the stones of that place, and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep. And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it. And, behold, the Lord stood above it, and said, I am the Lord God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac: the land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed; And thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and thou shalt spread abroad to the west, and to the east, and to the north, and to the south: and in thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed. And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into this land; for I will not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of. And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not. And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven. The meeting of Heaven and Earth: golden amber, galbanum, benzoin, ambrette, rockrose, costus and tonka. JÓLASVEINAR -- The Jólasveinar are the seventy-some offspring of Grýla and Leppalúði, an ogre couple with a taste for chomping naughty children. This impish brood delights in causing discomfort, sowing confusion, and all-out raising hell during the Yule season. Their names are indicative of their malicious intentions -- Strap Loosener, Door Slammer, Window Peeper, Sausage Snatcher, Doorway Sniffer, Icebreaker -- and their creepy natures -- Lamp Shadow, Smoke Gulper, Crevice Imp. The devillish Jólasveinar finally cease their mischief and head for home at Þrettándinn. Their scent is a mishmash of snow, dirt, Icelandic moss, marsh felwort, and the smushed petals of buttercups and moorland spotted orchids, with the barest hint of the scent of pilfered Christmas pastries. KNECHT RUPRECHT -- Von drauß' vom Walde komm ich her; Ich muß euch sagen, es weihnachtet sehr! Allüberall auf den Tannenspitzen Sah ich goldene Lichtlein sitzen; Und droben aus dem Himmelstor Sah mit großen Augen das Christkind hervor, Und wie ich so strolcht durch den finsteren Tann, Da rief's mich mit heller Stimme an. „Knecht Rupprecht”, rief es, „alter Gesell, Hebe die Beine und spute dich schnell! Die Kerzen fangen zu brennen an, Das Himmelstor ist aufgetan, Alt' und Junge sollen nun Von der Jagd des Lebens einmal ruhn; Und morgen flieg ich hinab zur Erden, Denn es soll wieder Weihnachten werden!” Ich sprach: „O lieber Herre Christ, Meine Reise fast zu Ende ist; Ich soll nur noch in diese Stadt, Wo's eitel gute Kinder hat.” „Hast denn das Säcklein auch bei Dir?” Ich sprach: „Das Säcklein, das ist hier; Denn Äpfel, Nuss und Mandelkern Fressen fromme Kinder gern.” „Hast denn die Rute auch bei Dir?” Ich sprach: „Die Rute, die ist hier; Doch für die Kinder nur, die schlechten, Die trifft sie auf den Teil, den rechten.” Christkindlein sprach: „So ist es recht; So geh mit Gott, mein treuer Knecht!” Von drauß' vom Walde komm ich her; Ich muß euch sagen, es weihnachtet sehr! Nun sprecht, wie ich's hierinnen find! Sind's gute Kind, sind's böse Kind? - - - I came here from the forest I tell you, it is a very holy night! All over the tips of the firs I saw bright flashes of golden light; And from above, the gates of heaven I saw with open eyes the Christ-child and as I wander through the dark forest I hear a light voice calling me. "Knecht Ruprecht" it called, "Old man Lift your legs and hurry! Fast! The candles alight the gates of heaven open wide old and young shall rest from the hunt of life and tomorrow I shall fly to earth as it shall be Christmas again!" I said: "O dear master, Christ My trip is almost at an end; It is only this one town / where the children are good". "Do you have your sack with you?" I said: "The sack, it is here; apples, nuts and almonds solemn children do enjoy". "Do you also have your cane?" I said: "The cane, it is here. But only for the bad children, to hit their right rear". The Christ-child spoke: "That is good; So go with god my faithful servant!" I came here from the forest I tell you, it is a very holy night! Speak now how I find it here Are the children good or bad? The snow-covered foliage of the Black Forest and the fruit and woods of apple and almond trees. KRAMPUS -- Anything BUT jolly! Draped with chains and bells, wielding both whip and rod, this rag-clad, horned, red-skinned, soot-covered leering creature is both the companion and the antithesis of rosy-cheeked and ebullient Kris Kringle. He is called by many names, and, in a myriad of cultures, he is seen with different robes and faces, but he is nevertheless always a sinister and fearsome instrument of Santa’s wrath: he wields a switch on all irredeemably naughty children before tossing them into his large black sack and whisking them away. Be good, or Krampus will toss you in a river! Sinister red musk, black leather, dusty rags, and wooden switches. LICK IT AGAIN -- Every holiday season should be full of lewd suggestions and filthy double entendres, right? This is a new take on last year’s Lick It – a peppermint candy cane with an extra jolt of sugar. As always, we have to state: don’t lick perfume. Don’t eat it, drink it, cook with it, or use it in any strange and unforeseen way. Black Phoenix is not responsible for that sort of irresponsible funnybusiness. MIDNIGHT MASS 2006 -- I will wash my hands among the innocent; and will compass thy altar, O Lord: That I may hear the voice of thy praise: and tell of all thy wondrous works. I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house; and the place where thy glory dwelleth. Take not away my soul, O God, with the wicked: nor my life with bloody men: In whose hands are iniquities: their right hand is filled with gifts. But as for me, I have walked in my innocence: redeem me, and have mercy on me. My foot hath stood in the direct way: in the churches I will bless thee, O Lord. In Roman Catholic tradition, the Christmas season begins liturgically on Christmas Eve, though it is forbidden to celebrate the Christmas Mass before midnight. The most devout attend Midnight Mass, celebrating both the Eucharist and the drama of the Nativity. This perfume is a traditional Roman Catholic sacramental incense, most often used during a Solemn Mass. Traditionally, five tears of this incense, each encased individually in wax that has been fashioned into the shape of a nail, are inserted into the paschal candle. This is, of course, represents the Five Wounds of Our Risen Savior. Symbolically, the burning of the incense signifies spiritual fervor, the fragrance itself inspires virtue, and the rising smoke carries our prayers to God. Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, factorem caeli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium. Et in unum Dominum Iesum Christum, Filium Dei unigenitum, et ex Patre natum ante omnia saecula. Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine, Deum verum de Deo vero, genitum non factum, consubstantialem Patri; per quem omnia facta sunt. Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem descendit de caelis. Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est. Crucifixus etiam pro nobis sub Pontio Pilato, passus et sepultus est, et resurrexit tertia die, secundum Scripturas, et ascendit in caelum, sedet ad dexteram Patris. Et iterum venturus est cum gloria, iudicare vivos et mortuos, cuius regni non erit finis. Et in Spiritum Sanctum, Dominum et vivificantem, qui ex Patre procedit. Qui cum Patre et Filio simul adoratur et conglorificatur: qui locutus est per prophetas. Et unam, sanctam, catholicam et apostolicam Ecclesiam. Confiteor unum baptisma in remissionem peccatorum. Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum, et vitam venturi saeculi. Amen. THE SNOW MAIDEN -- The Snow Maiden is the daughter of Spring and Frost: as lovely as the first snowfall, and as striking as a sliver of icicle. Isolated because of her chilly otherworldly nature, and unable to know love, she longed for the companionship and warmth of mortals. One bright, white winter’s day, the Snow Maiden came upon a gentle, handsome shepherd named Lel. She grows fond of him, and beseeches Mother Spring to grant her the ability to feel. Her mother is moved by her daughters plight, and blesses her, but the moment the Snow Maiden is struck by the depth of love she feels for Lel, her heart warms, and she melts. Ylang ylang, osmanthus, spring berries, and daffodil cloaked in hoarfrost. SNOW-FLAKES -- Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow. Even as our cloudy fancies take Suddenly shape in some divine expression, Even as the troubled heart doth make In the white countenance confession, The troubled sky reveals The grief it feels. This is the poem of the air, Slowly in silent syllables recorded; This is the secret of despair, Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded, Now whispered and revealed To wood and field. The radiance and desolation of winter. SOL INVICTUS -- Sane, sol et in cloacam radios suos defert nec inquinatur. A radiant blend of solar oils: golden amber, saffron, heliotrope, hibiscus, citron, frangipani, frankincense, tangerine, mock orange, and orange blossom. STARDUST 2006 -- When the holidays roll around, not everyone has mistletoe, caroling and cookies on their minds. This scent is a paean to celebrating hard: nights covered in glitter and dusted with cocaine, flutes of Cristal clutched in shaky hands, leather and lace, the Spiders From Mars in the background, and twisting, sweaty limbs entangled in dark corners. Hairspray and cigarette smoke is the incense in this temple to decadence, strobe and mirrors replace the devotional candles, and Bolan sings the hymns. This scent is for everyone that has every drifted off into Quaalude-induced reverie to the beat of a tribal 4-on-the-floor: the sound of Mott the Hoople, Sweet, Slade or the Dolls. This scent reflects the futurism, self-indulgence and excess of the Glitter 70’s: champagne, hyacinth, tuberose, ylang ylang and flashing white musk with jonquil, tobacco flower, white sandalwood and a pale poppy. THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT -- Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now, -- instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, -- He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, -- that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; -- Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity: And therefore, -- since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, -- I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, To set my brother Clarence and the king In deadly hate the one against the other: And if King Edward be as true and just As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, -- About a prophecy which says that G Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. Dive, thoughts, down to my soul... Embrace your villainy: balsam, myrrh, mandarin orange, bitter clove, artemesia, rosewood, nutmeg, dark musk, smoke and cypress. YULE -- The Holly King and Oak King each hold sway for half of the year, and engage in an epic, eternal battle at Litha and Yule. In truth, they are each a half of the whole – known by many names: Pashupati, Caerwiden, Herne, Pan, Puck, Cernunnos, the Green Man, the Horned God – and as the Holly and Oak Kings represent the light and dark halves of the year, thus do they also represent the light and dark halves of the deity, and thereby, of ourselves. During the darkness of the year, though it seems cold, barren, and bleak, the earth holds the warmth of life deep within itself, and in the depth of its shadows is the eternal promise of renewal and rebirth. It is Yule, and the Holly King has slain the Oak: blood red holly berry, mistletoe, wild thyme, verbena, cinquefoil, hemp, winter rose, evergreen, frankincense, juniper, and myrrh. And that ain’t all for winter. That’s just all for now. Happy Friday the 13th, ladies and gentlemen!

WHITE MOON Look down, fair moon, and bathe this scene; Pour softly down night’s nimbus floods, on faces ghastly, swollen, purple; On the dead, on their backs, with their arms toss’d wide, Pour down your unstinted nimbus, sacred moon. The chill winds and dark skies of November mark a time of reflection and release, and though the sting of grief is oft-times most painful during this portion of the year, the icy air brings clarity and eases the burden of suffering. These are the blossoms of loss and liberation, soothed by the calm, comforting scent of sandalwood : lilac, calla lily, wisteria, white sandalwood, moonflower, night musk, phlox, and violet. White Moon: Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab White Moon: Black Phoenix Trading Post In the skies until October 9, 2006.

http://www.blackphoenixtradingpost.com/ttentries.html We'll keep on posting them over the next few days. =)

Good evening, all! Kindly Moon is going up a few hours early tonight. We’re still in the middle of working on the BPTP update, and I want to get a few more hours of labor into it tonight before I pass out. The Kindly Moon tee will be available when the BPTP update goes live. =) KINDLY MOON Hide this one night thy crescent, kindly Moon; So shall Endymion faithful prove, and rest Loving and unawakened on the breast; So shall no foul enchanter importune Thy quiet course; for now the night is boon, And through the friendly night unseen I fare, Who dread the face of foemen unaware, And watch of hostile spies in the bright noon. Thou knowest, Moon, the bitter power of Love; 'Tis told how shepherd Pan found ways to move, For little price, thy heart; and of your grace, Sweet stars, be kind to this not alien fire, Because on earth ye did not scorn desire, Bethink ye, now ye hold your heavenly place. Utterly ethereal, an exquisite expression of love: moonflower, lotus root, white gardenia, beeswax, peach blossom, blue musk, stargazer lily, golden osmanthus, ti, sandalwood, hyacinth, ylang ylang, and a touch of vanilla bean.

The Black Phoenix perfume pendants are back in stock! Two new tees have also been added for your enjoyment: the Alchemists Local 93, and A Picnic In Arkham: Please note that the babydoll differs for both of these styles. The union logo tee and the Arkham tee are both babydoll crew necks. Please refer to their individual pages for details. There will be another update (Autumn Update 1B) very soon. We're still in the process of photographing the new stock. Please keep your eyes peeled!

As some of you may have noticed, the Halloween update is live. Hey! September 2nd is almost here! Don’t forget to mark “Birthday Spankings For Brian” on your calendars! Some of the BPAL crew is heading out to Vegas for the weekend to celebrate, but fear not: we're only gone Saturday and Sunday, so birthday shennanigans shan't affect order turnaround. Hell, even Lab Rats have to party a little once in a while. The Trading Post will be updating with a new selection of tees tomorrow night, and – at long last! – the lockets are back in stock, and will be available for sale tomorrow evening. The Big Ol’ BPTP Update is slotted for next week, so keep your eyes peeled! Holy moly! Wotta update! Happy Halloweenie, all! For the first time, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has shifted gears with a Limited Edition series, and last year’s Springtime In Arkham has been reborn as the general catalogue section, A Picnic In Arkham. Limited Edition scents are limited for a number of reasons, the most common being cost of production and the limited quantity of component oils used in their manufacture. We have wanted for ages to bring back many of the Arkham scents, but it proved impossible until about a month ago. Since we received the good news, we’ve compiled the scents that we are able to put into constant production and have added a few newcomers. Fergit ants! – night-gaunts are going to be all over those jelly sandwiches of yours! ++ A PICNIC IN ARKHAM AL AZIF An Arabic term that refers to both the chirping of nocturnal insects and the ambient sound made by the chattering of demons. This is the original title of the feared Necronomicon, the Book of Dead Names, penned by the Mad Arab, Abdul Alhazred. Nor is it to be thought that man is either the oldest or the last of earth’s masters, or that the common bulk of life and substances walks alone. The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them, They walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen. Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have trod earth’s fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread. By Their smell can men sometimes know Them near, but of Their semblance can no man know, saving only in the features of those They have begotten on mankind; and of those are there many sorts, differing in likeness from man’s truest eidolon to that shape without sight or substance which is Them. They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where the Words have been spoken and the Rites howled through at their Seasons. The wind gibbers with Their voices, and the earth mutters with Their consciousness. They bend the forest and crush the city, yet may not forest or city behold the hand that smites. Kadath in the cold waste hath known Them, and what man knows Kadath? The ice desert of the South and the sunken isles of Ocean hold stones where Their seal is engraven, but who hath seen the deep frozen city or the sealed tower long garlanded with seaweed and barnacles? Great Cthulhu is Their cousin, yet can he spy Them only dimly. Iä! Shub-Niggurath! As a foulness shall ye know Them. Their hand is at your throats, yet ye see Them not; and Their habitation is even one with your guarded threshold. Yog-Sothoth is the key to the gate, whereby the spheres meet. Man rules now where They ruled once; They shall soon rule where man rules now. After summer is winter, and after winter summer. They wait patient and potent, for here shall They reign again. A sinister, sinuous incense of summoning, a herald and paean to the Primordial Gods of Darkness, Chaos, Madness and Decay. ARKHAM Behind everything crouched the brooding, festering horror of the ancient town, and of the mouldy, unhallowed garret gable where he wrote and studied and wrestled with figures and formulae when he was not tossing on the meager iron bed. His ears were growing sensitive to a preternatural and intolerable degree, and he had long ago stopped the cheap mantel clock whose ticking had come to seem like a thunder of artillery. At night the subtle stirring of the black city outside, the sinister scurrying of rats in the wormy partitions, and the creaking of hidden timbers in the centuried house, were enough to give him a sense of strident pandemonium. The darkness always teemed with unexplained sound - and yet he sometimes shook with fear lest the noises he heard should subside and allow him to hear certain other fainter noises which he suspected were lurking behind them. He was in the changeless, legend-haunted city of Arkham, with its clustering gambrel roofs that sway and sag over attics where witches hid from the King's men in the dark, olden years of the Province. A shadowy, unapproachable forest of maple, birch, dogwood, cypress and pine softened by a garland of New England wildflowers: bergamot, columbine, rue anemone, blue violet, creeping phlox, bloodroot, toadflax, and pixie moss. AZATHOTH The Daemon Sultan, Seething Nuclear Chaos ...that last amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the centre of all infinity -- the boundless daemon-sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin, monotonous whine of accursed flutes; to which detestable pounding and piping dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic ultimate gods, the blind, voiceless, tenebrous, mindless Other Gods whose soul and messenger is the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. Azathoth is the blind, idiot god who sits on a black throne at the center of Chaos. His scent is high-pitched and screeching, both impenetrably dark and searingly bright with the clarity of madness: tangerine, saffron, vetiver, black amber and cedarwood. CTHULHU If I say that my somewhat extravagant imagination yielded simultaneous pictures of an octopus, a dragon, and a human caricature, I shall not be unfaithful to the spirit of the thing. A pulpy, tentacled head surmounted a grotesque and scaly body with rudimentary wings... It represented a monster of vaguely anthropoid outline, but with an octopus-like head whose face was a mass of feelers, a scaly, rubbery-looking body, prodigious claws on hind and fore feet, and long, narrow wings behind. This thing, which seemed instinct with a fearsome and unnatural malignancy, was of a somewhat bloated corpulence... A creeping, wet, slithering scent, dripping with seaweed, oceanic plants and dark, unfathomable waters. THE HIGH PRIEST NOT TO BE DESCRIBED ...and there... sat a lumpish figure robed in yellow silk with red and having a yellow silken mask over its face. To this being the slant-eyed man made certain signs with his hands, and the lurker in the dark replied by raising a disgustingly carven flute of ivory in silk covered paws and blowing certain loathesome sounds from beneath its flowing silken mask. Monastic incense, blood musk, black leather, cypress, pimento, white pepper, and Roman chamomile. MISKATONIC UNIVERSITY A venerable New England university, whose vast library holds many rare, diabolical and obscure arcane works, including one of the few surviving legitimate copies of the Necronomicon. Home to innumerable scholars of the esoteric and the occult, and the notorious Dr. Herbert West. The scent of Irish coffee, dusty tomes and polished oakwood halls. THE MUSIC OF ERICH ZAHN Louder and louder, wilder and wilder, mounted the shrieking and whining of that desperate viol. The player was dripping with an uncanny perspiration and twisted like a monkey, always looking frantically at the curtained window. In his frenzied strains I could almost see shadowy satyrs and bacchanals dancing and whirling insanely through seething abysses of clouds and smoke and lightning. And then I thought I heard a shriller, steadier note that was not from the viol; a calm, deliberate, purposeful, mocking note from far away in the West. A ghoulish and tortured scent, suffused with the blackness of space illimitable: ajowan, vetiver, black musk, opoponax, mimosa, and tamarind. NIGHT-GAUNT No one ever found what the night-gaunts took, though those beasts themselves were so uncertain as to be almost fabulous. Carter asked them if night-gaunts sucked blood and liked shiny things and left webbed footprints, but they all shook their heads negatively and seemed frightened at his making such an inquiry. When he saw how taciturn they had become he asked them no more, but went to sleep in his blanket. Their scent of their slick, rubbery hides is bittersweet, ticklish, and skin-creeping: something akin to yuzu, white grapefruit, and kumquat mixed with the snow-dusted flowers of Mount Ngranek. SHOGGOTH It was a terrible, indescribable thing vaster than any subway train – a shapeless congerie of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and un-forming as pustules of greenish light all over the tunnel-filling front that bore down upon us, crushing the frantic penguins and slithering over the glistening floor that it and its kind had swept so evilly free of all litter. An amorphous, radiant, incandescent scent. Ever changing, protoplasmic and primordial: white amber, green coconut meat, iris, palmarosa, Chinese peony, lime, water lily, snowdrop, muguet, lemongrass, osmanthus, wisteria, glassy musk, and hinoki. Y'HA-NTHLEI We shall swim out to that brooding reef in the sea and dive down through black abysses to Cyclopean and many-columned Y'ha-nthlei, and in that lair of the Deep Ones we shall dwell amidst wonder and glory for ever. A great undersea metropolis located below Devil's Reef. A swirling, lightless, effervescent scent: the deepest marine notes with bergamot, eucalyptus and foamy ambergris. R'lyeh and Nyarlathotep have been pulled from Wanderlust and Excolo, respectively, and have been put into their proper place. If possible, we will be incorporating some of the other original Springtime scents, but at this point, I’m not making any promises. This is the traditional onset of the Halloween season at BPAL, and this year’s Halloweenie LE offerings are: ++ HALLOWEENIE ALL SAINTS 2006 Based on a venerable French pontifical incense blend: monastic frankincense and myrrh, Damascus rose, Russian gardenia, cassia, and lily of the valley wafting on a chill Autumn wind. A celebration of the glory and suffering of the saints and matryrs of the Church. ALL SOULS 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. CREEPY This season’s Ridiculous Scent! As creepy as Spooky was spooky, this is the scent of butterscotch-kissed, caramel-smothered red apples spiked with a blast of coconut rum. DEVIL’S NIGHT 2006 Devil’s Eve, Devil’s Night, Gate Night, Trick Night, Mischief Night; whatever your name for it might be, the chaos is still the same. Contrary to popular belief, this festival of pandemonium isn’t unique to Detroit. Falling on October 30th, it is an evening of mayhem and destruction. On the gentler side, it may be celebrated by practical jokes, an egging, Ding-Dong-Ditch, or enthusiastic TP’ing of your most hated neighbor’s trees, and on the more violent side, arson and vandalism. This is the scent of autumn night, fires in the distance, with a touch of boozy swoon, playful sugar and thuggish musk. DIA DE LOS MUERTOS 2006 A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte… Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fêted, as the celebrant "…chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love." This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda: dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus. PUMPKIN QUEEN The Glorious Grand Dame of the Pumpkin Patch! Regal Egyptian Amber, red ginger, orange peel, mandarin, cardamom, fig leaf and warm pumpkin. PUNKIE NIGHT 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 2006 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. SAMHAINOPHOBIA The fear of Halloween. Menacing Haitian vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves. SUGAR SKULL 2006 Vibrant with the joy and sweetness of life in death! A blend of five sugars, lightly dusted with candied fruits. The Pumpkin Patch is being revisited, and the whole kit and caboodle of pumpkinny goodness can be yours for $75! PUMPKIN PATCH REVISITED Pumpkin with apple cider and mulling spice. Pumpkin with cocoa, hazelnut and walnut. Pumpkin and pomegranate. Pumpkin with sandalwood and orris. Pumpkin with five woods, English ivy and galangal root. In addition, we are paying an autumnal visit to Transylvania with a Limited Edition subseries, The Order of the Dragon: ++ THE ORDER OF THE DRAGON THE BLOODY SWORD Blood is too precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace, and the glories of the great races are as a tale that is told. A distillation of force, conquest, power and fury: dragon’s blood, myrrh, black pepper, labdanum, benzoin, leather, fire, and steel. THE BRIDES OF DRACULA In the moonlight opposite me were three young women, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought at the time that I must be dreaming when I saw them, they threw no shadow on the floor. They came close to me, and looked at me for some time, and then whispered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes, that seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The other was fair, as fair as can be, with great masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the moment how or where. All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips. It is not good to note this down, lest some day it should meet Mina's eyes and cause her pain, but it is the truth. They whispered together, and then they all three laughed, such a silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have come through the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable, tingling sweetness of waterglasses when played on by a cunning hand. Unquenchable desire, seething lust, malevolent sexuality, and voracious hunger lurking beneath a shimmering veil of unearthly beauty: gleaming skin musk, honey and white amber, plum blossom, osmanthus, sandalwood, calla lily, and a light, sensual blend of Eastern spices. I lay quiet, looking out from under my eyelashes in an agony of delightful anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bent over me till I could feel the movement of her breath upon me. Sweet it was in one sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through the nerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood. I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal, till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining on the scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it lapped the white sharp teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed to fasten on my throat. Then she paused, and I could hear the churning sound of her tongue as it licked her teeth and lips, and I could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then the skin of my throat began to tingle as one's flesh does when the hand that is to tickle it approaches nearer, nearer. I could feel the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the super sensitive skin of my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there. I closed my eyes in languorous ecstasy and waited, waited with beating heart. CARFAX ABBEY "At Purfleet, on a byroad, I came across just such a place as seemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated notice that the place was for sale. It was surrounded by a high wall, of ancient structure, built of heavy stones, and has not been repaired for a large number of years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak and iron, all eaten with rust. "The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old Quatre Face, as the house is four sided, agreeing with the cardinal points of the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres, quite surrounded by the solid stone wall above mentioned. There are many trees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water is clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house is very large and of all periods back, I should say, to mediaeval times, for one part is of stone immensely thick, with only a few windows high up and heavily barred with iron. It looks like part of a keep, and is close to an old chapel or church. I could not enter it, as I had not the key of the door leading to it from the house, but I have taken with my Kodak views of it from various points. The house had been added to, but in a very straggling way, and I can only guess at the amount of ground it covers, which must be very great. There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very large house only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic asylum. It is not, however, visible from the grounds." The scent of abandoned places, of desolation and emptiness: heavy woods and thin dusty herbs touched by the wafting incense of a nearby chapel. THE CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Right and left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing out all the glorious colours of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and brown where grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains, through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm as we swept round the base of a hill and opened up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as we wound on our serpentine way, to be right before us. Mountain air and the scent of crisp snow blanketing the mountain’s flora: Scottish fir, beech, cembra and mugho pine, rhododendron, currant, honeysuckle, raspberry leaf, dwarf juniper, sedge, meadow grass, snowdrop, rose bay, lily of the valley, starwort, lichen and mosses. "My friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land. -- Your friend, Dracula." THE CASTLE The view was magnificent, and from where I stood there was every opportunity of seeing it. The castle is on the very edge of a terrific precipice. A stone falling from the window would fall a thousand feet without touching anything! As far as the eye can reach is a sea of green tree tops, with occasionally a deep rift where there is a chasm. Here and there are silver threads where the rivers wind in deep gorges through the forests. But I am not in heart to describe beauty, for when I had seen the view I explored further. Doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all locked and bolted. In no place save from the windows in the castle walls is there an available exit. The castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner! A distant whisper of pine, wet moss and dry leaves passing through vast halls and winding dungeons whose scent bears the memory of blood, faded splendor, imperial elegance and stunning violence. COUNT DRACULA He must, indeed, have been that Voivode Dracula who won his name against the Turk, over the great river on the very frontier of Turkeyland. If it be so, then was he no common man, for in that time, and for centuries after, he was spoken of as the cleverest and the most cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons of the 'land beyond the forest.' That mighty brain and that iron resolution went with him to his grave, and are even now arrayed against us. The Draculas were, says Arminius, a great and noble race, though now and again were scions who were held by their coevals to have had dealings with the Evil One. They learned his secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the mountains over Lake Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due. In the records are such words as 'stregoica' witch, 'ordog' and 'pokol' Satan and hell, and in one manuscript this very Dracula is spoken of as 'wampyr,' which we all understand too well. There have been from the loins of this very one great men and good women, and their graves make sacred the earth where alone this foulness can dwell. For it is not the least of its terrors that this evil thing is rooted deep in all good, in soil barren of holy memories it cannot rest. The essence of nobility, brutality and true Will made flesh and propelled through the eons by an ever-burning hatred: black patchouli, neroli, tonka, cinnamon, bitter clove, leather, black musk, coffin wood and fiery ginger. JOHNATHAN HARKER Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a hysterical way: "Must you go? Oh! Young Herr, must you go?" She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at all. I was just able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told her that I must go at once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked again: "Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth of May. She shook her head as she said again: "Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it is?" On my saying that I did not understand, she went on: "It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?" She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally, she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting. It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go. She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to me. I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind. She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round my neck and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of the room. A respectable gentleman’s scent: lavender, iris, white tea, verbena and white sandalwood. QUINCEY MORRIS Well, my dear, number Two came after lunch. He is such a nice fellow, an American from Texas, and he looks so young and so fresh that it seems almost impossible that he has been to so many places and has such adventures… I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him. I know now what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't, for there was Mr. Morris telling us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and yet… My dear, I am somewhat previous. Mr. Quincy P. Morris found me alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could, I am not ashamed to say it now. I must tell you beforehand that Mr. Morris doesn't always speak slang, that is to say, he never does so to strangers or before them, for he is really well educated and has exquisite manners, but he found out that it amused me to hear him talk American slang, and whenever I was present, and there was no one to be shocked, he said such funny things. I am afraid, my dear, he has to invent it all, for it fits exactly into whatever else he has to say. But this is a way slang has. I do not know myself if I shall ever speak slang. I do not know if Arthur likes it, as I have never heard him use any as yet. Well, Mr. Morris sat down beside me and looked as happy and jolly as he could, but I could see all the same that he was very nervous. He took my hand in his, and said ever so sweetly… "Miss Lucy, I know I ain't good enough to regulate the fixin's of your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that is you will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you quit. Won't you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the long road together, driving in double harness?" Rough on the edges, but possessing the true essence of valor and nobility of spirit: tobacco, vanilla, white pear, cedar, rugged musk and saddle leather. WILHELMINA MURRAY With his left hand he held both Mrs. Harker's hands, keeping them away with her arms at full tension. His right hand gripped her by the back of the neck, forcing her face down on his bosom. Her white nightdress was smeared with blood, and a thin stream trickled down the man's bare chest which was shown by his torn-open dress. The attitude of the two had a terrible resemblance to a child forcing a kitten's nose into a saucer of milk to compel it to drink. Tea rose, white sandalwood and a flurry of pale, virginal blossoms, smeared with a smoky, blood-soiled blend of myrrh, hyacinth, Daemonorops resin, dark musk and blackcurrant. Van Helsing, Art, and I moved forward to Mrs. Harker, who by this time had drawn her breath and with it had given a scream so wild, so ear-piercing, so despairing that it seems to me now that it will ring in my ears till my dying day. For a few seconds she lay in her helpless attitude and disarray. Her face was ghastly, with a pallor which was accentuated by the blood which smeared her lips and cheeks and chin. From her throat trickled a thin stream of blood. Her eyes were mad with terror. Then she put before her face her poor crushed hands, which bore on their whiteness the red mark of the Count's terrible grip, and from behind them came a low desolate wail which made the terrible scream seem only the quick expression of an endless grief. R.M. RENFIELD R. M, Renfield, age 59. Sanguine temperament, great physical strength, morbidly excitable, periods of gloom, ending in some fixed idea which I cannot make out. I presume that the sanguine temperament itself and the disturbing influence end in a mentally-accomplished finish, a possibly dangerous man, probably dangerous if unselfish. In selfish men caution is as secure an armour for their foes as for themselves. What I think of on this point is, when self is the fixed point the centripetal force is balanced with the centrifugal. When duty, a cause, etc., is the fixed point, the latter force is paramount, and only accident or a series of accidents can balance it. Unhinged: moss, cumin, patchouli, Balsam of Peru, and neroli. DR. JOHN SEWARD Well, my dear, number One came just before lunch. I told you of him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic asylum man, with the strong jaw and the good forehead. He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all sorts of little things, and remembered them, but he almost managed to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream. He spoke to me, Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, though he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me to help and cheer him. He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said he was a brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off and asked if I could love him in time, and when I shook my head his hands trembled, and then with some hesitation he asked me if I cared already for any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did not want to wring my confidence from me, but only to know, because if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope. And then, Mina, I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only told him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that If I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of my best. Penetrating and gifted, vulnerable, with just a hint of opium-blurred delirium: poppy smoke, champaca flower, tonka, sandalwood, ginger, white pepper. LUCY WESTENRA When Lucy, I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it bore her shape, saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a cat gives when taken unawares, then her eyes ranged over us. Lucy's eyes in form and color, but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of hell fire, instead of the pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant of my love passed into hate and loathing. Had she then to be killed, I could have done it with savage delight. As she looked, her eyes blazed with unholy light, and the face became wreathed with a voluptuous smile. Oh, God, how it made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion, she flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to now she had clutched strenuously to her breast, growling over it as a dog growls over a bone. The child gave a sharp cry, and lay there moaning. There was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur. When she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his face in his hands. She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous grace, said, "Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!" A wanton beauty, corrupt, hypnotic, seductive, and feral: magnolia, iris, Moroccan rose, frankincense, crushed jasmine blossom, blood orange, tobacco flower and white musk. A million thanks to the mods of the bpal.org indy forum for all their help with this update! Black Moon and Schwarzer Mond are staying live for a few extra days, and will be coming down on August 31, 2006. It is $25 per 5ml bottle of Black Moon or Schwarzer Mond or $45 for both moons. The Order of the Dragon and the Halloweenies will be live/undead until December 1, 2006, and as always, no imp's ears are available for Limited Edition scents.

The Dark Moon is a time of secrets and hidden truths, of veils and binding, justice and revenge. It is sacred to the Crone, and to Gods and Goddesses of magick, death, and mysteries. The Black Moon has many meanings, but in any incarnation, it signifies a swelling of power. To us, it is the Blue Moon’s dark sister. We at Black Phoenix present two interpretations of the Black Moon’s energy: Black Moon: Beth’s Creation The absence of light: motia attar, black orchid, mugwort, English pear, cucumber, blue lotus, jonquil, massoia, calamus and crystal musk. Schwarzer Mond: Brian’s Creation The keeper of secrets: opoponax, Tunisian black amber, night musk, antique patchouli, zdravetz, terebinth, myrrh, and Pimenta racemosa.

Bumping.

Short notice, yeah, but.... http://www.sunsetjunction.org/

Please do not ply non-BPAL / TAL / BPTP vials, bottles, lockets, etc on eBay or in private sales using our name. Using “BPAL” or “for Black Phoenix” to sell items that are NOT BPAL / Black Phoenix items is extremely uncool, and bothers the hell out of us. It just isn’t a neighborly thing... using our name to sell items. It is keyword spamming, and that isn’t nice. This practice is extremely disrespectful to us as a company, and frankly, I’m tired of letting it slide. When you are decanting, please do us the courtesy of using our name on the label. We are the ones that created the oils, blend the oils, and sell the oils, and while we have no problem with aftermarket sales in general, though we strongly frown at the concept of professional reselling, please realize that credit goes where credit is due. Putting your name on a decant of a BPAL or TAL oil is simply unacceptable. If we have to start cracking down on unacceptable secondary sales and trademark infringement, we will. There’s a fine line between being kind and accepting and being played for fools. Once again, I’d like to remind some people to please treat us the same way that they would wish to be treated. Golden rule, etc. Thank you for understanding, and thank you for treating us with respect.

On September 15th, we'll be painting the town red at Lemming Central. Please join us there for chat, questions, and all that fun stuff.

Chrysanthemum Moon is leaving Black Phoenix Trading Post this evening, between 10pm and midnight. Please make any of your CM tee purchases before that time. Thank you!

10ml's will be off the site as of 12.01am, one minute into August 11th, PST.

As of Chrysanthemum Moon, our monthly Lunacy will stretch from a single 24-hour period to three days. As many of you know, A Little Lunacy is a monthly rotating Limited Edition series that BPAL started in June 2004. On the night of the Full Moon – and now, beginning on the night prior to the Full Moon and running through the night after the Full Moon – we present a scent to our clients that is dedicated to the season that moon falls within, the mythological theme of that moon, the agricultural or mystic rituals that mark the day, or holy days that fall at that time. And sometimes, as is with the case of Chrysanthemum Moon, we go in strange directions. Moon, moon, moon. I typed that word a lot, didn’t I? Why three days? Well, we want to make things as painless as possible for our clients and, as Shollin (from the bpal indy forum) said, "Hey, if it's good enough for werewolves, it's good enough for the Lunacy." Agreed! The 10mls and F5 will be going the way of the dodo when Chrysanthemum Moon vanishes: minutes into August 11th, PST. As a small reminder, CT:3 and Et Lux Fuit will be coming down on the 15th, and the Halloween update is going live later this month. Chrysanthemum Moon is also live at the Black Phoenix Trading Post. I went to an opium den and all I got was this lousy t-shirt! A stunningly seedy rendition of the sign that adorns Carnaval Diabolique's most notorious opium den, Chrysanthemum Moon. Another morbid memento by the glorious Jennifer Williamson. Deep brown distressed ink with golden glitter highlights. Due to the glittery goodness and multiple colors, the price for this tee is slightly higher: Crew neck - $17.00 Babydoll - $22.00 3X Crew Neck - $19.00 I truly hope that everyone enjoys the direction that we went with this Lunacy!

Chrysanthemum Moon is going live tonight. From now on, A Little Lunacy will be running over 72 hours instead of the usual 24. Details 'round midnight.