kebechet

Worm Moon 2014 has been unearthed! WORM MOON 2014 Do not smirk as a hearse goes by, For you may be the next to die. They wrap you up in a big white sheet And throw you down six feet deep. They put you in a big black box, And cover you up with dirt and rocks. All goes well for a week or two, Then things start changing; all is new. The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, The worms play pinochle on your snout. A big green worm with rolling eyes, Crawls in your stomach and out your eyes. Til your blood turns mossy green And oozes out like Devonshire cream. Worm Moon marks the season of rains, when the worms scuttle forth, aerating the earth with their movements and enriching the soil by digesting waste in organic material, which creates organic fertilizer. This is a melding of Victorian Grotesquery and springtime fecundity: mold-crusted dirt, decomposing organic matter, coffin wood, drooping funeral flowers, grave bricks, congealed blood, wreaths of laurel and boxwood, gloomy lunar oils, and cuckoo flower with something moist lurking underneath. Plus, four new scents from Gail Potocki’s Fragmented Alice series are live on the Century Guild site! FRACTURED SINGULARITY Tobacco flower, saffron crocus, myrrh, ambergris accord, and a touch of vetiver grass. WHAT OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN A RED ROSE TREE White roses, white almond, and white tea leaf saturated with dragon’s blood resin. WHO IN THE WORLD AM I Sheer vanilla, hinoki wood, lavender, bergamot, cotton blossom, and lightly spiced oriental blossoms. YOUTH’S DISENGAGEMENT Marshmallow root, vanilla cream, black ginger, Rainier cherries, white sandalwood, anise seed, and red currants.

Every few years, we have to be practical and take a look at what's selling and what's stagnant, and sadly, that information sometimes determines whether or not a scent can stay in our catalogue. It’s a rough process, and an extremely emotional one for me. Every scent we have is precious to me in its own way: every single one is a product of absolute love and tremendous labor, and each, in its own way, signifies a point in my life. Every scent /means something/ to me, and every one is personal. It is with immense sadness that I’m announcing a mass discontinuation. Just shy of fifty scents will be discontinued. We need to make room for new products, and honestly – it just doesn’t make sense for us to keep holding on to scents that simply do not move, and I cannot bring new products into the general catalogue until there is – literally – room in the Lab to store the product. An issue came up on FB, and I want to address it here, too – One of the reasons that we have had to concentrate on LE’s as opposed to expanding the general catalogue is due to component issues that have ramped up since the economy imploded. As most of you know, we work with many small companies, much like our own, and the economic downturn hasn’t been gentle. Many mom & pop distillers have gone under or condensed the range of what they produce, which leads to instability in the components that we can rely on getting with any regularity. This could, of course, be solved in part by leaving the small companies we work with behind in favor of larger, more stable corporations, but that’s not how we roll. The circumstances that we’ve been confronted with these past few years has made it difficult for us to put out any GC’s without having to worry about possibly discontinuing them within the span of a few months. We’ve even had problems in the past few years with stable production within the timeframe of our limited runs – how could we, in good conscience, risk making GC additions under those conditions? I added five GC’s in this update, and the two Inspiration scents a few months ago. The industry seems to be stabilizing, which is giving me a little bit more confidence in our ability to add to the main catalogue. Hopefully things stay stable. So, without further ado, here is the list of what is going on the chopping block: Black Hellebore Honey Bluebeard Death Horse Delphi Devil's Claw Dian's Bud Dove's Heart Dragon's Eye Ehecatl Ekhidna Epitaph Forbidden Fruit Grandmother of Ghosts Hairy Toad Lily Horse Chestnut Honey House of Night Hurricane Iambe Jezirat Kuang Shi Laurel Honey L'ecole Des Filles L'Examen Love-Lies-Bleeding Love's Torment Mandrake Manila Meliai Peitho Pool of Tears Saturnalia Serpent's Kiss Slobbering Pine Sluggard Temptation To A Woman Tobacco Honey Ulalume Umbra Versailles Whoso List to Hunt Wolfsbane Ya-te-vo Yellow Jessamine Honey Yew-Trees I know this is going to come as a disappointment to some, and I am truly sorry. The scents listed here are not being discontinued due to component issues (with the exception of one), so there is some chance that, in the future, they may make guest appearances as a Resurrected. These scents will be discontinued when Lupercalia comes down on March 18th. Thank you so much for your patience and understanding!

Happy Lunar New Year! Wood Horse is live! WOOD HORSE A new year's blessing! Peony, China's national flower, with bamboo for flexibility, plum blossom for perseverance, courage, and hope, tangerine for wealth, orange for happiness, lychee for household peace, pine resin for constancy, golden kumquat and pomelo for prosperity, narcissus and King mandarin for good fortune, cypress for longevity, sticky rice cakes for abundance and hopes for a rich, sweet life, and a splash of blazing red of dragon's blood... to help you scare away the rampaging Nian. May you realize your ambitions. May your wealth fill a palace. May your happiness be limitless. … and may you have everlasting peace this year, and every year to follow! Love is in the air! --- or, at least, a reasonable facsimile. February is rushing upon us, and that can only mean one thing ‘round these parts… Lupercalia. This season, we have invited a selection of love and lust deities to join us in Excolo: ANTEROS When he is with the lover, both cease from their pain, but when he is away then he longs as he is longed for, and has love's image, Anteros lodging in his breast, which he calls and believes to be not love but friendship only, and his desire is as the desire of the other, but weaker; he wants to see him, touch him, kiss him, embrace him, and probably not long afterwards his desire is accomplished. The God of Love Returned and avenger of unrequited love, Anteros is Eros’ brother – one of the Twin Cupids – and was given to Eros by his mother, for without reciprocal affection, love will wither. He wields lead arrows and a hammer of gold, and he wields his weapons to inspire mutual ardor and smite those who spurn love. His scent pierces the heart with glimmering shards of rapture and the sweet ache of passion: throbbing red musk and shimmering chypre with saffron, sweet patchouli, Italian bergamot, red currant, and vanilla bean. HEDYLOGOS Child of Aphrodite and Ares, Hedylogos is the God of Sweet Talk and Flattery. His gilded words are perfumed with honeyed rose and the quicksilver scent of mastic and olibanum. QANDISA The Moroccan Goddess of Carnal Desire. Dwelling in fresh-water springs and rivers, she is doom: her embrace drives men mad with mindless lust. Sacrifices are made to the Lady of Lust on the Summer Solstice in the hopes of placating her passions and driving her red-tinged gaze away. Black musk, blackened saffron, lemon peel, and vetiver draped over thick honey. SJÖFN Seventh is Sjofn. She is much concerned to direct people's minds to love, both women and men. Our song to the Norse Goddess of Love is scented with apples and birch and bound with apple blossoms. TLAZOLTEOTL It is the lady of midnight and she has arrived! She of Two Faces, She Who Eats Filth, the Death Caused by Lust – Tlazolteotl - is the Aztec goddess of the regenerative function of the earth, human sexuality, and fertility. She represents the active female principle in the eternal cycle of life feeding death and death feeding life. Her arms, dressed in flayed skins, embrace mirrored principles of sin and purification: she inspires lust, depravity, overindulgence, vice, lechery, and licentiousness, and is also empowered to cleanse and forgive moral, spiritual, and fleshly sins. Her scent is a melding of her symbols and offerings: chapapote and black copal with cacao, black honey, maize, and cotton blossoms. Our main Lupercalia update contains some new loves alongside a few old flames, plus a selection of Black Phoenix scents transformed into chocolate-covered delicacies -- ++ LUPERCALIA 2014 THE EXPIRATION So, so breake off this last lamenting kisse, Which sucks two soules, and vapours Both away, Turne thou ghost that way, and let mee turne this, And let our selves benight our happiest day, We ask’d none leave to love; nor will we owe Any, so cheape a death, as saying, Goe; Goe; and if that word have not quite kil’d thee, Ease mee with death, by bidding mee goe too. Oh, if it have, let my word worke on mee, And a just office on a murderer doe. Except it be too late, to kill me so, Being double dead, going, and bidding, goe. - John Donne The last lamenting kiss: velvet red rose absolute with sweet myrrh, amber honey, and red sandalwood. FROM YOU I HAVE BEEN ABSENT IN THE SPRING From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play. - Sonnet 98, William Shakespeare White lilies, vermillion roses, vanilla orchid, sweet clove, white frankincense, velvety brown oudh, cistus, styrax, aged red patchouli, and a hint of black peppercorn. LOVE AND SLEEP Lying asleep between the strokes of night I saw my love lean over my sad bed, Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head, Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite, Too wan for blushing and too warm for white, But perfect-coloured without white or red. And her lips opened amorously, and said - I wist not what, saving one word - Delight. And all her face was honey to my mouth, And all her body pasture to mine eyes; The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south, The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire. - Algernon Swinburne Fig milk, vanilla, orchid, and ylang ylang. LUPERCI 2014 Piss off, Saint Valentine! Lupercalia is an ancient Roman celebration, held on February 15th, that kicked in the advent of Spring with a very, very festive purification, fertility and sexuality ritual. The ritual began near the cave of Lupercal on the Palatine, an area sacred to Faunus, as well as Ruminia, Romulus and Remus. During Lupercalia, Vestal Virgins first made offerings of sacred cakes to the fig tree under which the she-wolf suckled the Sacred Twins. A dog and two goats were then offered in sacrifice to Faunus. The blood of the sacrifice was smeared onto two naked patrician youths, who were assisted by the Virgins, and the blood was wiped clean with sacred wool dipped in milk. The youths donned the skins of the sacrificial goats, wielding whips made from the goat skins, and then led the priests and the Virgins around the pomarium, and around the base hills of Rome. This was a ceremony of great happiness and merriment, and was of particular interest to young women: being touched by the goat-whips young men that led the procession ensured their fertility in the coming year. It is believed that, after the initial rite, male participants would draw the name of an available maiden, with whom he spent the rest of the night. This scent is for the Luperci, the Chosen of Faunus, the Brothers of the Wolf: raw, down and dirty patchouli, Gurjam balsam, and essence of Sampson Root sweetened with the heightened sexuality of beeswax, virile juniper, oakmoss, ambrette seed over honey and East African musk. SAINT FOUTIN DE VARAILLES 2014 Echoing the worship of ancient fertility gods, some early Christians attributed the power to grant blessings of reproductive fruitfulness to Christian saints through accidents of folk-etymology. A syncretic saint of questionable origin, he is possibly the result of a merging of the deity Priapus, or Mutinus Mutunus, and the sainted, semi-mythical first bishop of Lyons, Ponthius, often pronounced Fontin by the common folk of France where his veneration was concentrated. Saint Foutin's name is an amalgamation of Pothinus and the verb foutre, which means "to fuck", effectively granting this saint the prerogatives and powers of his predecessor, Priapus. Saint Foutin was said to cure venereal diseases and other genital maladies, grant fruitfulness to women, and restore potency to men. Scrapings of stone from the groin of one of the saint's statues in France was said to cure all sexual ailments. At other shrines, offerings of wine were poured onto the saint's penis, and worshippers molded ex votos in wax shaped to represent their afflicted body parts to leave in his care, either at the foot of his statue or hanging from the roof of his shrine. Beeswax, frankincense, dried rose petals, and a dribble of wine. THE SICK ROSE O Rose thou art sick. The invisible worm, That flies in the night In the howling storm: Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. - William Blake A perfect red rose darkened by vetiver, opium tar, labdanum, and red benzoin. THERE IS A GARDEN IN HER FACE There is a garden in her face Where roses and white lilies blow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow: There cherries grow which none may buy Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry. Those cherries fairly do enclose Of orient pearl a double row, Which when her lovely laughter shows, They look like rose-buds filled with snow; Yet them no peer nor prince can buy Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry. Her eyes like angels watch them still; Her brows like bended bows do stand, Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill All that attempt with eye or hand Those sacred cherries to come nigh, Till “Cherry-ripe” themselves do cry. - Thomas Campion Ethereal grace in earthly form: cherry blossoms, pink roses, and graceful white lilies under a sheen of pale honey. THRICE TOSS THESE OAKEN ASHES Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air, Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair, Then thrice three times tie up this true love's knot, And murmur soft "She will, or she will not." Go burn these pois'nous weeds in yon blue fire, These screech-owl's feathers and this prickling briar, This cypress gathered at a dead man's grave, That all my fears and cares an end may have. Then come, you fairies! dance with me a round; Melt her hard heart with your melodious sound. In vain are all the charms I can devise: She hath an art to break them with her eyes. Apple peel and oak ash, briar thorns and pine ash, and cypress gathered at a dead man’s grave. VALENTINE OF ROME 2014 Many legends surround St. Valentine, and history has yet to show, conclusively, which ones are true and which are fiction. One tale claims that Valentine was a 3rd century Christian priest. When Emperor Claudius II declared that his soldiers were never to marry - the emperor believed that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and children - Valentine continued to perform wedding ceremonies in secret. When the emperor learned of Valentine's disobedience, he imprisoned the priest. The emperor chose to interrogate the priest himself, and despite his fury at his orders being flagrantly disobeyed, he was impressed with the priest's intelligence, wisdom, and passion. He attempted to convert the priest to the Roman faith, and was furious when he failed. While incarcerated, Valentine fell in love with his jailor's blind daughter. Through God's grace and the power of Valentine's pure and true love for this woman, he was able to cure her blindness with a touch. Before he was beaten and beheaded, he sent her a letter expressing his feelings for her, signed 'From Your Valentine'. Ecclesiastical incense, Roman flora, and the fruits of martyrdom: cypress, olive blossom, frankincense, myrrh, and blood accord. THE VOICE Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me, Saying that now you are not as you were When you had changed from the one who was all to me, But as at first, when our day was fair. Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then, Standing as when I drew near to the town Where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then, Even to the original air-blue gown! Or is it only the breeze, in its listlessness Travelling across the wet mead to me here, You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness, Heard no more again far or near? Thus I; faltering forward, Leaves around me falling, Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward, And the woman calling. - Thomas Hardy Longing and loss: fallen leaves, the memory of pale roses, and long-ago dried tears. WOMB FURIE 2013 In the middle of the flanks of women lies the womb, a female viscus, closely resembling an animal; for it is moved of itself hither and thither in the flanks, also upwards in a direct line to below the cartilage of the thorax and also obliquely to the right or to the left, either to the liver or spleen; and it likewise is subject to falling downwards, and, in a word, it is altogether erratic. It delights, also, in fragrant smells, and advances towards them; and it has an aversion to fetid smells, and flees from them; and on the whole the womb is like an animal within an animal. -- Aretaeus the Cappadocian Oh, that wily womb! Hippocrates and his followers considered the womb a mobile creature, causing mayhem as it writhed its way through a woman's body. Sometimes this ornery organ, due to lack of sexual activity, would create conflicts within a woman's system or would become blocked itself, causing anxiety, nervousness, water retention, and sleeplessness. With the assistance of doctors, nursemaids, hand tools, or, occasionally, self-manipulation, this vexing condition could be alleviated through hysterical paroxysms. Or, as we call it nowadays: orgasm. An itch that needs to be scratched: Snake Oil and three types of honey. ++ LUPERCALIA: BOX OF BONBONS ABSINTHE BONBON Wormwood essence, light mints, cardamom, anise, hyssop, and the barest hint of lemon embraced by white chocolate. BLOOD KISS BONBON Dark chocolate and lush, creamy vanilla and the honey of the sweetest kiss smeared with the vital throb of husky clove, swollen red cherries, but darkened with the vampiric sensuality of vetiver, soporific poppy and blood red wine, and a skin-light pulse of feral musk. DEADLY NIGHTSHADE HONEY BONBON Nightshade accord-infused summer honey encased in dark chocolate. LUST BONBON Uncontrollable passion and insatiable sexual desire: red musk, patchouli, ylang ylang and myrrh surrounded by smoky cinnamon-dusted cacao. TWEEDLEDUM BONBON Absurd! Green mango, fig, patchouli and green tea with white chocolate and white hazelnut cream. Because I adore Swinburne with the force of a thousand (tortured, gloomy, Byronic) fiery suns, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is singing his paean to love in death -- ++ LUPERCALIA: A BALLAD OF DEATH My master that was thrall to Love Is become thrall to Death. KNEEL DOWN, FAIR LOVE, AND FILL THYSELF WITH TEARS Kneel down, fair Love, and fill thyself with tears, Girdle thyself with sighing for a girth Upon the sides of mirth, Cover thy lips and eyelids, let thine ears Be filled with rumour of people sorrowing; Make thee soft raiment out of woven sighs Upon the flesh to cleave, Set pains therein and many a grievous thing, And many sorrows after each his wise For armlet and for gorget and for sleeve. A soft raiment of woven sighs: gossamer orris root and silken white magnolia over a sheer dove-grey musk. O LOVE AND TIME AND SIN O Love's lute heard about the lands of death, Left hanged upon the trees that were therein; O Love and Time and Sin, Three singing mouths that mourn now underbreath, Three lovers, each one evil spoken of; O smitten lips wherethrough this voice of mine Came softer with her praise; Abide a little for our lady's love. The kisses of her mouth were more than wine, And more than peace the passage of her days. Love and Time and Sin: red rose, Saturnian opoponax, and red musk. THE SUNLIGHT AND THE MOONLIGHT FAIL FROM THEE O Love, thou knowest if she were good to see. O Time, thou shalt not find in any land Till, cast out of thine hand, The sunlight and the moonlight fail from thee, Another woman fashioned like as this. O Sin, thou knowest that all thy shame in her Was made a goodly thing; Yea, she caught Shame and shamed him with her kiss, With her fair kiss, and lips much lovelier Than lips of amorous roses in late spring. Blood red lilies, white frankincense, black pepper, and tuberose. QUEEN VENUS WITH A HOOD STRIPED GOLD AND BLACK By night there stood over against my bed Queen Venus with a hood striped gold and black, Both sides drawn fully back From brows wherein the sad blood failed of red, And temples drained of purple and full of death. Her curled hair had the wave of sea-water And the sea's gold in it. Her eyes were as a dove's that sickeneth. Strewn dust of gold she had shed over her, And pearl and purple and amber on her feet. Rose oudh with fossilized amber, benzoin, blackened labdanum, golden myrrh, and dark musk. WEEPING FACES OF WEARIED LOVES Upon her raiment of dyed sendaline Were painted all the secret ways of love And covered things thereof, That hold delight as grape-flowers hold their wine; Red mouths of maidens and red feet of doves, And brides that kept within the bride-chamber Their garment of soft shame, And weeping faces of the wearied loves That swoon in sleep and awake wearier, With heat of lips and hair shed out like flame. Oman frankincense, grape flowers, sweet myrrh, black currant bud, and Haitian vetiver stained by red wine. ARISE, LIFT UP THINE EYES AND SEE The tears that through her eyelids fell on me Made mine own bitter where they ran between As blood had fallen therein, She saying; Arise, lift up thine eyes and see If any glad thing be or any good Now the best thing is taken forth of us; Even she to whom all praise Was as one flower in a great multitude, One glorious flower of many and glorious, One day found gracious among many days: Champaca flower gilded with golden amber, Madagascar vanilla, Roman chamomile, and black nutmeg. SHE WHOSE HANDMAIDEN WAS LOVE Even she whose handmaiden was Love—to whom At kissing times across her stateliest bed Kings bowed themselves and shed Pale wine, and honey with the honeycomb, And spikenard bruised for a burnt-offering; Even she between whose lips the kiss became As fire and frankincense; Whose hair was as gold raiment on a king, Whose eyes were as the morning purged with flame, Whose eyelids as sweet savour issuing thence. A kiss of fire and frankincense: exquisite Hojari frankincense painted with red benzoin, Ceylon cinnamon, blood rose, pimento, and jasmine hedoine. CROWNED AND ROBED AND DEAD Then I beheld, and lo on the other side My lady's likeness crowned and robed and dead. Sweet still, but now not red, Was the shut mouth whereby men lived and died. And sweet, but emptied of the blood's blue shade, The great curled eyelids that withheld her eyes. And sweet, but like spoilt gold, The weight of colour in her tresses weighed. And sweet, but as a vesture with new dyes, The body that was clothed with love of old. Red rose and white magnolia in a tomb of vetiver, oak leaf, mahogany, and Somalian olibanum. THE FLOWERS CLEAVE APART Ah! that my tears filled all her woven hair And all the hollow bosom of her gown— Ah! that my tears ran down Even to the place where many kisses were, Even where her parted breast-flowers have place, Even where they are cloven apart—who knows not this? Ah! the flowers cleave apart And their sweet fills the tender interspace; Ah! the leaves grown thereof were things to kiss Ere their fine gold was tarnished at the heart. Honeyed jasmine, white neroli, red sandalwood, champaca, and raspberry wine. LOVE LAY UPON HER EYES Ah! in the days when God did good to me, Each part about her was a righteous thing; Her mouth an almsgiving, The glory of her garments charity, The beauty of her bosom a good deed, In the good days when God kept sight of us; Love lay upon her eyes, And on that hair whereof the world takes heed; And all her body was more virtuous Than souls of women fashioned otherwise. White amber and Bulgarian rose. DEATH SHALL COME IN WITH THEE Now, ballad, gather poppies in thine hands And sheaves of brier and many rusted sheaves Rain-rotten in rank lands, Waste marigold and late unhappy leaves And grass that fades ere any of it be mown; And when thy bosom is filled full thereof Seek out Death's face ere the light altereth, And say "My master that was thrall to Love Is become thrall to Death." Bow down before him, ballad, sigh and groan. But make no sojourn in thy outgoing; For haply it may be That when thy feet return at evening Death shall come in with thee. Opium poppy, smoke, and tar with green cognac, brittle white vanilla pod, white sandalwood, and clove bud. And, of course, there are the Shungas -- ++ NOVEL IDEAS FOR SECRET AMUSEMENTS VI A limited edition Salon series celebrating the joy, humor, playfulness, and thrill of sexual intercourse through scent interpretations of Edo era Japanese erotic art. This is a Limited Edition series that will run from 25 January 2014 until 17 April 2014. No imp's ears are available for this series. While we have listed the notes of these scents for your edification and convenience, we prefer not to offer any descriptive passages for these scents. A DEMONSTRATION OF AFFECTIONATE EXCITEMENT White frankincense, ho wood, Himalayan cedar, sweet myrrh, beeswax, and bamboo. AWABI DIVERS Polished ebony, ho wood, apricot peel, patchouli-infused vanilla husk, Lebanese cedar, and vetiver. THE BLOOMING FLOWERS OF SPRING Honey, mimosa petals, and white amber. CARP AND OCTOPUS Sea buckthorn berry, salt musk, white nectarine, kelp, oakmoss, green musk, and elemi. DESTRUCTIVE VAGINA OF THE FOX SPIRIT Vanilla orchid, black amber, coffee bean, labdanum, champaca, and oudh. DIVERSIONS IN THE CHASHITSU Green tea, yellow sandalwood, apple blossom, and white bamboo. THE ELEPHANT’S LEASH Peach blossoms and cherry blossoms with red musk, Oaxacan amber, copal, lilac, and white sandalwood. FURO Black tea, bergamot, red patchouli, peru balsam, and bourbon vanilla. GEISHA IN A STATE OF RUMPLED ANNOYANCE French lavender, white plum blossom, white ginger, and rice wine. KOITO AND SASHICHI Green tea, tobacco absolute, and agarwood. LOVERS IN THE TEA HOUSE Sake and matcha tea with amber incense, golden sandalwood, and yōkan. THE NUN AND THE COURTLY LADY White sandalwood, Italian bergamot, Siamese benzoin, tobacco flower, and caramelized honey. ORGY WITH NINE WOMEN Champaca magnolia, bourbon vanilla, blonde tobacco, and white honey. PLOVERS ABOVE THE WAVES Rice flower, white cream, tea roses, abalone accord, white moss, beeswax, tuberose, and red currant. REFLECTED VULVA Sweet pea, cherry blossoms, and sugared cream. SHAMISEN Rosewood, silk, kōki wood, smoked bamboo, and bone. TREASURE SHIP COMING IN King mandarin, green mint, green tea leaf, and white musk. UNMASKING THE SAMBASÔ DANCER King mandarin, passionfruit, Moroccan rose absolute, labdanum, and amber musk. The goblins are feelin’ frisky over at the ‘Post! We have two Lupercalia massage oils – ++ LUPERCALIA MASSAGE OIL FORMULA 57 Strengthens emotional bonds and cultivates blossoming love: bourbon vanilla with ylang ylang, Roman chamomile, and white honey. FORMULA 72 Bolsters sexual vigor, stimulates sensuality, and inspires relaxation: cacao with coconut, vanilla cream, and shea. And one (slightly narcissistic) Lupercalia bath oil – ++ LUPERCALIA BATH OIL SELBSTVERLIEBT Inspired by the art of Félicien Rops. An exercise in self-love: sugared jasmine with vanilla and black orchid. Bath salts are back! ++ LUPERCALIA BATH SALTS LOVE BATH SALTS Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. - Oscar Wilde Pink roses, sugared pomegranate, apple blossom, white ginger, and velvet-white vanilla. LUST BATH SALTS Unfailing golden arrows dipped in lust: shimmering amber and copal with red musk, red patchouli, beeswax, hay sugar, and a drop of Turkish rose. Plus two new hair glosses to assist you in achieving that tousled, just-got-schtupped look (and scent!) – ++ LUPERCALIA HAIR GLOSS FALLEN WOMAN 'There is a budding morrow in midnight:' - So sang our Keats, our English nightingale. And here, as lamps across the bridge turn pale In London's smokeless resurrection-light, Dark breaks to dawn. But o'er the deadly blight Of love deflowered and sorrow of none avail, Which makes this man gasp and this woman quail, Can day from darkness ever again take flight? White honey, camellia, and tobacco. SMUTTY GOBLIN A goblin’y take on Smut! Smutty Goblin Musk sweetened with sugar and tonka, and woozy with dark booze notes. And two atmosphere sprays to help you get in the mood – ++ LUPERCALIA ATMOSPHERE SPRAYS BEHIND THE SCENES Inspired by the art of Félicien Rops. Vin de Bourgogne with smoky beeswax, a splash of rose water, cracked pomegranate, bruised, fallen lily petals, and a smear of tobacco absolute. TRADING POST DUNGEON Whips, chains, goblin-sized leather harnesses, and Excitable Goblin Musk! This season, Black Phoenix Trading Post is embarking on its own sojourn through the Floating World with shunga-inspired baths and atmosphere sprays – ++ NOVEL IDEAS FOR SECRET AMUSEMENTS: FOR THE BATH A PECULIAR GAME OF SHOJI Rosewood, red currant, green tea, and caramelized sugar. EROTIC IMAGES OF SPRING EVENINGS Florentine Iris, white almond, and golden honey. PRELUDE TO THE BATH White tea, golden apricot, and orange blossom. THE SHINING DIMPLE OF LOVE Vanilla orchid, vanilla absolute, and black tea leaf. ++ NOVEL IDEAS FOR SECRET AMUSEMENTS ATMOSPHERE SPRAYS DISCUSSION ON THE FIRST CLIMB OF THE MOUNTAIN OF PASSION Sugared vanilla rose, pink carnation, pink peppercorn, cistus, Oman frankincense, white peony, white moss, and lemon peel. EVENING ON THE VERANDA Cypress boughs swaying in a crisp night breeze, with red sandalwood incense and blood grass. FEMALE BEAUTY IN SPIDERWEB KIMONO White fig, tea leaves, oakmoss, and lilac blossoms. LOVERS WITH TORTOISESHELL HARIGATA Aged patchouli and ambrette with burgundy pitch, labdanum, orange blossom, gurjum balsam, and white sandalwood. PLAYFUL CAT Sweet tonka, ambrette seed, golden musk, and smoky myrrh. Pervy goblin artwork by Tanya Bjork! <3 And that, my beloved, is all the smut that’s fit to print. May your Lupercalia be lustful, lewd, and filled with filth!

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is thrilled to present our collection of scents dedicated Clive Barker’s body of work. The first fragrances in the series are inspired by a tale from Volume Five of the Books of Blood: the Forbidden. It is a tremendous honor and privilege to work with Clive Barker, and we are eternally grateful to Clive Barker and Mark Miller for making this project possible! THE DAY BURNED WHITE Using the door, which was centrally placed in the wall like a mouth, the artists had sprayed a single, vast head onto the stripped plaster. The painting was more adroit than most she had seen, rife with detail that lent the image an unsettling veracity. The cheekbones jutting through skin the color of buttermilk; the teeth, sharpened to irregular points, all converging on the door. The sitter's eyes were, owing to the room's low ceiling, set mere inches above the upper lip, but this physical adjustment only lent force to the image, giving the impression that he had thrown his head back. Knotted strands of his hair snaked from his scalp across the ceiling. Was it a portrait? There was something naggingly specific in the details of the brows and the lines around the wide mouth; in the careful picturing of those vicious teeth. A nightmare certainly: a facsimile, perhaps, of something from a heroin fugue. Whatever its origins, it was potent. Even the illusion of door-as-mouth worked. The short passageway between living room and bedroom offered a passable throat, with a tattered lamp in lieu of tonsils. Beyond the gullet, the day burned white in the nightmare's belly. The whole effect brought to mind a ghost train painting. The same heroic deformity, the same unashamed intention to scare. And it worked; she stood in the bedroom almost stupefied by the picture, its red-rimmed eyes fixing her mercilessly. Plaster and spraypaint, mottled with buttermilk – sweet, chalky, and edging on sickly. White and golden amber beams of daylight pour through the belly of the scent, while oakmoss and Spanish moss add a touch of decay. FOOLISH AND VACUOUS She was glad to see the back of him. When he failed to return that night she didn't even think of weeping about it. He was foolish and vacuous. She despaired of ever seeing a haunted look in his dull eyes; and what worth was a man who could not be haunted? A scent with no depth: a light, reedy, almost vapid take on a classic men’s fougere. SWEETS TO THE SWEET One sight did catch her attention however. Scrawled on the paving stones she was walking over—and all but erased by rain and the passage of feet—the same phrase she’d seen in the bedroom of number 14: “Sweets to the sweet.” The words were so benign; why did she seem to sense menace in them? Was it in their excess, perhaps, in the sheer overabundance of sugar upon sugar, honey upon honey? Sugar upon sugar, honey upon honey: white cane sugar and honey absolute. On January 18th, Century Guild will host the opening of their newest exhibit, Clive Barker: Imaginer, a presentation of never before seen works. CENTURY GUILD 6150 WASHINGTON BLVD. CULVER CITY, CA 90230 18 January 2014, 7pm Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has collaborated with Clive Barker and Century Guild to create a scent commemorating this incredible event: IMAGINER A report from the land of dreams: honeyed patchouli, Madagascan black pepper, fossilized amber oil, beeswax absolute, massoia bark, Egyptian myrrh, and a thin thread of blood-red saffron. Imaginer is limited to one-hundred bottles, and it will be available at the opening night of the event, and if stock permits, the remainder will be sold on the Century Guild web site. The Imaginer kickstarter project is in progress. If it tickles your fancy, please consider supporting the publication of this collection of dynamic artworks from the hand of one of the most influential creative minds of the last fifty years. Hunger Moon is live at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post! When Hunger Moon hangs high in the sky, the fields are frozen, and game is piteously scarce. Sleet covers the ground, and biting winds chill to the bone. This is a quiet, cold perfume: desolate and despairing. It is a clear night sky that and bracing chill wind that bears the promise of snow, sharpened by the pain of hunger, and the sharp, rasping stab of thirst. Ozone, white sandalwood, Gum Arabic, crystallized white amber, verbena, oakmoss, clary sage, davana, and a hint of white citrus rind. The Hunger Moon tee is available here at the Trading Post! Artwork by Tanya Bjork! Next up: Lupercalia and all the filth that’s fit to print…

Happy New Year! May 2014 bring peace, abundance, good health, heart-bursting joy, freedom from sorrow, bright mornings, starry nights, and strange twilights.

Black Moon and Schwarzer Mond are available at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab: BLACK MOON 2013 Elizabeth’s Interpretation A search for lost reason: white musk, indigo musk, and mugwort with honeyed sandalwood, honey myrtle, yarrow, white patchouli, and lemon verbena. SCHWARZER MOND 2013 Brian’s Interpretation The keeper of secrets: opoponax, Tunisian black amber, night musk, antique patchouli, zdravetz, terebinth, myrrh, and Pimenta racemosa. ... and Luna Negra is available at Black Phoenix Trading Post: LUNA NEGRA 2013 Ted’s Interpretation A shrouded embrace: blackcurrant and amber with cassis, lavender, and deep purple mogra. Available til February 1st!

We hope your holiday has been peaceful, joy-filled, and bright!

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Black Phoenix Trading Post will be closed for the holidays starting on the evening of December 24th in order to give our staff and all the resident imps, goblins, and demons a much-needed breather. We will reopen our doors on Monday, December 30th. During this time, outgoing orders will cease, and customer service at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab will be on hiatus. Black Phoenix Trading Post will continue to answer customer service emails during the holiday because Ted can’t help himself. Thank you very much for understanding! Happy holidays from the Black Phoenix crew!

WOLF MOON This pale and glittering moon hangs high over the deep snows and freezing winds of midwinter. January's full moon has been named the Wolf Moon by many cultures, as the nights are filled with the howls of ravenous wolf packs, and the danger of falling prey to the animal's desperate hunger is at its peak. This scent is that of unending, unquenchable hunger and feral madness. This is the dead of winter: a frozen night, chill wind, and the sharp, warm perfume of blood, fur, fang, and claw. Winter air, Terebinth pine, juniper berry, dusty orris, deep amber, brown musk, white sandalwood, black cypress, blue cedar, Siamese benzoin, white tobacco, and tonka. Wolf Moon shirts available at the Trading Post. Artwork by Abigail Larson! Also, as a note, 13 is up through December the 18th, Lilith's Birthday scents, Halloweenies, Miskatonic Valley, and Gardens of Proserpine are live until December the 19th.

Psst! 13 will be live til Wednesday the 18th!

Hey all! I wanted to let y'all know that there might be a slight delay in BPTP customer service. Ted (Puddin') took ill with the flu tonight, and he's going to need a little time to get well. This one's a doozy. The perils of being a one-goblin operation! Thank you so much for understanding!

Hear them jingle bells jinglin’? MUST BE TIME FOR YULE AT BLACK PHOENIX TRADING POST! First off... To accompany Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s Miskatonic Valley Yule Festival scents, Black Phoenix Trading Post presents three joyously jabbersome atmosphere sprays -- ++ BPTP MISKATONIC VALLEY: THE FESTIVAL ATMOSPHERE SPRAYS A GREAT WHITE CHURCH Amid these hushed throngs I followed my voiceless guides; jostled by elbows that seemed preternaturally soft, and pressed by chests and stomachs that seemed abnormally pulpy; but seeing never a face and hearing never a word. Up, up, up the eerie columns slithered, and I saw that all the travellers were converging as they flowed near a sort of focus of crazy alleys at the top of a high hill in the centre of the town, where perched a great white church. I had seen it from the road’s crest when I looked at Kingsport in the new dusk, and it had made me shiver because Aldebaran had seemed to balance itself a moment on the ghostly spire. Unholy incense drifting through mazelike streets: dragon’s blood resin, black frankincense, sickly-sweet cardamom, cassia, and myrrh. AN AGED TOWN OF CURIOUS CUSTOMS When I sounded the archaic iron knocker I was half afraid. Some fear had been gathering in me, perhaps because of the strangeness of my heritage, and the bleakness of the evening, and the queerness of the silence in that aged town of curious customs. And when my knock was answered I was fully afraid, because I had not heard any footsteps before the door creaked open. But I was not afraid long, for the gowned, slippered old man in the doorway had a bland face that reassured me; and though he made signs that he was dumb, he wrote a quaint and ancient welcome with the stylus and wax tablet he carried. Ghastly secrets and terror-numb revelations: white mint, black amber, tallow, antediluvian woods, and sickly resins. FOOTWORN STEPS LEADING INTO A DANK, SUFFOCATING CRYPT The church was scarce lighted by all the lanthorns that had entered it, for most of the throng had already vanished. They had streamed up the aisle between the high white pews to the trap-door of the vaults which yawned loathsomely open just before the pulpit, and were now squirming noiselessly in. I followed dumbly down the footworn steps and into the dank, suffocating crypt. The tail of that sinuous line of night-marchers seemed very horrible, and as I saw them wriggling into a venerable tomb they seemed more horrible still. Then I noticed that the tomb’s floor had an aperture down which the throng was sliding, and in a moment we were all descending an ominous staircase of rough-hewn stone; a narrow spiral staircase damp and peculiarly odorous, that wound endlessly down into the bowels of the hill past monotonous walls of dripping stone blocks and crumbling mortar. It was a silent, shocking descent, and I observed after a horrible interval that the walls and steps were changing in nature, as if chiselled out of the solid rock. What mainly troubled me was that the myriad footfalls made no sound and set up no echoes. After more aeons of descent I saw some side passages or burrows leading from unknown recesses of blackness to this shaft of nighted mystery. Soon they became excessively numerous, like impious catacombs of nameless menace; and their pungent odour of decay grew quite unbearable. I knew we must have passed down through the mountain and beneath the earth of Kingsport itself, and I shivered that a town should be so aged and maggoty with subterraneous evil. Maggoty with subterraneous evil: the scent of creeping deep green mosses, sweet rot, lantern oil, and sinuous incense drifting over dripping stone blocks, mushroom-moist soil, and crumbling mortar. Meanwhile, outside of the Valley, we have a few other atmospheres to experience: ++ YULE ROOM SPRAYS LADY FLEMING’S GINGERBREAD Scent your home like a 17th century manor house at Yuletide! Warm gingerbread crafted with almonds, dates, aniseed, raw ginger root, and cinnamon. SCHWARZWALD Snow-blanketed granite enveloped by a sea of spruce and pine. SNOW ANGEL Cherubic spun sugar with a hint of lemon, sparkling peach, and floral tea. SNOWBLIND The perfect vanilla mint. SPANKED Sado-masochistic holiday cheer: whip leather, cardamom, patchouli and bourbon. WASSAIL Wassayle, wassayle out of the mylke payle, Wassayle, wassayle as white as my nayle, Wassayle, wassayle in snowe, froste, and hayle, Wassayle, wassayle with partriche and rayle, Wassayle, wassayle that muclie doth avayle, Wassayle, wassayle that never wylle fayle. Thick brown ale and aged port with cinnamon, black clove, lemon zest, allspice, cardamom, ginger, and brown sugar. And some bath oils to help warm you on cold winter nights – ++ YULE BATH OILS CHOCOLATE ESPRESSO GINGERBREAD Fiendishly decadent! PEACOCK QUEEN In dramatic contrast to the soft innocence of Snow White and the dew-kissed freshness of her sister, Rose Red, this is a blood red, voluptuous rose, velvet-petaled, at the height of bloom. Haughty and imperious, vain, yet incomparably lovely to the eye, but thick with thorns of jealousy, pride and hatred. PINK SNOWBALLS A lighthearted winter scent: chilly vanilla rose snowballs! Dainty, soft, and certainly unfit for flinging! ICE PRINCESS Iced blackberries, blackcurrant honey, frozen white peach, and sweet vanilla cream. WINTER MAIDEN Ice-rimed innocence. The blush of youth, frozen for eternity. Snow-laden woods, iced blackberry and bergamot, white rose, and crystallized amber. Plus some thinly-veiled sadomasochistic cheer and all the balls you can handle: ++ BLACK PHOENIX TRADING POST YULE PERFUMES ELDRITCH DARK The Miskatonic Valley's premiere sex shop. Black and red musks with honey, leather, and sugared black rose. BLACK SNOWBALLS For a very gothy Yule. Black licorice slurry with blackcurrant, black fig, and mulberries. BLUE SNOWBALLS ... because the holidays can be really, really frustrating. Blueberry slush with a hint of lime and blackberry juice. DISCO SNOWBALLS Brian and I made this one for Ted to honor his undying, incessant, relentless love of Abba: silvery snow reflecting myriad glimmers of orange blossom, black currant, pink grapefruit, white mint, sweet plum, and Italian bergamot. AND… (dramatic pause and drumroll, please) it is time for the 2013 BLACK PHOENIX TRADING POST NAUGHTY OR NICE INQUISITION -- He knows when you’ve been sleeping, he knows when you’re awake… ++ THE 2013 NAUGHTY OR NICE INQUISITION: FAIRY TALE EDITION Are you a vision of heroic virtue - or a paragon of fairy tale villainy? Let the Alchemy Lab Imps and Trading Post Goblins decide! THIS is the NAUGHTY OR NICE INQUISITION! For $49US, you will receive both a fairy tale-themed Bath Oil and a Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab fragrance that coordinates with your holiday judgment. You have a choice: let the Black Phoenix goblins determine your fate, convince us of your goodness (or wickedness!), or cut to the chase and order items individually. How do you influence the imps and goblins? You may plead your case in the comments field of your order. If you choose to leave it blank, the denizens of Black Phoenix will utilize the ancient art of sniffomancy in order to determine your fate. Time permitting, entries will be published on the Black Phoenix Trading Post FB page, unless you request otherwise. Please indicate whether you wish to remain anonymous, and if you would like your name published, how you wish for it to appear. If you have been NICE, you will receive one of the following Nice Bath Oils: RAGS TO ROYALTY A bath fit for a down-to-earth monarch: sweet aged patchouli, golden amber, cacao, winter honey, precious oudh, and ylang ylang. THREE IMPOSSIBLE ERRANDS BATH OIL A bath oil to help you relax after slaying dragons, polymorphing prickish princes, carrying water in irritating sieves, breaking all manner of curses, and grooming talking animals: Roman chamomile, bourbon geranium, Indian frankincense, French lavender, and vanilla orchid. … plus one of these Nice perfumes KNIGHT IN SHINY ARMOR Gird your loins for battle with a cologne that will infuse you with an extra boost of bravery, chivalry, and gentlemanly wherewithal: dapper lavender fougere with white carnation, sweet oakmoss, clary sage, crisp leather, bourbon vanilla, and a hint of armor polish. SCRAPPY DAMSEL No tower too high, no dragon too mighty! Get in ass-kickin’, self-savin’ gear with this bright, energetic perfume! Orange blossom, neroli, white musk, shimmering amber, yellow sandalwood, Himalayan cedar, radiant saffron, and golden honey. HELPFUL CRONE Enhance your Wise Woman cred with this combination of sage, shrewd oils. Herbs of wisdom, flowers of wit, and the comforting scent of the hearth: hyssop, oak leaf, acorn hull, elder blossom, three sages, and tobacco absolute, with kitchen herbs and raw honey. … and a jar of Nice Glop, which is only available if you purchase a Nice set or are deemed Nice (based on your plea) by the Trading Post goblins: NICE GLOP Very, very nice: honey-coated honeysuckle and sugar cane. - - - If you have been NAUGHTY, you will receive one of the following Naughty Bath Oils: NEFARIOUS PLAN Luxuriate in a pool of lavish, sinful indulgence while you hatch your next malicious scheme: black patchouli, sharp green tea, raw tobacco leaf, a dribble of orange blossom, and caramelized sugar. UNHAPPILY EVER AFTER The perfect way to unwind after you’ve eviscerated your foes: white champagne grape, blood red roses, violet leaf, and bourbon vanilla. … plus one of these Naughty perfumes CORRUPT CHANCELLOR Are you over your liege lord’s shenanigans? Do you think you could do one better? Look no further! We have the perfect Power Cologne for you! Overthrow the rightful regent with style: smoky vetiver cologne with black leather, black pepper, smoky coffee bean, Italian bergamot, and Mysore sandalwood. VAIN SORCERESS Mad with power, madly in love, or just mad: a dark, spellbinding, seductively narcissistic mix of tuberose, blackened vanilla musk, caraway, white gardenia, red amber, black velvet accord, and jasmine sambac. WICKED MATRIARCH Whether you’re flipping through poisoned apple recipes on Pinterest, researching dilapidated towers to house irritating princesses, or simply interested in a sporting match of croquet, dab a little of our perfume behind each ear, and you’ll be ready to destroy all those who stand in your way. Velvet red roses, mimosa blossom, heady magnolia, oudh, and black patchouli draped across a regal purple musk. … and a jar of Naughty Glop, which is only available if you purchase a Naughty set or are deemed Naughty (based on your plea) by the Trading Post goblins: NAUGHTY GLOP Very, very naughty: red musk, leather, bourbon vanilla, and red patchouli. The GLOPS are only available in the Naughty or Nice sets, and are not sold individually. WHAT IS A GLOP? Dear reader, a glop is one ounce of luxuriant, lotiony goodness. We have combined shea olein with refined rice bran oil, fractionated coconut oil, rosehip seed oil, evening primrose oil, Vitamin E, and apricot kernel oil to make the most soothing, nourishing, and all-around amazing hand-and-foot lotion imaginable. Each Glop is lavishly scented with Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab fragrances that were created specifically for this project. You may place an order for multiple sets, or place multiple orders, and in either case, each will be considered separately in the course of the Inquisition process. If you are placing an order for more than one set, you may submit multiple Naughty or Nice pleas, applicable to each order. Please indicate which Naughty or Nice statement pertains to which section of your order. No imps are available for scents in this series. Once your Naughty or Nice status is determined, you will be given one of the oils from your status category. If you choose to forego the Plea Process, we will weep bitter tears, but will respect your requests. If you choose not to participate via Plea, please simply enter your request for which bath oil and perfume you want in the comments field of your order. If you leave the comments field blank, we will make your choice for you. If you wish to purchase products individually, you may do so! We are not suggesting, by way of this Inquisition, that anyone that participates actually evil, wicked, naughty, unpleasant, malicious, or anything else shady. This is intended to be taken in good humor; don't be a sourpuss! Artwork by Her Majestic Wickedness, Lady Tanya Bjork! And traipsing into the General Catalogue, we have two new fleece sweats! The fluffiest, softest sweats imaginable. Crafted from 100% combed and ring-spun cotton to form an impeccably cozy fleece knit! Both the men’s and women’s styles are a flattering straight leg, but the fit of the women’s is slightly more form-fitting – akin to our yoga pants, but thicker and snugglier. The men’s have side-pockets, the women’s do not. JOLLY ROGER SWEATS Our Jolly Roger on the left thigh and Black Phoenix Trading Post on the right, both in bone-white ink. SKELETAL LIBRARIAN SWEATS Our Skeletal Librarian on the left thigh and Black Phoenix Trading Post on the right, both in crimson ink. And last, but not least – Dorian hair gloss! DORIAN The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself. Refined, elegant, and lovely, with a noble bearing and seemingly gentle air. This blend is an artful deception: a sweet gilded blossom lying over a twisted and corrupted core. A Victorian fougere with three pale musks and dark, sugared vanilla tea.

Please Note - Shipping cutoffs to receive items by Christmas this year are as follows: Last day for international orders is Thursday, Dec 5 and last day for domestic orders is for Thursday, Dec 12. Thanks!

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has teamed up with Hasbro and We Love Fine to bring you two Pony'riffic scents: Shy and Luna by Luna! Per the wonderful people at WLF -- In April we did a fun April Fool’s promo for #MyLittlePony Scents, and so many fans said they actually wanted them! So we joined forces with the wonderful scent magicians at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and voila… actual “Shy” and “Luna By Luna” (the two most popular “fake” scents we created) are now a reality in our Achievements gifts with purchase program! Shy scent notes: Pink carnation, spun sugar, white pear, peach blossom, and vanilla bean. Luna By Luna scent notes: Blue musk, white sandalwood, black currant, jasmine leaf, green tea, and ylang ylang. These highly concentrated scent oil “imp” samples are available NOW in very limited quantities as part of our Achievements for orders of $100 or more; be sure to add them to your cart when you check out. (Limit 1 imp per order.) Available while supplies last through our holiday sale period!: http://www.welovefine.com/ A MILLION THANKS to Hasbro and We Love Fine! Thanks to you guys, BPAL is 20% cooler!

THE THIRTEENTH LABOR OF HERCULES IS COMPLETE! At long last, the new Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab site is live! Before I delve into the new bells, whistles, and gewgaws, I want to thank the woman responsible for the Lab overhaul: Kaitlin Reeves of Form and Function. Kaitlin, you are amazing. Thank you for all of your hard work. Thank you for all the blood, sweat, and tears that you invested in the construction of the new site. You are an amazing person – talented, dedicated, smart as hell, and beautiful inside and out – and we are so, so grateful for you. So, what’s new? Well, the search function is back for starters... + User accounts: You can create an account when you place your first order or by clicking here. You are welcome to order as a guest and not create an account, but having one gives you access to special features, such as… + Account Dashboard: You can access your dashboard by clicking on the "Login/ Account Dashboard" link on the top black navigation bar. From this page, you can view your order status, review your order history, change your shipping or billing address and view your Wishlists. + Wishlists: Wishlists allow you to keep track of the stuff you want. They can be private or serve as a public gift registry for friends, family or random admirers. You can have as many as you want. You can access your Wishlist control center by clicking on the "Wishlists" link on the top black navigation bar. You can add things to your Wishlist by going to a product page and clicking the link beneath the "Add to Cart" button that says "Add to my Wishlist". + Fancy Search: There are two places you can search the new site, on the top black navigation bar or on the top of the sidebar (on pages that have one). The search looks at scent names, tags, categories, Shiny & New posts, and pages. Once you type a few letters a drop down will appear revealing the best matches. You can click directly on what you want to go to that page. You can also click the magnifying glass image to go to a full search results page. + Gift Certificates: You can purchase gift certificates in any amount you choose by clicking here, or the link on the sidebar. They can be automatically emailed as gifts to the recipient of your choice or sent to you (to use for yourself or to gift at a later time). Gift certificates are redeemable through entering the code in the coupon box on the cart or during checkout. For security, the gift certificate code is matched against the email it was sent to during checkout, so make sure to use the same email when you use it! + Reviews: You can leave a review and a rating on any product page by looking beneath the share bar and looking on the left hand tabs for "Reviews". You can also read other people's reviews of products in the same place. + Waitlists: If a product goes out of stock or gets discontinued, there will be a notice and an option to sign up for the Waitlist. If that product comes back in stock, you will be notified of its availability. We can also see how much demand there is for different products, so this will help us re-stock what you want faster and maybe even get some posthumously popular products resurrected. + Directory: We have compiled a directory that has every scent, tag, category, and page on the site. All of those items are also available through the search bar, so don't feel like you need to wade through that if you don't want to! + Social Media: Fancy share buttons are available! + Payment Gateways: So long, CCNow! When you check out, you can choose to pay through Paypal or Authorize.net. + Shipping Calculation: The system will be able to calculate shipping for you automatically based on what you have in your cart and where in the world you want it sent. Free shipping will be automatically applied on orders over $175 shipped to the US or $300 shipped internationally. + I'm sure there are some things that we've forgotten to cover, so get thee forth and wander! The site is going to be an ever-evolving work-in-progress, and there’s quite a bit that still needs spiffin’ up. Please keep your eyes peeled for little functional and aesthetic changes and improvements in the upcoming months. And onto the smells! -- On that day, the Harmony of the World shattered. The Skeksis woke from the shock of division, and they woke full of violence and anger. They stormed into the Crystal Chamber, staggering with the strain of their new bodies, grasping each other to stand yet hating each other’s touch. There was loud argument, they struck blows, one hit the Crystal. A shard broke from the Crystal and flew up the shaft, out onto the mountainside. And the light left the crystal. For the span of a single breath, there was no sound heard... My dear friends, skekNa, skekTek, skekUng, and skekZok, have come for a visit! ++ THE DARK CRYSTAL SKEKNA THE SLAVE MASTER SkekNa the Slave Master remains silent most of the time, except for occasional sneers and hisses. His action is dominated by kicking, whipping, and herding little Podling slaves. Between meals, the Skeksis sought out skekNa the Slave Master for scraps to appease the raging hunger they always felt. SkekNa was purely and openly evil from the beginning, and without him the work of the Castle would never have been done. The essence of vile gluttony: an abundance of spices, sweet cakes, thick creams, and opulent liqueurs mixed with the scent of whip leather and rusted padlocks. SKEKTEK THE SCIENTIST SkekTek the Scientist kept some real power of thought, but in truth he had become only a juggler of ideas, of memories from his previous life. He had studied the light of the Crystal and used it for the division. And he studied the wounded Crystal, and by that light he saw his ways to acts of darkness. First, he learned the art to make beams of light from the Dark Crystal, which he burned into the eyes of the Pod People and Gelfling to make them his slaves. After the light had struck them, no light lived in their eyes, but they obeyed. And the second evil was to use dark light to draw the essence of life, to drain it from the living to make a drink for the Skeksis, above all for the Emperor. This essence gave them back their youth and vigor for a while, only for a little while; but many Gelflings were victims forever. Metal and stone and beams of dark light: hyssop, black currant, black viola, passionflower, and myrrh. SKEKUNG THE GARTHIM MASTER Strongest of all for brute force – after the Emperor – was skekUng the Garthim Master. Torment was his pleasure, though his urSkeks originally had been a healer and continued so in his urRu form. Hidden in that tall, shining urSkek was one who, ages later, could find pleasure in tearing apart the gentle Gelfling. The urSkeks knew this evil was in them and tried hard to burn it out. Brute force and destruction: vetiver, smoke, steel, and dragon’s blood resin. SKEKZOK THE RITUAL MASTER SkekZok the Ritual Master was thought to hold control of the court entirely in his own hands. He had the ear of skekSo the Emperor, whose wishes were absolute; no one could hope for success except through skekZok. He sought to rule the other Skeksis through prophecies he invented and false apparitions he conjured. SkekZok found that the Emperor raised favorites only to enjoy the pleasure of their fall, while other distrustful Skeksis practiced their own secret divinations. An incense of deception: frankincense, opoponax, hyssop, champaca, and opium poppy accord. A million thanks to our good friends at Jim Henson Studios! You are wonderful people, and it is an honor to work with you! It’s that time of year again! The nip of winter wind is in the air, Krampus is dusting off his switches, Befana is polishing her broom, and Miskatonic Valley villagers are preparing for their winter solstice feasts. ++ MISKATONIC VALLEY YULETIDE: THE FESTIVAL The nethermost caverns are not for the fathoming of eyes that see; for their marvels are strange and terrific. Cursed the ground where dead thoughts live new and oddly bodied, and evil the mind that is held by no head. Wisely did Ibn Schacabao say, that happy is the tomb where no wizard hath lain, and happy the town at night whose wizards are all ashes. For it is of old rumour that the soul of the devil-bought hastes not from his charnel clay, but fats and instructs the very worm that gnaws; till out of corruption horrid life springs, and the dull scavengers of earth wax crafty to vex it and swell monstrous to plague it. Great holes secretly are digged where earth’s pores ought to suffice, and things have learnt to walk that ought to crawl. Buried in the echoes of time immemorial is the Miskatonic Valley rite of the Festival. While the origins are lost in space and time, our holiday customs have been memorialized through oral tradition and the eons-long observation of our rituals, year after year. So, don your holiday ritual robes, grab your discordant flutes, hop on your limply-flopping demon mounts, take a swig of goat milk cocoa, and head down to the Stygian grotto to join the villagers of Kingsport as they observe the time-worn traditions of the Festival. Celebrate the season the Miskatonic Valley way! Refreshments provided by Arkham’s own Mother Shub and Zadok Allen Vineyard. Happy Yule, Kingsport! THE SPELL OF THE EASTERN SEA I was far from home, and the spell of the eastern sea was upon me. In the twilight I heard it pounding on the rocks, and I knew it lay just over the hill where the twisting willows writhed against the clearing sky and the first stars of evening. And because my fathers had called me to the old town beyond, I pushed on through the shallow, new-fallen snow along the road that soared lonely up to where Aldebaran twinkled among the trees; on toward the very ancient town I had never seen but often dreamed of. Sea salt, kelp, and twisting willows. THE MEMORY OF PRIMAL SECRETS It was the Yuletide, that men call Christmas though they know in their hearts it is older than Bethlehem and Babylon, older than Memphis and mankind. It was the Yuletide, and I had come at last to the ancient sea town where my people had dwelt and kept festival in the elder time when festival was forbidden; where also they had commanded their sons to keep festival once every century, that the memory of primal secrets might not be forgotten. Corrupt incense twinging through the huddled roofs of Kingsport on winter solstice night. OPIATE SOUTHERN GARDENS OF ORCHIDS Mine were an old people, and were old even when this land was settled three hundred years before. And they were strange, because they had come as dark furtive folk from opiate southern gardens of orchids, and spoken another tongue before they learnt the tongue of the blue-eyed fishers. And now they were scattered, and shared only the rituals of mysteries that none living could understand. I was the only one who came back that night to the old fishing town as legend bade, for only the poor and the lonely remember. Memories of alien gardens that crawl with wide swaths of vivid, soporific blossoms: gargantuan orchids, blood-purple poppies, and monstrous black peonies. THE BURYING-GROUND Beside the road at its crest a still higher summit rose, bleak and windswept, and I saw that it was a burying-ground where black gravestones stuck ghoulishly through the snow like the decayed fingernails of a gigantic corpse. The printless road was very lonely, and sometimes I thought I heard a distant horrible creaking as of a gibbet in the wind. They had hanged four kinsmen of mine for witchcraft in 1692, but I did not know just where. Despair and desolation in a potter’s field: black soil and memories of screams on the pyre. VILLAGE LEGEND LIVES LONG I had seen maps of the town, and knew where to find the home of my people. It was told that I should be known and welcomed, for village legend lives long; so I hastened through Back Street to Circle Court, and across the fresh snow on the one full flagstone pavement in the town, to where Green Lane leads off behind the Market house. The old maps still held good, and I had no trouble; though at Arkham they must have lied when they said the trolleys ran to this place, since I saw not a wire overhead. Snow would have hid the rails in any case. I was glad I had chosen to walk, for the white village had seemed very beautiful from the hill; and now I was eager to knock at the door of my people, the seventh house on the left in Green Lane, with an ancient peaked roof and jutting second story, all built before 1650. The scent of ancient families harboring ancient secrets: thin dribbles of frankincense, bitter cistus, hollow myrrh, pale chamomile, and dark, furtive opoponax. A LOW CANDLE-LIT ROOM He beckoned me into a low, candle-lit room with massive exposed rafters and dark, stiff, sparse furniture of the seventeenth century. The past was vivid there, for not an attribute was missing. There was a cavernous fireplace and a spinning-wheel at which a bent old woman in loose wrapper and deep poke-bonnet sat back toward me, silently spinning despite the festive season. An indefinite dampness seemed upon the place, and I marvelled that no fire should be blazing. The high-backed settle faced the row of curtained windows at the left, and seemed to be occupied, though I was not sure. I did not like everything about what I saw, and felt again the fear I had had. This fear grew stronger from what had before lessened it, for the more I looked at the old man’s bland face the more its very blandness terrified me. The eyes never moved, and the skin was too like wax. Finally I was sure it was not a face at all, but a fiendishly cunning mask. But the flabby hands, curiously gloved, wrote genially on the tablet and told me I must wait a while before I could be led to the place of festival. Candle wax and waxen “skin”, rotting leather and reeking damp wood, and the ashes of a yawning, cold fireplace. WHISPERS OF MONSTROUS THINGS Pointing to a chair, table, and pile of books, the old man now left the room; and when I sat down to read I saw that the books were hoary and mouldy, and that they included old Morryster’s wild Marvells of Science, the terrible Saducismus Triumphatus of Joseph Glanvill, published in 1681, the shocking Daemonolatreia of Remigius, printed in 1595 at Lyons, and worst of all, the unmentionable Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, in Olaus Wormius’ forbidden Latin translation; a book which I had never seen, but of which I had heard monstrous things whispered. Yellowed fragments of vellum and parchment scrawled with unnamable horrors invoking ghastly abominations: decaying papers and moldering leather with sickly-sweet tonka, inky musk, black sandalwood, black fig, sugandh kokila, and pimento leaf. A THOUGHT AND A LEGEND TOO HIDEOUS FOR SANITY OR CONSCIOUSNESS No one spoke to me, but I could hear the creaking of signs in the wind outside, and the whir of the wheel as the bonneted old woman continued her silent spinning, spinning. I thought the room and the books and the people very morbid and disquieting, but because an old tradition of my fathers had summoned me to strange feastings, I resolved to expect queer things. So I tried to read, and soon became tremblingly absorbed by something I found in that accursed Necronomicon; a thought and a legend too hideous for sanity or consciousness. But I disliked it when I fancied I heard the closing of one of the windows that the settle faced, as if it had been stealthily opened. It had seemed to follow a whirring that was not of the old woman’s spinning-wheel. This was not much, though, for the old woman was spinning very hard, and the aged clock had been striking. After that I lost the feeling that there were persons on the settle, and was reading intently and shudderingly when the old man came back booted and dressed in a loose antique costume, and sat down on that very bench, so that I could not see him. It was certainly nervous waiting, and the blasphemous book in my hands made it doubly so. When eleven struck, however, the old man stood up, glided to a massive carved chest in a corner, and got two hooded cloaks; one of which he donned, and the other of which he draped round the old woman, who was ceasing her monotonous spinning. Then they both started for the outer door; the woman lamely creeping, and the old man, after picking up the very book I had been reading, beckoning me as he drew his hood over that unmoving face or mask. The clock strikes eleven: black rose, oudh, rosewood, and sea-kissed patchouli, and the smoke of a snuffed tallow candle. ELDRITCH DRUNKEN CONSTELLATIONS We went out into the moonless and tortuous network of that incredibly ancient town; went out as the lights in the curtained windows disappeared one by one, and the Dog Star leered at the throng of cowled, cloaked figures that poured silently from every doorway and formed monstrous processions up this street and that, past the creaking signs and antediluvian gables, the thatched roofs and diamond-paned windows; threading precipitous lanes where decaying houses overlapped and crumbled together, gliding across open courts and churchyards where the bobbing lanthorns made eldritch drunken constellations. Dizzying, swirling, starry madness: eucalyptus sap, white tea leaf, and ambergris foam. DEATH-FIRES DANCING OVER THE TOMBS There was an open space around the church; partly a churchyard with spectral shafts, and partly a half-paved square swept nearly bare of snow by the wind, and lined with unwholesomely archaic houses having peaked roofs and overhanging gables. Death-fires danced over the tombs, revealing gruesome vistas, though queerly failing to cast any shadows. Past the churchyard, where there were no houses, I could see over the hill’s summit and watch the glimmer of stars on the harbour, though the town was invisible in the dark. Only once in a while a lanthorn bobbed horribly through serpentine alleys on its way to overtake the throng that was now slipping speechlessly into the church. I waited till the crowd had oozed into the black doorway, and till all the stragglers had followed. The old man was pulling at my sleeve, but I was determined to be the last. Then I finally went, the sinister man and the old spinning woman before me. Crossing the threshold into that swarming temple of unknown darkness, I turned once to look at the outside world as the churchyard phosphorescence cast a sickly glow on the hill-top pavement. And as I did so I shuddered. For though the wind had not left much snow, a few patches did remain on the path near the door; and in that fleeting backward look it seemed to my troubled eyes that they bore no mark of passing feet, not even mine. Icicles and stone illuminated by unholy fire. THE BOUNDLESS VISTA OF AN INNER WORLD Then I saw the lurid shimmering of pale light, and heard the insidious lapping of sunless waters. Again I shivered, for I did not like the things that the night had brought, and wished bitterly that no forefather had summoned me to this primal rite. As the steps and the passage grew broader, I heard another sound, the thin, whining mockery of a feeble flute; and suddenly there spread out before me the boundless vista of an inner world—a vast fungous shore litten by a belching column of sick greenish flame and washed by a wide oily river that flowed from abysses frightful and unsuspected to join the blackest gulfs of immemorial ocean. Salted citron, black coconut, wormwood, and oily labdanum oozing through fungal mosses and sick, greenish subterranean flora. TITAN TOADSTOOLS AND LEPROUS FIRE Fainting and gasping, I looked at that unhallowed Erebus of titan toadstools, leprous fire, and slimy water, and saw the cloaked throngs forming a semicircle around the blazing pillar. It was the Yule-rite, older than man and fated to survive him; the primal rite of the solstice and of spring’s promise beyond the snows; the rite of fire and evergreen, light and music. And in the Stygian grotto I saw them do the rite, and adore the sick pillar of flame, and throw into the water handfuls gouged out of the viscous vegetation which glittered green in the chlorotic glare. I saw this, and I saw something amorphously squatted far away from the light, piping noisomely on a flute; and as the thing piped I thought I heard noxious muffled flutterings in the foetid darkness where I could not see. But what frightened me most was that flaming column; spouting volcanically from depths profound and inconceivable, casting no shadows as healthy flame should, and coating the nitrous stone above with a nasty, venomous verdigris. For in all that seething combustion no warmth lay, but only the clamminess of death and corruption. Viscous vegetation, slimy water, suffocating incense: death cap and false morel with green frankincense, black copal, Spanish moss, celery seed, and lime rind over stagnant black liquid and decaying kelp. HORROR UNTHINKABLE AND UNEXPECTED The man who had brought me now squirmed to a point directly beside the hideous flame, and made stiff ceremonial motions to the semicircle he faced. At certain stages of the ritual they did grovelling obeisance, especially when he held above his head that abhorrent Necronomicon he had taken with him; and I shared all the obeisances because I had been summoned to this festival by the writings of my forefathers. Then the old man made a signal to the half-seen flute-player in the darkness, which player thereupon changed its feeble drone to a scarce louder drone in another key; precipitating as it did so a horror unthinkable and unexpected. At this horror I sank nearly to the lichened earth, transfixed with a dread not of this nor any world, but only of the mad spaces between the stars. The mad spaces between the stars: oakmoss, myrrh, vetiver, rectified cade, ravinsara, wild verbena, and neroli. PITS AND GALLERIES OF PANIC Out of the unimaginable blackness beyond the gangrenous glare of that cold flame, out of the Tartarean leagues through which that oily river rolled uncanny, unheard, and unsuspected, there flopped rhythmically a horde of tame, trained, hybrid winged things that no sound eye could ever wholly grasp, or sound brain ever wholly remember. They were not altogether crows, nor moles, nor buzzards, nor ants, nor vampire bats, nor decomposed human beings; but something I cannot and must not recall. They flopped limply along, half with their webbed feet and half with their membraneous wings; and as they reached the throng of celebrants the cowled figures seized and mounted them, and rode off one by one along the reaches of that unlighted river, into pits and galleries of panic where poison springs feed frightful and undiscoverable cataracts. Membranous green mandarin with dread-choked black sandalwood, opoponax, pine tar, mimosa, mugwort, and acrid tagetes. THE PUTRESCENT JUICE OF EARTH’S INNER HORRORS Presently the old man drew back his hood and pointed to the family resemblance in his face, but I only shuddered, because I was sure that the face was merely a devilish waxen mask. The flopping animals were now scratching restlessly at the lichens, and I saw that the old man was nearly as restless himself. When one of the things began to waddle and edge away, he turned quickly to stop it; so that the suddenness of his motion dislodged the waxen mask from what should have been his head. And then, because that nightmare’s position barred me from the stone staircase down which we had come, I flung myself into the oily underground river that bubbled somewhere to the caves of the sea; flung myself into that putrescent juice of earth’s inner horrors before the madness of my screams could bring down upon me all the charnel legions these pest-gulfs might conceal. Perfect and absolute mental collapse: black pomegranate and vetiver with rose otto, rue, red patchouli, petitgrain, myrrh, and cacao absolute. MOTHER SHUB’S UNMENTIONABLE PEPPERMINT CREAMS Diabolically decadent! Bone-chilling mint swirled in thick globules of marzipan cream. MOTHER SHUB’S SQUAMOUS SEA SALT CARAMEL COOKIES Dusted with mineral-rich salts dredged from the foetid depths of the Nameless Sea! MOTHER SHUB’S PUMPKIN PECAN TREACLE TARTS Popularized by the reality TV show “Real Cultists of Arkham Hills”! OLD KETURAH ZADOK’S CRANBERRY CIDER From a 13th century recipe plundered from the vaults of the Zadok family’s cellars! ++ YULE 2013 ALMOND BLOSSOM Even iron can put forth, Even iron. This is the iron age, But let us take heart Seeing iron break and bud, Seeing rusty iron puff with clouds of blossom. The almond-tree, December's bare iron hooks sticking out of earth. The almond-tree, That knows the deadliest poison, like a snake In supreme bitterness. Upon the iron, and upon the steel, Odd flakes as if of snow, odd bits of snow, Odd crumbs of melting snow. But you mistake, it is not from the sky; From out the iron, and from out the steel, Flying not down from heaven, but storming up, Strange storming up from the dense under-earth Along the iron, to the living steel In rose-hot tips, and flakes of rose-pale snow Setting supreme annunciation to the world. Nay, what a heart of delicate super-faith, Iron-breaking, The rusty swords of almond-trees. Trees suffer, like races, down the long ages. They wander and are exiled, they live in exile through long ages Like drawn blades never sheathed, hacked and gone black, The alien trees in alien lands: and yet The heart of blossom, The unquenchable heart of blossom! Look at the many-cicatrised frail vine, none more scarred and frail, Yet see him fling himself abroad in fresh abandon From the small wound-stump. Even the wilful, obstinate, gummy fig-tree Can be kept down, but he'll burst like a polyp into prolixity. And the almond-tree, in exile, in the iron age! This is the ancient southern earth whence the vases were baked, amphoras, craters, cantharus, oenochoe, and open-hearted cylix, Bristling now with the iron of almond-trees Iron, but unforgotten, Iron, dawn-hearted, Ever-beating dawn-heart, enveloped in iron against the exile, against the ages. See it come forth in blossom From the snow-remembering heart In long-nighted January, In the long dark nights of the evening star, and Sirius, and the Etna snow-wind through the long night. Sweating his drops of blood through the long-nighted Gethsemane Into blossom, into pride, into honey-triumph, into most exquisite splendour. Oh, give me the tree of life in blossom And the Cross sprouting its superb and fearless flowers! Something must be reassuring to the almond, in the evening star, and the snow-wind, and the long, long, nights, Some memory of far, sun-gentler lands, So that the faith in his heart smiles again And his blood ripples with that untenable delight of once-more-vindicated faith, And the Gethsemane blood at the iron pores unfolds, unfolds, Pearls itself into tenderness of bud And in a great and sacred forthcoming steps forth, steps out in one stride A naked tree of blossom, like a bridegroom bathing in dew, divested of cover, Frail-naked, utterly uncovered To the green night-baying of the dog-star, Etna's snow-edged wind And January's loud-seeming sun. Think of it, from the iron fastness Suddenly to dare to come out naked, in perfection of blossom, beyond the sword-rust. Think, to stand there in full-unfolded nudity, smiling, With all the snow-wind, and the sun-glare, and the dog-star baying epithalamion. Oh, honey-bodied beautiful one, Come forth from iron, Red your heart is. Fragile-tender, fragile-tender life-body, More fearless than iron all the time, And so much prouder, so disdainful of reluctances. In the distance like hoar-frost, like silvery ghosts communing on a green hill, Hoar-frost-like and mysterious. In the garden raying out With a body like spray, dawn-tender, and looking about With such insuperable, subtly-smiling assurance, Sword-blade-born. Unpromised, No bounds being set. Flaked out and come unpromised, The tree being life-divine, Fearing nothing, life-blissful at the core Within iron and earth. Knots of pink, fish-silvery In heaven, in blue, blue heaven, Soundless, bliss-full, wide-rayed, honey-bodied, Red at the core, Red at the core, Knotted in heaven upon the fine light. Open, Open, Five times wide open, Six times wide open, And given, and perfect; And red at the core with the last sore-heartedness, Sore-hearted-looking. - DH Lawrence Something must be reassuring to the almond, in the evening star, and the snow-wind, and the long, long, nights: almond blossom, hoar-frost, and snow-wind. BLACK ICE 2013 Lovely, dangerous, slick, and bitterly cold: chilly white sleet-like notes with a hint of vetiver, a breath of smoky asphalt, and winter wind. BUTTER RUM COOKIE 2013 A boozy addition to the devil's bake sale! Rum-soaked butter cookies, crusted with sugar, soaked in almond and garnished with orange rind. CHANUKKIYAH 2013 Baruch ata Ado-nai, Elo-heinu Melech ha'olam, Asher kid'shanu b'mitzvosav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Chanukah. Baruch ata Ado-nai, Elo-heinu Melech ha'olam, She'asah nisim la'avoseinu, bayamim ha'hem baz'man hazeh. Baruch ata Ado-nai, Elo-heinu Melech ha'olam, She'hecheyanu, vekiyemanu vehigi'anu laz'man hazeh. Olive oil, beeswax, glowing amber, sweet sufganiyot, pomegranate, and fig. Ha'Neiros halalu anachnu madlikin al hanisim ve'al hanifla'os, ve'al hat'shu'os ve'al hamilchamos, sh'asisa la'avoseinu bayamim hahem baz'man hazeh, al yedei kohaneicha hakedoshim. Vechol sh'monas yemei Chanukah, haneiros halalu kodesh hem. Ve'ein lanu reshus le'hishtamesh ba'hem, eh'la lir'osam bilvad, ke'dei le'hodos u'lehalel leshimcha hagadol al nisecha ve'al nifle'osecha ve'al yeshu'oshecha. Ma'oz tzur yeshu'asi Lecha na'eh leshabe'ach Tikone bais tefilasi Ve'sham todah nezabe'ach Le'es Tachin Mabe'ach Mitzar ham'nabe'ach Az egmor beshir mizmor Chanukas hamizbe'ach. DAYS OF WINTER SUNSHINE “Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins.” ― Gustave Flaubert Rain falling through the heart: carrot seed, frankincense, white jasmine, sea buckthorn berry, and iris. DEATH’S SECOND SELF That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long. - Sonnet 73, William Shakespeare Yellowed leaves, pale frankincense, solemn amber, and ashes. EGG NOG 2013 Sweet brandy, dark rum, heavy cream, sugar, and a dash of nutmeg. El DIA DE LOS REYES 2013 The Day of Kings, the Celebration of the Magi. In Mexico, on January 6th, children place their shoes by their windows. If they have been good during the previous year, the Wise Men tuck gifts into their shoes during the night. Hot cocoa with cinnamon, coffee, and brown sugar. FAUNALIA 2013 Held on December 5th, this is the festival of the Horned God of the Forest, one of the di indigetes of Rome, god of cattle, fertility, wild, untamed nature, and prophecy through dreams. The scent of a thick, starlit, unspoiled forest, with a burst of wild musk, opobalsamum, black bryony, mandragora, and hemlock. THE FIRST SOFT SNOW 2013 The first soft snow! Enough to bend the leaves Of the jonquil low. Heavy drifts of snow blanketing winter's narcissus. THE FRUIT OF PARADISE 2013 While Persephone visited the realm of Hades, she tasted one single pomegranate seed, an act which compelled her to remain connected to the Land of the Dead for all eternity. Demeter's grief over her beloved daughter's absence that brings on the bleakness and barrenness of the winter months. The Fruit of Paradise, the Nectar of Death: bittersweet pomegranate. THE GARDEN IN WINTER Frosty-white and cold it lies Underneath the fretful skies; Snowflakes flutter where the red Banners of the poppies spread, And the drifts are wide and deep Where the lilies fell asleep. But the sunsets o'er it throw Flame-like splendor, lucent glow, And the moonshine makes it gleam Like a wonderland of dream, And the sharp winds all the day Pipe and whistle shrilly gay. Safe beneath the snowdrifts lie Rainbow buds of by-and-by; In the long, sweet days of spring Music of bluebells shall ring, And its faintly golden cup Many a primrose will hold up. Though the winds are keen and chill Roses' hearts are beating still, And the garden tranquilly Dreams of happy hours to be¬ In the summer days of blue All its dreamings will come true. - Lucy Maud Montgomery Swaths of red poppies, white roses, graceful winter lilies, and sun-bright primroses beaming from beneath a flutter of snowflakes. GO TO SLEEP, DARLINGS “I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.” ― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass Kiss-soft clouds of spun-sugar snow. KRAMPUS 2013 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. KRAMPUSLAUFEN On December 5th, the eve of St. Nicholas day, a veritable storm of Krampi swarm the streets of Bavaria. Wielding sticks and chains, they inspire the hearts of naughty children with terror. Smoke, fur, and rusty chains with apple schnapps, malted chocolate bonbons, and Bavarian mints. LA BEFANA 2013 On the night of the Epiphany, a joyful, broomstick-riding hag clad in a tattered shawl drops into chimneys all over Italy, bestowing gifts to good children, and dropping coal into the stockings of naughty kiddies. La Befana vien di notte Con le scarpe tutte rotte Col vestito alla Romana Viva, Viva La Befana! As the Three Wise Men searched for the house of the Christ child, they found themselves lost. Eventually, they stopped at a small house and knocked on the door. A small, wizened woman opened the door, holding a broom in her hand. The Astrologers asked the woman if she knew the location of the child, but, unfortunately, she did not know who these men were looking for, and could not aid them in their search. It was deep into the night, and the air was chilly, so the kindly woman offered the three men her hospitality. They spent the night in her warm, comfortable home, and shared bread and stories with one another. The Astrologers explained to the woman why they were looking for this blessed infant, and invited her to join them in their search come morning. Though she was touched by their tale, she declined, as she had a great deal of housework to do. At daybreak, the Astrologers awoke. They thanked the woman for her generosity, gathered their things, and prepared to leave. Before they departed, they, again, asked the old woman if she would like to join them on their journey. Again, she declined, and sent them on their way. After they had left, she regretted her decision, and she set off to find the Three Wise Men. After many long and frustrating hours of searching, she still could not find them. Saddened, yet still filled with hope, she stopped to give a gift to every good child she passed. La Befana comes by night With her shoes old and broken She comes dressed in the Roman way Long life to the Befana! Candy charcoal, winter lilies, parma violet, a sprig of cypress, a poof of chimney dust, and holiday sweets. LE PÈRE FOUETTARD 2013 Once upon a time, there lived a stone-hearted, evil butcher and his grasping, covetous wife. Their shop was located near a parochial boarding school in a small village in eastern France. One day, three little boys passed the butcher's shop. Their clothes were neat and starched, and the wicked couple fancied that they could see gold stitching on the little boys' shirtcuffs. The butcher's eyes gleamed with avarice, and he hatched an evil plan to rob the children. His wife enticed the little boys into the shop and fed them poisoned sweets. Her husband then slit their throats, chopped their little bodies into pieces, and put the pieces into barrels. Good Saint Nicholas discovered the monstrous crime, and, through God's grace, resurrected the little boys. He confronted the vile butcher and forced him to atone for his crime. The butcher became Le Père Fouettard, Saint Nicholas' partner on his Christmas travels. Dressed in a soot-covered black suit that mirrors Father Christmas' suit of red and white, he travels with Saint Nick and dispenses coal and floggings to naughty children. Whip leather, coal dust, gaufrette, and black licorice. LICK IT NOW Every holiday season should be full of lewd suggestions and filthy double entendres, right? This is a new take on past Lick Its -- a peppermint candy cane with an extra jolt of sugar, coated in more sugar, with sugar on that 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.) LIKE BROOMS OF STEEL Like brooms of steel The Snow and Wind Had swept the Winter Street, The House was hooked, The Sun sent out Faint Deputies of heat— The Apple in the cellar snug Where rode the Bird The Silence tied His ample, plodding Steed, Was all the one that played. - Emily Dickinson Sharp, metallic slices of snow and freezing wind with a faint hint of cellar dust, burlap, and apple. THE MAHOGANY TREE Christmas is here; Winds whistle shrill, Icy and chill, Little care we; Little we fear Weather without, Shelter'd about The Mahogany Tree. Once on the boughs Birds of rare plume Sang, in its bloom; Night birds are we; Here we carouse, Singing, like them, Perch'd round the stem Of the jolly old tree. Here let us sport, Boys, as we sit— Laughter and wit Flashing so free. Life is but short— When we are gone, Let them sing on, Round the old tree. Evenings we knew, Happy as this; Faces we miss, Pleasant to see. Kind hearts and true, Gentle and just, Peace to your dust! We sing round the tree. Care, like a dun, Lurks at the gate: Let the dog wait; Happy we 'll be! Drink every one; Pile up the coals, Fill the red bowls, Round the old tree. Drain we the cup.— Friend, art afraid? Spirits are laid In the Red Sea. Mantle it up; Empty it yet; Let us forget, Round the old tree. Sorrows, begone! Life and its ills, Duns and their bills, Bid we to flee. Come with the dawn, Blue-devil sprite, Leave us to-night, Round the old tree. - William Makepeace Thackeray Sorrows, begone! Sweet wine, sparkling laughter, warm companionship, and the song of night-birds under a canopy of rustling mahogany: robin-red currants, soft nightingale-brown tonka, glossy starling-black labdanum, hearth-warm amber, mahogany sap, winter woods, a splash of Muscat, and gentle Christmas snow. MIDNIGHT MASS 2013 I will wash my hands among the innocent; and will compass thy altar, O Lord: That I may hear the voice of thy praise: and tell of all thy wondrous works. I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house; and the place where thy glory dwelleth. Take not away my soul, O God, with the wicked: nor my life with bloody men: In whose hands are iniquities: their right hand is filled with gifts. But as for me, I have walked in my innocence: redeem me, and have mercy on me. My foot hath stood in the direct way: in the churches I will bless thee, O Lord. In Roman Catholic tradition, the Christmas season begins liturgically on Christmas Eve, though it is forbidden to celebrate the Christmas Mass before midnight. The most devout attend Midnight Mass, celebrating both the Eucharist and the drama of the Nativity. This perfume is a traditional Roman Catholic sacramental incense, most often used during a Solemn Mass. Traditionally, five tears of this incense, each encased individually in wax that has been fashioned into the shape of a nail, are inserted into the paschal candle. This is, of course, represents the Five Wounds of Our Risen Savior. Symbolically, the burning of the incense signifies spiritual fervor, the fragrance itself inspires virtue, and the rising smoke carries our prayers to God. Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, factorem caeli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium. Et in unum Dominum Iesum Christum, Filium Dei unigenitum, et ex Patre natum ante omnia saecula. Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine, Deum verum de Deo vero, genitum non factum, consubstantialem Patri; per quem omnia facta sunt. Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem descendit de caelis. Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est. Crucifixus etiam pro nobis sub Pontio Pilato, passus et sepultus est, et resurrexit tertia die, secundum Scripturas, et ascendit in caelum, sedet ad dexteram Patris. Et iterum venturus est cum gloria, iudicare vivos et mortuos, cuius regni non erit finis. Et in Spiritum Sanctum, Dominum et vivificantem, qui ex Patre procedit. Qui cum Patre et Filio simul adoratur et conglorificatur: qui locutus est per prophetas. Et unam, sanctam, catholicam et apostolicam Ecclesiam. Confiteor unum baptisma in remissionem peccatorum. Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum, et vitam venturi saeculi. Amen. NUCLEAR WINTER 2013 Annihilation. The ice, desolation and barrenness of nuclear devastation shot through by a beam of radioactive mints. PEACOCK QUEEN 2013 In dramatic contrast to the soft innocence of Snow White and the dew-kissed freshness of her sister, Rose Red, this is a blood red, voluptuous rose, velvet-petaled, at the height of bloom. Haughty and imperious, vain, yet incomparably lovely to the eye, but thick with thorns of jealousy, pride and hatred. PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER Summer fading, winter comes Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, Window robins, winter rooks, And the picture story-books. Water now is turned to stone Nurse and I can walk upon; Still we find the flowing brooks In the picture story-books. All the pretty things put by, Wait upon the children's eye, Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks, In the picture story-books. We may see how all things are Seas and cities, near and far, And the flying fairies' looks, In the picture story-books. How am I to sing your praise, Happy chimney-corner days, Sitting safe in nursery nooks, Reading picture story-books? - Robert Louis Stevenson The wild joy of story time on a frosty winter morning: the well-loved, well-worn leather of old fairy tale books, the sweet mustiness of antique paper, fae glimmers of twinkling crystalline flowers, and a chunk of Scottish Tablet. PINK SNOWBALLS 2013 A lighthearted winter scent: chilly vanilla rose snowballs! Dainty, soft, and certainly unfit for flinging! PURPLE SNOWBALLS Sugar plum snowballs with a touch of currant and cardamom! ROSE RED 2013 The perfected winter rose, dew covered and freshly cut. SKADI 2013 The Snow-Shoe Goddess, Giantess, the Norse embodiment of winter. Frost-rimed winter berries, crisp pine needle, and a slush of bright snowy notes. SNOW WHITE 2013 A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. STARDUST 2013 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, white mandarin, tuberose, ylang ylang and flashing white musk with jonquil, tobacco flower, Queen of the Night blossom, white sandalwood and a pale poppy. TO JUAN AT THE WINTER SOLSTICE There is one story and one story only That will prove worth your telling, Whether are learned bard or gifted child; To it all lines or lesser gauds belong That startle with their shining Such common stories as they stray into. Is it of trees you tell, their months and virtues, Or strange beasts that beset you, Of birds that croak at you the Triple will? Or of the Zodiac and how slow it turns Below the Boreal Crown, Prison of all true kings that ever reigned? Water to water, ark again to ark, From woman back to woman: So each new victim treads unfalteringly The never altered circuit of his fate, Bringing twelve peers as witness Both to his starry rise and starry fall. Or is it of the Virgin's silver beauty, All fish below the thighs? She in her left hand bears a leafy quince; When, with her right she crooks a finger smiling, How may the King hold back? Royally then he barters life for love. Or of the undying snake from chaos hatched, Whose coils contain the ocean, Into whose chops with naked sword he springs, Then in black water, tangled by the reeds, Battles three days and nights, To be spewed up beside her scalloped shore? Much snow is falling, winds roar hollowly, The owl hoots from the elder, Fear in your heart cries to the loving-cup: Sorrow to sorrow as the sparks fly upward. The log groans and confesses There is one story and one story only. Dwell on her graciousness, dwell on her smiling, Do not forget what flowers The great boar trampled down in ivy time. Her brow was creamy as the crested wave, Her sea-blue eyes were wild But nothing promised that is not performed. - Robert Graves A prayer to the White Goddess: Pale rose, sweet clover, and bergamot for the Maiden. Hazelnut, honey, and myrtle and for the Mother. Black cypress, myrrh, and white sandalwood for the Crone. THE VISIONARY Silent is the house: all are laid asleep: One alone looks out o’er the snow-wreaths deep, Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees. Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor; Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door; The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong and far: I trim it well, to be the wanderer’s guiding-star. Frown, my haughty sire! chide, my angry dame! Set your slaves to spy; threaten me with shame: But neither sire nor dame nor prying serf shall know, What angel nightly tracks that waste of frozen snow. What I love shall come like visitant of air, Safe in secret power from lurking human snare; What loves me, no word of mine shall e’er betray, Though for faith unstained my life must forfeit pay. Burn, then, little lamp; glimmer straight and clear— Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air: He for whom I wait, thus ever comes to me; Strange Power! I trust thy might; trust thou my constancy. - Emily Brontë What I love shall come like a visitant of air. The wild freedom of the snow-gleaming heath thrusting through the dull safety of the hearth and the doldrums of the bleak, rolling moors. Lush, honeyed red musk twined with heart-thrilling white musk on passion-warmed skin against a backdrop of raw, iced peat, common heather, and hearth wood. A WINTER DAWN Above the marge of night a star still shines, And on the frosty hills the somber pines Harbor an eerie wind that crooneth low Over the glimmering wastes of virgin snow. Through the pale arch of orient the morn Comes in a milk-white splendor newly-born, A sword of crimson cuts in twain the gray Banners of shadow hosts, and lo, the day! - Lucy Maud Montgomery The soft splendor of dawn in winter: pearlescent pink grapefruit, neroli, helichrysum, freesia, white mandarin, and rockrose rising behind a dapple of snowflakes. WINTER STARS I went out at night alone; The young blood flowing beyond the sea Seemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings— I bore my sorrow heavily. But when I lifted up my head From shadows shaken on the snow, I saw Orion in the east Burn steadily as long ago. From windows in my father’s house, Dreaming my dreams on winter nights, I watched Orion as a girl Above another city’s lights. Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars, All things are changed, save in the east The faithful beauty of the stars. - Sara Teasdale Dreaming my dreams on winter nights: starry blue musk with mugwort, white mandarin, rockrose, and snow. YELLOW SNOWBALLS 2013 Because I am very, very crass. Slushy white mint, vanilla cream, lemon drops, grapefruit, and yuzu! ++ YULE: GINGERBREAD COTILLION NOW you shall hear a story that somebody's great-great-grandmother told a little girl ever so many years ago: There was once a little old man and a little old woman, who lived in a little old house in the edge of a wood. They would have been a very happy old couple but for one thing -- they had no little child, and they wished for one very much. One day, when the little old woman was baking gingerbread, she cut a cake in the shape of a little boy, and put it into the oven. Presently she went to the oven to see if it was baked. As soon as the oven door was opened, the little gingerbread boy jumped out, and began to run away as fast as he could go. The little old woman called her husband, and they both ran after him. But they could not catch him. And soon the gingerbread boy came to a barn full of threshers. He called out to them as he went by, saying: I've run away from a little old woman, A little old man, And I can run away from you, I can! Then the barn full of threshers set out to run after him. But, though they ran fast, they could not catch him. And he ran on till he came to a field full of mowers. He called out to them: I've run away from a little old woman, A little old man, A barn full of threshers, And I can run away from you, I can! Then the mowers began to run after him, but they couldn't catch him. And he ran on till he came to a cow. He called out to her: I've run away from a little old woman, A little old man, A barn full of threshers, A field full of mowers, And I can run away from you, I can! But, though the cow started at once, she couldn't catch him. And soon he came to a pig. He called out to the pig: I've run away from a little old woman, A little old man, A barn full of threshers, A field full of mowers, A cow, And I can run away from you, I can! But the pig ran, and couldn't catch him. And he ran till he came across a fox, and to him he called out: I've run away from a little old woman, A little old man, A barn full of threshers, A field full of mowers, A cow and a pig, And I can run away from you, I can! Then the fox set out to run. Now foxes can run very fast, and so the fox soon caught the gingerbread boy and began to eat him up. Presently the gingerbread boy said, "Oh dear! I'm quarter gone!" And then, "Oh, I'm half gone!" And soon, "I'm three-quarters gone!" And at last, "I'm all gone!" and never spoke again. GINGERBREAD SATYR I've run away from a little old woman, A little old man, A barn full of threshers, A field full of mowers, A cow and a pig, And I can run away from you, I can! Gingerbread with red musk, brown musk, civet and ambergris accord, Ceylon cinnamon, black cedar, black moss, and pine tar. GINGERBREAD SNAKE Oh dear! I’m a quarter gone! Gingerbread and exotic Indonesian oils sugared with vanilla. GINGERBREAD TROLL Oh, I’m half gone! Gingerbread with vetiver, pine pitch, troll musk, black basil, clove smoke, and scorched cumin. GINGERBREAD VILLAIN I’m three-quarters gone! Gingerbread fougere, with hints of lilac, lime, and citrus musk. GINGERBREAD ZOMBI I’m all gone! Gingerbread with dried roses, rose leaf, Spanish moss, oakmoss and deep brown earth. ++ YULE: BRIAN KESINGER’S OTTO AND VICTORIA Inspired by Brian Kesinger’s Otto and Victoria! We love Otto & Victoria! OTTO & VICTORIA: BRAVING THE ICE White mint cookies with a drizzle of pomegranate cream, dusted with confectioner’s sugar. OTTO & VICTORIA: YULE COOKIES Clouds of flour and spices with the scent of ginger tea, warm caraway cakes, snickerdoodle pinwheels, and sugar cookies with sweet orange frosting. Next up: table rapping, a ghostly photo shoot, some ectoplasm, and the BPTP Yules!

Terrible Moon is Terrible! MOON OF THE TERRIBLE On New Year's Day each thought a loneliness as winter dusk descends Desolation at the last moment in the gloaming on New Year's Day: winter snow with white lavender, benzoin, lychee, white resins, and a cluster of melancholy, lachrymose lunar herbs. Illustration for Moon of the Terrible by our dear friend, the limitlessly talented Tanya Bjork! The Moon of the Terrible tee is live at Black Phoenix Trading Post! - - - 11th ANNIVERSARY Happy birthday to my oldest child, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab! Mama's little punim... A million, trillion, thanks and gratitude beyond words to all of our friends and customers that have been with us through the last eleven years. You have extended my family a thousand-fold, and I am grateful for every single one of you. Thank you for sharing your lives with us, thank you for your kindness, your support, and your laughter, and thank you for the joy and pleasure I find in your friendship. With all of my love... Thank you, Brian, for being the foundation upon which BPAL stands. BPAL would not exist without your wisdom and good counsel, and every moment of my life is enriched by your friendship. You are the best of friends, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not grateful for you, you big lug. Ted, I love you. You are my soulmate, my light, and my strength. I love you with every part of my soul, and every moment with you – no matter how mundane it may seem – is poetry in my heart. Thank you, my Lilith, my heart, for being my inspiration. You are my tiny muse, and I love you completely, always and forever. Thank you, Jacquelynn, for all of your hard work, dedication, and ingenuity. You are amazing beyond words, and I am grateful for you and for everything you do! Thank you, Lisa, for your wit and wisdom, for your kindness and aid, and for your friendship. You are a saint, and I love you! Thank you, Piolet, for being an oasis of calm, no matter how crazy things get here! Thank you for your hard work and your strength of character, and thank you for always making me laugh. Thank you, Will, for your hard work, diligence, and dedication! Thank you to Sue and Del at Dark Delicacies for everything you do. Thank you for giving a second home to Black Phoenix, and thank you for being the greatest grandparents a little demoness could ask for! Thank you, Sara, for all the skill, love, joy, and dedication that you invest into every event you help us with! You are a wonderful woman, and I adore you! Kaitlin, I adore you. You have no idea how truly, truly grateful I am for all of the blood, sweat, and tears that you have invested in working on our new site. You are a beautiful person in every way, in every conceivable sense of the word. Thank you, Cat, for being the dearest of friends. Thank you for your kind heart, thank you for your compassion, and thank you for always being there for me. Thank you, Shana, for helping us spread the word! Thank you for your talent, buoyant humor, and infectious enthusiasm! You are a truly good woman, and I’m grateful beyond words. Love you! Thank you, Forest, for being a true friend. Your noble spirit is an inspiration, and I’m so very thankful for our friendship. I love you, lady! Thank you to the mods and administrators of bpal.org. I love you guys as much as I love my own blood, and I’m grateful not only for all that you do to run the forum, but for the gift – the blessing – of your friendship. I know you guys know how much I love you, but I’m going to keep repeating it! Thank you, Em, for always being there to help me with my weird questions and concerns, and for always having my back. I love you. Thank you to Jen, Lisa, Sue, Greg, Sara, and Tom for making this year’s travelling medicine show possible. Thank you so much for being there for us, and for giving so much of yourselves to the events! Thank you, Donna, for babysitting BPAL again! You are a lifesaver! I love you! Thank you, Courtney, for being my New England Sister! Thank you for being such an amazing friend, and thank you for all the passion and love you put into every New England Will Call event! Huge amounts of love and HUGE amounts of gratitude to Laura Hall and all the wonderful people at Laika studios. Your generosity and kindness is beyond measure. Thank you to Thomas, Melissa, and Chandra (and Thomas Jr!) at Century Guild. You are wonderful people, and I love you! Thank you to Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, Peter S. Beagle, Terry Pratchett, Terry Moore, Mike and Christine Mignola, George Perez, Peter David, Molly Crabapple, Mark Waid, Thomas Negovan, Storm Constantine, Matt Wagner, Jim Henson Productions, Brian Pulido, Joseph Michael Linsner, Eva Hopkins, Gris Grimly, George RR Martin, Clive Barker, Mark Miller, David Mack, Gail Potocki, Erin Morgenstern, and Ysanne Spevak for giving Black Phoenix the opportunity to interpret your work. Thank you, Carolyn Hennesy, for being a wonderful friend and a constant joy. Your stories are adorable, your talent is boundless, and you are the dearest of friends! Thank you, Tom, for everything you do to help us while we’re on the road, and thank you for doing all you can to integrate Black Phoenix into your work. I love you, and I’m grateful for our friendship! Thank you to the noble souls at the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund and the Hero Initiative. You are an inspiration. Thank you, Charles, for being an inspiration and a true friend. When is our next trip to NOLA?! Much thanks to Peter S. Beagle and Connor Cochran for their friendship. You bring so much joy to so many people! Love and thanks to the artists that have lent us their talent: Adam Hughes, Alicia Dabney, Julie Dillon, Madame Talbot, Quique Alcatena, Jennifer Rodgers, Manda Lander, Keri Newton, Nick Pavik, Tanya Bjork, Andrew Fogel, Brian Kessinger, Abigail Larson, Aidan Casserly, and Sarah Coleman! Love and thanks to Century Guild, the Mütter Museum, Heretic Salon, Whole Foods, Pretty Indulgent, Healthy Living, and Dark Delicacies for giving our products a home in your stores! Love and thanks to the bloggers, journalists, magazines, and other media outlets that taken the time to write about Black Phoenix. Honestly, I cannot thank you enough. And lastly, I’d like to thank the skekSi’s of Thra for their support, friendship, wise counsel, and fashion tips. The world is a better place because you all are in it. What I’ve said before, I’ll say again: Thank you for sharing our joy and for standing with us during difficult times. The family that has grown around BPAL is like no other in the world. Every time I wander into the forum, I see people supporting one another in times of need, showing selfless kindness and offering support to one another… to me, you all are models of emotional generosity and true friendship, and it is truly an honor to be a part of your lives. I cannot express my gratitude enough. Thank you for celebrating the beauty of living with us, and for holding our hands during times of stress and sorrow. This year has been turbulent for just about everyone we know. It’s been a hard year filled with challenges and hidden lessons, but none of it is insurmountable because we all have this tremendous, genuinely loving family. Thank you. THANK YOU! And without further ado, the Anniversary scents! ++ DE FENICE Visions of the Phoenix throughout history. Fenix Arabie avis dicta quod colorem feniceum habeat, vel quod sit in toto orbe singularis et unica. Hec quingentos ultra annos vivens, dum se viderit senuisse, collectis aromatum virgultis, ro gum sibi instruit, et conversa ad radium solis alarum plausu voluntarium sibi incendium nutrit, seque urit. BARUCH’S PHOENIX And he took me and led me where the sun goes forth; and he showed me a chariot and four, under which burnt a fire, and in the chariot was sitting a man, wearing a crown of fire, (and) the chariot (was) drawn by forty angels. And behold a bird circling before the sun, about nine cubits away. And I said to the angel, What is this bird? And he said to me, This is the guardian of the earth. And I said, Lord, how is he the guardian of the earth? Teach me. And the angel said to me, This bird flies alongside of the sun, and expanding his wings receives its fiery rays. For if he were not receiving them, the human race would not be preserved, nor any other living creature. But God appointed this bird thereto. And he expanded his wings, and I saw on his right wing very large letters, as large as the space of a threshing-floor, the size of about four thousand modii; and the letters were of gold. And the angel said to me, Read them. And I read, and they ran thus: Neither earth nor heaven bring me forth, but wings of fire bring me forth. And I said, Lord, what is this bird, and what is his name? And the angel said to me, His name is called Phoenix. (And I said), And what does he eat ? And he said to me, The manna of heaven and the dew of earth. And I said, Does the bird excrete? And he said to me, He excretes a worm, and the excrement of the worm is cinnamon, which kings and princes use. But wait and thou shalt see the glory of God. And while he was conversing with me, there was as a thunder-clap, and the place was shaken on which we were standing. And I asked the angel, My Lord, what is this sound? And the angel said to me, Even now the angels are opening the three hundred and sixty-five gates of heaven, and the light is being separated from the darkness. And a voice came which said, Light giver, give to the world radiance. And when I heard the noise of the bird, I said, Lord, what is this noise? And he said, This is the bird who awakens from slumber the cocks upon earth. For as men do through the mouth, so also does the cock signify to those in the world, in his own speech. For the sun is made ready by the angels, and the cock crows. And I said, And where does the sun begin its labours, after the cock crows? And the angel said to me, Listen, Baruch: All things whatsoever I showed thee are in the first and second heaven, and in the third heaven the sun passes through and gives light to the world. But wait, and thou shall see the glory of God. And while I was conversing with him, I saw the bird, and he appeared in front, and grew less and less, and at length returned to his full size. And behind him I saw the shining sun, and the angels which draw it, and a crown upon its head, the sight of which we were not able to gaze upon; and behold. And as soon as the sun shone, the Phoenix also stretched out his wings. But I, when I beheld such great glory, was brought low with great fear, and I fled and hid in the wings of the angel. And the angel said to me, Fear not, Baruch, but wait and thou shalt also see their setting. And he took me and led me towards the west; and when the time of the setting came, I saw again the bird coming before it, and as soon as he came I saw the angels, and they lifted the crown from its head. But the bird stood exhausted and with wings contracted. And beholding these things, I said, Lord, wherefore did they lift the crown from the head of the sun, and wherefore is the bird so exhausted? And the angel said to me, The crown of the sun, when it has run through the day four angels take it, and bear it up to heaven, and renew it, because it and its rays have been defiled upon earth; moreover it is so renewed each day. And I Baruch said, Lord, and wherefore are its beams defiled upon earth? And the angel said to me, Because it beholds the lawlessness and unrighteousness of men, namely fornications, adulteries, thefts, extortions, idolatries, drunkenness, murders, strife, jealousies, evil-speakings, murmurings, whisperings, divinations, and such like, which are not well-pleasing to God. On account of these things is it defiled, and therefore is it renewed. But thou askest concerning the bird, how it is exhausted. Because by restraining the rays of the sun through the fire and burning heat of the whole day, it is exhausted thereby. For, as we said before, unless his wings were screening the rays of the sun, no living, creature would be preserved. - Greek Apocalypse of Baruch Born in radiance, defiled, and resplendently renewed: Atlas cedar, white fig, sugared date, sweet orange, golden honey, white sandalwood, benzoin, galbanum, and bitter almond. EZEKIEL’S PHOENIX Another living creature we saw, full wondrous, such as man has never seen; ’twas near in scope to twice the eagle’s size, with plumage iridescent, rainbow-hued. Its breast appeared deep-dyed with purple’s shade, its legs were red like ochre, and its neck was furnished round with tresses saffron-hued; like a coxcomb did its crest appear, with amber-tinted eye it gazed about, the pupil like some pomegranate seed. Exceeding all, its voice pre-eminent; of every wing’d thing, the king, it did appear. For all the birds, as one, in fear did haste to follow after him, and he before, like some triumphant bull went striding forth with rapid step apace. - Ezekiel the Tragedian, the Exagoge Its breast appeared deep-dyed with purple’s shade, its legs were red like ochre, and its neck was furnished round with tresses saffron-hued; like a coxcomb did its crest appear, with amber-tinted eye it gazed about, the pupil like some pomegranate seed: wild plum, North African saffron, frankincense, pomegranate, limonite accord, and golden amber. HERODOTUS’ PHOENIX They have also another sacred bird called the phoenix which I myself have never seen, except in pictures. Indeed it is a great rarity, even in Egypt, only coming there (according to the accounts of the people of Heliopolis) once in five hundred years, when the old phoenix dies. Its size and appearance, if it is like the pictures, are as follow:- The plumage is partly red, partly golden, while the general make and size are almost exactly that of the eagle. They tell a story of what this bird does, which does not seem to me to be credible: that he comes all the way from Arabia, and brings the parent bird, all plastered over with myrrh, to the temple of the Sun, and there buries the body. In order to bring him, they say, he first forms a ball of myrrh as big as he finds that he can carry; then he hollows out the ball, and puts his parent inside, after which he covers over the opening with fresh myrrh, and the ball is then of exactly the same weight as at first; so he brings it to Egypt, plastered over as I have said, and deposits it in the temple of the Sun. Such is the story they tell of the doings of this bird. - Herodotus, Histories A fragrant shroud: myrrh from Yemen, Oman, and West Africa with a touch of copal and frankincense. HESIOD’S PHOENIX A chattering crow lives out nine generations of aged men, but a stag's life is four times a crow's, and a raven's life makes three stags old, while the phoenix outlives nine ravens, but we, the rich-haired Nymphs, daughters of Zeus the aegis-holder, outlive ten phoenixes. - Hesoid, the Precepts of Chiron Golden amber, bourbon vanilla, and sweet oudh. OVID’S PHOENIX There is one bird which reproduces and renews itself: the Assyrians gave this bird his name—the Phoenix. He does not live either on grain or herbs, but only on small drops of frankincense and juices of amomum. When this bird completes a full five centuries of life straightway with talons and with shining beak he builds a nest among palm branches, where they join to form the palm tree's waving top. As soon as he has strewn in this new nest the cassia bark and ears of sweet spikenard, and some bruised cinnamon with yellow myrrh, he lies down on it and refuses life among those dreamful odors.—And they say that from the body of the dying bird is reproduced a little Phoenix which is destined to live just as many years. When time has given to him sufficient strength and he is able to sustain the weight, he lifts the nest up from the lofty tree and dutifully carries from that place his cradle and the parent's sepulchre. As soon as he has reached through yielding air the city of Hyperion, he will lay the burden just before the sacred doors within the temple of Hyperion. - Ovid, Metamorphoses Fitful dreams of the cradle and sepulchre: honey, cassia bark, sweet spikenard, cinnamon, and yellow myrrh. PLINY’S PHOENIX The phoenix, of which there is only one in the world, is the size of an eagle. It is gold around the neck, its body is purple, and its tail is blue with some rose-colored feathers. It has a feathered crest on its head. No one has ever seen the Phoenix feeding. In Arabia it is sacred to the sun god. It lives 540 years; when it is old it builds a nest from wild cinnamon and frankincense, fills the nest with scents, and lies down on it until it dies. From the bones and marrow of the dead phoenix there grows a sort of maggot, which grows into a bird the size of a chicken. This bird performs funeral rites for its predecessor, then carries the whole nest to the City of the Sun near Panchaia and places it on an altar there. - Pliny, Natural History Wild cinnamon and frankincense. TACITUS’ PHOENIX That it is a creature sacred to the sun, differing from all other birds in its beak and in the tints of its plumage, is held unanimously by those who have described its nature. As to the number of years it lives, there are various accounts. The general tradition says five hundred years. Some maintain that it is seen at intervals of fourteen hundred and sixty-one years, and that the former birds flew into the city called Heliopolis successively in the reigns of Sesostris, Amasis, and Ptolemy, the third king of the Macedonian dynasty, with a multitude of companion birds marvelling at the novelty of the appearance. But all antiquity is of course obscure. From Ptolemy to Tiberius was a period of less than five hundred years. Consequently some have supposed that this was a spurious phoenix, not from the regions of Arabia, and with none of the instincts which ancient tradition has attributed to the bird. For when the number of years is completed and death is near, the phoenix, it is said, builds a nest in the land of its birth and infuses into it a germ of life from which an offspring arises, whose first care, when fledged, is to bury its father. This is not rashly done, but taking up a load of myrrh and having tried its strength by a long flight, as soon as it is equal to the burden and to the journey, it carries its father's body, bears it to the altar of the Sun, and leaves it to the flames. All this is full of doubt and legendary exaggeration. Still, there is no question that the bird is occasionally seen in Egypt. - Tacitus, Annals The Incense of the Altar of the Sun: ambrette seed, olibanum, benzoin, labdanum, galbanum, frankincense, calamus, clove bud, and orange peel. - - - In other gnus... Our west coast full moon event is this Sunday at Dark Delicacies, 4pm til 7pm. We’re hosting our annual food and toy drives at this shindig /and/ at our December will call. Double the freebies and double the aid! This year’s charity drive scents are inspired by Pieter Bruegel the Elder -- For every $10 in food that you donate, you will receive a 5ml bottle of THE HARVESTERS Pear trees, boiled oats, and wine beside a ripe field of wheat waving under a late-summer sun. For every toy valued at $10 or more that you bring, you will receive a 5ml bottle of HUNTERS IN THE SNOW The scent of a calm, grey winter’s day: bare trees and cooking fires, thick blankets of snow, and icy, frozen rivers. We are offering these oils while supplies last, and cannot guarantee that any Will Call location will be able to fulfill all donation exchanges. We’ll do our best! Food donations made at our Los Angeles will call will support the Burbank Temporary Aid Center, and the toys will be donated to the Los Angeles location will be given to Spark of Love, the Los Angeles County Fire Department’s toy collection campaign. The west coast will call event will be held on Sunday, November 17th from 4 to 7pm at Dark Delicacies. Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Blvd (1 block east of Hollywood Way) Burbank, CA 91505 www.darkdel.com New England will call will be hosting their food & toy drive at their will call in December! - - - Visit the BPAL site on Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, or Cyber Monday... PROGRESSUS Make a purchase at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab on Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, or Cyber Monday, and receive a free imp of PROGRESSUS: a blend of Solar oils believed to generate abundance, augment success, and bestow good fortune, including golden amber, honey laurel, heliotrope, saffron, and Atlas cedar. - - - Up next, Yuletide and Krampusnacht. Have you been naughty or nice?

Our west coast full moon event is this Sunday at Dark Delicacies, 4pm til 7pm. We’re hosting our annual food and toy drives at this shindig /and/ at our December will call. Double the freebies and double the aid! This year’s charity drive scents are inspired by Pieter Bruegel the Elder -- For every $10 in food that you donate, you will receive a 5ml bottle of THE HARVESTERS Pear trees, boiled oats, and wine beside a ripe field of wheat waving under a late-summer sun. For every toy valued at $10 or more that you bring, you will receive a 5ml bottle of HUNTERS IN THE SNOW The scent of a calm, grey winter’s day: bare trees and cooking fires, thick blankets of snow, and icy, frozen rivers. We are offering these oils while supplies last, and cannot guarantee that any Will Call location will be able to fulfill all donation exchanges. We’ll do our best! Food donations made at our Los Angeles will call will support the Burbank Temporary Aid Center, and the toys will be donated to the Los Angeles location will be given to Spark of Love, the Los Angeles County Fire Department’s toy collection campaign. The west coast will call event will be held on Sunday, November 17th from 4 to 7pm at Dark Delicacies. Dark Delicacies 3512 W. Magnolia Blvd (1 block east of Hollywood Way) Burbank, CA 91505 www.darkdel.com New England will call will be hosting their food & toy drive at their will call in December! - - - Visit the BPAL site on Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, or Cyber Monday… PROGRESSUS Make a purchase at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab on Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, or Cyber Monday, and receive a free imp of PROGRESSUS: a blend of Solar oils believed to generate abundance, augment success, and bestow good fortune, including golden amber, honey laurel, heliotrope, saffron, and Atlas cedar.

Further incentive! For every bottle you purchase of Single Note: Sampaguita, we will throw in an imp of Bliss in the Pumpkin Patch!

Further incentive! For every bottle you purchase of Single Note: Sampaguita, we will throw in an imp of Bliss in the Pumpkin Patch!

In order to help alleviate the suffering caused by Typhoon Haiyan, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is releasing Single Note: Sampaguita a month early. Proceeds from the sale of every single bottle will go to support local recovery efforts through Community and Family Services International and the Philippine Red Cross. SINGLE NOTE: SAMPAGUITA Little sampaguita With the wondering eye Did a tiny fair Drop you where you lie? In the witching hour Of the tropic night Did the careless moonbeam Leave you in its fight? - Natividad Marquez (Ana Maria Chavez) A symbol of purity, strength, and humility, sampaguita is the national flower of the Philippines, my mother’s homeland. Heady, yet cool and slightly green: jasmine sambac with a hint of tea leaf.

Black Phoenix Trading Post will be dark from Monday, November 4th til Sunday, November 10th. Trading Post orders will still be packed and shipped during that time, but customer service will be on a brief hiatus. Mr. Ted will be on radio silence, and will not be able to answer emails, forum pm’s, or FB messages. Teddy and his goblins will back at your beck and call on Monday, November 11th! If you have an emergency while BPTP is shuttered, please email Lisa at answers@blackphoenixalchemylab.com. BPAL won't have access to any BPTP order or shipment information, but we will do our best to help with any questions.

Wanna show off your pumpkin carving skills?

In 1863, a coterie of opium-addled Massachusetts musicians were drawn to the dark, forested foothills of the Silent Mountains. Upon their arrival, they heard the monotonous piping of an unseen flute that led them to a dark sigil that had been burned into a strange stone outcropping. On that day, both the Society of the Gibbering Sons of Hideous Azathoth and the Miskatonic Valley Philharmonic were born... Please join us in ringing in the Miskatonic Valley Philharmonic's 150th season! Commemorative scents are available at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, and MVP tees are available at Black Phoenix Trading Post! Logo design by Tanya Bjork! Also at the 'Post -- ALL HALLOWS' READ Celebrate Neil Gaiman's Halloween tradition by sharing the scare! This holiday season, give the gift of horror lit to friends, family, neighbors, and random people passing you on the street! To commemorate All Hallows’ Read 2013, Black Phoenix Trading Post has conspired with Neil Gaiman and Neverwear to create this ghastly bottle stand. Featuring the graves of three of horror’s greatest and equipped to house three BPAL bottles, this is a must for every literature-lover’s macabre mantelpiece! The idea of it is incredibly simple this Halloween give somebody a scary book, to read. That’s the idea. We’re not saying don’t give candy, candy is important, fake blood is important, Zombie teeth are incredibly important… Err do they have Zombie teeth? If they have Zombie Teeth they would be incredibly important. The point is, give somebody a scary book. Give kids scary books that kids would like. Give adults scary books that adults would like. If you have friends give them scary book that friends would like. Buy scary books for them, borrow scary books for them. Get them second hand. Check them out of the library… Spread the joy… and the terror. -Neil Gaiman Also available at Black Phoenix Trading Post, an All Hallows' Read scent by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab -- ALL HALLOWS' APPLE Fallen apples, grave moss, autumn leaves, and upturned earth. Both the All Hallows' Read Bottle Graveyard and All Hallows' Apple are available at Black Phoenix Trading Post while supplies last! Proceeds from sales of the All Hallows’ Read Bottle Graveyard and the All Hallows’ Apple scent benefit the CBLDF. Bookmarks with his adorable ‘Trick or Treat’ illustration are available at Neverwear! Please give them a visit for more All Hallows' Read goodness! All Hallows’ Read Bottle Graveyard sculpted by Michael Locascio! All Hallows' Apple label artwork by Sean Von Gorman! Please note: the All Hallows’ Read Bottle Graveyard and All Hallows’ Apple will not begin shipping until November 13th.

Beaver Moon is rising over Black Phoenix! BEAVER MOON(S) 2013 Beaver Moon is named thus for a very obvious reason: during this time of year, beavers are hard at work building their dams and preparing for the onset of winter. Generally, we use this opportunity to abuse the name of this Moon by turning it into a double entendre. This year, we are offering our traditionally sleazy interpretation, plus a vision of Beaver Moon presented in a serious light. BEAVER MOON I Thick, creamy cheesecake with thyme, lemon zest, and sugared pear. BEAVER MOON II This is the scent of thick branches of maple, quaking aspen, and willow held together by river mud, a feast of sedge and water lilies, and the first quiet breath of winter's night flowing over warm brown fur. Artwork by Keri Newton! The tee is available at Black Phoenix Trading Post now! This month's single note... WHITE SAGE White sage is a potent herb of purification, protection, and healing, and has been used as a ceremonial incense for hundreds of years. Medicinally, white sage can be used as an antiseptic, and I think this makes an excellent metaphor: the herb and oil are spiritual disinfectants, preventing putrefaction of the soul. Meanwhile, at Black Phoenix Trading Post: BLISS SMOOCH We are thrilled to announce another Black Phoenix Trading Post / Villainess collaborative project! BPTP and Villainess have teamed up to create Bliss Smooch - concocted by Villainess, scented by Black Phoenix! A shot of pure, self-indulgent euphoria! A scent that is very, very wicked in its own way: the serotonin-slathered scent of pure milk chocolate. BLACK CAT HALLOWEEN TAROT TEE Have an aversion to the Swords suit? Think the Tower is bad news? They've got nothin' on this kitty. Illustrated by our dear friend, Tanya! MASSIVE BPAL LOGO MUG At Black Phoenix, we love coffee. We also love tea. We love caffeine so much that our sweat could give you a buzz. In order to accommodate our caffeine needs, we now carry humongous 20oz mugs. It's the next best thing to an IV drip. BPAL logo revamp by our dear friend, Nick Pavik! BADASS PEN Write your next masterpiece with our SUPER FANCY VERY AWESOME branded orange pens! Blue ink + orange case for an extra burst of Mercury creativity! And now for the bad news: Hellboy, Kali, Galvanic Goggles, Coyote, Ogygia, Cthulhu, and Jack are all temporarily unavailable. We will let you know as soon as they're ready to move again!

The remaining bottles of Time’s Infliction of Eternity are live on the Century Guild web site now. They’re also running low on Hatta, Nevar, and Wormwood Field. So, if you want them, now’s the time. Once they’re gone, they’re gone! http://centuryguild.net/collections/fragmented-alice-merchandise/products/times-infliction-of-eternity-bpal