Discontinued Scent Notes
Well, we rotate some (ok, a lot!) of our fragrances annually. Some of our suppliers stop making seasonal ingredients, and also we get bored and need space in the lab for new things.
The intention here is to have an imperfect, constantly added-to list. I'm copying and pasting directly off of our shop notes to get the first big batch up and running. You'll notice that it isn't formatted perfectly, and there will be misspellings here and there. I had to either let my perfectionism go, or never, ever do it. It is here, and it is perfectly imperfect!
I've also included all of the stories, because they make me smile! It's a very long document, so I suggest you use CTRL+F or another search method of your choice to skip through to what you're looking for. Enjoy!
You know that coworker who always has the best snacks at her desk? The gourmet chips; the fancy jerky; and those amazing chocolate-covered acai berries? This smells just like those acai berries coated in pure dark chocolate. Juicy, chocolatey, delectable: just what we like to eat, and smell like. Because why not smell like a delicious, perfect snack, especially when you ARE a snack, oh hooooney. It’s also perfect for layering, either with one of our other summer scents (coconut palm tree?), or with any other scent you choose!
Scent Notes: Fresh acai berries covered in rich, dark chocolate. Fresh, cold rice milk and crisp white musk
Who doesn't love mango? Ripe, refreshing, sweet yet tart, great in both sweet and savory forms, mango is just one of the most perfect fruits. Which is why we made this mango tree scent, perfect for layering or wearing as a stand-alone scent so everyone knows that you are sweet and refreshing and absolutely perfect just as you are. Or layer with another one of our fruit tree scents (coconut? lime?) for a perfect fruity summer scent!
Scent notes: Mangoes with fresh green galbanum and bright pink peppercorns. A whisper of cardamom and sea salt, served under black linen canopies.
We know in the citrus family that lemon and orange reign supreme. But we’re here to make the case for lime, that tart citrus spike that's necessary for so many desserts and great cocktails, like the perfect drink: midnight margaritas. Lime is the unsung hero of the fruit world, which is why we decided to make this scent. Plus, it's perfect for layering with any of our other fruit tree scents, so you can really put the lime in the coconut any time you want. (Sorry. Had to.)
Scent Notes: Fizzing fresh green limes, wild labadanum and tonka with champagne bubbles
Nothing brings to mind warm temperatures, the beach, hammocks, and relaxing quite like a palm tree, especially if it’s a palm tree full of coconuts. Nature’s hardest fruit to open and enjoy is always worth the effort expended to crack that shell open and enjoying all the deliciousness inside: the coconut water, the ripe flesh, and hey, you can use the shell as a natural cup for your pina colada! This scent is perfect when you want to be reminded of hot sunny days any time of the year, and it’s wonderful when layered with other fruit tree scents (lime in the coconut, obviously, but can we interest you in a coconut-mango combination?).
Scent Notes: Creamy coconut, swirls of black musk and vanilla, fresh green petitgrain, island beach grasses, and a hint of ocean breeze
Passion fruit vine:
Okay, fine, so passion fruit grows on a vine and not on a tree; semantics be damned, we wanted to include this scent in our fruit tree summer line because passion fruit is delicious. Exotic, tropical, brightly-colored with a weirdly seeded inside that admittedly looks kind of gross but tastes amazing, passion fruit is a must-have scent for the summer. Layer it with any of our other fruit tree scents (peach? apricot? mango?) or any other scent of your choosing that needs a tropical boost.
Scent Notes: Passionfruit, bright green tomato leaf, frangipani blooms and a pinch of heliotrope flower
Apricots are underappreciated. They’re like peaches you can eat without getting a bunch of fuzz in your mouth (or having to deal with peeling them first); you can just pluck one off a tree, wash it, and eat it! What a simple, perfect fruit. This scent, of course, is also simple and perfect: a ripe, juicy apricot plucked off the tree and eaten without a care in the world. Enjoy on its own, or layer with another one of our summer fruit tree scents for a truly delectable, effortless summer scent.
Scent notes: Fresh, tangy apricots, fizzing bubbles, a dash of herbal sage
We love a good pear tree, even if there’s nary a partridge in sight. Pears are another delicate, delectable fruit that can be used in almost anything: pies, tarts, cobbler, or paired with cheese for a sweet-and-savory combination that just can’t be beat. If you need a juicy, plump scent that goes with everything, try pear. Plus, it’s great for layering (perhaps with fig? or apricot?) to create a custom fruit summer scent. Show all those people who think “pear-shaped” is a bad thing just how wrong they really are.
Scent Notes: Hot, crisp pear tart drizzled with caramel. Drowned in heavy cream spiced with cardamom, cinnamon, and a touch of vanilla.
Let’s be real: figs are sexy. They’re considered to be an aphrodisiac, and not just because of their sensual shape. It’s also alleged, if you believe in the Bible and that whole thing, that the fruit Eve ate to gain knowledge of good and evil was a fig, not an apple. If that’s the case, then sign us up to pluck figs from a tree all day, every day. If you want a sexy, scrumptious, simple scent, Fig Tree is for you. Plus, it’s easy to layer with any of our other summer fruit scents, should you have the desire. (And we know you’re full of desires, you saucy fig lover, you.)
Scent Notes: Warm late summer figs offered on a platter with warm honeycomb, almonds, coumarin, and sips of red wine. Healthy. This is healthy.
Melisandre: The Red Woman. She Who Births Shadows. Burner of Innocent Children. There’s a lot of names you could call Melisandre, and you’d be right with all of them. But you can’t deny that the bitch is magical, and once she’s set her mind to something, she’s absolutely determined to move forth with her plan, even when everything and everyone around her is trying to tell her it’s a bad idea and every piece of her clothing smells a bit like smoke and tar. The Lord of Light gave her unimaginable power, and how sane would you be with that amount of magic coursing through your veins? Even with her faults, Melisandre is dedicated and devoted. Plus, she helped bring back Jon Snow from the goddamn dead, AND she’s a stone-cold fox (when she’s wearing her necklace; otherwise, maybe don’t look too closely). We’re under your spellisandre, Melisandre, and we don’t care who knows it! Just, please don’t burn us alive, thanks.
Scent notes: The tangy musk of a frightened animal running for its life, smoke from the flames of a divinatory fire made by the Lord of Light himself, carrot seed oil applied liberally to the dead body of a hero to help raise him from beyond the pale, ancient incense wafting from the back of a chapel, spicy cinnamon sticks procured from an ancient, trusted, and tired market vendor.
Ygritte: Okay, let’s get one thing clear: Jon Snow was lucky to have you. You took that spoiled, headstrong boy and turned him into a damn MAN, willing to do what’s necessary in order for the greater good. Sure, your relationship ended tragically, but most grand romances end up going down in a blaze of glory and arrows through the back. Your street smarts, quick wit, brazen feminist agenda, loyalty, natural good looks and kissed-by-fire hair made you the total package. Wildling, you make our hearts sing. You’re the perfect combination of tough and feminine, strong but soft, gentle yet will absolutely kill you with an arrow without question. You’ve been gone for almost as long as you were here, perhaps longer, but your life has made us forever change the way we look at caves, and what to look for in a man, because they should all be excellent orators, or what’s the point?
Scent notes: Milk lapped directly from a freshly-opened coconut, a beautifully made lei of pikake flowers placed around your neck as you step into a tropical paradise, a field of bright yellow sunflowers blowing in a gentle breeze, a strong, sturdy oak tree in the middle of a forest clearing, a thick cloud of Egyptian musk drifting from the stall of an outdoor market on an overcast afternoon.
The Moon Door: Perhaps it’s not the smartest idea in the world to build a mentally unstable woman a trap door high in a castle, through which she can throw anyone who pisses her off. Or maybe it’s the BEST idea and we wish we had one, so we could throw our enemies from the heights they deserve, and barely hear their bodies break upon impact far, far below. No, no, NOT a good idea; it’d only come back to haunt us like it did Lysa. Not that she had the best judgment in the first place, see: matricide. Then again, a Moon Door is an amazing idea, and a great name. Screw dungeons and torture chambers; throw your enemies out of a building and listen to their echoing, terrified screams.
Scent notes: A perfect pink orchid gleaming on a windowsill, a bouquet of lily of the valley clutched in the hands of a sobbing bride, well-oiled rosewood chess pieces knocked over in a rage mid-match from atop a large teak dining table.
You Caught Me Monologuing
“It’s really quite simple,” Captain Mansplain said. “I found your secret lair in the easiest way: you sent me a note to come here to, I believe you said, ‘Meet my doom.’” He made exaggerated air quotes as he said it, because of course he did. “Although I don’t believe you really meant that, and let me explain why.”
“No, that’s exactly what I--” Feminista started to say.
“You meant that you would try to kill me, but fail spectacularly, because many people have tried to kill me over the years. As you know, I have invincibility; nothing stops Captain Mansplain! At least, no woman stops me; I will absolutely listen to my fellow male superheroes when they speak, and I don’t seem to have any male villains.”
“That’s probably because everybody loves me except you women! Why do you hate me? This is obviously your own internalized misogyny coming out in the most tremendously spectacular way: pure hatred for me, Captain Mansplain, the smartest man alive. I’m invincible because I have a giant brain, you see. And that manifests in its ability to constantly regenerate my cells as needed.”
“That’s not--” Feminista tried to interject, to remind him that she was the “villain” here, but that was looking less like the case every second. What an incompetent “superhero.”
Captain Mansplain turned his back to Feminista.
“So, listen, just end your little feminist agenda here, and let me be on my way. I only showed up to tell you that you should invest in better stationary; if you’re going to be sending death threats, you could at least splurge on high-quality paper, maybe a new logo. I designed my own logo, you know, it really wasn’t hard. Just used Microsoft Paint and added a flourish to my initials. Of course, you can’t do that, that’s exactly what I did. Don’t copy me because you have no original ideas of your own.”
The whole time Captain Mansplain was monologuing, Feminista stood there rolling her eyes. Given that she was about a foot taller than the Captain, and much more muscular, with a bachelor’s degree in art and a real knack for cooking, she’d had about all she could stand. Plus, she’d spent all morning setting up an elaborate trap involving a large fire pit, throwing stars, and several bad-tempered ferrets.
Since he wasn’t paying attention anyway, she walked out of the room, grabbed a frying pan from the nearby kitchen, and smacked him in the back of the head with it while screaming, “SHUT. UP!”
Captain Mansplain was knocked out cold. “Thank god,” Feminista sighed. “I didn’t think he’d ever stop. Now I can be the one monologuing, you pompous, frittata-brained chode.” She whistled, and several of her assistants came in the room. “Let’s get this guy to the dungeon.”
Scent notes: a cauldron full of a dark, bubbling, poisonous liquid with a distinct animal musk note wafting from the fumes and simmering bubbles, oudh wood, spicy dragon’s blood.
It’s a Trap!
Captain Mansplain awoke in a dungeon he didn’t recognize, with a splitting headache. “This is definitely not my own personal dungeon, where I have absolutely never awoken after a rowdy night with a woman I most sincerely did not pay for who robbed me and locked me in my own dungeon. I’d recognize that place. This dungeon is most sincerely a foreign dungeon. Probably that rotten Feminista’s place. Ugh.”
His hands were shackled behind his back, in a most uncomfortable position. In reality, they were just gently behind him, but as an inflexible man in many ways, this simple act was agony. His cape billowed over his arms and was stuck underneath his butt and legs, so when he tried to stand up, he fell.
The woman watching him outside his cell laughed, openly, watching him trip. She had a guttural, intense laugh that reverberated out of his dungeon cell and throughout the whole subterranean level.
Captain Mansplain decided having a female guard was to his advantage, because he really was an idiot. This fact, however, had never deterred him nor stopped him from doing anything in the past. Rather, it propelled him forward into many stupid situations.
Rhonda, the “guard,” was a fledgling villain taking her turn down on dungeon guard duty. She could read minds, and therefore automatically knew his plans. Her powers didn’t matter in this case, though; it was pretty obvious to just about anyone that he would attempt to hit on her in order to get her keys and free himself from his cell.
“Why, miss, you are far too young and too gorgeous to be here working as a guard for these women! You’re nearly a 7 out of 10; you’d be a solid 7.5 if you lost about 10 pounds and thought about whitening your teeth, you know.”
Rhonda smiled at him, her left eye twitching. Dear god, he really meant that! Her bosses had warned her about the Captain before he had arrived, but nothing could have prepared her for… this guy. How was he a hero, exactly? Oh, right: a white heterosexual guy with an okay body and a huge ego. Right.
She kept smiling. “Why, thanks Captain. Why don’t we get you out of that cell and you can show me your superspeed.”
Captain Mansplain frowned. “I don’t have supe… ooooh. Yeah, okay, I’m into that.”
She let him out of his cell, the same unnerving smile plastered to her face.
Captain Mansplain burst out, exclaiming, “A-ha! I have tricked you, wench! You could never be a 7.5 without serious plastic surgery. And, also, I’m going to escape now.”
He ran down the hall, cape billowing behind him, to the only escape he saw: a door at the end of the hall. There was light spilling out beneath it! He was so close to escaping this wretched hellhole full of *shudder* women. He turned the knob; it was unlocked! Those stupid, stupid…
It was then that he realized that he’d walked straight into Feminista’s dining room, where several villainesses and villainesses-in-training were eating dinner (not sandwiches, he noted to himself).
Rhonda came up behind him and clapped him on the back, getting a big glimpse into that small brain.
“Yeah, you moron; it *was* a trap.”
Scent notes: a freshly baked vanilla cupcake topped with buttercream, and marzipan, sprinkled with burnt sugar and a small drizzle of honey, left on the countertop with a lovely note telling you to eat it, and you have no reason at all to suspect that it’s poisoned except for that slightly faint hint of wormwood coming through the sweetness but hey, someone needs to eat this delicious cupcake right? There’s no way this could end poorly.
Captain Mansplain found himself, once again, in a large room in Feminista’s evil hideout. The room was empty except for a large compressed air pipe about midway up the wall behind him. He suspected cameras must be mounted somewhere in the ceiling, although he didn’t see any.
Facing him was Feminista’s co-villain/life partner, Miss Ann Dree. He was about to go into his usual speech about how he’s morally opposed to gay people but you know, two chicks together is pretty hot, but Miss Ann Dree didn’t let him get a word out before she slapped him across the face. He took a step back, flabbergasted.
“I might not be able to read minds, Captain Mansplain, but I could just tell by the look on your face you were about to talk about how hot it is that Feminista and I are a couple, so don’t start.”
For once, Captain Mansplain didn’t have anything to stay. He just stood and stared at Miss Ann Dree for a moment.
Ann, for her part, took the moment to assess her opponent. His blue jumpsuit was too big everywhere except his midsection, where it was noticeably strained. His normal fedora had fallen off ages ago, but his blue satin cape embroidered with his initials CM and his catchphrase of “Well, Actually…” was tied around his neck. It was pretty obvious just from looking at the two of them who was the more competent and athletic of the two of them. Her leather and spandex outfit was not revealing, merely sexy, but she made sure her well-toned arms were always on display. She’d worked hard for these guns. And she would never wear a cape. She knew better.
All of Ann’s assessing took about 2 seconds, and she smiled at Captain Mansplain.
“Come on, big boy. Let’s fight.”
Now it was his turn to grin.
“Oh, I really don’t think you want that, Miss Ann. You see, I know karate. I never had formal training, but I taught myself, and I’m very good.”
Ann burst into a laugh so loud the air pipe reverberated the sound.
“I HAVE to see this; please, do me the honor of fighting me, a humble villainess who merely studied Krav Maga for 15 years and does Crossfit six times a week.” She batted her eyes, then roundhouse kicked him in the face.
Captain Mansplain yelled, and fell onto his back. Miss Ann Dree stood over him, still laughing.
“You will regret that decision, Miss Ann. Hiiii-yah!”
Captain Mansplain leapt to his feet. Well, more like gingerly sat up, bent his knees, fell forward, and eventually struggled back upright, slipping on his cape often. Huffing and puffing, he let out another high-pitched “Hiya!” while starting a series of complex arm movements that seemed to focus mainly on jutting his elbows in her general direction.
Ann couldn’t take her eyes off him. “What in the HELL are you DOING?”
“Karate, Miss Ann Dree!” he yelled while walking backwards and punching at the air emphatically. “Kah-rah-tay!” He was almost at the back wall, and was now throwing in a random kick to go with the punches and elbow jerks. As he readied himself to to run forward and deliver a rotating roundhouse kick to her head, he tripped on his cape and started to fall backwards yet again. Except this time his cape got caught in the air pipe, and sucked him up off his feet so that he was hanging a few inches off the floor, and would slowly choke to death.
Miss Ann Dree was in danger of choking to death, too, from laughter. “Oh my god, I wish there were cameras in here, I want everyone to see this! Hold on, hold on, I have to go, oh this is too fucking funny.”
She burst out of the room shrieking, and was back a few moments later with Feminista, Rhonda, and a few other ladies he didn’t recognize. They all saw him dangling there, and every single one started laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. Tears streamed down their faces; a few fell down on the floor.
“How the shit did he DO that?!”
“Didn’t we turn that pipe off so we’d stop sucking people up it?”
“Yes; it was far too messy. How is he UP there?”
Captain Mansplain, for his part, survived on very little oxygen flow to his brain under normal circumstances, so the whole slowly-choking-to-death thing didn’t bother him as much as the laughter.
“Could you all please stop laughing?” he coughed out at them.
“Yeah, no, sorry bud, we all have to leave now. Have fun … hanging out.”
And with that, they all burst into fresh peals of laughter and walked out of the room, leaving Captain Mansplain hanging.
Scent notes: Cedar logs burning in the great outdoors, smoky patchouli, Balsam of Peru (fancy, we know), a lavender grove on a perfect spring day, a sprinkle of anise.
We’re Really Not So Different, You and I
Captain Mansplain laid on his back on the floor of the empty room, trapped in Feminista’s evil hideout. Oh, the humanity. Maybe he really had come to this terrible place to die. Maybe this is what happens when you make yourself a superhero. Perhaps the world doesn’t *need* a Captain Mansplain. Maybe he really is a bad superhero.
Okay, maybe the typical superhero would have realized after less than two hours of slow choking while being caught in an air pipe that he could just untie the cape from his neck and free himself and, you know, not die. Perhaps he wasn’t the brightest of them all, but his intentions were good. Weren’t they?
“No, your intentions really AREN’T good, Captain. But you know that, don’t you?”
Feminista had snuck up on him. Okay, well, it was her lair and she had access to everything and all she’d done was walk in the door, but it still caught him by surprise. He probably would have heard her if he hadn’t been expressing all his interior thoughts and emotions out loud again.
“A-ha! Feminista! You’ve come back for me!”
She glanced down at him in surprise, after eyeing the cape that was still stuck in the pipe. “No dude, I did not come back for you. I invited you here to kill you. You’ve caused your own problems by just being a dingbat. Plus, you’re on *my* turf; I need this room back from you because we’re gonna set up a movie projector and watch Mean Girls while having a giant slumber party on the floor. I’ve got shit to do; you need to get gone right now.”
Captain Mansplain’s eyes widened in alarm. “But no, you can’t kill me!”
Feminista arched an eyebrow. “And why not?”
He smiled what he hoped was a charming smile. “Because we’re really not so different, you and I.”
Feminista gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes that lasted so long Captain Mansplain was about to joke that her face would get stuck like that if she didn’t stop. “Trust me, Captain, we’re incredibly different. To start with, I don’t monologue in front of people before I kill them. Second, I’m not actually a villain, you’re just a smarmy bastard who decided to hate me because I wouldn’t date you and therefore, I became your enemy. Honestly, I’m fine with that, but I’m just tired of your existence, and would like you to go ahead and die now.”
Captain Mansplain had been daydreaming, and glanced back over at Feminista. “What did you say? Sorry; I wasn’t paying attention. I generally don’t listen when you’re talking because it hardly seems worth it since you won’t date me because you’re Lebanese or whatever.”
That’s when her foot collided with his face.
Scent notes: a bottle of expensive Merlot, crisp Anjou pear, a ripe Valencia orange, tart lemon, juicy kumquat. Basically, really delicious sangria.
Captain Mansplain awoke, not for the first time, in Feminista’s secret island lair. Only this time, he was tied to a post that was hanging from the ceiling in a large room, completely unable to move. His mouth was shut with duct tape, and he could tell that the side of his face was bruised and aching. The metal floor felt hot beneath his feet, and it appeared that the floor could slide apart, like so many evil villain’s lair floors are wont to do. (Who makes slidable floors? He wondered to himself. Is that a good business to get into? Maybe I should try that. I wonder if I could wear a cape on the job?) He would have expressed his thoughts aloud, and indeed he was trying to, but the duct tape made it impossible to talk, so he was mostly chewing on it.
Feminista and Miss Ann Dree walked into the room. As the captain chewed viciously on the duct tape, thinking maybe they could hear him better if he just yelled/chewed harder, they just started laughing at him.
“No time for monologuing, Captain,” Miss Ann said.
“Correct. It’s time for you to die,” Feminista said. “You see, I planned out a long, elaborate death for you, involving this room with the movable floor, which naturally has a large fire burning underneath. My plan had been to tie you to this post, let some rabid ferrets attack you for a while, then slowly roast you over the floor fire. But, as always, the best laid plans of mice and men…”
“Often involve cheese?” Captain Mansplain tried to say, succeeding only in getting his tongue officially stuck to the duct tape.
“Basically, I’ve had a slight change of heart,” Feminista continued. “Mansplainers are never a real threat to us, and you are hardly a superhero, and not worth the time. Instead, Miss Ann Dree and I are going to read from bell hooks’ book, Feminism is for Everybody, to you over our loudspeaker until you can let yourself down. You’re only about a foot off the ground, and your hands aren’t even bound tightly. You’ve broken in and let yourself out of this lair before; the exits are clearly lit along the way out for you. I’m sure we’ll see you soon.” And they turned and walked out of the room.
Captain Mansplain started to scream through the duct tape. He’d rather be ravaged by rabid ferrets than listen to feminist theory for one minute. This was a fate worse than death, surely. Were his hands really not tightly bound? Over the loudspeaker, he heard, “Feminism is for Everybody, by bell hooks,” and promptly passed out.
Scent notes: Intense ambergris, freshly ground cardamom pods, molten honey, cocoa absolute, benzoin tree resin. (Note: if you get this scent as a perfume oil, some separation may occur; that’s perfectly natural!)
1-Up is our ode to classic video games and the 8-bit world we kind of wish we could inhabit. Those were simpler times, and simpler games: you could travel through tubes and jump and land on enemies to kill them; if you were shooting anything, it was a cloud or a duck (with a bright orange gun!); and a broken heart could be fixed with a potion you acquired from some random guy selling things in a hut in the middle of nowhere. Think of this scent as that magic potion, or in adult terms, a grapefruit bellini: sharp citrus, delicious bubbly, with a hint of sugar. Plus extra sweetness from pumpkin and Bartlett pair, with a tiny bit of lavender for a nice bit of floral. Because if we can’t actually live in an 8-bit world, we can drink until we feel like we do.
Scent notes: fresh grapefruit, a big glass of champagne, sweet pumpkin, freshly washed and starched sheets, a crisp Bartlett pear, a sprig of fresh lavender.
Dead Or Alive:
Lil’ Biscuit, leader of the Suc Gang. Drunken raccoon fighter by night; drunken raccoon fighter by day, too. At least she’s consistent.
The leader of the notoriously awkward and incompetent band of criminals known as the Suc Gang, Lil’ Biscuit is a drunken fighter of wildlife, with a particular vendetta against raccoons (we don’t know why). She’s wanted dead or alive, with a reward of $10,000 for whomever brings her in, for her inebriated fights with animals in the parking lot of Chili’s. Or Applebee’s. TGI Friday’s occasionally as well; wherever has $1 margaritas or mudslides on special at the moment that she can throw up in a bush in-sight of a middle class family of four who are just trying to enjoy their appetizers without a side of obnoxious drunken behavior at 7 PM on a Tuesday night.
She’s often accompanied by the rest of her gang members, who actively encourage her to attempt to box with raccoons while engaging in their own petty crimes. Medium Dave steals margaritas sip by sip; Pinky is stealing yard decorations and flowers from neighboring businesses; Lazy Susan climbs into a random truck bed to take a nap; Stand-Around-Pam is by the front door screaming that loitering isn’t “a thing, dammit!,” all while Lil’ Biscuit is running around the parking lot, screaming for the raccoons to, quote, “Come and fight me like a man, you trash pandas! You’ll never eat my garbage again! I’ll make YOU into garba--” before running off to puke in a decorative bush. Hell, we’ll extend the reward to any/all members of the Suc Gang brought in; let’s just get these idiots off the streets.
Scent notes: juicy, plump strawberries, sweet hazelnut toffee, a fresh grass stain on the knee of your favorite pair of jeans, animalistic musk, the kind an animal gives off when it’s being threatened by someone wanting to throw down fisticuffs.
Stand-Around-Pam, member of the Suc Gang. Wanted for aggressively loitering. Yes, that’s a thing; yes, it’s about nothing.
Be on the lookout for Stand-Around-Pam, member of the notoriously incompetent Suc Gang. She’s wanted for loitering, but not just any loitering: increasingly aggressive, obnoxious loitering, mostly because she doesn’t know what loitering is, even after we’ve explained it to her several times. So now she goes to businesses who specifically post “No Loitering” signs, stands in front of them, and proudly and loudly proclaims, “Hey, I’m loitering here!” before standing up, looking at the sky, and shaking her fist to scream, “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!”
When that doesn’t work (signs can’t emote, you know), she enlists the rest of the Suc Gang to come stand with her. She yells to every customer who walks in and out of the store, “Hey! I’m loitering! I don’t know what it is, but I’m DOING IT!” as her gang members cheer her on and film her doing nothing but standing. Customers start to join in, leading to giant mobs of people standing around and doing nothing in front of stores, and putting their exploits of nothing online. It’s a crime about nothing. Don’t encourage her.
Scent notes: a spiky, juicy pineapple, a sprig of cilantro, freshly squeezed lime juice, passionfruit, mango. Think of the fanciest frozen daiquiri at your local hipster bar; that’s exactly what this blend smells like.
We all love pie. And Pi. So on Pi Day 2019, we figured it was only right to celebrate with this new scent! Yes, it’s like warm apple pie with melty vanilla ice cream. What could be more American than that? Whether you celebrate today because you love physics or because you love dessert, we can all agree that today is worth celebrating. So put on every pie episode of Great British Bake Off, eat a piece of pie, attempt to memorize as many numbers of Pi as you can (we’re up to 24), and order a bottle of this nerdy new scent.
Scent notes: freshly picked apples from one of those hipster apple orchards where everyone goes to wear flannel, beanies, and pick gigantic bushels of apples and take a ton of pictures for Instagram, except the apples are actually delicious and worth it, And those apples are in a pie. A delicious, warm pie. With melty vanilla ice cream and spices. Damn, math is awesome.
Lazy Susan. Infamous for falling asleep mid-crime. Lazy by nature, criminal by choice.
Be on the lookout for Lazy Susan, member of the incredibly incompent Suc Gang. Honestly, she’s not hard to find; she’s infamous for falling asleep mid-crime. Often, she doesn’t even complete her dastardly task, because she decides it’s time for nap. And we’re not just talking in people’s homes: she falls asleep on displays of fruit in the supermarket, her intent to steal the watermelon evident by it protruding straight up from her shirt while she snores in full view of customers and security cameras. She got her nickname after stealing bags full of dessert from a 24 hour grocery store, and was discovered ten minutes later on the kiddie carousel passed out as it went around and around.
No, she doesn’t have narcolepsy. She’s just that lazy. She can’t be bothered to finish anything when she’s tired. She’s been found passed out on children’s slides at local parks; in the lingerie section of Target with a bra on her face like a sleep mask; on top of a cage full of pillows at Walmart. You name it, she’s slept there. Since she hardly ever gets away with it, we aren’t too concerned, but stop taking pictures and tagging her on Instagram; you aren’t helping.
Scent notes: tuberose, white magnolia blossom, crisply folded cotton sheets, Egyptian musk, a freshly poured Hefeweizen beer in a frosty cold mug.
Penelope “Pinky” Carmichael. Wanted for larceny of lawn ornaments from her neighbors. She doesn’t have a yard.
Penelope “Pinky” Carmichael, of the notoriously bumbling Suc Gang, is wanted for larceny. Specifically, stealing pink flamingos and lawn gnomes from her neighbor’s lawns. We know she’s the guilty party as she’s been seen repeatedly by the neighbors mid-steal. She’ll stop and talk to her neighbor, then suddenly rip the poor gnome off the lawn, give the neighbor the finger, and run away. We’re still not sure why she’s doing this, as she doesn’t even have a lawn, she lives six floors up in a high-rise apartment. She places all the flamingos and gnomes in the windows to look down upon the neighbors, and she’s often heard yelling the phrase “Flamingnome Kingdom” as she runs away with her stolen goods.
And yes, we know her full name as her mail is often mis-delivered to the very neighbors she steals from. Pinky, we’ll give you back your 2015 tax bill if you just return the ornaments! What is the point of this nonsense? You know they aren’t real, right? Your gnome battalion isn’t secretly coming alive to do your bidding at night, no matter how many you steal. Maybe go see a therapist.
Scent notes: sweet salted caramel, almond, a freshly opened jar of pure Canadian maple butter, coconut milk.
Medium Dave. Wanted for repeatedly stealing Slurpees by pouring them directly in his mouth.
Bounty out on Medium Dave, second-in-command of the notoriously haphazard band of criminals known as the Suc Gang. Also known by alias Large Mouth. Seen repeatedly on security cameras of the local gas station stealing Slurpees by putting his mouth directly under the nozzle, and filling his gullet to maximum capacity. Sometimes wearing a fake mustache of varying believability, or a novelty baseball hat. Also caught on camera several steps away having massive brain freeze EVERY TIME.
No, Dave, just because there’s no sign explicitly stating that you need to buy a cup and purchase the Slurpee doesn’t mean this isn’t a crime. Plus, it’s just unhygienic and kind of stupid. We’re offering a reward of $25 leading to his whereabouts, although we’re fairly certain he’ll be back at that gas station again once the most recent brain freeze has worn off. Or that he’ll turn himself in for $25; either way, as long as we can get his big mouth off the streets and off the Slurpee machines.
Scent notes: so much blueberry (like Violet Beauregard levels of blueberry), freshly squeezed lemon, fancy Tahitian vanilla, a little bear jar of honey. Dave requested Snozberry, but that’s not a thing. Basically it smells like a blue Slurpee, but a really expensive, delicious blue Slurpee you’d have to pay a lot of money for (no more stealing!).
Dr Fantastic Scent Names:
Well what have we here? A seeker, searching for answers, hoping to find what they’re looking for in this side alley; drawn in by the scents wafting from the caravan, and my calling to the open air: “Come one, come all! Are you in the market for cures to your ailments? Do you need a magical all-in-one treatment? Look no more!” Yes, indeed, we have just what you need. No matter what you’re trying to fix, Dr. Fantastic has the cure! Come, come, it’s a new year, we know you have goals and dreams. We can help you achieve everything your heart desires. Take a sniff of this, no, try this; heck, try them all! We’ve got five amazing options to choose from, guaranteed to cure every ailment, ache, pain, or household cleaning problem you’ve got. Nothing is too tough for Dr. Fantastic!
Snake Oil! Cures warts, headaches, blisters, popcorn lung, cysts, bloody noses, unruly children, dirty floors, grease burns, hangnails, split ends, cottonmouth, dry skin, toothache, and swollen tonsils instantaneously!
Scent notes: fresh bamboo, sweet yuzu, an old, dusty library, exotic spices from Zanzibar, smoky nag champa, ylang ylang.
All-Natural Magical Health Restorative! Relieves athlete’s foot, intense body odor, migraines, tendinitis, sinusitis, osteoarthritis, conjunctivitis, perichondritis, bowel upset, and hairballs (in cats and humans alike!).
Scent notes: white musk, rosemary, fresh-picked lavender, pine needles, cedarwood, bay laurel.
Majestic Miracle Tonic! For treatment of consumption, the spins, addiction, cholera, food poisoning, mother-in-laws, chicken pox, pneumonia, scarlet fever, yellow fever, and typhoid fever. Also works as a Love Potion and bathroom cleaner!
Scent notes: three types of sage: blackberry, dalmatian, and juniper, cactus flower, high octane gasoline, musty white musk.
World-Renowned Panacea! Fast-acting for even the toughest of problems: gout, diabetes, Alzheimer's, impetigo, lethargy, arthritis, low cholesterol, high cholesterol, no cholesterol, pink eye, side-eye, dry eye, UTI, and chicken that won’t fry!
Scent notes: real Kentucky bourbon, bay rum, pipe tobacco, bay leaf, Turkish mocha, lumps of coal.
Dr. Fantastic’s Perfect Solution! The cure to everything else, the mixture you just can’t live without, the one that relieves blindness, dementia, malaria, amputation, hearing loss, leprosy, heart attack, perhaps even death itself. It’s just that powerful!
Scent notes: a bottle of delicious merlot, freshly squeezed lime, a clover field, aloe, metallic copper, stormy midnight ocean water.
Krampus: He's the anti-Saint Nick, the demon who appears and brings nothing but coal to the naughty children of the world. His horns are pronounced, and he’ll whip you into being nice if you’ve been naughty all year, whether you like it or not (he prefers if you don’t). That’s right: Krampus is here. He's devilishly dark and delightful, with a scent to match: sweet vanilla tempered with classic Christmas spices like nutmeg and cinnamon, for a good kick of spicy delight. But you have nothing to fear; Krampus won’t hurt you. Unless you deserve it. *cracks whip*
Scent notes: real Tahitian vanilla, freshly ground nutmeg, Christmas spice
Belsnickel: His clothes are tattered, torn, and dirty. The furs he wears for warmth are matted, and reek of death. The bells on his bearskin cap jingle in the most threatening manner. Belsnickel has arrived. The children of the town are both delighted and terrified; they know they may get presents, or they may get the switch. They may even get both at the same time, depending on his mood, or if they appear too excited for gifts. The best plan was to be cautiously optimistic. Belsnickel smirks as if he can hear the collective thoughts of a hundred children, and walks up the driveway to the first house. What’s to happen? Even he doesn’t know. He feels the weight of the goodies in the sack in his left hand, and casually flicks the air with the switch in his right hand, taking a deep breath in of the crisp night air. Well, he thinks, it’s not really up to me what happens. Let’s see how the children behave. And with that thought, he quietly opens the front door.
Scent notes: Burnt sugar, a shot of espresso, juniper berry.
Gryla: High up in the mountains in her isolated hut, Gryla waits, constantly sniffing the air. She only emerges during winter to hunt for her prey, even though she’s been able to smell it all year. The scent of bad children constantly fills her nostrils, never waning, only increasing as the year goes on. When she finally can’t stand it anymore, she leaves her house and prowls the nearby villages, picking off the most rotten children and taking them back with her so she can make her favorite food: Child Chowder. There’s always plenty of naughty children to choose from, and she can never eat enough of her stew. This is why you must be nice, otherwise Gryla will pluck you from your bed like a chicken and turn you into soup. Better not risk it, and wear this sweet scent to throw off her nose. She can’t smell all your evil deeds if she can only smell vanilla with a hint of black pepper, right?
Scent notes: fresh vanilla bean, real Tahitian vanilla, spicy black pepper
Fouettard: He tugs on his long, scraggly beard with his free hand, smiling to himself, thinking of all the boys and girls on the naughty list who need to be taught a lesson. Nothing like some good ol’ corporeal punishment for minor misdeeds, right? He looks over at his companion, St. Nicholas, who gets to give toys to all the good children. Booooor-ing. La Pere Fouettard doesn't have time for good children; he finds his joy in the punishment, with the whip in his hand and the empty cage on his back. Sure, it's empty now, but with all the kids on the naughty list, it sure won't be vacant for long. He smiles to himself. Being the bad guy is way, way more fun.
Scent notes: a freshly picked bright red rose, vanilla bean, valencia orange, Tahitian vanilla.
Perchta: She walks into the house, acutely aware of the stench of unwashed dishes, even with the smell of mint hanging in the air. She sighs, noting the abandoned pile of weaving in the corner, the amount of dust and dirt everywhere, and the lack of a proper bowl of porridge left out for her arrival. Will people never learn to take her seriously? Her rags sweep along the floor, clearing a path in her wake. She walks to the bedroom, and slowly opens the door. The husband and wife are asleep, dreaming of the elaborate meal they’d prepared for dinner. Suddenly, they awaken with sharp stomach pain. “It's her! It's the Witch!” the wife screams before looking down at the gash across her stomach, bits of straw poking out of the wound. The witch, Frau Perchta, is holding the wife’s stomach in her hand. “So, do you believe in me yet?” she asks, smiling, before cackling hysterically.
Scent notes: sweetgrass, freshly cut grass, basil, peppermint.
Winterdeep: You come in from the cold, ready for something warm to put a fire in your heart and belly. Yes, winter is long; the dark is deep, the nights seem endless, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. You’re craving something sweet, with a bit of a kick, that will fill you up with cheer and booze. (Although, those are sometimes the same thing.) Ah, yes, a piping hot mug of eggnog, complete with a generous shot of whiskey. That’s the ticket. This scent is the delicious flavors of spiked eggnog in a wearable, nonalcoholic version that will still put a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your chest.
Scent notes: a hot piping glass of eggnog, spiked with the finest whiskey.
Longest Night: The winter solstice is nearly upon us, so let’s celebrate with this scent designed with the darkest day in mind. This blend is mulled wine, aka the best winter drink, in a bottle. Notes of decadent red wine and mulling spices with a hint of sweetness will relax you and soothe your mood no matter how dark it is outside. There’s always time for a cocktail.
Scent notes: a big glass of merlot, cinnamon sticks, freshly grated nutmeg, cedarwood, pure honey, frankincense, myrrh, sweet sugar plums.
Whispering Black: Traipsing through the woods always brings you peace, no matter the time of year. This scent is all the lovely parts of a crisp walk through the forest: cedar, oakmoss, rain, the sweet smell of decay… mmm, isn’t it lovely? The most wonderful time of the year, indeed.
Scent notes: cedar, a cool stream in a dense forest, a sudden rainstorm, oakmoss, decaying wood.
Life Spark: You awake in the night, suddenly unable to sleep a moment longer. The world is alive, and so are you. Outside, the snow is falling heavily but beautifully; it’s like living in a real snow globe. How lucky are you, to be awake and see this gorgeous display you could have slept through like everyone else?
Scent notes: an enormous blizzard on a cold winter’s night, a fireworks explosion.
Frozen Moon: Darkness be damned; you refuse to let long evenings stand in the way of a brisk, wonderful walk through the neighborhood. Look at all the lights! Look at that MOON! Take a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air. Let the notes of neighbors baking delicious treats fill your nose. Take off your mittens and catch a beautiful snowflake floating delicately down from the dark, starlit sky. Life is good. Now put your mittens back on; it’s cold! Nobody needs frostbite this year (or any time, really).
Scent notes: crisp winter evening air, frost, sweet sugar plum, delicious marshmallow.
Venom: Venom: it’s more than just a mediocre Tom Hardy superhero movie; it’s also a deadly toxin that can easily kill someone. Those toxins can also be used to treat diseases (or wrinkles, if you’re into that kind of thing). That’s what makes it so fun: maybe it’ll kill you, maybe it’ll help you. You’ll never know until you try. And this woody blend with notes of coal and patchouli and highly-sought-after oud will get your heart racing like you were bitten by a cobra. But without the possibility of death, which is probably a good thing.
Scent notes: Oud wood, smoked patchouli, coal, freshly paved tar, cedarwood.
Belladonna: Ah, the witch’s favorite. In small quantities, the belladonna plant can help you sleep, or just let you relax. In large quantities, though, it’s downright deadly. Just stay away from the berries. That’s good life advice. Belladonna means beautiful lady, so its scent needs to be enticing, sensual, and a little bit deadly. We think this blend of rose, musk, and leather, is just that: a little sweet, a little deadly, and definitely sexy. Plus, it makes us think of Practical Magic, and there’s nothing wrong with that. And, you can confidently tell your coven: “The Belladonna is in my bag.”
Scent notes: A freshly picked red rose, old leather, white musk.
Arsenic: They always say that poison is the woman’s weapon. And they’re not wrong. If you want to smell like the main character in an old book full of deception, murder, and other cheerful things of that nature, then Arsenic is the scent for you. A blend of old, yellowed books, antique lace, fresh vanilla, and a sharp hint of gasoline, Arsenic is perfect for swanning around your gigantic Victorian house, enchanting all the neighborhood men before you… accidentally… slip a little bit of poison into their afternoon tea. Oops, how did that happen? No, officer, I would *never* hurt a soul! Never! Here, have a sip of tea, won’t you?
Scent notes: antique lace, gasoline, old books, fresh vanilla bean.
Wormwood: Wormwood has been linked to hallucinations, especially when consumed in absinthe, that delicious, witchy liquor. But, like many delicious things, wormwood in large doses is toxic. We’re willing to take that chance with this heady, spicy blend we’re calling Wormwood. Frankincense, sage, cloves, and anise come together to create a smoky cloud you can wear and feel like you’re a courtesan in a 1920s Paris nightclub, drinking absinthe, wearing a corset dress, dancing on a bar until you mistake a young, handsome poet for a young, handsome duke and fun mishaps occur! We’re gonna skip the whole “dying from tuberculosis at a young age” thing though.
Scent notes: anise, freshly ground cloves, dalmatian sage, frankincense.
Nightshade: Yes, okay, we know that nightshade and belladonna are basically the same thing. Belladonna is in the nightshade family and is usually called deadly nightshade. (You may remember this from the legendary film The Nightmare Before Christmas.) But, can you really blame us for using both terms as inspiration? Yeah, we didn’t think you would. Nightshade is a potent blend of whiskey, ylang ylang, amber, and sandalwood that’s guaranteed to intoxicate everyone who smells you and put them in a trace. Perfect for those days when you just need everyone to listen to you and obey your every whim.
Scent notes: a big glass of whiskey, sandalwood, amber, real ylang ylang.
Kraken: Deep in the ocean, many leagues below the surface, your submarine silently glides under full power. The waters are dank and pitch-black. There are no technicolor fish swimming past, no beautiful coral shining up from the deep. It's hard to see, and there's a powerful sense of dread clinging in the stale air.
“Chief, isn’t this where they've seen… you know? The monster?” You scoff and walk away, but the pit of your stomach sinks. Your hands shake as you pour from the autopercolating samovar, hoping a hot drink will calm your nerves. It is, indeed, where The Kraken is said to lie in wait. Your steampunk vessel is a wonder of innovation, a truly modern marvel full of gears and incredible technology, and it will be your head if it’s lost at sea. You also sincerely don't want to be swept into a whirlpool, nor do you want to die being crushed by a giant tentacle. You give orders to surface, out of the deep, to flee from the threat you feel lying in wait. But it can't be true; it's an old sailor’s tale, a fiction, not at all possible.
As the submarine starts to surface, slowly, you feel the floor begin to quake beneath your feet. Oh no, no, it can't be. You run to a tiny porthole, surveying the water. It's so dark, it's almost impossible to see. Yet you can just make out, yes, there, far out but getting closer… the largest tentacle you've ever seen, somehow glimmering in the minimal light. And another. And another. The Kraken approaches.
You race down corridors, the photon globes overhead starting to flicker with the power being directed away from the galvanic piles and to the steam-driven propellers. You slam into the engine room, turning every possible gear to make the boat surface faster, yelling at everyone aboard to get to their battle stations. You scream at the young ensign shoveling coal into the Pyroic Thermal Field Generator, telling him to work faster, as though his life depends on it. You turn gears upon gears that turn even more gears, inching you towards the safe surface of the water. The smell of metal fills your nostrils as the cryptothermal radiation chamber begins to melt down, and you pull the ultrahydraulic lever, your last attempt to rocket to the surface. And that's when the first tentacle wraps roughly around your boat, dragging you and your crew down into the depths, never to resurface.
Scent notes: murky deep ocean water, fresh sea moss, rich amber, metal
Banshee: You walk through the Irish countryside, strolling aimlessly. My, what a fresh, brisk October afternoon it is! You wouldn’t call the day “sunny,” but it’s fairly temperate, all things considered. You begin walking up a steep hill. The grass is still dewy and a little slick, but it doesn’t take long to crest to the top. There, you see a small cemetary. Nothing fancy: no gates, no pillars, just a few rows of very old-looking tombstones. You pause to catch your breath from the climbing, and decide to wander through amongst the headstones. Why not? Quaint cemeteries are the perfect places to spend an autumn afternoon.
You stroll along casually, reading the names of those who died hundreds of years ago; many of them are around your age, you notice. Thank goodness for modern medicine! Towards the back, there’s something that looks a bit out of place: an ornate mausoleum. You’re drawn to it; you can’t explain it. It’s getting to be evening and you should really go home, but it’s calling to you. You start walking towards it. That’s when you notice a woman wearing a white dress and grey, dirty-looking cloak a few rows over. She’s bent over the grave, clearly distraught, holding a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. She looks almost bridal, if not for the very dirty cloak. You get a sense of something both clean and precise, and dirty and unsettling. You turn away and walk past her towards the mausoleum, trying to shield yourself to give her some privacy. This is a place of mourning, after all, and here you are traipsing about.
The door of the mausoleum is cracked open, and you decide to explore inside. There’s a flight of stairs down into the ground, towards the tombs. You proceed cautiously, step by step, and start to walk towards the closest tomb.
Suddenly, the woman is at the top of the stairs, crying harder than before.
“Miss? Are… are you okay?”
She continues sobbing as she quickly descends the steps, and inside the hallway it’s even louder than before. She looks straight into your eyes. She’s crying blood. It’s staining her face, and her dress, and leaving a trail behind her. You open your mouth to scream, but her sobbing becomes an unearthly wailing; a screeching so intense it seems like the mausoleum will crumble and crush you both inside. You back up as far as you can, running smack into the final tomb. You look up, and see it’s marked with your name. You turn back to face your doom. She’s screaming so loud you feel like you’ve gone deaf; you have to cover your ears, you crumple against the floor, your eyes are closed, you can feel her bloody tears dripping onto your face, and then, there’s nothing.
Scent notes: Burnt sugar; baby powder; nag champa; real ylang ylang; a perfect sunflower; palmarosa; fresh figs; a moonlit night; decadent pomegranate; metallic copper; white musk.
Azrael: He sighs, looking up at the house. It’s been a long night of work, and he’s pretty worn out. Generally speaking, people don’t like it when he shows up, even if they know he’s coming soon. Greeting Death Himself is considered by many to be a less-than-joyous occasion. “I’m really not a bad guy,” he thinks. “I only do what needs to be done.” He hopes she’ll understand, and not hold this against him.
He walks up and opens the front door, remembering the first time someone asked him how he managed to get into their locked house. “I used a skeleton key,” he said, and has been using that line for centuries. Most people do not laugh, although he thinks they should because that’s a pretty solid crack, especially from Death. But, generally speaking, people aren’t usually laughing as they’re about to die. Not even if he makes a joke first.
The house smells like a mix of fresh laundry and years of delicious baking. It’s clear she’s had people to come in and help take care of the place, even as her health deteriorated. And, oddly enough, he notices that his natural aroma of dust and incense blends well with the scents around him. He feels like he’s at home.
Climbing the stairs to her bedroom, he notes the pictures on the wall: a faded, old wedding photograph; family photos; recent pictures of grandchildren in a digital frame at the top of the landing. Good. It’s always nice to find that the human has led a happy, full life.
He opens the bedroom door, and is surprised to see her awake in her bed, alone, calmly reading a Life magazine. The scent of vanilla washes over him.
“There you are! I’ve been waiting for you! Let’s get this over with.”
For once, Azrael is taken aback. She’s… fine with him being here? That can’t be right. She is 90; maybe she just can’t see him properly.
“You know who I am?”
“Yes, you are the Angel of Death, and I am ready to go.”
He walks up to her, slowly, and kneels beside the bed. He takes her hand.
“Are you sure that you’re okay? I am only here to help.”
“I know that,” she says. “I am in great pain. The cancer is everywhere, and my body is finished. I consider this a mercy, and I am thankful you are here.” She brings her other hand over to grip his with both of her small, frail hands.
“Okay. If you’re ready, let’s save you from your pain.”
“Wait. I have one question for you, please. I promise it’s important.”
He nods. “Of course. Ask me anything.”
She smiles. “Did you use a skeleton key to get in?”
Scent notes: An ancient, ethereal library lit by gaslight and glowing incense, frankincense and bay laurel, the simple cotton winding sheet of the dearly departed, swirls of vanilla and coal dust
old crumpled magazines; vanilla bean; coal dust; freshly-washed crisp cotton; bay laurel; ancient, smoky incense; frankincense.
Hobgoblin: “Now Timmy, you have to start cleaning up your room! If you don’t, the Hobgoblin will come into your room and steal your toys!”
Timmy rolls his eyes. He’s sitting on his bed, playing with toy cars, ignoring the sea of clothing and toys scattered all over his floor. His mother’s face is red; this is clearly not the first time she’s walked into his room to find the place a mess. At 10 years old, he should be able to clean up at least most of this stuff without an issue. And yet, that never seems to be the case.
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man! Clean. Up. Your. Room!”
But he doesn’t. He continues to play with his cars. A few hours later, his mother makes him go to bed early, without supper, as punishment for his dirty room. As she turns out the lights, she tells him, “The Hobgoblin knows you’ve been bad. Watch out; he might come and take your toys tonight!” Timmy rolls his eyes, and drifts off to sleep. He’s surprisingly tired for only playing with his cars all day.
When he wakes up the next morning, his room is spotless. Somehow all of his laundry has been done and put away; the floors have been swept; his toys are stored. Even the sheets he’s been sleeping on are clean, and smell like a comforting blend of vanilla and ginger. How did this happen?! He runs around the room, checking out all the freshly cleaned corners. Then he realizes: his cars are gone. The Hobgoblin!!
Crying, he runs out of his room and to his parent’s bedroom. He throws open the door and crawls into bed beside his mother. “The Hobgoblin came! He cleaned my room; but he took my cars!”
His mother consoles him, holds him close to her. “I told you, darling. Will you keep your room clean, now?”
Timmy sniffles and snorts. “I will. I promise, I will.” She looks over at Timmy’s father, and gives him a wink. He smiles back. They both know that, of course, it wasn’t a Hobgoblin, it was them. They had cleaned his room and gotten rid of his toys as punishment.
Years go by. Timmy grows up into an exemplary young man. He’s clean, neat, and orderly; but he lives with a great fear of the Hobgoblin sneaking into his room in the night to rob him of what is most precious to him. That night 15 years ago has scarred him in a way his parents never suspected.
He’s 25 now, and seriously dating a wonderful woman, Sally. He asks her to move in. She accepts.
What he hadn’t realized is that Sally is a slob. He spends hours a day cleaning out of his own anxiety, and it puts a definite strain on their relationship. She tries to pick up some of the slack, but as a naturally untidy person living with someone who is obsessed with cleaning, it never seems to be enough. She has no idea what the source of his anxiety is, but she’s determined to either make him relax on the cleaning or end the relationship, because she just can’t continue living this way.
Timmy, meanwhile, has basically stopped sleeping. He’s constantly cleaning, terrified of the Hobgoblin getting into his house. “The only way to make sure we’re safe is to keep everything clean ALL THE TIME!” he yells as he does his seventh scrub of the bathroom floor for the day. He’s a demonic Danny Tanner; nothing can stop him from cleaning.
He walks into the bedroom to find that Sally has long gone to bed, and left both her dirty clothes from the day and a stack of clean clothing on the floor. Something inside Timmy snaps completely.
“The Hobgoblin! He’s here! He’s going to take her away! He’s going to take her!” Out of the corner of his eye, he swears he sees a small figure run down the hallway and into the kitchen. He gets a strong whiff of tobacco and wood, which seems to confirm his suspicion that the Hobgoblin has arrived.
Following the figure, he runs to the kitchen, but there’s nothing there. Timmy grabs a large butcher knife from the knife block, just as he sees the figure run out and back into the hall.
“Come back! Come back here; I see you!” he yells as he runs down the hall. The blur darts into the bedroom. No, no, he can’t take Sally!
By the time he gets to the bedroom, Sally is gone. The Hobgoblin is in her place in the bed, taunting Timmy. He’s dirty, filthy actually, and ruining the sheets. And where did he take Sally?!
“NO! I WILL NOT BE AFRAID OF YOU ANYMORE!” Timmy yells as he runs into the room, and brings his knife down directly through the Hobgoblin’s chest.
He only realizes the mistake he’s made when he hears Sally scream.
Scent notes: Oud wood, pipe tobacco, real vanilla, sandalwood, freshly cracked black pepper, finely grated ginger root.
Cthulhu: Your plane touches down on a remote island in the South Pacific. Dammit, you’ve needed this vacation. And it doesn’t hurt that your sister decided to uproot her life and move here just under a year ago. Sure, she followed a man, and while that’s not your cup of tea and it has put some distance between the two of you both emotionally and physically, at least it means you get an amazing vacation spot to visit! Looking on the bright side, just like your therapist suggested. Two weeks visiting your little sis in the South Pacific. What could possibly go wrong? Plus, she asked you to come. She must want to see you and reconnect.
You make your way out of the airport, slightly disoriented, anxiety rising with every step. No, calm down; it’s your sister, you’ll be fine. You walk outside and smell the salty air. You see her pull up and run out of the car to hug you. She smells like tobacco and burnt sugar. The hug is a great gesture, but it does seem odd that she’s wearing long, dark robes. It’s the South Pacific! On an island! In summer! But rather than nitpick, you hop in the car to go see your sister’s new life.
“How was the flight?” she asks. She seems genuinely excited to see you.
“Very long, but no screaming infants, so I’ve had worse.”
“Oh, yeah, babies on flights are terrible. I’m glad you made it safe; I wanted you to make it here in one piece.” She smiles. Her face looks strangely frozen; the smile seems a bit vacant.
That’s an odd statement, and why does your face look so strange? You don’t say those things, of course. Instead you ask, “So how’s Paul?”
“He’s good! I’m sorry he couldn’t make it with me. I didn’t tell you yet, but, we’re having a group over tonight for a bit of a welcome party for you. I hope that’s okay!”
You’re slightly taken aback. You don’t particularly like Paul, or his shady-seeming friends, and the thought of a giant group get-together on the evening of your arrival seems a bit unnecessary. The pit of your stomach roils in anxiety.
“What was that noise?” your sister asks.
“Oh, just my stomach. Guess I’m a little hungry.”
“We will absolutely take care of you, don’t worry.”
You two lapse into silence for a while. This island isn’t very big; there’s no way this drive can be much longer. It’s dusk outside, and you appear to be driving further into jungle, away from civilization.
“Not to be a child, but, are we there yet?”
“Oh, we’re close; we’re very close.” She turns and gives you another strange, vacant smile. Her eyes look glassy. The hell is going on here?
She makes a sudden turn into a hidden drive, and you immediately notice a group of 50+ people standing in a field. There’s a large bonfire, and everyone is wearing robes just like the ones your sister is donning. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Your anxiety is through the roof; you feel like you’re having a heart attack. You turn and yell at your sister.
“What are you doing? Why did you bring me here?! Is this a sick joke?!”
She smiles that disembodied smile. “No, sister. This is very serious. Anxiety is caused by our God; he lives under this island, under the sea. He’s coming back, and soon. He’s sleeping, surrounded by sunken cargo ships, and mountains of gold doubloons, the sickly sweet smell of decomposition is what he feeds upon. He won’t be sleeping for much longer. Join us.”
“And if I say no?” you ask, trying to back away, to get to the car, to escape this insanity. Suddenly, you’re grabbed by multiple arms; a gag is shoved in your mouth; a hood is slammed onto your head.
You hear your sister’s voice say, “Oh, I wasn’t asking you. I was telling you. You’re one of us now.”
Scent notes: crisp sea salt; tobacco leaf; burnt sugar; freshly poured pavement; carrot seed. (This is a challenging blend, with a few sour/unpleasant notes at first that dissipate to a strange, delightful blend of sweet and salty with a touch of rot. Not for the faint of heart!)
Browncoats- After a long fight, you still want to come out smelling good. White thyme and sweetgrass bring you home after a tough loss while dalmation sage prepares you for what's next. Rounding out this scent is a wiff of gunsmoke, reminding you of your favorite weapon. Don't be ashamed of your fight for the independent planets. Around here we don't dye it, we wear it proudly.
Scent Notes: white thyme, dalmation sage, sweetgrass, gunsmoke
Curse Your Sudden But Inevitable Betrayal- With the scents of palmarosa, cactus flower, and yuzu you will smell like a fertile, thriving land beckoning all to you (maybe even unwanted ships, but I digress). We would have called it "this land"..but leather and dirt round it out to make it quite like you want to call it "your grave!". You decide.
Scent Notes: palmarosa, cactus flower, yuzu, mango mango, dirt, leather
Let's Be Bad Guys- A gorgeous scent for when you want to be a little...rebellious. Let's Be Bad Guys mixes rich vanilla with a tobacco smoke (because you can't be too much of a softy when you're a bad guy, right?), leather from your browncoat, and gunsmoke with sandalwood from the barrel of your gun. Remind people what a definition of a hero is with this blend that will have no one stand in your way.
Scent Notes: tobacco/vanilla, gunsmoke, leather, sandalwood
Serenity- Hope… Hope that your favorite canceled series may come back. It is almost found here. An uplifting scent filled with white tea, ginger, and juniper sage to keep you elevated, orange blossom for positive vibes despite the odds, and cherry blossom, ylang ylang, and nag champa to keep your spirits up for when you realize the networks are the real bad guys. Perfect for meditating on your ship, Serenity will keep your hopes of a series renewal afloat.
Scent Notes: juniper sage, orange blossom, white tea & ginger, cherry blossom, ylang ylang, nag champa
Firefly- Ah the original. It's simple yet gorgeous. What else do you need to describe a classic of a series? Honey and leather- sweet yet badass like our beloved Captain Mal. It will be enough for you to to start a revolution over.
Scent Notes: honey, leather.
I'll Be In My Bunk: Sensual, tempting, and utterly gratifying. This scent is alluring even for those watching from afar. Whether you're the one eating rich chocolate while burning a fabulous bundle of incense at midnight or.. Iif you can only dream of it, this scent will have you melting away. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be in my bunk.
Scent Notes: Dark rich chocolate, dirt, ancient incense, black pepper.
Big Damn Heroes: Isn't that refreshing, some heroes for once? This scent is just that, giving you the scent of refreshing bliss as you realize everyone around you isn't a bastard. If you're feeling down or out of place, this scent comes just in the nick of time like a sweet planetary rain storm.
Scent Notes: Rain, Salt Spray, Green Fig, Warm Meadow Sun
Shiny: What is the best descriptor? If you ever want to feel "shiny" yourself, this scent is for you. Using a blend of scents which can only be described as the "rag tag team of feel good" blend, this fragrance is bound to leave you feeling "shiny" in no time. Now why don't we use this word more often?
Scent Notes: Grapefruit, Bergamot, White Thyme, Dalmation Sage, Black Pepper.
We Aim To Misbehave: You rebel you. This spicy blend will have you rallying your crew in no time. This blend uses four down to earth scents to get those behind you on your side. You are the captain who leads us all - now wear a scent that shows it. Let those against you know - you aim to misbehave.
Scent Notes: Rosemary, Vanilla, Amber, Honey.
Vera: Listen, everyone has a favorite. That's just being honest. Whether it's crewmates or… guns, who are we to judge? Her smoke is just right, she aims better, and she kills better. You'll be sure to be the entire crew's favorite with this intoxicating blend full of spice and with just the right amount of more spice.
Scent Notes: Gunmoke, Ginger, Wasabi, Dragon's Blood, Metal.
I Can Kill You With My Brain: Listen, we have all been in tough situations. You would never suspect the sweet girl watching you from the door could destroy you with a thought, but here we are. This scent smells innocent at first, but then it hits you with it's strength and femininity. This scent is quite the ally to have on your side at all times.
Scent Notes: Amber, tahitian vanilla, smoked patchouli, english rose, wild rose.
Varys: Oh, you clever spider. Deftly weaving a web of deceit and lies while simultaneously earning the respect of nearly everyone you know. How is that possible? How do you do it?! Scratch that; the how doesn’t really matter, but the fact that you’re able to manipulate everyone around you is a skill most can only dream of. Well done, clever minx. Keep the treats flowing to your informants, and everybody’s happy. Well, okay, not everybody, but you get the gist, and who cares about those people anyway? This scent is both luscious and dirty; decadent and simplistic; dichotomous all the way, just like Varys.
Scent Notes: rich chocolate, patchouli, freshly whipped buttercream, peasant dirt.
Iron Throne: This is it, fam. This is what everyone has been trying to have this entire time. It’s the reason for the seasons of the show, and it was entirely worth the wait. This scent is unlike anything we’ve made before, and we think you’ll love it. It smells like power, and crazy plot lines, and unearthed secrets and scandals. If you’ve ever wanted to sit in the Iron Throne yourself (and, seriously, who hasn’t?) then you need this blend. Just, you know, don’t kill anyone over it; unlike the actual throne, we have lots of this to spare, so please don’t go a-murderin’.
Scent Notes: Ancient incense burnt in a tomb of darkness; the blood of a hundred dragons; Bay Laurel; pure, raw honey.
Get Off Me, Nature!
Ah, summertime. Sunshine, warm weather, and spending lots of time outdoors with friends while drinking delicious (alcoholic) beverages.
But wait? What’s that noise? Ah, fuck, mosquito attack! Nothing ruins a fun day out in nature quite like bloodsucking insects, your ex included. Most bug sprays are full of chemicals and smell disgusting, but we’ve come up with a blend of essential oils that have been scientifically tested and proven to repel insects nearly as effectively as commercial chemical sprays, while still smelling good to you, a human.
Get Off Me, Nature! Is a blend of citronella, lemon eucalyptus, galangal (which is nearly as effective as DEET in similar quantities), juniper, and clove, so you’ll actually smell good while repelling mosquitos, beetles, and other unwelcome bug guests. No guarantee on protection from bloodsucking exes, however; you’ll have to take care of that yourself.
The latest House in our Frozen Embers limited edition collection is here: the Lannisters! The family we all love to hate, who aren’t afraid to raise the dead or screw (over) a relative or two to get what they want, and who always make sure their debts are paid, the Lannisters are ruthless, relentless, and unpredictable, and we love them for it.
Cersei: Cersei is a complex, complicated, badass, maybe slightly psychopathic woman whom we all love to hate (or just love). She is, without a doubt, a standalone woman who gives absolutely no fucks about what anyone else thinks of her or her actions, and that’s why we have to respect her no matter what. She’s in the game to win at any and all costs, and she is extremely tough and unyielding, aka, our kind of woman. Her namesake scent, therefore, is herbaceous and spicy, floral and deep, with a helluva lot of power behind it, and unlike any scent you’ve smelled before. Maybe you don’t want to *be* as much of a heartless wretch as Cersei, but I mean, if you could *smell* like that? Men would instantly know that you are not to be fucked with, at all, ever, and women would treat you with reverence. Damn, it feels good to be, or at least smell like, Cersei.
Scent notes: white thyme, freshly ground black pepper, black jasmine, amber
Jaime: Oh, Jaime. Your loyalty to your sister is inspiring, if a bit creepy and definitely illegal. Your commitment to honor is remarkable, and a large part of us wishes you’d just be with Brienne and call it a damn day. Your scent is everything your sister’s isn’t: woody, musky, exotically spicy and a little bit sweet. And yet, they play off each other so well, it’s almost like they’re… twins. (Had to.) Your charm knows no bounds, and while some people are immune to it, most will swoon at your feet. Even us, although that whole lifelong incestuous relationship does put a bit of a damper on our adoration. Wear this scent when you need to schmooze and exude confidence. Just don’t push any children, even if they catch you in a compromising position.
Scent notes: juniper sage, neroli, patchouli, cedar planks, saffron
Tyrion: Everybody loves Tyrion, despite his Lannister surname. He’s not like his family; he’s intelligent and sweet and far more caring about people outside of King’s Landing. He might be an imp, but he’s a stand-up guy, even with his love of brothels and alcohol. (We can’t blame him, he is the god of tits and wine after all.) It seems fitting that his scent is reminiscent of old books, sweet fruit, and decadent vanilla, and is completely different than Jaime’s or Cersei’s. Smells like caring. Who needs their father’s love, anyway, when you can team up with some dragons and a woman who is literally burning down the patriarchy, one old dude at a time? That’s way better than staying in your hometown, reading, drinking, and screwing your way through the town. Not that we know anything about that *cough*.
Scent notes: Tahitian vanilla, juicy fig, freshly tanned leather
Pele: Named for the Hawaiian goddess of fire, lightning, wind, and volcanoes, this scent packs a fruity, floral, distinctly feminine punch. This scent is similarly bold and forthright, with notes of pear, fig, and blueberry, which fade to the scent of heavenly, real ylang ylang. Maybe you don’t have the power to create volcanoes, but you absolutely have the power to erupt the next time a man tries to explain something to you. Pele is so proud of you. (We are, too.) Now go on, fire goddess, and take the world by storm!
Scent notes: pear, fig, blueberry, ylang ylang.
Firefly: We know everyone loves the captain, but what about you? You’re just as strong as the captain, just as smart (if not smarter) than him, everyone loves you as much as they love the captain, we should totally just STAB THE CAPTAIN. Wait, wait, no, let’s back up. You are much sweeter than he could ever be, and you’re incredibly loyal, so no stabbing. Instead, put on this incredible combination of honey and leather and take a deep breath. There, that’s better, right? Everyone will notice how wonderful you smell, and will surely listen to your orders with bated breath. You’re the captain now. You can’t take the sky from me.
Scent notes: honey and leather.
Tempest: Like a powerful summer storm, you burst into the room suddenly and without warning. Everyone turns and stares, taken aback. After a minute, they are delighted to see you and in awe of your power. Who knew we needed a tempest to come in and shake things up? You did, of course. You rain down beauty and power and, yes, occasionally destruction, but only on people who deserve it like that shitty OKCupid date who turned out to be a terrible racist. Not on your watch, captain. Like a summer storm in a meadow, you renew and regenerate the very earth you walk upon. Damn, you are a force of nature and passion. Now you can smell like one.
Scent notes: spring meadow, rain
The Huntress: You lie in the forest, waiting. You see your prey lurking in the distance. The air smells of grass, tangerine, neroli, jasmine, and honeysuckle; it’s delectable and soothing. You breathe deeply, calming your senses, keeping your eyes steady. He edges closer, within striking distance. My what beautiful eyes he has. Too bad he won’t have them for much longer.
Scent notes: grass, tangerine, neroli, jasmine, honeysuckle
Siren Song: Sure, you could smell this wonderful scent and think, “Oooh, this smells like fresh laundry drying in the ocean breeze,” and you wouldn’t be wrong. But what this scent actually smells like is the song you sing as you sit, waiting patiently on the rocky coast, luring that ship full of sailors closer, and closer. They’re enraptured by your beautiful voice, and imagining what an incredible woman is singing to them, beckoning them onward, until at last their boat is sinking and their screams echo back to you, forming the most morbid chorus to your beautiful song. Everything is salty (but you especially, siren), fresh, feminine, and delightful, and soon those souls are yours to do with what you will. You powerful, tempting merperson. This is your scent. Dowse yourself in it and wait for everyone to be drawn to you.
Scent notes: the spray of the ocean on your face on a cool summer morning, a ripe kumquat plucked straight off the tree, crisp cotton sheets drying on a line in a field full of daisies.
Know Nothing: Just because you’re a good-looking bastard doesn’t mean you’re smart. But don’t worry, everyone will love you anyway, because you’re truthful, honest, and upfront. This scent is cold, like when all your friends stab you behind your back (and to your face), and reminiscent of frozen trees and herbs like pine, cedarwood, and oak moss blowing in the frigid wind. It’ll be as shocking as that time you went into a cave and discovered something completely new and delightful. The North remembers, heeeeeyyyy.
Scent notes: Pine needles, cedar planks, eucalyptus, mossy oak, fresh lemon verbena.
Arya: Everyone’s favorite multi-faced murderer, Arya is the psychopath we all wish we could be. Her namesake scent, therefore, is bold, tart, and spicy, with notes of frankincense and sandalwood. While she was born with bloodlust, she had to be trained, and with age comes wisdom and some mellowing down. At least in theory. The scent fades into a calmer, richer spice, like the kind you put in a meat pie you serve before slicing the throat of a terrible patriarch who murdered your family. And the meat pie is full of his family. Goddamn, Arya is such a badass. Slice that patriarchy down, girl, one old white man at a time.
Scent notes: Peaty oak moss, lemon verbena, frankincense, a double shot of good bourbon, smoky sandalwood.
Direwolf: The Stark family sigil and beloved pet to each of the children, Direwolf naturally starts with a big bite. What would else would you expect from a wolf-dog hybrid that lives in the frigid North and protects its owners so fiercely? The scent is like being outdoors and hunting for lesser wolves (or shitty Lannister children), and smelling the fresh air and strong outdoor herbal scents of rosemary, mahogany, and teak, which slowly fades and becomes a natural part of you. You’ve just always smelled this good, right? And you’ve always been able to see through your human’s eyes and go around doing human things and vice-versa, no? That’s not normal? Huh.
Scent notes: Rosemary, finely grated ginger, cedarwood, fresh mahogany, teak.
Khal Drogo: Okay, so he’s not technically a Targaryen. But, he was married to Dany and don’t we all miss that man? Plus, without him, she wouldn’t have an army. At least, her original army; her current army she earned by her damn self. But he’s with her in spirit, so we figured it’s only fair to include him. Khal Drogo is a sensual blend of leather and sandalwood, AKA, exactly what we think he would smell like/what we’d want him to smell like/damn he was just gorgeous why is he dead?!?
Scent notes: Supple leather, smoky sandalwood.
Khaleesi: Inspired by Dany when she is first ruling the Dothraki, this scent is a mix of cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and orange. It’s exotic, spicy, and fragrant, like a Moroccan marketplace after dark. Sweet and delicious and slightly naive, but you can just tell that this will develop into something powerful with enough time. Not a girl, not yet a woman, but still smells amazing and is ready to take control in every aspect of her life because she knows what she wants and she is gonna GET IT, NO MATTER WHAT.
Scent notes: fresh orange, spicy cinnamon, white musk, and freshly ground nutmeg.
Drogon: Ah, the mighty Drogon. So powerful, so pretty, so damn terrifying when he’s breathing fire and mercilessly slaughtering anything in his path. Campfire, tobacco, and smoked meat scents come together to smell like, well, smoked meat, but in the best way. If you love the way your clothes smell after a bonfire, summer cookout, or burning your ex’s old clothes and memorabilia, you’ll love Drogon. Dracarys!
Scent notes: Smoky meat (mmm, bacon), campfire, sweet cherry tobacco.
Wildfyre: Named after the scary, powerful flame that the Mad King (Dany’s father) buried under King’s Landing, this scent packs a powerful punch, but mellows after the first few minutes. Your nose will immediately get a strong hit of anise, and then the mellow smoky qualities of campfire and cedarwood come after to soothe and satisfy your senses, like magic. Don’t worry, the green won’t stain your skin. Plus, how cool does that look?! It’s the smell of watching the ships of your enemies burn while you watch, satisfied and cackling. (Yes, that is a smell; don’t worry, you’ll know it as soon as it hits your nose.)
Scent notes: Tangy licorice, anise, smoky campfire, fresh cedarwood.
Ah, strawberries. For many, it’s the quintessential summer fruit. It’s perfect in pies, salads, ice cream, plucked straight off the runner, or blended into a delicious cocktail (daiquiris are a great summer drink in their own right). But, the epitome of strawberry deliciousness: the chocolate-covered strawberry. Sweet, chocolatey, with just a tiny tang of sour, they’re a romantic staple for a reason. Naturally, we made this scent to smell just like chocolate-covered strawberries with a side of champagne. Spoil yourself this summer; you deserve all the strawberries and champagne.
Scent notes: A dozen freshly-dipped dark chocolate coated strawberries on a golden platter, a crystal champagne flute filled with Dom Perignon resting beside them.
We have fond memories of going into the backyard and picking wild raspberries in the summer, collecting them into bowls or just popping them straight into our eager mouths. Raspberries are also wonderful when made into a jam, especially if that jam is then spread on a cake, or scone, or muffin, or ice cream, or … the possibilities are endless. Their sweet sharpness is a perennial favorite, and always worth the possibility of pricking yourself on a thorn to grab a fresh one (or twenty) straight off the bush. Naturally, no summer berry collection would be complete without the raspberry.
Blueberries are nature’s perfect little round fruit. They’re tart and sour and sweet and the color of a stormy sea at dusk. Perfect in salads (both fruit and lettuce-based), on their own, or baked into a pie, cake, or muffin, blueberries are versatile and always satisfying. We took the slightly sweeter route with this scent: picture a blueberry crumb coffee cake, warm from the oven, scent wafting out the window to tease and delight all who pass by on a gorgeous, sunny afternoon. That’s exactly what this scent will remind you of. What, that noise? Just the collective growling of our stomachs; no big deal.
Scent notes: Blueberry spice cake made with cardamom and a touch of coumarin, drizzled with brown sugar glaze
Yes, a pepperberry is a real fruit. It is native to Australia, specifically Tasmania, and the berries and leaves are used as spices because, true to name, it’s sweet and rather peppery and altogether unique. It’s the sweet-and-savory-pepper scent of your dreams that you didn’t even know you were dreaming about! You’ve never smelled anything like this before. We think you’re going to love it.
Elderberries are traditionally medicinal, but that doesn’t mean they taste, or smell, like medicine! They’re juicy and luscious and a gorgeous purple color. Elderberries are often made into robust, full-bodied wine, perfect for drinking on a porch on a cool summer night, listening to music and playing cards with the people you love. This scent is that feeling in a bottle: ultimate, decadent relaxation.
Okay, alright, so juniper berries aren’t “technically” a fruit, they’re a cone, but if you think we were passing up the opportunity to make a gin-scented perfume, you are absolutely wrong. Sure, juniper berries are used as spices in other things, but they’re what makes our favorite clear liquor so distinct and unique. (Fun fact: they’re the only spice to come from conifers!) Naturally, this scent is just like a fizzy gin and ginger cocktail: effervescent, sweet, light, with that punch of juniper gin that knocks you out (in the best way).
Black currants were once called “the forbidden fruit,” as people falsely believed that the plant and its delicious berries spread a disease that killed pine trees. Well, turns out, that’s bogus, and now we get to freely indulge in the deliciousness of black currants without feeling like Eve and worrying that we’ll be booted from our own homes for enjoying them! With their earthy, acidic tannic structures, these berries are inherently less sweet than others, which is why they’re often made into jam, to bring out their natural sweetness. If you love mildly sweet, earthy, tannic scents, you’re going to love Black Currant.
Huckleberry: No, not the famous literary character. Huckleberries are found almost exclusively in the Pacific Northwest part of the US, which just happens to be where Suc is located. Perhaps we’re biased, but we are big huckleberry fans. They grow best in damp, acidic, volcanic soil, and are often found on subalpine slopes, bogs, and forests, just like us! Huckleberries vary in color but most resemble and taste like blueberries, but often contain bitter seeds that cut their sweetness. Plus, they can be used in everything: pancakes, muffins, ice cream, candy, pie, jam, pudding, even soup! There is nothing that our favorite local fruit can’t do, which is why we had to make this scent in honor of the humble huckleberry.
Hot Buttered RumScent notes: Hot buttered rum, bright oranges, spices
Scent notes: Irish cream, salted caramel, espresso
Hot CocoaScent notes: Rich hot cocoa with mountains of fluffy marshmallows and a touch of coconut cream pie, tempered with a touch of patchouli and incense
AmarettoScent notes: Amaretto, venilla cream, a sprinkle of nutmeg
EggnogScent notes: Eggnog sprinkled with allspice, ginger, cardamom, and nutmeg
Chocolate StoutScent notes: Rich chocolatey stout, a comfy flannel shirt, allspice, sandalwood, vanilla bean
FrangelicoScent notes: Frangelico, butterscotch candies, black oud, amber
Mulled WineScent notes: Red wine mulled with cinammon, oranges, brown sugar and pepper, grapefruit and cardamom, and a hint of bitter accord.
AbsintheScent notes: Absinthe, glowing red musk, bitter accord, myrrh, vetiver