THE 'WEENIES ARE HERE!

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's Halloween scents, that is!  Details after the jump...



++ HALLOWEEN: THE HAUNTED HOUSE REVISITED

We're going back to our campy, spooky roots with the Haunted House Collection! Twelve Guignolesque, chilling atmospheric blends are being offered for your pleasure and amusement!

THE APPALLING ABATTOIR
Echoes of crimes long-ago hidden: a slaughter hastily washed away, leaving flecks of gore to settle deep within the rough-hewn stone floor.


THE ATROCIOUS ATTIC
A shadowy shrine filled with forgotten toys, broken dolls. The altar: a collapsing trunk distended by a rotted wedding gown. The air of the room is dusty, laced with the scent of a child's perfume and the remnants of a dried, crumbling bridal bouquet: tea rose, violet, white sandalwood, French lavender, and calla lily.


THE BLOODY BANISTER
A rotting, cracked mahogany balustrade smeared with bloody handprints frames a cascading Imperial staircase that rises unsteadily into oppressive, suffocating shadows.


THE CHILLING CELLAR
Wine just turning to vinegar, crumbling mortar, red clay, and the coppery tang of old blood.


THE FORBIDDING FOYER
Thick shadows hang heavy across fungus-smeared, dilapidated wainscoting, cobwebs hang like fine lace across sagging moldings, rats scuttle past gaping doorways. The faint scent of brimstone, ghostly breath laced with cognac, neglected mahogany panels, and rot.


THE GHASTLY GARDEN
Overgrown oleander, marshy water hemlock, the sugared nectar of carnivorous blooms, putrefying wet greenery, oozing sap, crushed rosary peas, withered climbing roses, and nightshade berries.


THE HEINOUS HEDGE-MAZE
Claustrophobic pathways of neglected boxwood and thorny rosemary intersecting at impossible angles, twisting into itself.


THE LURID LIBRARY
The incense-tinged scent of forbidden tomes and the musk-laden remnants of infernal servants.


THE PERILOUS PARLOR
A memory of pleasure passed. A ghostly rendezvous, delight beyond death. Faint echoes of laughter and the distorted music of a harp drift by, along with the scent of soft white pear and sweet vanilla.


THE SINISTER SALON
Lush carpets, the heavy purple of deep mourning, stretch to touch walls covered in peeling, fading wallpaper and threadbare tapestries. The trompe-l'œil frieze is grotesque: misshapen creatures cavort lewdly, leering and clutching one another in strange embraces. The walls are hung with massive dust-caked portraits of ancestors long-dead, and desiccated calla lilies curl morosely in crystal vases set on ornate end tables. Whiffs of opium, tobacco smoke, sherry, and cologne hint at crumbling decadence and the echoes of buried perversions.


THE TWISTED OAK TREE
Blackened, rotted oak wood blanketed in moss and choked by a cloak of grasping ivy.


THE WRETCHED ROSE WINDOW
Phantasmal patterns warp and weave through panes of leaded glass. Pale shafts of frail sunbeams push through, creating a sickly dance of violet, smoke-grey, blood-red, and blackened plum light on the oaken walls.

++ HALLOWEENIE 2012

ALL SOULS' NIGHT, 1917
You heap the logs and try to fill
The little room with words and cheer,
But silent feet are on the hill,
Across the window veiled eyes peer.
The hosts of lovers, young in death,
Go seeking down the world to-night,
Remembering faces, warmth and breath–
And they shall seek till it is light.
Then let the white-flaked logs burn low,
Lest those who drift before the storm
See gladness on our hearth and know
There is no flame can make them warm.Embers that give no warmth; cold hands stoking a fire that gives no light. Fragonia, carrot seed, and ashen sandalwood.


THE APPARITION
When by thy scorne, O murdresse, I am dead,
And that thou thinkst thee free
From all solicitation from mee,
Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,
And thee, fain'd vestall, in worse armes shall see;
Then thy sicke taper will begin to winke,
And he,whose thou art then, being tyr'd before,
Will, if thou stirre, or pinch to wake him, thinke
Thou call'st for more,
And in false sleepe will from thee shrinke,
And then poore Aspen wretch, neglected thou
Bath'd in a cold quicksilver swear wilt lye
A veryer ghost than I;
What I will say, I will not tell thee now,
Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent,
I'had rather thou shouldst painfully repent,
Than by my threatenings rest still innocent.

Quicksilver-cold and heartless: white sandalwood, immortelle, zdravetz, and oudh.


AUTUMN COOLNESS 2012
Heat lingers
As days are still long;
Early mornings are cool
While autumn is still young.
Dew on the lotus
Scatters pure perfume;
Wind on the bamboos
Gives off a gentle tinkling.
I am idle and lonely,
Lying down all day,
Sick and decayed;
No one asks for me;
Thin dusk before my gates,
Cassia blossoms inch deep.
The scent of wisteria, Cymbidium, lotus blossom, and cassia buds drifting on a breeze through gently swaying bamboo reeds.


BONFIRE NIGHT 2012
Guy Fawkes, Guy;
Stick him up on high!
Hang him on a lamp post
And there let him die!
Guy, Guy, Guy!
Poke Him in the eye!
Put him on the fire,
And there let him die!
Burn his body from his head:
Then you'll say
Guy Fawkes is dead!
Hip, Hip, Hooray!

Beer, woodsmoke, tar, and treacle.


BOO 2012
Eerie billows of spun sugar, fluttering white cotton, and sheets of cream.


DIA DE LOS MUERTOS 2012
A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte… Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fêted, as the celebrant "…chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love." This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda: dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus.


FIZZY JACK O’LANTERN
1.5 oz gin
½ oz dry sherry
½ oz lemon juice
1 tsp pumpkin butter
2 dashes of Averna amaro

Pour the gin, sherry, lemon juice, pumpkin butter, and liqueur to a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Shake that mofo and strain it into a rocks glass filled with ice and a strong, spicy ginger ale. Stir gently, and garnish with a cinnamon stick or human finger bone.


GHOST HOUSE
I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.
O'er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.
I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;
The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.
It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me—
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.
They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,--
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.

Purple-stemmed raspberries, twining grape vines, Spanish moss, and dusty pale woods.


MANGO-INFUSED PUMPKIN CHAI LATTE
Pumpkin-spiced gunpowder tea with mango peel, red ginger, green cardamom, smoky clove buds, fennel, allspice, saffron, coconut sugar, and foamy milk.


MEDITATION IN AUTUMN 2012
Withered vines, gnarled trees, twilight crows,
river flowing beneath the little bridge,
past someone's home.
The wind blows from the west
where the sun sets, it blows
across the ancient road,
across the bony horse
across the despairing man
who stands at heaven's edge.
A desolate scent, dusty, bleak, and withered: old wood, burnt brown sandalwood, and twisted vines.


MISCHIEF
The scent of petty vandalism: toilet paper wads on damp maple trees, squished pumpkins, raw eggs, beer, pumpkin seed hulls, and soapy glass.


POMONA 2012
I am the ancient apple-queen.
As once I was so am I now —
For evermore a hope unseen
Betwixt the blossom and the bough.

Ah, where's the river's hidden gold!
And where's the windy grave of Troy?
Yet come I as I came of old,
From out the heart of summer's joy.

The Roman festival for Pomona, Goddess of fruit, orchards, and gardens, was celebrated on November 1. On this day, the stores amassed during summer were opened for winter.

Azaroles, nuts, and apple blossoms with red apple pulp, mulberry, blackberry, and pomegranate juice.


PUNKIE NIGHT 2012
Once upon a time, on a wild October night many years ago, a fair took place at Chiselborough. The men of the village of Hinton St. George made their way to the fair, and spent the night in revelry, drinking and carrying on, far into the darkest hours. Their wives grew concerned, and went looking for their unruly husbands. In order to see their way through the autumn gloom, they hollowed out mangel-wurzels and crafted them into makeshift lanterns. The drunken men, in their sloshy haze, saw the ghostly lights approaching, and believed them to be goolies — the furious spirits of unbaptized children. In terror, they fled in panic from their bemused, bewildered wives.

To this day, that night of foolishness is still celebrated! This is a light-hearted scent: apple orchards, bright cranberries, and a touch of warm cider.


SAMHAIN 2012
Truly the scent of autumn itself -- damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.


SUCK IT 2012
A vampiric good time. Sexy and suckable: black cherry brandy.


SUGAR SKULL 2012
Vibrant with the joy and sweetness of life in death! A blend of five sugars, lightly dusted with candied fruits.


THIRD CHARM
The owl is abroad, the bat, and the toad,
And so is the cat-a-mountain,
The ant and the mole sit both in a hole,
And the frog peeps out o' the fountain;
The dogs they do bay, and the timbrels play,
The spindle is now a turning;
The moon it is red, and the stars are fled,
But all the sky is a-burning:

The ditch is made, and our nails the spade,
With pictures full, of wax and of wool;
Their livers I stick, with needles quick;
There lacks but the blood, to make up the flood.
Quickly, Dame, then bring your part in,
Spur, spur upon little Martin,
Merrily, merrily, make him fail,
A worm in his mouth, and a thorn in his tail,
Fire above, and fire below,
With a whip in your hand, to make him go.

There's magic afoot: fiery red musk, luminous elemi, East Indian patchouli, champaca flower, cedar incense, ho wood, and hemlock accord sweetened with a peculiar sweet honey.


THE VAMPIRE BRIDE
"I am come-I am come! once again from the tomb,
In return for the ring which you gave;
That I am thine, and that thou art mine,
This nuptial pledge receive."

He lay like a corse 'neath the Demon's force,
And she wrapp'd him in a shround;
And she fixed her teeth his heart beneath,
And she drank of the warm life-blood!

And ever and anon murmur'd the lips of stone,
"Soft and warm is this couch of thine,
Thou'lt to-morrow be laid on a colder bed-
Albert! that bed will be mine!"

Icy skin touched by a perfume of violet leaf, white tea, olibanum, elemi, myrrh, wormwood, crypt dust, and saffron with a dribble of blood red musk.