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: 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 sends makes him to go 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.

Cthulu: 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!)

The 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

Sea Glass: Sea Glass is the perfect beachy, summer scent. It’s a siren, washed ashore, feasting on mangos and coconuts and luring men to their demise. It’s a juicy book read discreetly on your Kindle so nobody knows why, exactly, you’re smiling so devilishly under your sunhat. It’s expensive sunscreen slathered on a lover’s back before they go take a dip in the ocean. It’s the confidence to wear that bathing suit because, yes queen, you DO look amazing.

Of course, summer doesn’t last forever. Spray this on whenever you need to feel sexy or want to pretend that you’re not stuck at your job, discreetly playing Candy Crush on your phone when your boss isn’t looking. Not that we know anything about that.

Scent notes: Juicy mango, ripe yuzu, whipped coconut cream, sea moss, pure honey from the comb, Tahitian vanilla, salty spray.

Summer Limited edition scents:

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 note: salt, kumquat, cotton, daisy

/End of limited edition summer scents!

Firefly Inspired Scents

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

/End of Firefly inspired scents

Margaery: If you’re looking for a scent that’s guaranteed to smell like “I’m having sex tonight,” buckle up cowgirl, because you need Margaery. And no, that doesn’t mean she smells cheap or easy, far from it. Margaery is coy, cunning, clever, and sexy as hell. She knows what she wants, and she knows how to get it, by any and all means necessary. But she won’t be obvious about it, no no no. This scent is regal, extravagant, and delectable. As soon as you walk in the room, all eyes will be on you. Men would literally jump out of windows if they couldn’t have you. Damn girl, you’ve got it going on. Just, you know, stay away from any religious figures and don’t stick around long enough to get married because that NEVER works out in your favor.

Scent Notes: a freshly popped bottle of champagne; ripe, juicy peach; crisp cotton sheets; an English rose garden; moonlight pomegranate; herbaceous sage; neroli

Brienne the Beauty: Brienne is, in our opinion, the most underrated character in the entire GoT universe. She may have been mockingly nicknamed “The Beauty,” but her commitment to honor, goodness, and love (albeit unrequited one-sided closeted gay love) are outstanding and truly make her beautiful. Plus, she’s a goddamn knight, an incredible swordswoman, and takes absolutely zero bullshit. And is it bad if we want Jaime to dump his sister and be with Brienne? Think of the blonde chunky babies they’d produce, and they don’t even share the same gene pool! What a concept! Her scent, therefore, is earnest, a bit masculine, earthy, with a touch of hidden sweetness that blossoms over time. This scent, like Brienne, is a true beauty.

Scent Notes: newly cut grass on a hot summer day; smoky white musk; sweet Meyer lemon; real ginger; white tea; a fresh-picked Valencia orange

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

Greyjoy: The Greyjoy House is prideful, and while they might not be the most popular, we had enough people ask us to include them in our final batch of Frozen Embers and we figured, what the hell, let’s make everyone smell as salty as Euron acts! Since the Greyjoys have saltwater running through their veins, it seems appropriate that their scent is comprised of crisp notes of rain and salt, with hints of citrus for balance and good measure. Plus, nobody wants to smell like Reek, but everyone wants to be Yara/Asha (depending on if you’re a fan of the show or book, she has different names, and no we don’t know why so don’t ask) because she’s a goddamn BADASS and deserved to win her Queensmoot and run the Iron Islands but was thwarted because Euron just can’t not be a salty, bitter dude and let a woman rule. Ugh. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? But don’t let them stop you; slather some Greyjoy on and be the seawater queen you were destined to be.

Scent Notes: fresh ocean air; ripe, refreshing lemon and lime; severe thunderstorms; gloomy, rainy afternoons; tears

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

Papa's Waffles
: Picture it: Saturday morning, your childhood. Your dad and his impressive beard have gotten up early even though he was up late with friends, drinking and partying. He’s acquiesced to your demands for waffles, which he lovingly makes from scratch in the kitchen while drinking a strong pot of coffee. The whole house smells of baked goodness, coffee, maple, and butter. Bliss. That’s exactly what Papa’s Waffles smells like. It’s a delectable, nostalgic scent that’ll immediately transport you back to those happy, scrumptious times. Get it for your dad to thank him for putting up with your 6 AM waffle requests, or get it for yourself to relive those memories now. Or get it because your father didn’t do those things for you and you’re bitter but want to smell delicious anyway. Whatever works for you; just don’t miss this scent! Of course, if waffles weren’t your dad’s thing, we also have bacon and bourbon scented goodies, so snag a couple of those so your dad doesn’t think you forgot him this year. (You totally didn’t forget. Not at all.)

Scent Notes: Worn flannel shirt, dark beer, maple syrup, hot coffee, burnt sugar

Death Unicorn: Are unicorns glittering, majestic, fantastical creatures who emit pure sunshine and poop rainbows? Or, are they death machines capable of murder with just their foreheads? Guess what: they’re BOTH! It’s this combination of innocence and evil that inspired our Death Unicorn scent, which is a perfect balance of sweet and spicy, virtuous and sassy. Fragrant lavender mixed with spicy black pepper; licorice-y anise poured over top of vanilla bean ice cream. It’s a surprising, balanced, decadent blend that will make everyone, including yourself, realize how powerful you are. Because you are powerful. And majestic. And made of pure black glitter which you can blow in people’s eyes when they piss you off.

If you wish that you could be a unicorn purely so you can stab people with your built-in head sabre after stunning them with your beauty, then you need this perfume.

Scent notes: fresh cut lavender, black anise, sweet vanilla bean, black pepper crushed under a unicorn’s horn

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.

Scent Notes: Galangal essential oil, Clove essential oil, Citronella essential oil, Lemon eucalyptus essential oil, Juniper berry essential oil

Stay Sexy: You, Murderino, are fresh, feisty, and fierce. You use a scent that reflects who you are with notes of grapefruit, vanilla, and honey - sweet yet tart and all sass. You know it’s always ok to fuck politeness, not to go in the woods, and you never leave your drink alone. You don't say "Sorry, not sorry" you say "LISTEN ASSHOLE!". So don't let toxic masculinity ruin the party again - Stay Sexy and Don't Get Murdered.

Scent notes: Tahitian vanilla, rich honey, fresh grapefruit

Here’s the thing: Fuck Everyone: You come home after a long day: you somehow ground dirt into your white shirt (HOW?), your friend ditched you, and the train held up your commute for 30 minutes - AGAIN. Now as you lay down to turn on some murder documentaries some asshole is knocking on your door, pleading with you to use your phone because their car broke down, and you don't see a car in sight. So you leave them knocking, call the police, and turn the murder documentaries up to 11 after slipping on this rich scent of rich dark chocolate, dirt (yes I said dirt-trust me guys), and amber and tucking in with a nice shot of bourbon. Because here's the thing-fuck everyone.

Scent notes: Bourbon, Rich chocolate, Dark amber, touch of dirt

You’re in a Cult, Call your Dad: Look, you have been through a lot. First your friend Karen is telling you about this wonderful resort out in Florida (it's always Florida) and next thing you know you're in a white robe praying to an Elvis look-a-like. Now you didn't drink the Kool-Aid for too long and you did the right thing: You called your dad. This scent is as close as you can get to being back home after a mind melting experience: warm flannel pajamas, the old tree in your front yard, a cup of steaming black tea, and snickerdoodle cookies - a lot like having tea and cookies at home and never calling Karen again.

Scent notes: Flannel, Sedona trees, Bergamot tea, snickerdoodle cookies

Lady Swears: Do the pure evil do-ers of this world give you the sick sads? Say no more, we have the scent for you. Lady Swears is a mixture of bourbon and sweeter notes - so you can swear like a lady while plotting your sweet revenge with your favorite mixed beverage. This is the perfect scent to express yourself during your favorite podcast during a work meeting, in the car when someone cuts you off, or when someone tells you to "smile".

Scent Notes: Bourbon, Tahitian Vanilla, Lemon

Vodka and Swearing: Ah, the best weekend activity. Vodka And Swearing is a fantastic mix with Juniper Sage and Lemongrass Mojito in the mix, some of this writer's favorite scents to go with her favorite activity. So pull up a chair, fluff up your dirty pillows,put on some Vodka and Swearing and partake in your favorite indulgence- Bloody Murder.

Scent Notes: Sedona, Juniper Sage, lemongrass, Mojito

Captain Moonlite: Everyone has a hero and everyone wants to smell like him. Captain Moonlite smells like your favorite glass of really good bourbon. You'll have the scent of the handsome bushranger by your side as you try to through the coppers off of your trail- or sit in your favorite chair-whatever. No one could help but love you despite your crimes, especially your Nesbitt, while you use this alluring oil.

Scent Notes: Bourbon, Mahogany, Teak, Campfire Smoke, Dragon’s Blood

Strawberry Milkshake: A deceptively sweet scent, Strawberry Milkshake laces your skin with the scent of Tara Sariban's favorite beverage. Whether you're lounging by the pool listening to your favorite podcast or plotting to murder your millionaire spouse to runaway with your trailer park lover, Strawberry Milkshake will be sure to fool all around you into thinking there is no way you could be the suspect. This is the only scent in this collection to be a gorgeous, bloody red color. Now let's get murdery.

Scent Notes: Fresh Strawberries, Tahitian Vanilla, Warm Honey