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.
Mother of Dragons: This is Daenerys now, at her full power, with her adult dragons ready to burn the patriarchy and all these old white men down. (We know that feeling well.) A blend of tobacco, vanilla, maple, and leather, it’s a smoky, sweet, daring combination of femininity and strength that will have everyone bending the knee to you, just because you smell so damn amazing. And because you have worked hard and not taken any shit and have earned it over all over all of these men, dammit. Matriarchy FTW.
Scent notes: Sweet vanilla, desert spices, smoke from the village you just burnt to the ground, decadent leather.
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, magical incense.
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.
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, oakmoss, 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.
Sansa: Inspired by her love of lemon cakes, Sansa, naturally, smells like her favorite treat. Delicate and dainty and oh-so-tempting, the combination of lemon, vanilla, and buttercream is sure to be a gourmand’s favorite scent. She’s the exact opposite of Arya, lusting and smelling like the finer things in life, working her way up the social ladder. Of course, things don’t always go to plan, which is why it’s fitting that lemons are also tart and bitter. Come by for the sweet aromas, stay and watch Sansa mature into a powerful woman who doesn’t take any shit.
Scent notes: Rich, fluffy buttercream frosting, real vanilla, pure lemon.
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.
Three-Eyed Raven: Alright, you know when you buy those mixed chocolate truffles from Costco, and you find out there’s a lemon one, and you think, this is weird and has no place here? How could this possibly turn out well or be important? And then you bite into it and your mind explodes because hot damn that is DELICIOUS and just totally changed your world forever and nothing will ever be the same again? That’s Three-Eyed Raven. Jet black and smelling of chocolate and lemon, this scent has to be smelled to be believed, like finding out the crippled boy knows everything that has ever (or will ever) happen and you’re like wait, THAT’S what’s going on how did we end up here from where we started what is happening and why is it SO FRIGGIN COOL?! Three-Eyed Raven, man. It’ll blow your mind.
Scent notes: Freshly squeezed lemon, fresh lemon verbena, fancy dark chocolate
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
Liquid Gold: You know the motto: A Lannister always pays his debts. (And that old chestnut about the contents of Lord Tywin’s chamber pot, but that’s been proven to be just a rumor.) No matter what type of debt is owed, be it blood or money, the Lannisters always make good on paying what they owe. Or what they feel they owe. Therefore, a Lannister collection is not complete without some liquid gold. It’s spicy and floral and smells the way luck feels. Bonus: the gold mica inside will leave a subtle shimmer on your skin! Just don’t trust anybody else with your gold because it is YOURS, dammit, and the Lannisters always like to keep things inside the family, or better yet, to themselves.
Scent notes: zanzibar spice, lavender fields, bergamot black tea
The Mountain: Oh Gregor, you gigantic, zombie guard. You’ve been through so much and killed so many good people, and yet, even you didn’t deserve to end up as Cersei’s monstrous, undead protector. While you probably don’t smell great now what with being poisoned, killed, and brought back from the dead, one can imagine that back in the day you actually smelled quite manly and delicious. That’s why this scent is a little sweet, a little musky, and definitely masculine, with notes of amber, oatmeal, and honey. After all, nobody with the nickname “The Mountain” would be particularly delicate. Just, you know, don’t stick our faces in the fire for saying that. We meant that as a compliment; we aren’t trying to insert ourselves into Clegane Bowl or any kind of fight, thanks.
Scent notes: amber, a pint of oatmeal stout, pure golden honey
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Mouthy Broad: You've always been the kind of woman who makes weak men anxious, and you consider that one of your best qualities. Never afraid to speak up, and never willing to back down for the sake of “keeping the peace,” or “acting like a goddamn lady for once, Jesus,” you've been called a lot of names over the years, and those don't phase you either. (We won't list all the names here because a) there's too many, and b) you would think people could be more original or inventing with their insults, like, use your imagination, damn!) What are you exactly? Some may say a femme fatale, killing it in a red dress and lips to match. We’re reclaiming the idea of a Mouthy Broad: the woman who takes no shits, drinks all the whiskey, and smashes the empty bottle on the floor and screams, “Another!” This scent will bring out the Mouthy Broad in anyone, and we think that's a very good thing.
Scent notes: a cloud of cigar smoke, freshly picked roses, a full glass of whiskey
T-Minus Coffee: Are you the kind of person who absolutely *needs* their morning cup, or six, of coffee in order to function, otherwise you’re a total space cadet? Have you ever accidentally put in whole beans in your French press upon waking up? Have you ever had to kill somebody for suggesting you have tea or, God forbid, decaf? Then T-Minus Coffee is the scent you need. Think of it as another morning pick-me-up for those days when shots of espresso just don’t cut it. T-Minus Coffee will fly you to the moon.
Scent notes: freshly ground coffee (obviously), spicy black pepper, nutmeg, high octane fuel, vanilla bean, bacon sizzling on the stovetop.
Antiquarian: Julia looked over the edge of her whiskey glass and sighed. Bored. Incredibly, damningly bored. She had barely left the house in what felt like years, but was actually just over a week, according to the newspaper scattered on her floor: Wednesday, November 2, 1870.
She looked around her study at all the relics from her travels: various antiques; exotic liquors; rare books; trinkets and knick-knacks from all over the globe. So many adventures had; so many mysteries solved; so many asses kicked. And now here she was, in her house, doing her least favorite thing: waiting. Waiting for the Queen to pardon her after the last, uh, incident, just over two weeks ago. It’s highly unfair that she should have to be sequestered in her home because of the accidental shooting of a diplomat in Spain. He was in her way; the jewel thief was getting away, and the diplomat wasn’t exactly stopping the thief! Plus, the guy was barely harmed; he only lost a toe. The Queen was still pissed, though, and trying to smooth things over with the Spanish embassy, and Julia was barred from traveling. Her gun and rights were gone, and she was stuck in her stupid house with nothing to do but drink and read. Maybe conduct some ill-advised scientific experiments if the mood struck her. At least she still has her secret swordcane.
Sighing yet again, she uncrosses her slipper-clad feet and stands up off of her favorite leather chair, peeling her legs off the seat and probably losing a layer of skin in the process. Time for more whiskey. Sure, maybe she shouldn’t be on her third glass of whiskey at 1 pm, but she wasn’t exactly doing anything else at the moment, so who cares? At least, she thinks it’s 1 pm; that’s what the grandfather clock just chimed, but winding clocks and remembering the time had never been important to her. It could actually be 8 am or 5 pm; whatever, it’s whiskey o’clock.
Plodding from the study to the kitchen for a fresh bottle, something outside the hallway window catches her eye. Across the street, a woman in a red coat seems to be watching her. At the very least, she’s standing still in the middle of the sidewalk, staring straight at Julia’s house. Julia nearly drops her glass. No, no, it can’t be! Her arch-nemesis wouldn’t just show up NOW, unprovoked, would she? Fuck, she totally would.
Julia hurries away back down the hall towards the front door, forgetting entirely that she’s not wearing anything except a short dressing gown and slippers (because who needs pants when your only plans for the day are to drink a lot of alcohol alone in the privacy of your own goddamn home?). She frantically opens the door and looks out. Nobody’s there. No sign of the woman in the red coat. Was she ever really there, or is Julia just starting to go insane?
She hears someone whistle, and that’s when she realizes she’s been standing blankly in her open doorway half-naked in her short dressing gown. “Oh, bite me, you pickle dick,” she yells at the man with the most obnoxious waxed mustache gliding by on his velocipede, aka, the source of the whistling. Closing the door, Julia decides to go get a glass of water to calm down. When that doesn’t work, she heads back to her study to smoke a pipe and read through her journal of old cases. Maybe there’s a clue there; something to confirm that she really did just see who she thought she saw outside.
Julia fills her pipe with fresh tobacco and lights it. Inhaling, she immediately feels a sense of calm. There. Everything will be okay. She walks to her bookcase to pull down her expensive journal … except it’s not there. In its place is a white envelope addressed to Julia. She frantically opens it. Inside is a single piece of paper. All it says is, “You’ll never catch me now.”
So it WAS her. Julia was right, and not (completely) crazy! Well, she had needed a case; looks like this time, it had come to her. But where to go? How will she find her? What’s the next step? Where the hell is that whiskey?!
Scent notes: sumptuous leather, old yellowed books, pipe tobacco, soft sandalwood, white musk.
Troll Food: You know what they say: don’t feed the trolls. So what are you to do when you’re out camping in nature, enjoying your life, sitting around the campfire with your friends, and a troll approaches? “Scram, troll!” your friends yell in unison. “Nobody wants you around here!”
You look over at the poor, sniveling troll, mumbling under his breath. He’s clearly cold, and desperate for some human interaction. His long nose is dripping snot; he’s shivering while mumbling about how everyone else is wrong. Rather than getting angry and stooping to his level, you decide to take the high road. “Hey, troll, come over here. Would you like a s’more?”
He stops snivelling, wipes his nose, and looks at you incredulously. “Is this a trick?” he growls.
“No, seriously, come over here. Sit down, have a s’more.”
The rest of your friends are repulsed. “What are you doing? Seriously? He’s a troll!”
You ignore them, and pat the open seat next to you. “Yes, seriously. He’s a troll, but he’s clearly starving and cold. Let him have some food and warm up.”
He begrudgingly walks over and sits next to you. The scent of toasted marshmallows and melted chocolate was too much for him to ignore. You hand him a s’more on a paper plate. He takes it, inhaling the delicious aromas, before taking a tentative bite. Everyone else is silent, watching him. He lets out a small sigh of pleasure before eating the rest of it in one big bite. Everyone laughs, delighted at the show, as the troll happily munches away.
Over the course of the night, and many more s’mores eaten over active conversation, the troll has changed. His nose has shrunk down to a normal size; he’s warmed up; he’s no longer chattering angrily or casting sidelong glances. He looks … well, he looks like a normal person!
Maybe it was the s’more, or the human interaction, or the kindness you bestowed, or a combination of all these things. All that matters, though, is that the troll has become a friend.
Scent notes: melted chocolate, toasted marshmallow, sweet honey graham cracker.
Sinister: Designed with delightful creepiness in mind (hence the incredible label), this is a bit different from our usual scents. Think of this perfume as, for example, what the little old ladies in Arsenic and Old Lace or maybe a woman in a Hitchcock movie is wearing while murder is happening. Just because you smell delicious doesn’t mean you didn’t kill your cheating husband with a frozen leg of lamb and then served that lamb to the cops who came around looking for him … or does it? It’s always the ones who look the most innocent and smell the best who are secretly the most evil, including the other guests at your formerly fabulous dinner party where bodies just keep piling up.
“Yup, two corpses, everything’s fine.”
Scent notes: Freshly cut jasmine, Egyptian geranium, oud, a lavender field, eucalyptus, a musky attic.
Afterglow: This is, no joke, sex in a bottle. A blend of decadent dark chocolate, sweet honey, and amber, Afterglow is delicious and sexy; the perfect scent to wear on a date, a night out, to that wedding where you know you’ll see your ex with his new lady and you want to remind him of what he's missing even though you'll never go back to that assbutt ever again, or just to the office on days when you want to feel your most confident and remind your male colleagues that you are, in fact, better at your job than they are, dammit. Who can resist someone who smells like a slutty s’more, in the best way possible? Nobody, and that’s the point. If you need to add a little excitement to your life, or just want to smell dirty and decadent at the same time, you need Afterglow. You’ll thank us in the morning.
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.
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
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