Thursday, November 3, 2016


3 November 2016



Samhain is not just Halloween, costumes and candy. Samhain is the ancient Celtic celebration of the end of the harvest cycle of the growing season; bonfires dotted the landscape and the ancestors were honored. This is the season of death and of spirits, of magic and mystery. It is said that the veil that exists between the world of the dead and the living is at its thinnest during this dark season so this Hallows I have channeled 13 dark potions that can be used ritually as well as fragrantly. Empowered on September's rare Black Moon, these oils are imbued with depth, power and intensity and a drop of my handmade black moonstone gem essence! Some of the most potent work I've done in some time!

We here at Conjure Oils have slowly been preparing this collection for a year! We're offering perfume grade ritual oils (that can be used as both or either, as all Conjure Oils can be used.) Sacred Sprays for all sorts of spiritual needs and Bewitchment Balms for all your witchy wiles, dark and light.


5ml Brown Apothecary Bottle - $20

THIS UPDATE IS DEDICATED TO FABIENNE CHRISTENSON OF POSSETS PERFUME. Fabienne, who passed on October 2nd, 2016, had raw talent, an eye for art and a legion of fans that adored her and her work - myself included. I know she was a lover of animals and supported many charities, In her honor I will donate a portion of all proceeds of Hallows 2016 to the Oregon Humane Society in her name. May she rest in power.


Litanies of Satan

Charles Baudelaire

Les Fleurs du Mal

Wisest of Angels, whom your fate betrays,
And, fairest of them all, deprives of praise,

Satan have pity on my long despair!

O Prince of exiles, who have suffered wrong,
Yet, vanquished, rise from every fall more strong,

Satan have pity on my long despair!

All-knowing lord of subterranean things,
Who remedy our human sufferings,

Satan have pity on my long despair!

To lepers and lost beggars full of lice,
You teach, through love, the taste of Paradise.

Satan have pity on my long despair!

You who on Death, your old and sturdy wife,
Engendered Hope — sweet folly of this life —

Satan have pity on my long despair!

You give to the doomed man that calm, unbaffled
Gaze that rebukes the mob around the scaffold,

Satan have pity on my long despair!

You know in what closed corners of the earth
A jealous God has hidden gems of worth.

Satan have pity on my long despair!

You know the deepest arsenals, where slumber
The breeds of buried metals without number.

Satan have pity on my long despair!

You whose huge hand has hidden the abyss
From sleepwalkers that skirt the precipice,

Satan have pity on my long despair!

You who give suppleness to drunkards' bones
When trampled down by horses on the stones,

Satan have pity on my long despair!

You who, to make his sufferings the lighter,
Taught man to mix the sulphur with the nitre,

Satan have pity on my long despair!

You fix your mask, accomplice full of guile,
On rich men's foreheads, pitiless and vile.

Satan have pity on my long despair!

You who fill the hearts and eyes of whores
With love of trifles and the cult of sores,

Satan have pity on my long despair!

The exile's staff, inventor's lamp, caresser
Of hanged men, and of plotters the confessor,

Satan have pity on my long despair!

Step-father of all those who, robbed of pardon,
God drove in anger out of Eden's garden

Satan have pity on my long despair!


Praise to you, Satan! in the heights you lit,
And also in the deeps where now you sit,
Vanquished, in Hell, and dream in hushed defiance
O that my soul, beneath the Tree of Science
Might rest near you, while shadowing your brows,
It spreads a second Temple with its boughs.

— Translated by Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)

The corrupted blood of ancient dragons is infused with patchouli black. The midnight musk petals from les Fleurs du Mal are caramelized cauldron bound with black opium, black fig and dark muscavadao sugar. Defiled deeply by the scent of smoke of crimson red leaves and Scandinavian churches ablaze, filling the crisp autumn air with sweet despair. Nema!


These are the spirits of life and death. They are psychopomps that travel freely between the veil of the dead and the living. Some are gentle and kind, others are intense and terrifying. These spirits are closer to us at Samhain, throughout the dark months and then again at Beltaine when the veil is thin once more.


Ayao is the Yoruban Orisha of the wind. She is the eye of the storm and sister to the mighty Oya, Ayao wields the power of witchcraft and magical knowledge. Her companion is the snake and her weapon is the crossbow. Find her in the forest where the leaves swirl like a cyclone.

A whirling cyclone of crisp fall leaves fills the air coupled with slithering wisps of wood smoke, tonka bean and black plum.

Caer Ibormeith, bride of Angus Mac Og, the Irish Lord of Love is a shape shifter, swan and beautiful woman. She is also a goddess of death, as her name means yew berry, the toxic fruit from the yew tree. Offer her mead on Samhain to celebrate the beauty of love and the agony of death.

The joy and pain of true love and inevitable death: yew berry accord infused black patchouli, swan feather soft vanilla musk, red amber and stout clove. 


Charon is the infamous ferryman that grants passage to Hades across the river Styx. Cantankerous and cold, he only accepts passengers with proper funeral rites that have the fare of a coin to pay him. If you don't you're doomed to find your own perilous way to Hades. Good luck. Offer him coins for payment at the cemetery gates.

An ancient memory of Tunisian opium, precious oudh, aged tobacco and chthonic rhus khus.


She holds the keys to all domains, passing freely between the realms of the dead and the living. She is the beloved Queen of the Witches, waiting at the crossroads with her beloved dog. She is mistress of the poison path cultivating plants that can be used to cure, kill or stir the souls of the witches that venerate her. Invoke her on the dark moon at the crossroads at midnight, walk away and don't look back.

Often depicted with two torches that allow her safe passage between the worlds, allow Hekate's Torch to guide you along your path. A light in the darkness: earthen patchouli, apotropaic clove, spiritually uplifting frankincense, Persephone's pomegranate and illuminated bergamot.


He's the man who comes and does the job with no illusions - this is death hit man style! The crowned, weapon wielding skeleton can appear as the Grim Reaper or Holy Death and his haunting images is on many tombstones and churches, reminding the viewer Memento Mori! Call his frightening visage with his symbols of scythe, spear and arrow.

The musty shadows of the cemetery, haunted loam and moss, metal sting and arterial spray.


If you think about what Aunt Jemima looks like you'll have a pretty good idea of La Madama's appearance. Not a singular spirit, per se, but a vast network of spirits who oftentimes are the spirits of deceased Lucumi priestesses from Cuba and Puerto Rico. Everyone who has their own unique Madama can tell you her name and how she lived her life. This information is gleaned via spiritual masses, quiet reflection and other spiritual work. She is a teacher and mentor spirit who favors diviners, spiritual workers, healers, mediums and the like. A powerful partner for magic, cleansings and protection. Offer her flowers and cigars while staring into her eyes in a candlelit room to get her to speak her secrets to you.

Offerings of warm vanilla infused bourbon, juicy mangoes, star jasmine blossoms, cigar smoke and a pinch of blessed salt.


Les Morts is what those in the Voudoun tradition call The Dead. The belief in the Voudon religion is when someone passes away they really don't die, but go to a spiritual land of their blood and spiritual ancestors called Ginen and are never really far from their living loved ones. Les Morts are spirits to consult with when you have questions about the afterlife, a fear of death or if you would like to have an elevated conversation, as they tend to wax philosophical. Speak to them through scrying with water or mirrors. Gaze in candlelit basins of water to meet with them on the other side.

Still waters, crystal musk, beeswax candles, water lilies, white amber and sweet offerings of coffee and beignets.


Lady Death, Holy Death. She is the goddess of decay, of death, corpses and funerals. Her Roman temples were where grieving loved ones would report deaths or make funeral arrangements. It is said she appears shrouded in a black winged robe with an obscured face. She will accept offerings of coins and cemetery cleaning and upkeep.

A wistful and somber meditation on eternity: smoked amber, dragon's blood, aged black patchouli, rose hips, cypress, white myrrh and black storax.


Simbi is the Vodoun snake spirit that originated in the Congo. It is the greatest of all magicians and is the guardian of magicians and occultists. He is also a master healer and diagnostician. Being a freshwater serpent, Simbi loves water, moisture, rain and waterfalls. He is in charge of flow - water, electricity, air currents and therefore manages the energetic exchange involved with moments of sacred possession. Simbi also protects electrical devices such as computers and televisions. Keep an image of a snake on your electronics and offer Simbi some water and rum from time to time to keep him moist and happy to assist.

African green musk and violets, falling water, the spark of ozone and lightning struck sandalwood.


Thanatos is lord of the peaceful death who guides the dead over to his sister, the river Lethe. The waters of Lethe have amnesiac properties and help the dead forget their former lives and attachments. There is no greater pair to petition for a peaceful death, to forget past pains and torments or to instill deep peace. Offer Thanatos black candles, poppies, snakes and butterfly images. Petition Lethe during the dark of night, preferably by a stream or a river.

Black opium, poppy flower, kush, vanilla flower, cannabis accord, blue lotus attar, aged patchouli and mimosa.


Norse goddesses of varying tasks: magic, life, battle and death. They ferry the dead warriors to Valhalla or Freya's hall, where they host the fallen. In the beginning they were the daughters of Odin and Herta but over time their numbers grew as it opened up to include the deified priestesses of Odin. Some say they also may be deified shamans with erotic leanings who will fight and protect their human lovers. See them in the swans and crows in the sky with offerings of mead

Honey mead from the halls of Valhalla, the smoke of oak and juniper fires from the battlefield and the magnificent golden musk of eternal glory.


Manifesting as a disembodied head at the hub of a flaming ox-cart wheel, Wanyudo is a yokai that patrols the line between the living and the dead with violent precision. It is said that a raging fever is produced just by getting a glimpse of Wanyudo. Woe be to the person Wanyudo catches peeking at him as he will roll over them with his wheel ablaze, scorching them to nothing but a crisp shadow on the road! He has also been known to cart gawkers straight to Hell.

An infernal and damned philtre of ginger root, red patchouli, tonka bean, cinnamon sticks and burnt marshmallow.


Hailing from the British Isles, the Washers at the Ford are the spirits of women in varying degrees of haggardness with ghostly pale skin and disheveled hair. They crouch at the ford of the river where they wail and keen as they furiously launder any number of gristly and bloody items in the murky water: from cloth to armor to severed limbs and heads! In mourning, she continues to cry and shriek as she washes and if she happens to lock eyes with you as you innocently stroll by, it is your impending death that she is mourning! The Washers are not bringers of death as one might assume, but ancient harbingers. It is said when people of great status are to die the Washer presented will not be the typical washer woman, but a goddess such as Badbh or the Morrigan and make herself available for many to see so the cold shiver of a death omen will travel long and far.

A Victorian mourning fougere: bog moss, heather, pitcher plant, water poppy and emerald ferns under a slate gray sky that threatens torrential rain.


Have a beautiful and otherworldly dark season! Talk to you soon about the Yule update!

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