Sunday, January 30, 2011

The Toby Daye Collection - LIVE in its Entirety!


Conjure Oils is thrilled to announce that the Toby Daye Collection - Perfume Oils Inspired by the Writing of Seanan McGuire are now live as a complete line! 

Come and have a visit with the fey, won't you?

Love and Bliss,



April O'Leary

Everything about her was yellow, from the faint golden tan of her skin to her wide yellow eyes, shadowed by the green frames of her glasses.  Her irises matched her hair with eerie exactness.  She had the Torquill bone structure; whatever she'd started out as, she was definitely her mother's daughter now.

Ozone burn and the tang of electrical fire.
A.T. Olsen

I stared after him for a long, stunned moment before I groaned, flopping backwards on the bed.  The smell of coffee and clover still lingered in the air, and I had the not entirely unwelcome feeling that things had just gotten a lot more complicated.

Coffee to wake you up, and clover, for luck.  Good or bad, we can't really say.
Connor O'Dell

Take your standard California beach bum, give him spiky brown hair streaked with seal’s-fur gray, brown eyes so dark they verge on black, slightly webbed fingers and a baked-in tan, and you’ve got Connor O’Dell.

A California seashore: blue eucalyptus and sweet salt water.

Dare had managed to find a heavy denim jacket that clanked when she moved; considering how many knives she'd been able to conceal without the coat, I decided I didn't want to ask.  Between that, the miniskirt and high heels, and the midriff-baring shirt that read 'Porn Star in Training,' she wasn't exactly in the running for Miss Subtle USA.

Dangerous black amber and Pippin apples, still unspoiled.
Evening Winterrose

The Evening Winterrose I knew had features that looked like the last, perfect work of a dying sculptor, ears that tapered to sharp points and eyes the impossible dark blue of midnight; she had hair that wavered between black and purple, with highlights of pink, orange and blue, like an aurora.  She was wild and terrible and strange, one of the Daoine Sidhe, the fairest of the fae, and she was never, ever human.

Given time enough, Snow White will become a wicked queen.  Roses and the cold, cold taste of snow.
Garden of Glass Roses

White crushed quartz pathways glitter in the sunlight that filters through the roses, throwing up glints of prismatic color.  And everywhere, roses, growing in wild, seemingly unfettered profusion.  Their slight transparency seems odd at first glance, until the mind admits what the eye is seeing: every flower, every petal and bud, is living, blossoming glass, stained with washes of flawless color.

A garden possible only in Faerie.  The sweet scent of roses, mingled with living glass and the slow deep gray of stone.

She was roughly five feet tall, with a blaze of white hair cut in spikes that did nothing to hide the squared-off tips of her ears.  Her figure matched her height -- slight, lissome, and easily overlooked.  Judging from her scowl, that happened pretty often; it wasn’t the sort of expression you master in an instant, even when your friends are dying.  Lines cut through her face like scars through granite.  They weren’t wrinkles; she wasn’t old enough for that.  They were just lines, indelibly ground into the shape of her.

Motor oil and the dark, resinous scent of a mechanic's broken heart.
Green Potion

"Try not to get shot again.  You can only have one dose this month."

I looked at the bottle with new respect.  "Or what?"

"You melt."

The treatment is sometimes just as bad as the disease, but smells a lot sweeter.  Pennyroyal, cowslips, and wisteria.
January O'Leary

Her hair was brown with streaks of red, making her look like the victim of a bad dye job.  The combination of that hair with her china-pale skin tagged her as Daoine Sidhe; she had the right sort of artful gracelessness, like she wore the world instead of letting it wear her.

Ozone burn and long, sweet scent of pine.

Her hands were slim and covered with delicate silver scales, the fingers webbed to the first knuckle.  Only her fingernails looked human, and even they were a pale silver-blue.  I could see the shadow of her face if I turned my head just right, and memory supplied what vision couldn’t: she was impossibly delicate, with jade eyes and long black hair braided back with willow branches, pale skin decorated by dainty silver and green scales.

The Lady of the Tea Gardens bears the wistful scent of hibiscus and water lilies.

Lily's Knowe

I was looking up at a ceiling of woven willow branches, held up by a series of arches that appeared to have grown from the mossy floor.  Pixies clustered on every available surface, their shimmering glow lighting the room.  The moss beneath me was soaking wet, and as a consequence, so was I.  I knew where I was.  Lily's knowe.

The sweet serenity of willows and still water.
Makeshift Morgue

The stairs descended almost vertically into a large, well-lit room.  Judging by the stacks of computer parts and desk furniture lining the walls, they used it for storage before it became a makeshift morgue.  The air was cold and tasted faintly bitter, like machine oil and carpet cleaner.

The bodies have to go somewhere.  The bitter sweetness of motor oil and the ominous citrus cheer of carpet cleaner.      

May Daye

She stood about five foot eight, with long, almost gangly limbs and the sort of curves that get lost in anything shapeless.  Her stick-straight brown hair fell to her shoulders, failing to conceal her dully-pointed ears.  She had the sort of pointed face that doesn’t get called “pretty,” even on a kid.  “Striking,” maybe, or “dramatic,” but never pretty.  Her eyes were beautiful, though, large and bright, with gray irises so pale they seemed to echo the colors around them.  I knew those features pretty well.  After all, I saw them in the mirror every morning.  It was like looking at a photograph, only this photograph was answering my open-mouthed shock with a smirk and a tip of an imaginary hat.

The Fetchingly sweet smell of burnt sugar and ashes, like a bonfire on the carnival midway.  Have your ticket ready at the door.
The Queen of the Mists

The Queen had made some changes to her image.  When I brought her the hope chest Evening Winterrose died to protect, the Queen was an ethereal siren, as elegant and regal as a Tolkien wet-dream.  Now she looked like the bastard daughter of Titania and Alice Cooper.  Kohl ringed her eyes, blue lipstick coated her lips, and her formerly floor-length ivory hair was chopped in a ragged bob, streaked with black and vivid blue.  She was wearing fishnet stockings, a ripped white top, and a black leather miniskirt too short to be decent.  But it was her.  There was no mistaking the moonstruck madness in her sea-foam eyes.

Madness and the monarch by the sea.  The scent of frozen salt, as cold and unforgiving as the deep.
The Queen's Knowe

Every hollow hill is different.  The Queen's knowe was a hidden door in a seaside cliff leading to a fairy tale palace as beautiful as it was decayed.  Like an apple hiding rot at its core, its sweetness as soured by its essential nature, and by the nature of the Queen who held it.

Beautiful decay: the smell of the sea and the slow wearing-away of the natural world.

Quentin was fostered at Shadowed Hills about a year before I officially came back to Sylvester’s service.  He spends his days at one of the local high schools, learning how the humans live, and spends his nights serving as a page, learning how to be a Faerie noble.  One day he’ll be a squire, then a knight, and finally, his parents’ heir.  A pretty tall order for a kid his age, but I think he can handle it.

The knight in waiting: noble wood, sweet blooming heather and the metallic tang of steel.

Rose Goblin

I spotted my quarry on the second turn: a creature the size and shape of a small cat crouching on the roof of my car, covered in short, soft-looking pink and gray thorns.  Shorter thorns ran down its ears and muzzle, making it look like the bastard child of a housecat and a rose bush.  It looked small, harmless, and completely out of place.  Rose goblin.

The scent of peat moss and roses, fairy gardens, and things often left unseen...
Salamander Attractant

We managed to catch the salamanders before the fire trucks arrived, luring them back out of the flames with sticks of cinnamon wood and myrrh.  The source of the fire was never determined.

Catch fire in your hand: cinnamon wood and myrrh resin.
Sylvester Torquill

Sylvester’s one of the Daoine Sidhe, the first nobility of Faerie.  His hair is signal-flare red, and his eyes are a warm gold that would look more natural on one of the Cait Sidhe.  There’s nothing conventionally pretty about him, but when he smiles, he’s breathtaking.

The comforting scent of California in the spring: daffodils, dogwood flowers and golden Vernal musk.
Toby Daye

I backed into the shadows of the bushes, kneeling to run my fingers through the damp grass.  My own magic rose around me, the taste of copper and cut grass hanging in the air until the spell caught hold with an almost-audible "click."  A bolt of pain shot through my temples.  Changeling magic has limits, and those limits make themselves clear when you try to go too far.  I’d mixed a marsh water charm, spun a human disguise, and now I was casting a don’t-look-here on myself.  Put it all together, and it spelled "too far."

Our heroine herself: the sweetness of newly-cut grass mingled with the bloody sharpness of copper, a changeling blend.

Tybalt, the King of Cats

Even in the dim light of the alley, I could pick out the darker bands of brown that streaked his short-cropped, slightly tousled hair, mimicking a tabby’s coat.   His eyes were narrowed, but I knew that if I could see them, they’d be green, split by cat-slit pupils.  Add all that to skin like ivory and the sort of face that winds up on magazine covers, and it’s no wonder that Tybalt’s looks get him a long way with a lot of people.  Not with me.

A cat may look at a King.  A King may look at anything he likes.  Pennyroyal , civet musk, leather and wild honey.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Update of Love is LIVE!

Hello Everyone!

It seems like Christmas was just a couple of weeks ago. Oh wait! It was! Nonetheless, time keeps charging forward, bringing with it another scintillating Conjure Oils update!

This update o'love is more than likely the largest update in the history of Conjure Oils and I do it all for you!

Available only in pairs - $37.50 a set

Antony & Cleo
According to legend it was love at first sight between Cleopatra, the last Pharaoh of Egypt and Marc Antony, the Roman General and friend of Julius Caesar. The two would eventually marry, have three children and as a family, rule much of the region. 

The truth is lost in the mists of history, but some say that Marc Antony killed himself by falling on his sword when he heard a false rumor that his beloved Cleopatra had died. Others say that when the tides of war turned against the couple, they escaped together then, to avoid capture, Marc Antony committed suicide. When Cleopatra, who by this time was already imprisoned by Octavian and could no longer bear the grief of her dwindling empire, heard the news about the death of her dear Marc Antony she poisoned herself by snake bite. With the help of her sympathetic servants, she hid a small asp in a basket of figs, donned her royal robes, reclined upon her couch of gold and placed the venomous snake upon her breast.

A complex and ancient stymmata recreated to commemorate the general: juniper berries macerated in a base of sandalwood imported from the Far East, royal musk, cyclamen, sweet flag, blue lavender, myrtle, cypress, labdanum and victorious bay laurel.

Cleopatra understood the power of scent and utilized it to her advantage. It is said she first met Marc Antony upon a ship equipped with large billowing incense censers and perfumed sails that scented the entire port.
A legendary queen, seductress, mathematician and strategist, Cleopatra is remembered in this beguiling fragrance:  Egyptian sandalwood, myrrh resin, honeysuckle, orris root, serpentine cinnamon and black fig. 

The Breath of Isis & The Jewel of Osiris
No other gods could boast of love as deep and pure as the love shared by Isis and Osirs. Out of jealousy, Osiris was murdered by his brother, Set, and his body was divided into fourteen parts and scattered to the four corners. Isis, stricken ill with grief and despair, frantically searched the world over for her lover's body parts. She discovered all but one, as the phallus of Osiris had been eaten by a fish! Undaunted, crafty Isis fashioned a new phallus for her husband out of pure gold. She then embalmed him and with one giant breath filled with love, passion, longing, grief and ecstasy, brought Osiris back to life to rule the Underworld.

The Breath of Isis
Lotus root, tonka bean, sweet pea blossoms, neroli, black currant absolute and an opoponax tear drop.

The Jewel of Osiris
Guiacwood, oakmoss, black patchouli, crimson plum, golden bergamot and cassia

Khosrow & Shirin
Khosrow and Shirin are two lovers immortalized by ancient Persian poets. Khosrow is a handsome prince who is taken with tales of a beautiful princess living in a nearby kingdom. Khosrow, anxious to meet his future bride, can wait no longer and travels with his best friend to Shirin's land to meet her. Shirin is then courted with Khosrow's amazing feats of strength and daring until at long last, she's convinced that he's truly her soul mate.

Bold cardamom cream is exalted with scarlet carnation, golden frankincense and amber resin.

Sweet and seductive: silken jasmine, royal rose, gentle geranium, vanilla blossom, red musk, sweet patchouli and molten honey.

Sir Lancelot & Lady Guinevere
Torn between their loyalty to King Arthur and their desire for one another, it can be argued that the love between Guinevere and Lancelot weakened the integrity of the Round Table. Truly star-crossed lovers from the start, Lancelot and Guinevere never had a chance. Even after the death of Arthur, Lancelot was denied a final kiss from his beloved as she'd joined a convent with the intention of never seeing the face of Lancelot again.

Sir Lancelot
Aged leather, almond, shining musk, nutmeg, black tea, vanilla sugar and smoked sandalwood.

Lady Guinevere
Tuberose, sweet cream, juicy apricot, cherry blossoms, rosewood and the softest blush of pink grapefruit.

$17.50 per 5ml

Aishiteru 2011


a serene floral and tea scent - cherry blossoms, ozone, sweet osmanthus, green tea, jasmine blossoms, wisteria and bamboo leaves

Aloha Wau Ia Oi 2011


Gorgeous and opulent pikake blossoms, ti leaves, umi'umi-o-dole, maile vine, Hawaiian ginger and coconut cream, rounded out with a splash of pineapple.

Ana Moajaba Bik 2011


A complex and mysterious melange of black musk incense, white sandalwood, spicy red carnation, oud, and Moroccan geranium with a sparkle of sweet orange.

Don Juan 2011

This sultry Spanish libertine's seductive folly led him straight to the gates of Hell, however the magnetic allure of his eponymous fragrance is nothing short of Heavenly.

Saffron and sable Moorish woods are seduced by bundles of white lavender, masculine amber and black musk.

Harlot 2011

Biblically, harlots were devoted prostitutes who worked in service of the great goddess Astarte, the Syrian Venus.

Temple incense, dried blood red roses, labdanum, osmanthus, tuberose and oud.

Mahal Kita 2011


Capturing the heart of the rainforest - teakwood is blended with lush orchid and coconut water, sweetened with starfruit and papaya nectar.

Ravished 2011

Seduced by a scoundrel on the Seven Seas; a bodice-ripper in it's own right. Passionate pirate kisses plunder the depths of her black heart.

Sweltering Tahitian vanilla heat, a mahogany headboard, silken crimson sheets pulled tight and notes of golden honey ooze over mouth-watering coconut mounds.

Sarang Heyo 2011


Sacred and beneficent - the slightest whispers of pine resin, cinnamon and thyme merge with the holy scents of aloeswood, red sandalwood and magnolia.

Scarlet Woman 2011

The Thelemic Mother of Abominations - the Consort of Chaos.

Red roses, jasmine sambac, deep red ginger, ambergris, champagne, Himalayan cedar, patchouli and a kiss of violet.

Seni Seviyorum 2011


Nearly as delectable as baklava - orange blossom honey is slathered between layers of dried figs, almonds, apricots and quince.

Sheela-Na-Gig 2011

She first appeared in the 11th or 12th century as a stone carving found on churches, castles and gates in Britain and Ireland and was believed to be an apotropaic charm – a true testament to the female mysteries.
Sheela-Na-Gig, often considered as a Goddess, is a powerful symbol of a woman's relationship with her sexuality, her body and the power that lies therein. She is depicted as a grinning bald woman displaying her exaggerated vulva for the world to behold. Imagine what would happen if we were proudly willing to share the most sacred parts of ourselves without reservation. Allow Sheela's bold defiance of misogyny to empower you!

A daring mix of enchanted herbs and flowers sacred to the ancient Celts of the British Isles evoke he feeling of watching the sun set behind the towering megaliths of Stonehenge: rolling green hills, dusky heather, the gossamer fruit of the Sidhe and sacred vervain.

Shunga 2011

Shunga were sexually explicit Japanese ukiyo-e woodblock prints produced in the 16th and 19th centuries. Men and women from all stations in life took great pleasure in these erotic "pillow books" as they were often given as gifts to newly-wedded couples. The lascivious images in these books were highly idealized, stylized and featured innumerable steamy situations with raw desire and opulent fantasy.

A suggestive blend of impassioned dark amber resin clinging to delicate white ginger lilies as tendrils of Asian opium smoke swirl about the charged atmosphere.

Táim In nGrá Leát 2011

Irish Gaelic

An inspired scent that evokes swirling mists through ancient apple orchards, oak leaves, cool rain and emerald moss.

Te Ubesc 2011


A truly spellbinding brew of dog rose, cherry bark and mandrake compounded in a base of vanilla bean, tonka, witchgrass and sweet myrrh resin.

Wo Ai Ni 2011

Mandarin Chinese

Gentle, soft, pure - white chrysanthemum is blended with sweet sandalwood, white opium, and mandarin orange with just a suggestion of warming ginger and clove.

A Mid-Winter Reprieve
$17.50 per 5ml

Delicious, but certainly not edible!

Api Morado para Pachamama
As sweet and ancient as the soft light of the rising sun that caresses the Andes, Api Morado is a thick, nourishing beverage with impressive Incan ancestry. Beloved in Bolivia, Api Morado is served at breakfast with fresh hand-made pastries.

To honor our Earth Mother: wholesome ground purple corn is gently simmered in fresh milk with the rinds of pineapples and oranges and infused with comforting sweet clove, piquant cinnamon, a splash of lemon juice and a spoon of succulent raw sugar. Actually, make that two.

Bruja Zarate's Agua Dulce
A soothing time-honored Costa Rican breakfast drink. Agua Dulce, literally, "sweet water" is as simple and as elegant as its name.

Raw milled cane juice, tapa de dulce, is dissolved in the warmth of pure water fresh off the boil and served with juicy pink grapefruit.

Honrar a los Muertos 
Atole is a masa-based beverage enjoyed on the Yucatan peninsula since pre-Colombian times. While it comes in many variations, the basic ingredients are consistent. Often left as an ofrenda to the spirits during el Dia de los Muertos, atole is a customary and welcome gift for the ancestors.

Masa harina is blended into hot milk, sugared with piloncillo and imbued with the ancient flavors of Mexican cinnamon and pure vanilla.

Intrigue in Tangiers
The preparation and presentation of tea in Morocco has been elevated to an art form known as Ataí. The careful attention and love that goes into the preparation of Moroccan mint tea is integral to Moroccan culture. It is expected that one enjoy at least three servings of tea per sitting, as each glass has its own unique flavor and color that changes as the steeping tea ages. In fact, this is ritual is immortalized in this proverb:

"Le premier verre est aussi amer que la vie,
le deuxième est aussi fort que l'amour,
le troisième est aussi doux que la mort."

"The first glass is as bitter as life,
the second glass is as strong as love,
the third glass is as gentle as death."

Chinese gunpowder green tea is boiled with cane sugar and blended with fresh peppermint leaves lightly accentuated with louiza and wormwood.

{Thank you to The Chameleons for inspiring the name!}

Madame Blavatsky's Sbiten
Dating back to the 1100's, sbiten has been a fixture enjoyed in Russian culture for ages. It is a mead-like beverage shared hot with friends and family on cold winter nights. I think if I had three wishes, one of them would be to go back in time to share a cup and a conversation with master occultist Madame Blavatsky.

Five different varieties of honey: orange blossom, clover, peach blossom, blackberry and wildflower honey boiled in fresh water with blackberry jam and spiced with ginger root and warming clove.

Midnight Chai With Kali Ma
As top contender for India's favorite hot libation, Masala chai is a staple in the region's cuisine. Chai is so prevalent that you could swing a cinnamon stick and hit a chai walla. These peddlers can be found in most train and bus stations as well as busy intersections. In fact, chai is so integral to the culture that to decline an offer to share a cuppa is considered quite rude, so when Kali calls, say yes!

Darjeeling black tea is steeped in sacred cow milk and saturated with ancestral spices: cinnamon sticks, clove buds, nutmeg, vanilla beans, elachi pods, pink peppercorns, fennel seeds and brown sugar.

Sahlab Au Set
Sahlab is ubiquitous throughout the Middle East and Mediterranean. In Egypt, it is the remedy for the biting cold of desert nights. Ancient and enduring; perhaps the goddess Isis warmed the baby Horus with sweet sahlab.

Fresh goat milk thickened with orchid root accord, kyphi honey, orange blossom and rose water and sprinkling of toasted coconut caramel.

Sarabba Sulawesi
Enjoyed by many on Indonesia's Sunda Island, Sarabba is a hot and spicy evening pick-me-up.

The fire of Indonesian ginger is ignited with white peppercorns then quenched with sugared coconut milk.

Stregare Bicerìn
Born in the Piedmontese region of Italy famous for its chocolatier's, il Bicerìn is Turin's take on simple hot chocolate, where in the early part of the 16th century, Signore Philbert served hot chocolate to laud an Italian victory over the French. In the 1700's espresso and frothy whipped cream were added and il Bicerìn as we know it was born.

The aroma of an Italian cafe, leather and fine tobacco, creates an elegant ambience as we wait for our order to arrive: indulgent layers of bittersweet chocolate and gianduja slowly melted into whole milk and topped with Italian espresso and heavenly whipped cream.  Bellissimo!

Tae Draíochta
Éire's elixir for what ails ye. Truly, here's nothing quite like a Hot Toddy in the evening to shake a stubborn cold, or the winter blues. Triple the whiskey and it might be a magical cure for everything, if you can remember what was wrong in the first place!

Malty Assam black tea is fortified with a shot of Irish whiskey and spiced with clove studded lemon rinds. Stirred with a cinnamon stick and served piping hot.

Vajrayana Victual
Po Cha, or Yak Butter Tea is a staple in Tibet and surounding regions. It has a salty and tangy flavor and is purple, oily and thick with the consistency of porridge, Po Cha is consumed thoughout the day and as with most teas, it is rude to refuse a cup. in fact, it is customary for your host to top of your tea with each sip. This high calorie beverage well suited to the high altitudes and the butter keeps lips from chapping, so you can smooch the smooth lips of all the smiling rinpoches. Or not. Many people add tsampa, a barley flour, to their tea, stirring it with their fingers until they mix up a fat delicious dumpling in the tea bowl. Bread and tea in the same cup. How's that for convenience?

A drop of creamy Yak butter accord is churned with thick black tea and served whilst contemplating impermanence in the ancient temple atmosphere thick with ages of incense and prayer.

Wishing You Were Here
$20 per 5ml

Departure: Seat 13c
"I never thought saying good-bye could be so cruel! I wish I could settle in and enjoy the
journey but I am still uncertain about my intentional lack of an itinerary.
No one shall accuse me of being a bore! I hope for random encounters,
rich adventures and perhaps some wild revelries that can pierce my shell.
This is my sole existence and I wish to partake heartily.

Wishing you were here,


Sweet Asian sandalwood drenched in creamy Casablanca lilies with a shimmer of citrus anticipation.

Mischief In Laced Boots
"Two weeks had passed without incident until last night found me wandering,
quite unexpectedly, though dark thoroughfares in pursuit of new footwear -
I will not be going into how I lost my last pair - let's just attribute it to the fine wine!
They have lovely shops here, and lovelier clerks. To bloom like the rose with no thorns!

Wishing you were here,


Kumquat peels and magnolia blossoms steal through patchouli's dark shadow to meet up with succulent summer fruits and bold pink peppercorns in the darkening twilight.

Camping in Corsets
"The flowers here are heavy on their branches and appear to be very ready to be
plucked and enjoyed. The weather has dried out long enough for myself and a new
companion to head to the mountains for a few days of fresh air, sunshine, and privacy!
I was quite improperly dressed for such a trek - so I made it a point to be as
properly undressed as possible! Oh the scandal!

Wishing you were here,


Fiery resins and wisps of vanilla smoke are sweetened by white amber and and a touch of wild lavender.

Naughty Amongst Novels
"You might think that my various romps would be filling all of my days (and nights!)
but you'd be sorely mistaken. I am still an insatiable bookworm! The quiet stacks on the
fourth floor are a perfect place to I do believe that my shell has thoroughly
cracked well past any attempts to restore it. Good riddance!

Wishing you were here,


Exotic volumes of leather-bound books topple over enough layers of clove, spiced musk, black coconut and antique furnishings enough to make a librarian swoon!

Arrival: Gate 23
"At long last, I make my way back to the place I have called home for ages. So often during
my trip I longed to change my name, my residence, my identity. I wished to reinvent myself -
dissolve into the fray and be led by the enticement of the lights and their myriad colors
that flickered through the night. I wanted to become that which I thought I could never be.
However, throughout my travels, I have discovered that the reason why I could never
become the person I wanted to be was because I was already her.

Wishing you were here,


Orange blossoms and black sandalwood cozy up together on a leather sofa under a soft patchouli throw - oh so very glad to finally be home. 

And that should do it! 

All the best,