Meet the Monsters

In the remote forests of the Pacific Northwest, there dwells a creature more hair than flesh. Part man, part ape, he wanders the wild alone. It's a lonely existence, but it's not so bad. He has creatures to keep him company, and entertains himself by attacking the occasional beef-jerky enthusiast. Our BIGFOOT fragrance is based on the smell of the lonesome yeti's home - not the yeti himself. It's packed with four kinds of cedarwood essential oils: basic Texas cedar, the mellower Atlas cedar, the strong woodsy scent of Western red cedar, and the slightly herbaceous Blood cedar (drawn from heartwood). The four combine into a rich woodland medley that has been described as a cross between a northwestern forest and the lumber section of a hardware store. 

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Dr. Frankenstein had one driving goal in his career as a scientist: to defeat death. He hobbled together the pieces of dead men like a jigsaw puzzle, and in a grim mockery of nature and the divine, he brought him to life. Seeing what he had done, the doctor fled in horror, leaving the poor monster to fend for himself. When we found him, he was wandering the forest around the Lair, aimless, alone, and in desperate need of some beard grooming assistance. We created this blend for him. We started with woodsy cedar, from the forest he had been found in, added the mellow citrus of bergamot, a fruit that matches his skin tone, and top it off with a generous portion of spicy frankincense (the most dominant aspect of the scent, and a tribute to the name of his mad creator). The result is a scent that is dark and a bit tangy. He uses it regularly for that beard now. He says "oil good!" so we know we're onto something.

There's finally a bloodsucker among the creatures in the Monster Lair. Color the Vampire Hunter less than thrilled. But the prince of Transylvania has a charm about him, and when he asks to be invited in, it can be difficult to say no. He's been a great addition - didn't need his own room, as he's happy to keep to the crypts below the castle. The place is lined with coffins and funerary flowers, which is creepy, but does give off the scent of cedar and rose. He hosts great parties, too - just stay away from the, um . . . "wine."

On the Ghostly Pirate's ship, no living thing may set foot. The Pirate commands a skeleton crew, whose bony fingers take far too long tending to the rigging. But no one is really in a hurry - where do they need to go anyway? They're all dead. The captain, the crew, the wenches snuck aboard; even their cargo are ghosts. But the prizes they haul - spices from Madagascar, citrus fruits from Barbados, and sweet Carribean rum - do still carry a whisper of their former fragrances. The legends say that when the moon is full, the Ghostly Pirate parties with these treasures, and the smell is a mixture of clove, sweet blood orange, and the rum-like scent of vanilla and spices.

The Invisible Man once hated the fact that he could not be seen. To be invisible, he thought, is to barely exist at all! But since joining our motley crew of misfit monsters, he's come to embrace his curse. We made this oil for his beard (we have to take his word that he has one), so that he might more easily pass without a trace. A fragrance would give him away, so he needs something unscented to keep himself undetected. But you don't have to take our word for it. Ask him yourself! He's right beside you.

Studies have shown that the two most popular fragrances among men are lavender and vanilla. They just do something to our brains. These have been popular in men's fragrances for centuries, and were certainly used in Victorian London, where one of history's most notorious serial killers was making the rounds. 

If you've ever seen an ice cream truck on Halloween, then you already know who I'm about to talk about. You probably remember thinking to yourself how out of place it is to see anyone selling frozen treats so late in the season. And on a night when candy is free! But when you see the driver of the truck, it all makes sense. A skeletal face slathered in grease paint, with fiery orange hair on his head and a beard to match. He gives his confections away; he's not in this for the money. He only wants to share his screamsicles with the world, that everyone might enjoy the orange cream he loves so much. No one knows where this passion comes from; he does not speak. But if you've ever met him, you already know that you'll be forever haunted by his hollow eyes, and the sweet scent of blood orange and vanilla that never quite left your nose.

You wouldn't think the Reaper would have such an invigorating scent as tea tree and peppermint, but he sure does. We asked him why - something we kinda regret, because his voice sounds like a million spiders devouring our souls - and he explained, "death is not sleep; it is waking up." The scent he carries is therefore one of our most refreshing, whether you're living or otherwise.

He calls himself the Professor, and carries the tools of his trade on him: a bandolier of wooden stakes, a sprinkler of holy water, and an ornate silver ring on every finger. With the sinister look on his face, it was hard to believe, when he first showed up at the lair, that he was the protector of mankind he claimed to be. It was even harder to believe that he was, as he said, over 200 years old. But we've come to trust his word, as he's kept the lair vampire-free in all the years he's been here (with one notable exception, that he for some reason allows). We even let him smoke his cigars - these odd old things stuffed with lightly spiced tobacco, and carrying just a hint of vanilla - inside the castle. The Count once tried to tell him to put them out. Now the Count lives in the basement, but the cigars have stuck around.

We never thought we'd find out what a viking warship smells like. But one night, in a particularly nasty thunderstorm, an ancient longship with a crew of one sailed into the cove near the MONSTER lair. The armored skeleton raised a battleaxe, pointed it in our direction, and beckoned us to join him on board. The boat smelled of cedarwood and grassy vetiver, with a lightly citrus scent of bergamot and grapefruit. We had to put away quite a few steins of meed, but by dawn the Viking was satisfied with our mettle, and opted to join the crew.

The Witch Doctor used to reside on a remote island in the Pacific, shrinking heads and brewing potions for the locals. He was revered as a medicine man, until he was accused of practicing black magic and banished. Was it fair? We don't think so. If you make an omelette, you've gotta break a few eggs, and if you want to craft an elixir of immortality, you've got to boil a few heads. Isn't that how the old saying goes? Well, after he was exiled, he found his way to our lair and offered us a taste of his elixir - a potion crafted from various secret ingredients, but made more savory with limes, blood oranges, vanilla and coconut. Did the potion work? It's been a century or so, and we're still not sure.

Tim's a good guy. Keeps to himself, but not in a purely antisocial way. Does charity work on the weekends. And yea, when the moon is full he does tend to disappear for a night or two, leaving only a pile of tattered clothes behind him. And yea, the local deer population does tend to dwindle just a bit during that brief period, and maybe a villager or two goes missing. But when he eventually returns to the lair, he's got the nicest pine scent on him. And a little blood. And some fur. And in the end, isn't that what really matters?

Everyone laughed at Johnny when he swore the end was coming. When he started stockpiling essentials - food, water, whiskey, smokes, etc. - they said he was wasting his time. But when that viral video of the dude biting the other dude, and then that dude biting a third dude, started going around? And then the power stopped working, and the army rolled in? People started to think Johnny might have been on to something. Johnny's town got fire-bombed by the Air Force, and the infestation was contained. But he got out, and now he lives with us in the MONSTER lair. He's got a shack out back, where he keeps his guns and his...trophies. The whole place smells like pine trees, tobacco, and Johnny's famous sweet tea (just like back home in Georgia, he says).