Riordon Trewlouren casts a spell.

Riordon Trewlouren casts a spell. Photo: Wayne Taylor

THE first thing that Riordon Treylourne wants to know about a new customer is: ''Are they a borderline schizophrenic … or somehow mad? There are many vulnerable people in the world and you don't want to make their situation worse.''

The issue arose last week when a woman declared that her house had been invaded with evil spirits. ''She was seeing all sorts of ghastly things,'' says Mr Treylourne. In this instance, after close questioning, Mr Treylourne decided the woman was sane - and simply having a rough time with the dark side. ''We made her a spell to get rid of the problem.''

Did it work? ''It seems so. We offer a money-back guarantee if a spell doesn't work. Or we'll keep trying until we get it right. Sometimes you need to do a spell many times to fully connect with the energy. But, knock on wood, we haven't had anyone come back yet.''


It's early days. Mr Treylourne's Witchcraft Emporium in Burke Road, Camberwell - specialising in casting spells - has been open for business for six weeks. He sells no crystals or dream catchers - none of the New Age paraphernalia being flogged this weekend at the Mind Body Spirit Festival at the Exhibition Centre.

''If you want a wand,'' he says, ''I tell people to go out and get a piece of willow; don't go and spend $300 on something from Harry Potter. My mother used to say if you want a witch's knife, use a butter knife. We're Old Age here. We deal with the old traditions and that's all we do.''

To make a spell, Mr Treylourne combines various herbs (he has 130 kinds and is looking to get 100 more) in a box and lights a charcoal burner. The customer then writes the name of his beloved or enemy or desired object, such as cash, on a piece of paper and spends a few moments focusing on their desire. When swollen with emotion, longing and belief, the customer drops the paper on to the burner. ''If it vanishes instantly, the spell has a good chance of working.''

He then goes to work uttering a Celtic phrase known as the ''charm of making'' while ringing a little bell that is meant to ward off bad spirits.

The customer then takes home the spell box, an amulet and a vial of oil for burning. ''We don't charge for the components, only the time.''

It's $60 for 30 minutes' work.

Mr Treylourne's business partner is a public servant named Deborah So. They met at ''a little store in Richmond'' where Mr Treylourne was doing readings. Within a week they had decided to go into the spell business.

''I went with my gut,'' says Ms So, who sees a connection between Chinese traditional herbal medicine and Western witchcraft. ''It's all about connecting with energy.''

Danae Thorp has run Spellbox - which sells the components for spell making - for 18 years, most of them at the city's Royal Arcade. ''When we moved in the real estate agents made a bet that we wouldn't last three months. Business is booming.''

Ms Thorp believes much of the New Age paraphernalia that emerged in the 1980s was lightweight. ''It didn't address the shadow aspect, the darker side. We empower people to make their own spells and lift their own curses.

''A spell is something you cast yourself. And that message has connected with our customers.''