Délivre Moi

Paris, the 1960s.

A woman crosses the Boulevard Saint-Germain. A well-cut coat, precise heels, gaze straight ahead. She is one of those Parisian women who need no effort — elegance is second nature to them, never a performance.

She is Séverine.

The heroine of Belle de Jour, Luis Buñuel's film with Catherine Deneuve. On the surface, a perfect, irreproachable wife, with an enigmatic smile. In reality, a woman who lives entirely by her own rules, discreetly, absolutely.

Plaisir d'Amour draws its inspiration from this era and this woman. That particular Parisian chic, neither too classic, nor too restrained, that always conceals something beneath its obvious perfection. An elegance that needs no justification.

Plaisir d'Amour is a couture fragrance, cut with precision, worn with grace, like a signed dress one recognises without seeing the label.

Eau de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

A manor house, lost in the middle of nowhere.

Louison spends a few days there with friends. The garden overflows with flowers, the vegetation growing freely, at its own pace. The house seems outside of time, welcoming, filled with a magnificent energy. One senses that it is happy to receive visitors.

At night, the woodwork creaks softly. Louison is not frightened. He always leaves a small lamp on in his room.

The walls are covered in wallpaper with immense flowers, flowers one would not find in the garden. Flowers from another world. At night, by the light of the lamp, he can admire their dance in the shadows. They have sensed his presence.

One of them draws closer. Its shadow brushes his ear. It whispers:

"We are on the wall. We have a fragrance. Lighter than nature. In the countries of the future or the ancient lands. Here is our ornament. And we repeat it from floor to ceiling. A fear of being misunderstood, for we have neither freshness nor seasons, nor sky, nor bees, nor breezes."

He falls asleep. And all of them came to him. They wrapped around him to protect him from the spirits of the night.

Extrait de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

Young, Louison was called the man of the forest.

He has always loved losing himself for hours in the woods, that particular sensation of being watched, without knowing by whom, or by what. What do they think of us, from up there? And the trees — what do they think of us?

Trees can live for more than a hundred years. They surely know the deepest secrets of the forest. They are its eyes, its memory, its silent guardians. They can feel pain, experience emotions, like fear.

They like to stay close to one another, to embrace. They appreciate company and take their time. There is a deep friendship between them, they can live like an old couple, where each one takes care of the other.

Trees have emotions.

Extrait de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

Paris, the 1920s. Backstage at the opera.

The dressing rooms are hushed, intimate, charged with a particular atmosphere, that of the moments before the magic begins. The ballerinas prepare in silence, with absolute concentration. The costumes are of extreme delicacy, tulles, ribbons, tutus that tremble at the slightest breath.

In the air, the scents mingle. Those of the courtesans of the era, heady and sensual. The powders and rouges on their faces. The wax of the parquet floors, the wood of the barres. All of this forms a unique bouquet, suspended in the warmth of the dressing rooms — before the dancers leap toward the light of the stage.

For this is where everything begins. In this hushed moment, before the curtain rises.

Temps de flèche Bergamot, Little Roses in tutu, Violet in reverence, Pas de deux of Jasmine and Rose, Oriental jeté Vanilla, Patchouli entrechat, Musk demi-plié fondu, Civet échappé battu, Contemporary Vetiver.

Extrait de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

This is where it all begins.

To create the first fragrance of the house, Louison retreats to the countryside, to the family holiday home. Alone, with his cats. He is searching for something, the genesis, the philosophy of what Technique Indiscrète will become.

A spring morning. The birds sing their first courtship songs. The sun's early rays warm the face. The vegetation awakens from its winter hibernation and seems to say: "Here I am again!" Morning dew wets the grass underfoot.

That morning, he cleans old white linen sheets of exceptional quality, the kind no longer made, infused with a fragrance he had created especially for his laundry and bakes an apple cake. He takes the cake out of the oven, sets it on the garden table to cool, and hangs the linen outside.

Then he sits down in the garden. And time stands still.

All the scents envelop him at once, nature, vegetation, damp earth, woods, the warm apple cake, the white linen sheets drifting in the spring breeze. It is here, in this suspended moment, that he understands what Technique Indiscrète will be: capturing emotions and putting them in a bottle.

From that day on, Louison only creates a perfume if he succeeds in capturing an emotion.

Eau de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

Paris will always be Paris.

Louison spent years cycling through its streets, willingly losing himself in its meanders, discovering at every turn a forgotten facade, a secret courtyard, a café unchanged since the last century. Paris has this unique way of revealing itself to those who take the time to look.

But it is another Paris that inspired Paname Paname, the Paris of the 1920s and 30s, flamboyant and liberating. The Paris of Colette, Camille Claudel, Gabrielle Chanel, Arletty, Joséphine Baker, Kiki de Montparnasse, Édith Piaf. Women of fierce character who claimed their femininity with a capital F, their thirst for independence and equality in a world that denied them both.

Imagine one of them walking into a room. Red lips. Face powdered white. Hair cut short. She knows every eye in the room has turned toward her, and acts as though she hasn't noticed.

She needs no one to exist.

Eau de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

The scent of someone you love.

Not their perfume, their scent. The smell of their skin upon waking, after they have gone. That olfactive imprint left on the sheets, in the hollow of the pillow, in the atmosphere of the room. A presence without a body. A memory that still breathes.

Omnipresence.

That of the energy that surrounds us, invisible, yet always there. In us and all around us, between us. That divine breath that some call God, others the universe, others still the living world. The name matters little. The presence, itself, does not lie, there where the visible and the invisible meet.

The omnipresence of the architect of the universe, that indescribable yet so perfect mechanism. Our beliefs that carry us. Our doubts that make us grow. That tension between what we know and what we sense, between what we see and what we hope for.

Eau de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz