Eau de Bruxelles

London, Restoration England.

Amber St. Clare is sixteen. She is alone, pregnant, penniless, in the teeming streets of London. Abandoned.

And yet.

Through her intelligence, her beauty and her courage, this young woman will climb every rung of a society that gave her nothing, from dark alleyways to gilded apartments, from highwaymen to courtiers, all the way to the bed of King Charles II himself. Favourite of the Merry King. The highest position a woman could hope for in the England of her time.

She lives through the Great Plague. The Great Fire of London. Betrayals, passions, conquests. She accumulates lovers with sovereign nonchalance: "Adultery is not a crime, it is an entertainment," she murmurs.

But deep in her heart, through all her adventures and all her ordeals, Amber remains faithful to one man. The one she truly loves. The one she can never have.

Scented Candle — Weight: 220g / 7.76oz — 100% soy wax — Burn time: 55 to 60 hours — Made in France in our atelier.

I have always loved the scent of hyacinth. Its intense floral aroma has always captivated me, the deep green of its foliage, the galbanum, the spicy balsamic, honeyed, sometimes powdery.

I took the time to formulate this perfume. A long time. Because I wanted a formula as close to nature as possible. I no longer know how many attempts, reformulations, even when I was close to the goal and could have said to myself: "Okay, we've got it" but I wanted to push it even further, refine it, add facets, reach for perfection.

And then one evening, the idea came. A combination of raw materials from an initial formula and the final formula, to be assembled surgically. When I smelled this last attempt, I immediately understood. It was the one. The final formula.

Scented Candle — Weight: 220g / 7.76oz — 100% soy wax — Burn time: 55 to 60 hours — Made in France in our atelier.

A garden at the edge of the forest.

Flowers, aromatic herbs, spices. The song of birds. The butterfly and its "butterfly effect", an action, a reaction, a world that answers itself. The bee in full wonder. The ferret, the fox, their smile and their wide gaze. Cut wood, the grass snake, the lizard.

To smell. To listen. To see. To awaken. To wonder. To connect. To come back to oneself.

This garden is a green kingdom of the living, a place where everything is one, where every being, every plant, every breath is connected to the others in a perfect and silent balance.

It was my grandfather's garden, he was a passionate man, deeply interconnected with the living world, who knew that everything is one long before the words existed to say so. A garden whose memories have never left me.

Vert de Chypre is a tribute to those who garden with their soul as much as with their hands. To those who know that nature is not something to be looked at, it is something to be felt.

Extrait de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

Louison has a deep passion for bees. Since acquiring his first two hives, he has observed them, listened to them, respected them, as one respects a world unto itself.

One day, one of the hives stops behaving normally. Concerned, he contacts a more experienced beekeeper friend. Together, they open the hive and inspect the interior. The queen is there, in a pitiful state, trapped in the alcoves, covered in wax and honey. She is ill.

Before even touching her, Louison perceives the scents rising from the hive. Animal notes, Wax, Cypress, Geranium... A dense, living, unforgettable blend.

They take the queen in their hands and begin to clean her, gently, patiently. After a long while, she is saved. Returned to the hive, all the bees that had scattered come back, as if they knew.

Louison returns home deeply moved, his eyes filled with tears of gratitude and joy, the kind that only a rare and intimate experience with the living world can provoke. And gives thanks to nature for having brought him into contact with this queen, for having allowed him to save her.

Délivre Moi. Save me.

Eau de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

A late summer night. An unlit French country road. Louison is alone at the wheel of his vintage black Saab 900, eyes fixed on the tarmac, alert — a deer, a wild boar, a fox could leap from the darkness at any moment.

On the radio, a podcast. The BBC pays tribute to Barbara Cartland, that eccentric of the English aristocracy who dressed exclusively in pink, whose homes were decorated in every shade from rose to lilac, mauve to violet, with occasional touches of unabashed kitsch. A woman who wrote romantic novels, who had built an entire empire from her stories, who adored violet perfumes, and who carried it all off with sovereign nonchalance.

Then the journalist asks a question. An uncomfortable one. Almost indiscreet.

"Do you have any fantasies? If so, what are they?"

A long silence settles. Louison thinks she must be offended. But no.

Her answer comes, in a voice unexpectedly sensual, like that of a woman whose desires are only just awakening, yet who is already of a very considerable age.

"I like young boys... and leather."

A burst of laughter in the dark. The forest rushing past on either side. Focus on the road.

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

Louison has a deep passion for bees. Since acquiring his first two hives, he has observed them, listened to them, respected them, as one respects a world unto itself.

One day, one of the hives stops behaving normally. Concerned, he contacts a more experienced beekeeper friend. Together, they open the hive and inspect the interior. The queen is there, in a pitiful state, trapped in the alcoves, covered in wax and honey. She is ill.

Before even touching her, Louison perceives the scents rising from the hive. Animal notes. Wax. Cypress. Geranium. A dense, living, unforgettable blend.

They take the queen in their hands and begin to clean her, gently, patiently. After a long while, she is saved. Returned to the hive, all the bees that had scattered come back, as if they knew.

Louison returns home deeply moved, his eyes filled with tears of gratitude and joy, the kind that only a rare and intimate experience with the living world can provoke. And gives thanks to nature for having brought him into contact with this queen, for having allowed him to save her.

Délivre Moi. Save me.

Scented Candle — Weight: 220g / 7.76oz — 100% soy wax — Burn time: 55 to 60 hours — Made in France in our atelier.

The ship is called l'Incognito. It is coming home.

Its hull is moored at the quay of the port of Antwerp. But the Incognito has come from far away. It has crossed the world, and carries its scents.

From India, it brings patchouli and spices. From the islands of the Indian Ocean, heady ylang-ylang. From the Persian Gulf and the Suez Canal, incense, myrrh, Egyptian jasmine. From the Mediterranean Sea, honey from Haifa. From Istanbul, the rose, bewitching and deep. From Spain and Gibraltar, labdanum. From the Atlantic Ocean, the sharp, briny air. From Portugal, tobacco in infusion, falling on the blue stones of the wet quay, piercing the invisible sun prowling beneath the waters.

Antwerp. The damp quayside. The smell of fuel oil mingled with that of the Scheldt. And all these scents of the world settling gently on the cobblestones of the city.

Scented Candle — Weight: 220g / 7.76oz — 100% soy wax — Burn time: 55 to 60 hours — Made in France in our atelier.

There are fragrances that travel through time.

The first image is that of winter. A warm kitchen, a home that smells of celebration, cinnamon, nutmeg, clove warming the atmosphere. These Christmas spices that for centuries have warmed homes and hearts, bringing with them childhood memories, the joy of laid tables, the sweetness of shared moments.

The second image comes from the 12th century. Hildegard of Bingen, that visionary, herbalist and musician whom Louison deeply admires, prepared spiced biscuits that she prescribed as a remedy for the soul and the body. Cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, a harmony at once medicinal and indulgent, passed down from generation to generation until today.

The third image comes from Jerusalem, the city of his ancient roots, of his deepest connections. The souks heavy with heady, bewitching fragrances. The Silk Roads along which caravans transported clove and nutmeg like treasures. That warm and mysterious depth, that base of earth and vanilla that transports us to another world.

Scented Candle — Weight: 220g / 7.76oz — 100% soy wax — Burn time: 55 to 60 hours — Made in France in our atelier.

There are landscapes that inhabit us before we have ever crossed them. The forest of Bellême is one of them, present on the horizon from the village, vast and silent, it calls as much as it protects.

It is this forest that Louison contemplates each day from his atelier. It is through it that he walks, that he listens, answering its call, as one answers an inevitability. For this forest is not silent, it speaks, to those who know how to hear it. It is depth, spirituality, interconnection with the living world. A space where the invisible crosses the visible, where time slows and the senses open.

From this intimate and repeated experience was born the candle Forêt de Bellême, an attempt to capture not the scent of a forest, but its soul.

At the top, light through the branches: bergamot, grapefruit, pine. Fresh, vivid, luminous, like the first steps on a forest path.

At the heart, the forest gently closes in: cedar, fir, wild berry accord. Resin, sap, moss, one ventures deeper, breathing more slowly.

At the base, calm settles: caramel accord, forest accord, sandalwood. The warmth of wood, a gentle envelopment, like the memory of a walk one carries home.

Scented Candle — Weight: 220g / 7.76oz — 100% soy wax — Burn time: 55 to 60 hours — Made in France in our atelier.

Brussels. A December weekend.

It is bitterly cold. Louison is pushed through the door of Saint Catherine's Church by a gust of wind that leaves him no choice. An exhibition of orthodox icons from around the world has been installed there for a few days.

He is not of the Christian faith. But he has always been fascinated by liturgical art and symbolism — by those subtle and profound links that unite Christian symbolism with the Kabbalah of Judaism. Invisible bridges between beliefs, that few people take the time to contemplate.

Inside, time stands still. Visitors are in rapture before the beauty of the icons, illuminated by candlelight — blue, red, green, gold. Louison begins to smell. The dusty scent of stone walls. The dry cold of the blue stone floor. The freshly polished wood of the pews. He takes out his small notebook and notes everything down.

A priest approaches. He watches, intrigued. "Why are you smelling everything?" Louison looks up: "Oh, don't worry... I create perfumes." The priest looks at him as though he were a heretic escaped from an asylum.

But Louison's mind is elsewhere. He looks at the icons, these women holding children in their arms. And he thinks: every woman holding her child in her arms is a saint. Like our mothers who held us. These silent, absolute saints of everyday life.

Scented Candle — Weight: 220g / 7.76oz — 100% soy wax — Burn time: 55 to 60 hours — Made in France in our atelier.

Brussels. A December weekend.

It is bitterly cold. Louison is pushed through the door of Saint Catherine's Church by a gust of wind that leaves him no choice. An exhibition of orthodox icons from around the world has been installed there for a few days.

He is not of the Christian faith. But he has always been fascinated by liturgical art and symbolism — by those subtle and profound links that unite Christian symbolism with the Kabbalah of Judaism. Invisible bridges between beliefs, that few people take the time to contemplate.

Inside, time stands still. Visitors are in rapture before the beauty of the icons, illuminated by candlelight — blue, red, green, gold. Louison begins to smell. The dusty scent of stone walls. The dry cold of the blue stone floor. The freshly polished wood of the pews. He takes out his small notebook — the one that goes everywhere with him — and notes everything down.

A priest approaches. He watches, intrigued. "Why are you smelling everything?" Louison looks up: "Oh, don't worry... I create perfumes." The priest looks at him as though he were a heretic escaped from an asylum.

But Louison's mind is elsewhere. He looks at the icons, these women holding children in their arms. And he thinks: every woman holding her child in her arms is a saint. Like our mothers who held us. These silent, absolute saints of everyday life.

Eau de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

It always arrives first.

Before winter has even agreed to leave, before the return of fine days, before all other flowers, the mimosa asserts itself. Its yellow, downy pompoms explode across the still-sleeping landscape like a promise kept, a joyful and luminous announcement: spring is coming.

Louison has always loved this flower. Its powdery, honeyed, green and floral fragrance, that unique way of smelling of fresh vegetation, of blending softness and vivacity, the delicate and the generous. There is something irresistible about mimosa, a lightness that warms, a freshness that soothes.

Scented Candle — Weight: 220g / 7.76oz — 100% soy wax — Burn time: 55 to 60 hours — Made in France in our atelier.

There are cities one visits. And there are cities that inhabit us.

Jerusalem is one of the latter. A mystical city, charged with an energy like no other in the world, that of centuries of prayers, tears, faith and hope that have permeated every stone, every alleyway, every breath of air.

Louison is deeply connected to it. Bound by blood, by history, by belonging to a millennial people for whom Jerusalem is the eternal capital and the living soul.

In the souks, scents speak before words. Spices, cardamom, clove, star anise, mingle with the fragrance of cardamom tea drifting from small cafés. The incense of places of worship floats in the warm, dry air. The thousand-year-old stones of the old city release their own perfume, that of time, golden dust, olive wood.

It is this city that Louison wanted to capture in a bottle, not its geography, but its soul. Not its history, but its energy. Not its conflicts, but its light.

Extrait de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

There are creatures that know the secret of the depths.

The great marine mammals, the whales, plunge vertically into the abyss of the oceans, where daylight no longer penetrates. They descend far, very far, into that dark and silent world that few dare to explore. Then they rise back up.

But what they rise toward is not simply the surface. It is a clarity of another nature, that of the soul, the spirit, the inner elevation.

Eaux Sombres is the perfume of this perpetual movement, between the depths and the light, between the visible world and the invisible, between what we know and what we sense. This endless quest for transcendence and elevation of the self.

We all have a path of life. Each road leads us to another, sometimes toward the light, sometimes toward the darkness. It is these choices, these symbols and messages written like signs along our road, that make us who we are.

Learning to make our emotions intelligent. The power of positive thinking. Living between the visible and the invisible and perceiving what others cannot see.

Extrait de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz