Vert de Chypre

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

A love story like almost none other.

An Italian friend, a redhead from Tuscany, meets an Indian prince in New York, a man of rare beauty and elegance, yet of a disarming simplicity. The spark is immediate, absolute. Except that his family had arranged his marriage to a princess since childhood. An Italian wife was out of the question.

But love resists. It grows stronger under pressure, as only true love knows how. The family eventually relents. Three receptions are organised — New York, Paris, India. Louison is invited to the Parisian wedding.

A fairy tale evening. Bollywood performances, sumptuous evening gowns, colours spilling out everywhere. And unforgettable scents — saffron above all, permeating every dish at dinner. Rice with vanilla and saffron. That warm, spiced, enveloping fragrance, mingling with jasmine flowers, the sound of sitars and the laughter of guests.

It is this scent that Louison carries home with him. The scent of an evening where love won.

The prince and princess live today between New York and India, surrounded by their children. To the great joy of parents who finally understood that love knows no borders.

Eau 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

A fragrance of royalty.

Imagine a queen of the 21st century. Monarch of her country, yet without decision-making power. She must remain discreet while uniting her subjects. Always elegant, always calm, an elegance that is not a luxury, but an armour.

She knows every secret of her government. She sees everything, hears everything, understands everything. Yet she cannot intervene. She fights in silence against the perfidy of her ministers, solely preoccupied with their financial interests and their thirst for power. She must remain the queen of hearts of her people, and ensure that corruption never seeps into the open.

To wear a crown is also to live beneath a sword of Damocles. The head can fall at any moment.

Eau de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

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

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

Built at the edge of the forest, in the heart of the marshes. Adorned with its magnificent, thousand-year-old irises. A green city, with its stone cathedral and its lace town hall. A little Flemish, a little Walloon, always embodying unity, despite everything, despite the others.

Many are the countries that have coveted her, without ever possessing her. For Brussels does not belong to itself, it belongs to the world. One can travel the world in the blink of an eye here. It gathers all nations, welcomes them, absorbs them, and remains itself.

Its borders are so blurred they make the world laugh. Let those who mistake them beware.

Despite your age, you are still as beautiful, my dear.

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

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.

Give time to time.

A misty dawn. A stream. A majestic heron. The symphony of the living, frog, bird, peacock in full display, a ballet of dragonflies. The fox cub, the fawn, the pheasants. Those flashes of life that run between things.

Bare feet in the morning dew. An atom of life.

The smile of the elementals, they come and go, taking all the time in the world. Fantastic reality.

At the heart of Jewish tradition lies a fundamental rule, perhaps the most important of all: to glorify life. The living. Always.

For resilience is part of the DNA of this ancient people. With it comes respect, the thirst for knowledge, education, instruction, this deep conviction that one must go as far as possible in all things, reach for excellence, never stop learning, growing, rising.

Lehaïm is not simply a toast. It is a philosophy. A cry from the heart. A way of being in the world, fully, intensely, with gratitude.

Have faith in life. Cry it out, again and again.

Extrait de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

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

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

Montmartre. The morning funicular.

A friend of Louison's has just ended her first love after fifteen years together. She is sad, lost, not ready. She boards the funicular each morning as one mounts a scaffold, mechanically, her gaze elsewhere.

But every morning, he is there. A tall, elegant, athletic young man, a Latin from the South of France. He watches her. Sometimes with insistence, sometimes with a gentleness that tells her he has sensed her sadness. She feels his gaze upon her and pretends not to notice.

One morning, she calls Louison to say she will be late for lunch. Her voice is different. "Is everything alright?" asks Louison. "Oh yes," she replies. "I had an erotic dream about the funicular boy!" Louison bursts out laughing: "My dear, your libido is waking up!"

Days pass. Their eyes meet, slowly growing familiar. Her dreams become more and more intense — but she must keep them secret. Her burning secret.

One morning, he moves a little closer. She doesn't dare look at him. They step off the funicular. He has worn so much perfume that she can follow his trail through the streets of Montmartre. She finds him seated at a café terrace.

She approaches. "Good morning... you smell wonderful, but did you spill your bottle on yourself?" He looks up and smiles. "Good morning. Yes, I spilled it on purpose so that you could follow me and we could meet."

They laugh. He invites her to lunch. She accepts. He invites her to dinner. She accepts.

They have been living a great love story ever since. And have two beautiful little girls.

Eau de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz