Jérusalem

Winter 1959. Somewhere in a Parisian hotel.

Just before the screening of Les Chemins de la Haute Ville, Simone Signoret settles into a small, hushed salon, filled with flowers arranged for her. A butler brings her a glass of champagne and marrons glacés, of which she is particularly fond.

A chocolatey, balsamic and oriental confection, glazed, concealing at its heart a vanilla-coconut cream. Those barely perceptible hints of mint leaf, of fig with an addictive sweetness. And the scent of flowers gently perfuming the room.

A suspended moment, intimate and precious, before the lights go down and the film begins.

On the 4th of April 1960, Simone Signoret received the Academy Award for Best Actress for this role, becoming the first French actress ever to receive the honour.

Extrait de Parfum — 50 ml / 1.69 oz

There are states that reason cannot explain.

The mystics know this, those who, across the ages and across religions, have lived that particular moment when the body no longer belongs entirely to the earth. The stigmata that appear. The visions that impose themselves. The trance that invades, surpasses, transcends. A connection with the invisible so powerful that it leaves traces upon the flesh.

Thérèse d'Avila, Francis of Assisi, Maimonides, Isaac Luria, the Baal Shem Tov. The Sufis in prayer. The Tibetan monks in deep meditation. The shamans in trance.

Whatever the tradition, whatever name is given to this force, the experience itself is strikingly similar. A total surrender. An elevation. A pleasure that is not of this world.

The scent of holiness floating in the air. Touched by grace. Divine pleasure. Ecstatic orgasm.

For this is precisely what it is, that fine line between spiritual ecstasy and the ecstasy of the body. The mystics themselves did not always distinguish between the two. And perhaps there is no difference at all.

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.