Lehaïm

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

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 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

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.

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 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

There are figures in history who seem to have crossed the centuries without ageing.

Hildegard of Bingen is one of them. Born in the 12th century, visionary, poet, musician and herbalist, she is considered today as the first true naturopath and modern phytotherapist. Her astonishing predictions, her avant-garde medicine, her music and her spirituality have left an indelible mark on history. Nine centuries after her death, her teachings remain strikingly relevant.

How could such an extraordinary and richly gifted figure have taken so long to capture the attention of our contemporaries?

Louison discovers her during his perfumery studies, while simultaneously attending evening classes in herbalism and aromatherapy. He has always felt deeply this connection with nature, with plants, and that ancestral instinct that drives us to believe nature offers the remedies humanity needs to heal itself. In Hildegard, he recognises a kindred spirit, a woman who had understood, nine centuries before him, what few then dared to affirm.

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

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

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