Sanguis Terrae

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

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

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

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

There are plants one watches grow.

Louison welcomed it small, almost fragile, into his garden in Bellême. Today, the honeysuckle has become a beautiful climbing plant of more than two metres, strong, generous, overflowing with life. Like all the trees and plants in his garden, he tends to it with attention and care.

For Louison, the garden is far more than a green space. It is his energy charger. Those hours spent outdoors, hands in the earth, in contact with nature, observing, listening, smelling, are the ones where he replenishes most deeply. His evenings in the garden are his most precious moments.

And at the heart of this garden, the honeysuckle. Its generous flowering fills the air with its floral and honeyed notes, rose, jasmine, white flower, that sunny freshness that gently envelops the atmosphere and invites one to stop, to breathe, to simply be.

Eau de Cologne — 250 ml / 8.45 oz

At the very tip of the Italian boot, where the land boldly stretches out toward the Mediterranean, lies Calabria.

A region of light and solar excess. Of steep hills covered in orange, lemon and citron trees. And above all, of bergamot trees, for it is here that this rare and precious fruit finds its exceptional terroir. Known to perfumers the world over, it thrives under the particular intensity of the Calabrian sun.

Imagine the orchards at dawn, the air still cool, heavy with the fragrance of citrus fruits awakening with the sun. That explosion of golden freshness, vivid and luminous, that floods the senses like a promise of beauty.

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

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

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.

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 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

Close your eyes.

Imagine the hills of Haute-Provence in the height of summer. As far as the eye can see, fields of deep and luminous violet lavender in full bloom, swaying gently in the warm breeze. A sight that takes the breath away.

And in that silence, for it is indeed silence, that particular silence of lavender fields, dense and soothing, the humming of bees. Hundreds of bees, butterflies, pollinators of all kinds going about their work with joyful concentration. Nature in full activity, in all its beauty.

It is before this spectacle that Louison feels that state of grace, the kind that only nature knows how to provoke. The colour, the fragrance, the living silence, the bees. Everything merges into a single perfect moment.

Eau de Cologne — 250 ml / 8.45 oz

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

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.

Eau 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.