A house of perfumes composed by the turning of the sun — four seasons, twelve hours, one bespoke flacon for each soul who lingers.
Each capsule is decanted in the week of its solstice. Limited to ninety-nine numbered flacons.
A green awakening — wet stone, almond blossom, the first warm rain after the silence of February.
The longest day pressed into glass — sun-warmed skin, fig leaves, and the salt of distant tides.
The vines surrender. A perfume of late grapes, ink, and the smoke of orchard fires.
Pine resin, frankincense, and the velvet hush of the longest night. A perfume to be worn alone, by candlelight.
"Fleeting as the dawn — the bright citrus, the green leaf, the cold air."
Bergamot · Calabria. Neroli · Tunisia. Pink Pepper · Madagascar.
"The soul of the flacon — florals unfurl, spices warm, the perfume settles into itself."
Iris Pallida · Florence. Rose de Mai · Grasse. Saffron · Kashmir.
"What remains on the skin at midnight — resins, woods, the slow earth."
Oud · Assam. Sandalwood · Mysore. Vanilla · Madagascar.
Tell us the hour of your arrival. The stars compose a flacon that has waited, all this time, for you.
Violet leaf, iris pallida, suede and blond tobacco — for a soul born under early spring rain.
Two hours with the parfumeur. A library of 247 absolutes. A formula composed in your name, kept in our archive for life.
Reserved sessions, in person at our Marais atelier, or by candlelit correspondence.