Les Eaux Imaginaires
As mysterious as the unknown, I am an escape, a solitary passion. Odysseus and Calypso. I am an enchanted island, remote yet fertile. My trees trickle with a purple spiced juice. From their fruits, which are said to be those of the imagination, flows a nectar of an unfamiliar and deep flavour. Its purplish colour is sought after across the Mediterranean. Its dye colours my shores and feeds the shellfish. From this precious red-purple liquid is extracted a rare perfume, a combination of the night’s cool and the sensuality of black fig. A subtle alliance, somewhat insidious, like the land that gave me life. I am the inaccessible faraway voyage, the dream to be conquered. I am the symbol of your secrets and your deep-rooted desires. I am the unexpected space in which the treasure of the Ego is found. Look for me on the high seas, in the ripples of your sleep. My scent will rise from your sheets…
Fresh fragrance with temperament of fire
On the purple isle, there is an unknown fruit, possibly even the fruit of the imagination. Its juice exudes a flavour that stimulates thought, a vision of the spirit conjured up through smell. A rare perfume, an encounter between the freshness of shiso and the disconcerting sensuality of black fig.
Welcome to my perilous and loving land. Here, I cultivate a temptation of the senses, a whirl of feelings and an excitement of the body. I am the crossing to the other bank, the river which marks the border between life’s challenges and forbidden love. I am the irresistible dam that invites you to bathe in my bed. My liquid is a dizziness which exhilarates the spirit with sheer folly and sweet dreams. My tender map is that of an imaginary land where three rivers irrigate the soil, symbolising love affairs. My perfume stems from this allegory. It is the fragrant path that lovers cross and that is imprinted on their minds forever, like an eternal trace on their half-naked skin. Its fragrance embodies the odyssey of risk, of dangerous, delectable liaisons. On the Map of Tendre, at the end of the narrow path lined with blue thistles and scented peppery shrubs, there is a concealed entrance to a cave, protected by wild rose bushes. This lair with damp walls has become a place of secret encounters for lovers, who come to set free their passion. A truthful enjoyment of your infinite fancies…
The encounter of lovers
This “perfume” river becomes a metaphor of the love that flows into the sea, into more dangerous waters. It is the fragrant path that lovers take, and it is imprinted on their minds forever, like an eternal trace in their spirit, on their clothing, on their bodies.Its scent embodies the odyssey of risk, the taste for secret and delicious love affairs in the imaginary lands of the Map of Tendre.
This evening, my dunes dream of the moon’s coolness. At dawn, the sun’s heat will blaze with a pure, blinding light. On my cushions of sand, with its gentle caress, the wind will sweep up a fantastical world. Angels or demons will birth hallucinatory aspirations and spiritual thirsts. My vast arid expanses will become a theatre of wonder, of bewitching sensuality and floating feasts. My lush vegetation of date palms will provide water and shade to the passing caravans. I will borrow from these travellers the fragrance of their flavourful baskets and their rare spices, to give the next ones who come new mirages blending rose and orange blossom. My delicious trail will guide you across my desert so you can become lost or find your way. I am a hot breath, the essence of the oasis which troubles the mind. An imaginary land created by my perfume for a stationary journey…
A gentle mirage of the senses
Delight. Désert Suave is a warm breath. Essences of oasis stir the mind.It is an Oasis of imaginary lands. It is fertile land in the midst of the desert, with precious water fostering luxuriant vegetation. It is an invitation to stop, relax and delight in pleasures of the five senses. This perfume is reminiscent of palm fruit - dates and baskets brimming with the spices and flavours of travelling pilgrims and caravans. As they pass by, they leave behind delicious perfume mingling with the hot wind.
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