Do not believe what you first see... under the demureness of the name, the spicy savour of blackcurrant bays and the musky notes of blonde suede. Rien is a second skin perfume, a perfume that clings to the body and perseveres in the mind. Like venial sin on the verge of becoming mortal, irresistible and resolutely pervasive. As light as mohair and as precious as cashmere, the fragrance envelops skin with a powdered caress. It has the meticulous elegance and hypnotic beauty of a modern Dorian Gray, in a feminine/masculine version.
An entrancing fragrance that leaves an unforgettable imprint. Utter charm, utterly charismatic. The vanilla/opium accord of the drydown reinforces the addiction. Rien is an essential.
The faun, a creature of sylvan life, awakens from his mid-day sleep and contemplates his morning’s pursuit of alluring nymphs. In his reflections, the chase takes on libidinous proportions as he seeks to satisfy his desire.
It is a beautiful memory – but did it really happen? Images fade. Those delicious sensations that tease his mind grow vague, and he cannot recapture the events. Reality eludes him, confusion reigns, until he is no longer certain if he is remembering fact or fancy. Once again, he is overcome by sleep, which can only lead to more dreaming.
Inspired by Vaslav Nijinski, created in collaboration with Mx Justin Vivian Bond
In 1912, when Nijinsky danced the story in Paris, he created a scandal. Shameless, the critics declared. The carnal subtext of Mallarme’s poem had become an explicit expression of a sexual appetite. The ballet went beyond the sensual to a demonstration of powerful virility.
In this scent, find the relationship between the suggestive fantasy and the seductive reality. Then go ahead and make your own scandal.
The water slips over him as if sliding down a marble rock, sinking into the grooves of his muscles, vanishing into his pores. This is fresh, pure water, with top notes of aldehydes and lemon, a water that washes away the sins of the night and leaves the skin luminous. Tom of Finland feels clean, like a shaving from a cake of soap. It is an ode to the beauty of the male body and to the radiance of the natural self.
For this man, clothing becomes a jewel-case that serves to reveal the true erotic power of the flesh. Tom of Finland is a breath of fresh air, offering unrestricted access to the immense outdoors, the depths of the forest, with notes of birch leaves, cypress, galbanum and pine at its heart. Straight, gay... These words are irrelevant here. Tom of Finland is beyond sexuality - he is sex, in all its fullness and magnitude, open and erect. Fantasy clings to him like his leather jacket, with suede, musk, and ambergray in the base notes. His belt is fastened with an accord of pepper and spicy-fresh saffron, tangled with a blond suede sensuality on a vanilla bed of tonka bean and iris. This is a man who wants to play, to love, to die and be reborn, again and again. Tom of Finland is a tribute to tomorrow’s glorious possibilities.
When the Putain des Palaces enters into a Dangerous Complicity, a relationship is born. It is a marriage of mystery, an uneasy merger of hearts and minds and flesh.
We have taken the best of two exquisite formulations, combining the explicitly seductive powers of rose, violet, and powder with the implicit perils of rum and patchouli.
What emerges from this satanic union of temptation and danger, jeopardy and passion, is a sweet and shocking folly. She sips her rum through rose-red lips and wonders what beast she must adore tonight, what hearts she must break. She is Rimbaud’s Beauty, and the man who takes her in his arms may find her bitter, but desire conquers fear. She dazzles him with the violet rays of her eyes that hold the memory of her vices, and he cannot escape. Because lust is in the eyes of the beholder.
Rum JE, ginger JE, rose absolute, violet, coconut JE, osmanthus absolute, lily of the valley, jasmine, ylang ylang, tangerine, rice powder, amber, leather, animal notes, sandalwood
The arena was flooded with sun and the clamor of the crowd rose from the tiers like an offering. Where were we? In Seville? In Puerto Santa Maria? Definitely somewhere in Andalusia, where the stature and pride of men are compelling.
On this particular Sunday in the month of May, the combat to be delivered did not have the aim of putting a bull to death. The intention was a sensuous ritual act: to confront animal-like notes with the influential power of a flower, one of the most odorant in the vegetal world, the tuberose. Wood, musk and costus, in daring, unreasonably abundant proportions, would once and for all bite the dust in this arena dedicated solely to the glory of men. In this openly sexual confrontation - me the woman, you the man -, one of the most blasphemous of men’s perfumery, the purity of the tuberose is falsely innocent so that in appearance only, these macho reputed notes seem to be the only ones victorious. But smelling it tells a completely different story... the nose instinctively knows who the victor is.
Do you know this adorable mademoiselle? She’s a girly-girl, clutching a bouquet of orange blossom and lily-of-the-valley, all sweetness and light and delicate grace. Like a ballerina, she pirouettes across the floor and into your heart. But this young dancer knows some jazzy moves. That pink-and-white charm conceals shades of gray. And when the innocence of fresh white flowers gives way to a hint of seductive patchouli, you know there’s more to her. Someday, her sparkle will turn into fire, and her gentle warmth will become passion. Oh, the sweet mystery of this precious child/woman! But all will be revealed when he asks her, “Do you..?” And she replies, “Yes, I do”.