VAPOR · Parfum

A garden, sealed at dawn.

Everything in the bottle grew inside this glass. One drop of dew is about to fall. Follow it down.

The fall

It begins with one drop.

Distillation

Now you are the vapor.

Heat lifts what matters and leaves the rest. From here to the bottle you travel as scent travels: weightless, spiralling, unhurried.

The ride

Through the glass, around and down.

Condensation

Cold turns breath back into body.

Against the chilled pane, the vapor remembers being liquid. Every bead on this glass is a note that survived the fire.

The finished scent

The garden, pourable.

Eleven kilos of leaves become two hundred millilitres of light. Scroll back up and watch the bottle exhale; it will wait for you either way.