Black tea and pine leaves under a cold canopy; cedar at the roots.

Vanilla turned low and smoky, wrapped in wood. Never sweet, only close.

Citrus peel held over low embers. Bright at first breath, brooding beneath.

The shy hour of a garden, small blooms still beaded with dew.

Lily and orchid lifted by cardamom; burnt sandalwood settles the air.

Soft white jasmine, kept for the skin.

Too delicate to bottle as a parfum. A standalone scent with no eau de parfum pairing — it lives only in body lotion, body wash, and hand cream. A softer way to wear a flower.