In the midst of the storm of a summer day and in the calm of the sunset, I was accompanied by the echo of the sea.

Now, in an elegant murex, I keep that memory: when I bring it close to my ear, I find my sinuous and perverse scent.

Tuberose, the white flower par excellence, symbol of my style.

Here, tuberose is imagined as if it had arrived from afar inside a shell, carried by the waves. It has found a home, a casket in which to rest. It has embraced a block of ambergris and danced with seaweed absolutes. Its petals, bathed by the sea, are imbued with purple. If it had a color, it would be Tyrian red. A submarine tuberose, moist and mineral.

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