Somewhere in the Mediterranean... The sun at its zenith dazzles the island on the south side. It brings an intoxicating heat and sweeps everything with a delicious wind. The air and the torrid temperature make the woods creak, from the maritime pines to the wild figs, before falling to the ground, in the joyful disorder of the anarchic branches. The pine needles stick to the bare feet, delicately perfuming them in a sensual creak.

On the skin… A creamy woody fig , splashed with the freshness of bergamot and lemon , warmed by the warmth of cedarwood , guaiac and subtly almondy tonka bean .
Its trail is faceted with pink berries so that the escape is decidedly wild.