The trail
a scent leaves.
Sillage is the French word for the wake a perfume leaves behind a person. It is also our house. The vapour on this page is real smoke, and it follows your hand.
Move across the page — you are the draught.
Three acts,
evaporating in order.
Top notes · first 15 minutes
Bergamot · pink pepper · a squeeze of sea
The introduction. Bright, volatile, and gone before you've decided anything.
Heart notes · the first hour
Iris · jasmine sambac · a thread of leather
The argument the perfume actually wants to make, once the fanfare clears.
Base notes · until tomorrow
Ambergris · vetiver · sandalwood · warm skin
What stays on the scarf. The sillage. The reason someone turns around.
The house library.
Nuit Blanche №1
Iris, ambergris, cold marble. Composed for a sleepless city.
Fumée
Birch tar, incense, dried rose. The smell of a library that has seen things.
Après la Pluie
Petrichor, green fig, wet stone. Grasse in September, bottled the same afternoon.
Sillage Absolu
The house signature. Nobody has ever been told the full formula, including the perfumer's heirs.
“A perfume is not what you smell. It is what you leave behind when you are already gone.”— Héloïse Sauvage, third-generation nose