An elevator to an extraordinary rooftop crescendo.

Ground floor. Doors open. A cloud-soft merino coat whispers to you in passing, followed by the stiff crackle of shopping bags. Going up. Every floor a new vibe, a smooth and slick mashup of Asian peppers and sugar-crusted cookies, crisp silk shirts and creamy Egyptian cotton, cedar shoe blocks and knife-sharp Italian suits. The sleek hiss as the elevator pulls to a stop, opens to a crystal dome of glass and grey clouds. Eleventh floor: Rooftop bar. That’s your cue.

A secret garden party, nature's symphony in tune.

Shush, no one’s around, let’s go inside. The sneaky creak of the rusty garden gate, the soft crunch of gravel, the hiccup of your heart as a branch snags your jacket – gotcha! And just like that, nature’s own block party kicks into life. Over there, the beehive’s humming like a lo-fi boom box behind the fountain’s trickling rhythms. Dusky roses headbang in the breeze, drunk on their own fabulousness. Spread the word – it’s going to be another all-nighter, and you’re on the list.

A summer's serenade of carefree beauty.

That summer – remember? Lazy breakfasts under the fig tree – cicadas chirping in the green branches, soft thumps of ripe fruit against dusty stone tiles. Chasing sunsets on the beach, the waves slapping against the shore, gulls shouting at us from above. Our tousled hair, our hoarse laughter as we sang that local summer hit in a whole-hearted, off-key duet. We had absolutely no idea how beautiful we were – and anyway, we didn’t care.

Inspired by the dream of waking up in a Provençal country house next to someone you love. The delicate essence of Lily of the Valley is laced with citrus, musky and woody notes. Picture linen curtains swaying in a gentle breeze as you stroll through a meadow filled with wildflowers. Transport yourself to this whimsical scene, sipping on orange juice at a rustic wooden table amid the alluring scent.

Inspired by the love story dream of an ultimate happiness. Imagine being in an artist's workshop surrounded by the soft scent of carved driftwood and aged pages. In the next moment, you're wrapped in your lover's arms, feeling the gentle touch on your skin and the comfort of a hug. A blend of woody, amber, spicy, and powdery notes invites you to immerse yourself in this intimate fragrance, evoking treasured memories.

Inspired by the dream of a mossy jungle oddysey. Picture flying nude through the clouds, descending into a lush green forest where the interplay of woody, fern, chypre, and spicy notes unfolds. The dreamy scent of a woodland adventure invites you to dress yourself in a crystal moss and savour milky sap of ferns and flowers.

Flow is about quiet energy and low-key rhythm. Adapting to the curves of nature, moved by empathy and transparency — but never stopping the gentle current of warmth and closeness. In the beginning, there was disorder...

Saĝo is about the search for fresh understanding. Unmoved by external influences or appearances, driven only by experience and a rich inner logic—embodied subconsciously as an aura of audacity. In the beginning, there was emptiness... See what happens next when your Saĝo arrives.

A persistent tune, a muse for your creativity.

That tune – it’s playing hard to get, a medley of contrasts you can’t quite wrap your head around. But then it steals up on you: that warm chill of something achingly familiar, something sunny but also a little heartbreaky. So you give it another shot. And another, until suddenly it’s nestled its way inside your brain, playing itself on repeat, scratching at your imagination, flipping up fresh ideas. It’s your new best friend, wanting you to hum it everywhere, take it everywhere – and so you do.

An elevator to an extraordinary rooftop crescendo.

Ground floor. Doors open. A cloud-soft merino coat whispers to you in passing, followed by the stiff crackle of shopping bags. Going up. Every floor a new vibe, a smooth and slick mashup of Asian peppers and sugar-crusted cookies, crisp silk shirts and creamy Egyptian cotton, cedar shoe blocks and knife-sharp Italian suits. The sleek hiss as the elevator pulls to a stop, opens to a crystal dome of glass and grey clouds. Eleventh floor: Rooftop bar. That’s your cue.

A secret garden party, nature's symphony in tune.

Shush, no one’s around, let’s go inside. The sneaky creak of the rusty garden gate, the soft crunch of gravel, the hiccup of your heart as a branch snags your jacket – gotcha! And just like that, nature’s own block party kicks into life. Over there, the beehive’s humming like a lo-fi boom box behind the fountain’s trickling rhythms. Dusky roses headbang in the breeze, drunk on their own fabulousness. Spread the word – it’s going to be another all-nighter, and you’re on the list.

A summer's serenade of carefree beauty.

That summer – remember? Lazy breakfasts under the fig tree – cicadas chirping in the green branches, soft thumps of ripe fruit against dusty stone tiles. Chasing sunsets on the beach, the waves slapping against the shore, gulls shouting at us from above. Our tousled hair, our hoarse laughter as we sang that local summer hit in a whole-hearted, off-key duet. We had absolutely no idea how beautiful we were – and anyway, we didn’t care.