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Lavendure 21

Picture a field at the edge of the world—where the sky bleeds into twilight, and the air hums with the last warmth of the sun. At first, it is bright, almost reckless: the burst of lemon and orange, sharp as a blade of light, tangled with the dark, wine-stained sweetness of black currant. This is not a gentle opening, but the first step into the wild.

Then the earth speaks. Lavender rises, not the drowsy whisper of gardens, but something raw, untamed—its purple spikes dusted with the cool, medicinal breath of eucalyptus. Beneath it, fir needles crack underfoot, releasing their resinous defiance, a green so deep it borders on shadow.

And when the night finally falls, it brings the slow burn of amber, glowing like embers in the dark, while oakmoss spreads its ancient, damp secrets over the skin. This is LAVENDURE 21—not a fragrance, but an expedition. A scent that does not ask, but demands: Step beyond the known. Walk where the wild still grows.

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SANDALURE 18

Imagine a temple carved from time itself—where the air is thick with incense and the weight of centuries lingers like a vow.

The first breath is fire and spice: cinnamon, molten and golden, twisted with the earthy bite of nutmeg and the sharp, restless crack of black pepper. This is no gentle welcome—it is a summons. A warning.

Then, the heart unfolds—geranium, lush and green, its floral pulse cut through by the dark, smoky sting of clove. This is where devotion turns to desire, where warmth becomes something closer to hunger.

And beneath it all, the slow, sacred burn of sandalwood—creamy, golden, endless—woven with the damp, primal earth of patchouli. Vanilla lingers at the edges, not sweet, but deep, like the last ember of a ritual fire.

SANDALURE 18 is not worn. It is anointed. A scent for those who walk the line between shadow and light. Step into the flame.

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