His beauty could have been an asset.
We imagined him raised in the fresh air of Texas, his fluffy skin rubbed against...
se mer
His beauty could have been an asset.
We imagined him raised in the fresh air of Texas, his fluffy skin rubbed against the ears of wheat, his curled eyelashes struggling gracefully against a blinding sun. A Macadam Cowboy lost on the asphalt of the cities. A fisherman without a net, he was made to bite on other people's hooks, to believe in his luck without ever seizing it, to wreak havoc and forget those of time. A youthfulness for women with make-up, a substance for late-night parties or a health walk for Palm Beach fortunes, his splendour was consumed in the service of others.
A fisherman without a line, he was made to be hooked by others, to believe. Now a Fat Electrician in his New Jersey home, he has put his talent into his decay. To celebrate this unconverted beauty, a splendid vetiver was needed.
An ode to vintage eroticism. Antoine Maisondieu wanted it to be white, metallic, silver like the ancestral green of olive leaves. But also sweet, regressive, addictive like a chestnut cream - vanilla bean, opoponax and myrrh in the base notes.
Extremely concentrated, resinous, raw as can be, it had to express a contrasting sensuality. Because all beauty carries within it the announcement of its finitude.
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