It is a night of pale moonlight, a night toward the end of the 20th century, a night when the old world is ending and the new one is beginning. It is a night when one trembles to boldly lower the sacred cross against the heart, to aid in the passage to fatherhood. So, as a crucifix, that night I pick up Hyperion, a novel by Dan Simmons. This is a masterful science fiction saga that celebrates the infinite legend of the French Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, who was a 20th-century researcher, paleontologist, theologian and philosopher. And I read, pacified, until the reflections of the dawn, until the first golden rays of the East. I read the future of man, the celebration of transhumanism and the qualitative leap of humanity enhanced by machine. I have rarely loved a book this much, I have rarely loved a thinker this much.
I read that night what a man thought he saw in the tombs of time.
I am a lover of words in the service of materials when they come together to make poetry in the bottom of our bottles; thus, a few years ago, I bring up the work of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin to one of the last living vestiges of the triumphant 20th century, and I ask him: - "Then Teilhard de Chardin, precursor of genius?" A look, a silence and for the answer four unexpected words, four words whispered by my father: "GHOST IN THE SHELL". This is the act of birth that makes the spirit of perfume. The rest is poetry to live on the skin.
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin died in 1955, but his spirit continues to travel. This fragrance extends it through an alliance with the Japanese artist Shirow Masamune to transcend the spirit of Earth.
By mixing biotech and natural materials, this perfume silently celebrates the wake of the future and also whispers of a day to come, by providence or chance, when humanity is reunited and organized. A day when all consciousness is summoned by the infosphere to constitute a superior being and pass from the inert to the living. As the molecules assemble to make the living, we will then make a qualitative leap that becomes the starting point and arrival of transhumanism.
This perfume is the future. It comes to us from the 20th century.
The Ghost in the Shell, a perfume that speaks of the human phenomenon and its paradox, a perfume to wear on oneself ab libitum, at one’s pleasure. A perfume as a propagation towards the other, that makes you the axis and the arrow of evolution; modern, indeed! From the bottom of the matter, rise up.
We pay allegiance to the concept of a modest cologne. Not an ordinary cologne, not a basic cologne. A proper cologne that achieves the perfection of simplicity.
The Cologne of Etat Libre d’Orange is a tender introduction to our sensual collection, a gentle initiation into our subversive world. This is an adaptable cologne that showers your body with a fresh joy. It’s whatever you want it to be, and you make it your own. It’s an easy pleasure, a scent for everyone, to splash on all over and wear everywhere. We offer you a new and different way to experience Etat Libre d’Orange.
Roses with thorny stems that yield lavish blossoms, lush petals, outrageous, puffed-up fantasies, trembling with the sweat of impatience and desire. Roses, red with blood, a piercing note leaving the flavor of fire on lips that suck the finger pricked by a thorn.
A bleeding rose. A candy rose. A rose that tastes of fresh milk, a talcum powdered baby’s bottom, a wealth of sugared kisses. At Etat Libre d’Orange, the Virgin rarely wanders far from the Whore. Perhaps she is one and the same. Warmed by the fire of this woman, the noses have embraced a fanciful vision. They have created for her a perfume of protection, a refuge on the battlefield of love. Defensive yet transparent, Eau de Protection conceals as it reveals. For her, a caress is demanded, while those around her are struck with awe. The noses have extracted that which is most profound in her, the essence of her. They have distilled her honey and squeezed the juice from her heart.
Fils de dieu is an emotional fragrance, a scent that requires a sympathetic connection between the server and the served, the giver and the taker, and the willingness to exchange roles.
With the refreshing zest of lime and ginger, spiced with cardamon and coriander, soothed with shiso and rice, infused with the tropical warmth of the coconut, this is a scent that supports the escape from conformity and eases the way to freedom from convention.
We all have shadows, even at night in the dark forest. You may call yours by another name: your invisible friend. Your conscience, your soul, maybe even your complementary ego. Your shadow could have a name, like Hermann. Or your shadow could be your perfume. This is your companion. You can argue with your companion, you can challenge your companion, you can test the boundaries of your own attitudes. You can debate the finer points of existence. But you cannot lose this companion, not ever. This is your alternative self. As you move through life and contemplate its meaning, you ask unanswerable questions. When you're overwhelmed with uncertainties, look to your shadow. Maybe you'll get a response. Maybe not. But at least you'll have an interesting conversation.
The night was so black and the forest very dark. By my side, Hermann seemed to me like a shadow. Our horses were galloping. Guardians of god! The clouds in the sky looked like marble. The stars flew through the branches of the trees Like a swarm of firebirds.
I am full of regrets. Broken by suffering, Hermann's deep spirit is empty of hope. I am full of regrets. Oh my loves, sleep! Yet, while traveling through the green solitude, Hermann says to me: “I am thinking about half-opened graves. ”And I say to him:“ I think of closed tombs. ”
He looks ahead: I Iook back, Our horses gallop across the clearing; The wind brings to us from far away the sound of the angelus bell; he says: “I think of those who are afflicted by existence, Of those who are, those who live”. “Me,” I say to him, “I think of those who are no longer! ”
The fountains are singing. What do the fountains say? The oaks are murmuring. What do the oaks murmur? The bushes are whispering like old friends. Hermann says to me, “The living never doze. At this moment, some eyes cry, other eyes are awake. ”And I say to him,“ Alas! Other eyes are asleep! ”
Hermann then continue. “Misfortune, that's life. The dead no longer suffer. They are happy! I envy Their graves where grass grows, where trees shed their leaves. Because the night caresses them with soft flames; Because the sky beams peace upon all their souls In all the tombs at the same time!
And I say to him, “Be quiet! Respect the black mystery! The dead are lying in the ground under our feet. The dead, these are the hearts that once loved you This is your expired angel! This is your father and your mother! Do not dismay them through bitter irony. As in a dream, they hear our voices. ”