The rose harvest in Grasse begins in darkness. By five o’clock the pickers are already moving along the rows, filling linen sacks with blossoms while the dew still holds the scent inside each petal. By ten the sun is high and the flowers have given half of themselves to the air — so the work is fast, quiet and precise.
Grown by people we know by name
We buy our rose absolute from three families who have farmed the same terraces for four generations. Each harvest is distilled within hours, and every lot smells slightly different: one year more honeyed, another more peppery and green.
A perfume is only as honest as its raw materials.
That variation is why we blend by nose, not by formula. Rose Nocturne and Lumière d’Iris both carry a little of this year’s harvest — and you can taste the summer in them.
Why it matters
Paying growers fairly keeps traditional cultivation alive in a region where land is increasingly sold for villas. It also gives us flowers we would never find on the open market.