Forever and ever

Forever and ever distils its floral declaration into a crisp, green transparency that feels almost architectural in its precision. Béthouart anchors the composition with an unusual ivy note that threads through the entire structure, lending a cool, slightly bitter edge that prevents the freesia and jasmine from sliding into the usual bright soprano. This isn't jasmine at full operatic volume—it's restrained, almost photographic, as if caught in morning light through glass. The almond blossom introduces a subtle lactonic quality in the heart, softening the geranium's peppery edges whilst rose emerges with surprising restraint, more suggestion than statement. What makes this particularly compelling is the nutmeg's warmth cutting across the powdery musk base, creating an unexpected spiced undertow beneath all that whiteness. It's a fragrance for someone who finds typical department store florals too loud, too obvious. The wearer here appreciates negative space—those who dress in cream linen, who keep their homes uncluttered, who understand that sophistication often means knowing what to leave out. This works best in transitional seasons, those weeks when you can't quite commit to either warmth or cold. It's the olfactory equivalent of a pale cashmere jumper worn over bare skin: refined, intimate, deceptively simple. The 2006 release feels prescient now, anticipating the current appetite for gauzy, skin-like florals years before they became ubiquitous.