Figuier Noir

Fig leaf bursts with green, peppery sharpness, immediately establishing that this won't be a sweet indulgence. Black pepper and cardamom create a spiced bite that's almost bracing, cutting through the promise of fruit to come with botanical clarity. Within moments, you're left wondering whether you're smelling an orchard or an herb garden—and that delightful uncertainty is entirely intentional.

The black fig emerges fully now, but it's a sophisticated fig, never jammy or cloying. Iris introduces a powdery, slightly earthy dimension that prevents the fruit from dominating, whilst jasmine adds delicate floral contours around the edges. The spice retreats gracefully, allowing the woody notes to build beneath; cedarwood and patchouli create a creamy, slightly resinous undertone that feels warm and enveloping without ever becoming heavy.

The fragrance settles into its woodiest phase, with patchouli gaining prominence and cedarwood providing dry, almost smoky support. The fig has softened considerably, now reading as a memory of fruit rather than fruit itself, whilst faint traces of iris and the original green notes linger as whispers. What remains is refined and understated—a skin scent that rewards close proximity but makes no demands on the space around you.