Le Beau Narcisse steps forward, draped in a golden scarf, drawn by a glow he knows all too well: his own. In this reflection, he admires himself, irresistible, desired. He needs no gesture to seduce; every line of his body speaks for him.
On his skin, bergamot bursts with freshness. Then musk emerges, carnal. At last, tonka bean leaves a resolutely voluptuous trail. An amber-musk fragrance like a persistent breath, a forbidden caress.
Le Beau Narcisse does not seek attention; he attracts it, irresistibly.