STOP SHOUTING HONEY

The fragrance didn't begin in a laboratory, but on one of those quiet mornings on the Côte d'Azur, when the sun is still soft and everything smells a bit like a new beginning. We had iris and bergamot side by side on a blotter. Just two classics that suddenly felt like a familiar sight. The first sigh of relief: Something was happening right there. The memory of our first favorite fragrances, which were based on precisely this combination.

We enhanced this with apricot and honey. Warm drops that settled over everything without being overpowering. Delicious, but not cloying. Sensual, without being flirtatious. Our attempt to create a honey fragrance that smells not like dessert, but like skin in spring.

The campaign, as always, was a story in itself. Five degrees Celsius, 6 a.m. A gymnast in the woods, parting the sky between the trees. And a grandfather who happened to be passing by, pocketed a piece of bread, and with stoic calm scraped the honey from her leg. He ate it as if it were perfectly normal. And in a way, it was. Tradition meets modernity, iris meets maple syrup, bergamot meets apricot.

That was precisely where the warmth lay. The fact that you don't have to reinvent everything. You put the tried and tested next to something unexpected, and suddenly it feels right.

STOP SHOUTING, HONEY is exactly that: a fragrance like a familiar classic, quietly opening a new chapter. The kind of combination that helped us build Marinelie in the first place. Piece by piece. Bold, but not loud. Warm, yet clear.

And perhaps that's the whole lesson: A sense of the future doesn't arise from chaos or revolution, but from a calm blend of old and new. From basics that are taken seriously. From small ideas that suddenly seem big.

A scent like a morning that shows you that anything is possible if you don't scream. But instead smell of apricot and honey.