Le Beau Narcisse steps forward, wrapped in a golden scarf, drawn to a radiance he knows intimately, his own. In the mirror, he admires himself: desired, impossible to resist. No gesture required. Every line of his body seduces in silence. On his skin, bergamot flashes bright and fresh, giving way to a carnal bloom of musk. Tonka bean follows, rich and indulgent, leaving a voluptuous trail. An amber-musk scent that lingers like breath on skin, a forbidden caress. Le Beau Narcisse never pursues attention. He pulls it toward him.
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