THE ROSE 1845 STORY

Their romance began over a few pink rose petals scattered at the base of her chateau’s fountain. They were a sign created by her garden hand and she knew exactly what it meant. She gathered the petals inhaling their scent, delighting in the evocative bouquet. Time was of the essence so she quickly made her way to her favorite rose garden. It was here she embraced him for the first and last time.

The moon was full and it bathed his youthful features in a warm light. He was eighteen years old and she was forty five. They both knew it was not only the age difference, but also her familial lineage that forbid their union. Under the cloak of darkness, they danced freely under the moonlight with the roses their only witness, until the dampness of dawn descended upon them. Sharing a final tender kiss as the sun began to rise he placed a small bottle of oil he had extracted from the most succulent roses he could find in the palm of her hand. Its fragrance was a legacy to their intense emotion they shared that he wanted her to remember for eternity.

In the days following their exquisite tryst, in the privacy of her boudoir she would delicately inhale the rose fragrance to reignite and honor the memory of unbridled exhilaration. For that one extraordinary night, when traditional conventions were cast aside, she allowed herself to unconditionally accept love, bottled as ROSE 1845.