SIESTA

Siesta was born from a very specific memory: a hammock beneath a giant fig tree, at my grandparents’ home in Spain.

I can still picture it: lying back, my eyes lost among the green leaves above me, my hand brushing against the grass and damp earth as I gently sway. The warmth of the afternoon, the green shade, the scent of coffee drifting from the nearby table.

In the fragrance, fig leaf takes centre stage: green, almost milky, carrying all the freshness of light filtered through the leaves. Then comes the scent of wet earth, grass and roots. Vetiver brings warmth and softness. Coffee balances it all, just as it always does after lunch.

A siesta is not simply a moment of rest. It is a suspended moment when all the senses slow down together.