Inspired by a love of beauty
For Katherine, it was the old roses, those flowers with their proud silhouette, their names gently erased by time, which she would touch with her fingertips as one might brush against precious taffeta. For him, it was those discreet escapes, stolen from a meticulously planned schedule: long walks alongside Eden, his faithful dog, silent confidant of his truest moments.
Roses... and Eden. Eden Rose.
A tribute to what was most precious to them. Thus was born the name of their favorite tea. A name whispered like a promise. A name imbued with all the passions that nourish souls enamored with beauty.
Some teas are meant to be savored.
Eden Rose, on the other hand, transports, opens hearts, and inspires. There's the young woman, one spring day, who lingered in the hushed salons of the Jacquemart-André Museum. She had just contemplated Vigée Le Brun's portrait of Countess Skavronskaïa, pearly faces, delicate lace, roses nestled in the folds of dresses. Still imbued with this pictorial gentleness, she ordered Eden Rose, and in the first sip, she rediscovered the same silky delicacy, the same powdery sigh from another century. There's also that hushed conversation in a Parisian tea room upholstered in velvet, between two friends gathered around a pink macaron. One of them, her eyes filled with a secret too sweet to keep hidden, whispered: "I'm going to be a mother soon." "The tea, in its coppery robe, seemed then to seal the moment like a satin ribbon, with modesty and tenderness.