28th October, 2014. Amsterdam in autumn—soft rain on old stone, golden light curling through café windows, and the scent of woodsmoke drifting through the crisp dusk air. It was on such an evening that Papillon was invited to be part of something quietly extraordinary.

Our fragrances had recently arrived in the Netherlands, and with them came an invitation: a gathering of kindred spirits, scent lovers, writers, artists, and the beautifully curious. Hosted by those who understand perfume not as product, but as poetry, the evening promised no extravagance—just warmth, conversation, and the chance to let the perfumes breathe in new air.

Liz travelled with a suitcase filled not with clothes, but with scent. Bottles nestled amongst blotters and stories, ready to be shared. There was no script, no choreography. Just a room, gently lit, filled with people who came to listen—to fragrance, to each other.

As Anubis, Tobacco Rose, and Angélique were passed from hand to hand, something tender unfolded. Reactions bloomed quietly. Eyes closed. Memories stirred. There were questions, reflections, laughter. And above all, there was a sense of stillness—that rare, sacred space where scent speaks and we all become a little more human.

Liz spoke not as a perfumer, but as a storyteller. She shared the why behind the how, the accident behind the alchemy. And the guests received it all with grace, curiosity, and open hearts. It felt less like a presentation, more like a homecoming.

Later, walking the canals beneath trees lit amber by streetlamps, the evening lingered in the air like the drydown of a well-loved perfume. Subtle, steady, unforgettable.

Papillon’s journey has always been a slow unfolding. Each new city, each new encounter, becomes part of our tapestry. Amsterdam wove itself in that night—not loudly, but beautifully. And we carry it still, in every bottle we send.

To all who joined us there, and to those who will discover us still—we are endlessly grateful.

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