In Sicily, at the south of Siracusa, in spring, millions of orange, lemon and mandarin flowers, locally called zagara, start to bloom. The scent of zagara is a rather changing fragrance. At sunrise the smell is almost watery, tenuous, thin, still impregnated with the humidity of the earth. Then, in the morning light, it starts to become fresh, sparkling, brighter. As the sun warms up the petals of the flowers, the aroma releases sweet, just barely honey-like, warm and enveloping notes. In the flowering plains, the perfume is soon everywhere, inebriating to the point of becoming an image, an intimate memory that you would like to carry with you forever. ZAGARA, through an accord that goes from the freshness of citrus to the warmth of deeper materials, such as the tonka bean and patchouli, renders the olfactory evolution of a scent that mutates with the light and the heat of the day: fresh, pungent at the beginning then warmer and warmer, smooth, velvety, finally completely enveloping.