"At the quiet edge of the forest, wild fruit awaits."

Highland Plum is the forest's edge under a wide, windswept sky – cool air moving through the grass, wild fruit ripening where the trees give way to open ground. It opens green and faintly untamed, fig and cassis over meadow grass, a thread of cinnamon warming the air like the last of the afternoon light.

On skin, it turns inward and grows quieter – plum and blackberry settling into fir and cypress, then resting on oakmoss, oud, and a low sweetness that stays close. It doesn't announce itself. It's the kind of scent that feels like a place you've been, worn for no one but yourself.