In a quiet corner of Mayfair, where the streets are lined with bespoke tailors, hidden rose gardens, and the soft clink of crystal in afternoon drawing rooms, a fragrance awakens. It is not brash. It doesn’t beg for attention. Instead, it lingers like a secret told only to those who matter. Inspired by Creed’s Royal Mayfair, this is My Flair—a scent not worn, but possessed.

The journey begins with a burst of confidence. Lime, bright and slightly cheeky, dances with the crisp clarity of pine and the unmistakable sparkle of gin—a nod to the classic cocktail hour, where charm is currency and words are as sharp as lapels. It’s the scent of a late morning rendezvous, a perfectly knotted tie or silk scarf, and the promise of something unexpected.

At the center of it all lies the queen of flowers: a single rose, cool and restrained, yet utterly magnetic. She doesn’t shout. She draws you in. This rose is not a garden bloom, but a rose trimmed for a buttonhole, elegant and precise. She captures the art of subtle seduction—the kind that makes you lean in without knowing why.

But My Flair doesn’t stop there. As the day unfolds and the air grows warmer, the fragrance deepens. The cool whisper of eucalyptus glides through the senses like a breeze through Hyde Park. Cedarwood emerges, dry and grounding, like the polished floorboards of a private library filled with leather-bound volumes and quiet ambition. And then, just as the story nears its end, a hint of orange—sunlit and playful—slips in to remind you that elegance need never be too serious.

My Flair is for the one who never needs to announce themselves. The one whose presence is remembered not for volume, but for detail—for the way they make you feel something rare and refined.

It is a floral, fruity, woody gourmand dressed in bespoke tailoring, told in glances, and wrapped in a London fog. A signature scent for women and men alike—timeless, disarming, and full of quiet power.

Wear it not to impress. Wear it to enchant.