The gardenia has long symbolized purity and admiration—but for me, it’s something far more indulgent: a brief encounter with beauty that requires nothing in return. Like tuberoses and jasmine, gardenias belong to the white floral family—those heady, narcotic blooms that don’t whisper so much as declare. Their scent is rich, unapologetic, and almost otherworldly.

This wax seal is part of my Floriography series, a quiet nod to the Victorian language of flowers—and a louder one to the kind of fleeting rituals that root us. Each is a small ode to evanescent luxury: the things that vanish quickly but leave the air changed.