Savonnerie des Diligences | LE VIGNERON| Rosewood, lemon and sage soap
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Entreprise québécoise, fabrication locale
A soap with a sweet, woody, earthy and slightly tangy scent that celebrates the love of life and its pleasures. In addition to being moisturizing, its essential oils give it skin repair, antibacterial and mood tonic properties. Its use stimulates blood circulation and is suitable for facial care. A soap that everyone likes and tastes like a good wine!
A 100% natural soap with olive oil
Note from the soapmaker : The challenge of this soap was to recreate the aromas of wine to make it the official soap of the Fête des Vendanges Magog Orford .
Ingredients: Oils (olive, organic coconut, beeswax), water, sodium hydroxide, essential oils of rosewood, lemon and sage.< /strong>
Handmade in Quebec
Follow the scent of this legend...
Aimé Lavigne, French winemaker from father to son, lover of nature and traditions, nurtured the project, with his wife Rose Labrise, to one day redeem the ancestral lands. A man of ritual, he approached the sun-drenched vines with reverence, reaching out to each bunch in an almost religious way. His father, Pierre Lavigne, a pragmatic man with strong opinions, adhered to the PPP way – Plus de Profit Possible. He was squeezing the fruit, and his son, to squeeze out as much juice as possible. His plan to mechanize the vineyard made Aimé angry. Following many fruitless discussions, Aimé decided to flee father and earth to reach Quebec, accompanied of course by his sweet Rose.
They chose to settle in the fertile soil of the Eastern Townships, where a few obstinate winegrowers had begun to prove to the world that despite the harsh climate, it was possible to produce excellent wine in Quebec.
When summer came, the couple worked hard. The few vines planted by the former owner produced a suave, earthy, slightly tart red wine. Rose had worked hard to plant several varieties of exotic roses, savoring the subtle blend of vines and roses, divine shrubs in her eyes. Had she given more than she was capable of, but when winter came, our Rose, having difficulty supporting the cold, caught pneumonia. She withered, faded, and succumbed.
The Beloved waited for summer to bury his Rose in the garden, in the heart of the vines, but without she, he did not have the courage to take great care of the vineyard. At the first signs of cold, when the winegrowers have to light thousands of small fires to protect the grapes from frost, Aimé felt an unusual heat, exactly where he had buried his Rose. During the winter, he also realized that the snow melted faster there.
That year, praise Bacchus, the harvest was gargantuan and the cuvée tasty, with its roundness on the palate and its scents of rosehip.
For Aimé, it quickly became clear that his Rose will remain eternal, extending under these bold palaces, stopping at a vineyard cared for in the old fashioned way.