Elsewhere is the name given to everything that escapes the frenzy. It's the mental place where one lands when the world gets too noisy. A white villa, far from everything and close only to the essential. Enveloped in the wind, overlooking a boundless sea. Open, luminous, geometric, and spiritual. It has no timetables, no needs. Just breath.
Those who come here don't do so by chance. They come by subtraction, to escape. Just being there. Walking barefoot through silent rooms, feeling welcomed by a space that doesn't ask, but gives back.

With every step, fashion becomes gesture, a silent language, a way to connect with time that stands still. Clothes move with the wind, reflect the sun, breathe with the air. Colors don't shout, but suggest. Textures harmonize with light, volumes blend with architecture, creating an invisible yet perfect dialogue between body and space.
The sea is everywhere, even when you can't see it. It insinuates itself into silences, into the reflections on the walls, into the slow pace at which everything happens. There are those who read without haste, those who immerse themselves in the water without a care in the world, those who lie down in the shade and let time dissolve. You don't run. You don't search. You just are.

Elsewhere isn't a vacation idea, but an existential experience. It's a return to oneself, through beauty. It's the discovery that silence is a privilege. That calm is a luxury. That white isn't absence, but fullness.
The days blur, the hours are uncounted. The sun doesn't mark the time, it caresses.
There's no music, yet everything sounds. The curtains that move lightly, the echo of footsteps on hard surfaces, the muffled sound of the distant sea. Every sound is rare, precious, chosen.
And then there are the details. A dress that catches the light in a corner of the terrace. A shirt left open on the chest, billowing in the wind. A pair of sunglasses that protect not only the eyes, but the mind. A slow gesture. A stolen moment. Everything becomes aesthetic, even what doesn't want to be. Everything is fashion, when it's true. Everything is art, when it's silence.

Altrove isn't just a villa. It's a state of mind. A visual manifesto. An invitation to escape, not to escape, but to find yourself. To understand that elegance isn't just a matter of style, but of inner posture. That fashion isn't just clothing, but atmosphere. That time, if experienced with awareness, is the most precious commodity.
And in that expanded time, in that light that doesn't blind but welcomes, in that beauty that doesn't expose itself but lets itself be discovered, there's everything you need. Without explanations. Without effort. Just presence.
Altrove is a promise. And, for those who have encountered it, a point of no return.