Vice Et Versa plunges us into the thrilling tug-of-war of a heart that refuses to pick just one side. Gliding through postcard-perfect settings – Montreux’s lakeside streets, the artsy slopes of Montmartre, the student buzz of Jussieu – Stéphane flips her feelings like a coin: I love you here, but over there I don’t... and vice versa. The looping chorus becomes a merry-go-round of desire, capturing the rush and confusion of polyamory where “one is always one too many.”
Beneath the sparkly pop groove lies a confession of fatigue. She pretends to have everything under control, yet trembling hands and restless thoughts betray the weight of constant role-switching. The song paints a vivid picture of modern love’s freedom and its price: the joy of limitless possibilities, and the exhaustion of never landing on a single truth. It’s a playful, bittersweet anthem for anyone who has ever felt split in two by their own passions – celebrating the chaos of loving both this and that, vice et versa.