Twilly d’Hermès Eau Ginger

Mini cube shaped bottle with white hat cap, and lumps of candied ginger.

The opening is wonderful–sweet crystalized ginger with a sharp bite–but then the tuberose wilts, and the peony turns antiseptic, drawing attention to unfortunate cedar leakage on the bottom, and I get uncomfortable nursing home neglect vibes.

I wanted to love this one–the original Twilly is enchanting for any age, young at heart and soul–but Eau Ginger has too little of that timeless magic, and makes me a bit anxious.

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I went looking for the Natalie Merchant and REM cover of John Prine’s Hello in There, but then remembered how much I like this one.

Twilly

Mini Twilly with Hermès scarf patterned box, and knobby bit of ginger root. I adore the trademark black derby cap–a redux of Mercury’s golden helmet, because Hermes, of course.

Twilly is a witch potion. A good one.

Starts with a cuppa ginger tea, a bit of citrus and powdered sugar stirred in, then gets fizzy and trippy.

Tuberoses bloom, bubbly and brash, arguing with the jasmine–who manage to pepper some sharp retorts–in an absurd and delightful Monty Python routine, complete with Silly Walks in vanilla lingerie.
There’s a fun colorful vibe, too, in a cartoons-for-adults way, as if the scent cloud is infused with silk scarf hues.

And it lasts for hours, slowly settling close to the body with an occasional carbonated giggling hiccup of ginger ale and woody spice. In the morning it’s still there, a smudge of watercolor sigils on the skin.

Cheerful modern magic.

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Twilly Eau Poivrée

Tw’ili-Pepper sample, mortar and pestle with pepper-corns, and a little black Hermès hat.

Heated car seats can be rather disconcerting. The ass is rarely that warm without the shame–or satisfaction–of a good spanking, so one tends to squirm, waiting for the accompanying sting.

Eau Poivrée is such the perfect fresh-ground peppercorn that I get anxiety waiting for the sneeze that never happens.

Before the first spray even lands on my skin, I’m frantically taking a deep breath, holding it, waiting for my eyes to water, getting slightly melancholy that no one is around to say “Bless you!”–and I stay that way for two hours.

The delicate rose and sheer patchouli eventually temper the spice, but by that time I’ve already taken an allergy pill and called my therapist twice.

*

A satisfying Pepper:

Eau des Merveilles Bleue

hermes marvelous
Hermès clear pendant bottle with etched stardust, framed by blue sky.

Lots of wet citrus in the beginning, loud and bright and cheerful.
Orange–the fresh first pull of peel–slowly settles down to bergamot tea, poured over ice.

An hour later there’s some woods with a hit of salt, like driftwood in the sun. Patchouli comes in at the bottom, a bit of smoke over water on the skin, and lingers for the afternoon.

This one is young at heart, but she’s got grace.


Hermès used a snippet of this audio art in the ad–but the whole thing deserves a listen.

Voyage d’Hermès

voyage d'Hermes
Mini chrome flip flask in a pile of green cardamom pods.

A trip to India, for spices and Darjeeling and marigolds.

Opens with big bright lemon and brash cardamom–heaping handfuls still in their green pods.
There’s an interesting warm-and-cool, push-pull to the top notes that keeps it from settling down–and it stays that way, fresh from the citrus, yet powdery with the spice–for several hours at arms length.

Eventually green tea musk slides in, soothing it down and pulling the sillage in. Finishes with a breath of woody flowers on the skin.
A lovely scent for summer daytime wear.


Stromae is a Belgian musician who also manages to be both dry and refreshing (and  stylish–his design line, Mosaert, is gorgeous!) His first hit came out in 2010, the same time as the fragrance.