Volantis

It's summer and my husband and I are stuck in a taxi. The car is losing, slowly but surely, the battle against the air conditioning.

The whole city is sweltering in the heat. We, however, have just come from cloudy, cool London. We had breakfast in the hotel as it was too chilly to sit outside. We're wearing cashmere sweaters - I'm even wearing a silk scarf.
I peel myself out of my sweater. On the sidewalks, women in summer dresses pass our car, men with their jackets tucked under their arms and their shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Ladies in silk caftans. Children with ice cream. Tourists wearing shorts.
The taxi pushes slowly through summer Paris into the center. Street by street. It doesn't move very fast. It gets narrower and slower. State holiday, the taxi driver explains.

Our hotel is beautiful. Perfectly temperate and... oh, it smells so good. Refreshing. Pleasant. Elegant. We relax for a few minutes in the shaded courtyard. A fountain babbles. Red berries and lemon slices float in my glass. The porter informs us that, because of the heat, he has iced small bottles of Volvic ready, which he will always supply us with as we leave the hotel.

As we are shown to our rooms, the scent becomes even more intense. Tart. Fresh. Green. Elegant. Lemon without being acidic. Deep. Dark. A hint woody.
We are proudly told that the house is traditionally supplied by the Hermés boutique in the neighborhood - the oldest boutique of the traditional house.
I sniffed my way through the rooms, intrigued, and it's in the bathroom that I see them for the first time. The dark green bottles and flacons with the black cap. Soap, shower gel, shampoo, body lotion, conditioner, eau de toilette.

Pure summer. I am in love with shock. The scent reminds me of the summers of my childhood. Of my parents' rooftop terrace glowing in the heat, of big planted tubs of strelitzias. Of geraniums and iced tea and hot terra cotta and a pool. Of Roman, cool, shady, marble staircases with hundreds of steps, of Sundays with family dinners and my grandfather's shirts. Of the sea, of my bare feet on cold tiles, of sultry, humid, fragrant air and the chirping of crickets.

My husband and I spent an incredibly beautiful week in Paris. We enjoyed every second of it. The heat wave of the year rolled over the city, children bathed in the fountains under the Eiffel Tower as well as adults, and the city glowed and vibrated. The days were scorching hot, the nights as well. We ate and drank and did all that in beautiful togetherness, after what the sense stood us.

We showered three times a day and as I was packing my bags to move on, I did something I have never done in my life. I took a bottle of cologne with me, just so I wouldn't forget that scent.

Sometime back home, I purposefully walked into the nearest Hermés boutique and purchased body lotion, shower gel and eau de toilette.
Since that time, the fragrance reminds me of those hot days in Paris that we got to spend with each other and with the city. Every early summer, I stand at Hermés, purchase the Orange Verte range and enjoy it all summer long. It's a scent I look forward to all year. Summer in a bottle.

I use Orange Verte when the temperatures are hot, I like to use it in conjunction with the shower gel (and sometimes the body lotion). I feel like I smell "fresh" all day, but it is clearly a "daytime scent" for me. It doesn't last forever, I like to reapply around noon.
Hot summer wind, open office windows, linen or silk, hair tied up, espresso or iced coffee instead of my regular coffee, bees buzzing, colleague groaning in the background against the heat...

It's one of the few fresh scents my husband likes on me too. Definitely unisex, I also like to smell it on my husband.