Eau de Cologne Hermès 1979

Hermès and I - this story took time to develop, a lot of time.
For many years, I was more or less blind to this brand, almost willfully overlooking it and purposefully steering past the shelves with Hermès perfumes in every perfumery.
"Hiris" must have been the first scent from the house that I consciously noticed, although I couldn't make much of it right after its release, followed by "Eau des Merveilles," which met a similar fate, and "24, Faubourg," which at least found its way into my collection due to its beautiful bottle.
But I had to stumble upon Parfumo first, had to expand my horizons drop by drop, sample by sample, to find my way to Hermès.

A special discovery on this olfactory treasure hunt for me is the house's "Eau de Cologne."
Actually, I don't have much affinity for Eaux de Cologne - they are usually too citrusy-lightweight for me, too one-dimensional, and only truly my first choice on the hottest summer days.
Exceptions like Mugler's Cologne and Tauer's "Cologne du Maghreb," both of which I love, seem to only confirm this rule and moreover do not completely turn their backs on the conventional style of a classic Cologne.

I probably should have taken a look at the pyramid before testing Hermès' Cologne for the first time, which already makes one thing very clear: We are by no means dealing with a simple, unpretentious lemon water here.
This becomes clear to me the moment the first scent molecule rises from my spray-moistened skin, makes its way to my olfactory nerves - and gives me a jolt.
So dry and sharp, so bitter green and almost astringently strict, this Hermès rises to my nose that I flinch back in shock and simultaneously adopt an automatic posture.
Even this first breath dispels the usually extremely persistent fog of the previous night from my brain, tears my eyelids apart, and accelerates my pulse by at least a dozen "beats per minute."
It's intense, it's invigorating - but is it also beautiful? Do I want to spend an entire day in an olfactorily conditioned alert position?
Even as I ask myself this with slight concern, the wake-up call has already faded, the claws have retracted, and a wondrous transformation begins on my skin.
It becomes green and ever greener, herbs sprout and emit a spicy-aromatic scent, seemingly warmed by the sun, citrus fruits hang in the trees, and around me, a Mediterranean garden emerges as if by magic.
I like this - but it's also not unfamiliar to me.
I have to rummage a bit in the drawers and compartments of my scent memory until it occurs to me: "Eau de Campagne" - released five years earlier, this Sisley could easily pass as the big brother of our Hermès Cologne.
While Ellena's interpretation of a Mediterranean Cologne, however, is distinctly spicy-herbaceous, Madame Caron seems to have a penchant for the classic English barbershop colognes, which is noticeable in the elegantly integrated shaving foam note in the Hermès Cologne and gives the scent a more masculine orientation.
However, this does not make it unwearable or even unattractive for women - especially those noses of both genders who are generally fond of "Eau de Campagne," but find themselves missing a bit of freshness, a bit of coolness, and distance, might be in for an Aha experience with the Hermès Cologne.
If it can be found.
And if one is not saddened that the Cologne as such does not have a far-reaching sillage and that the longevity is likely quite limited to a handful of hours.