Torino21 Xerjoff 2021

“Irmgard, something is different about you, did you get a new lipstick?” I wondered, while she just shrugged her shoulders with a grin.
“Yes, I noticed that too,” our colleague José agreed. “You went to the hairdresser!” But he was wrong too.
When Irmgard came to the office this morning after her vacation, a difference was noticeable. Of course, one ideally returns tanned and more relaxed, but Irmgard's glow left much more room for speculation.
“I got it! You weren’t on vacation-you had a facelift!” I tried again.
“Who knows, who knows…” she winked and walked past us. Wow, she brought a fresh breeze with her. We sniffed after her. She seemed to enjoy making us squirm. It bothered us that we hadn’t figured it out by the afternoon. Working was out of the question; we loitered in her office and peppered Irmgard with questions. She couldn’t possibly be pregnant due to her age, and she would certainly never admit to winning the lottery. But her grin was suspicious. “Well…” she hesitated, “what does one understand by a 6 in the lottery?” she stretched the suspense to infinity.
“You're a millionaire and still sitting here??” José squealed excitedly. A giggle could be heard from her direction as she pulled out a bottle with light yellow liquid from her bag and poured it into small shot glasses. “What are we toasting to, Irmgard? Oh come on, just tell us!” I begged.
José first inspected the contents and noticed small green floating particles. Mint. Ah, that’s why it smelled so fresh. She told us she learned this from a bartender during her vacation and tried to mix it herself. So that was it!
“You're in love!” we clapped our hands in delight! The blush on her cheeks was confirmation enough. How lovely. But now the questioning really began-who, when, where, and how…
She pulled out her phone to show us pictures of him; after all, she had never made so many videos in her life. The first four videos showed Irmgard’s zoomed-in nostrils and squinted eyebrows. Then a high-resolution shot of the inside of her handbag. “There!” she grinned. We looked curiously at the display. So she was on a boat. Out of excitement, her painted fingernail clicked on the glass; that must be him. We recognized nothing more than tanned feet and white pant legs in the shaky video. A cheerful male voice seemed to be flirting with giggling Irmgard in Italian in the background.
“Did he just call you ‘sleeve’?” José asked, puzzled. “No! That means Irmel! He’s just Italian,” she defended him.

She had to sift through nearly 380 vacation photos to find a few usable ones of her new sweetheart among the unintentional selfie nostril shots. The “well-done” one showed a washboard stomach, blown by the open shirt. Blurry, of course. “Here’s the best one,” she said, smiling as she closed her eyes and handed us the phone again. We tried to hide our disappointment: the face above the nose was cut off. But a broad grin was visible.
“What does he have for green tufts between his teeth?” I asked.
“Thyme,” she gushed. “He ate that all day.”

Nothing helped; our colleague was head over heels in love, and we would probably never see him properly.

Then we had the clever idea to look online for videos since the beloved was supposedly quite well-known in the region for his mixed drinks. To be honest, it smelled a bit like citrus cleaner.
The guy was called Torino, Irmgard said. Or the place. She wasn’t quite sure anymore.

There! We found him. He seemed to be a very well-known artist from Italy who showcases his skills at upscale events. I could understand Irmgard; he was handsome, charismatic, and full of good cheer. “He’s so young…” José murmured, and I was glad he kept the rest of his thoughts to himself.

In one video, the man showed what he was actually mixing: thyme, rosemary, basil, a lot of mint, and a tub of peeled lemons. Everything mixed together neatly. When he let the heaped scoop of washing powder rain in, we all looked at each other in shock. José could no longer suppress his hiccups, and Irmgard blew bubbles from her mouth.
“And this new scent is done!” shouted the washboard man from the video.
“Sleeve, that wasn’t for drinking, that was for spraying,” I chuckled.
And then it was clear: we were all a little in love with Torino now. He had infected us with his zest for life. We no longer had bad breath either.

Please do not try this at home. Even though it smells very much like lemons and fresh mint, Torino is not a delicious scent but a clean one.
The herbs are noticeable in the background, but mint is the strongest. I can’t pick up anything else as the musk wraps me in a cozy towel.
A beautiful scent, ageless for anyone who wants to smell pleasant, fresh, and well-groomed even in high temperatures, without having eaten thyme. It exudes a friendly, uncomplicated lightness, just like a holiday flirt. However, I would give it a pass for marriage, as it lacks a certain depth, and I much prefer autumn.