Christine Nagel, creative director of olfactory creation at Hermès, was afraid of horses. What a paradox, given that this was the house’s first client. However, one day she met Ryan and became his friend, so much so that she decided to dedicate a fragrance to him and his world. She began working to bottle the atmosphere of a paddock, with its botanical and woody amber notes, so difficult to break down precisely. That scent had to smell like horse, straw, hay, barley, oats, straps, and saddles nourished with ointments. And of course, manure. While making the perfume, she gave it a code name, Crottin Délicieux, which translates as Delicious Manure, because Nagel thinks there is nothing wrong with that smell. Hermès allowed this olfactory nonsense because they trusted her talent. That said, when it was ready, they changed the name: they called it Paddock. It is sold only a few days a year: those during the Saut Hermès, an equestrian competition held every March at the Grand Palais in Paris. I attended once and remember it every week.
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Only Hermès, a brand that does not have a marketing department, can afford such wild actions. Freedom is for those who have nothing or for those who have a lot. Most of us live and work in mediocrity, so free, as in truly free, we are not. The only thing we can say is, from time to time, “no.” That is our sovereignty. We find it hard to say that word, so short and easy: n.o. And lives and brands are built with nos, with what we let go. I was in Florence a few days ago and decided that, instead of visiting the Palazzo Pitti, I was going to wrap myself in salt like a sea bass in the hotel spa. I was weak and fragile from adult life and the aftermath of an eternal cold. I listened to my body, because if I have an owner, it is him. I also decided to skip the visit to the Duomo to go try perfumes at Campomarzio 70, Olfattorio, Invicta Firenze, and to buy plasters at the city’s historic pharmacies. Brunelleschi will forgive me. That trip was magnificent because it was full of “nos.”
How hard it is to be yourself day after day. Now we all want to dress like Carolyn Bessette without thinking that, to do so, you have to live in 1990s New York, work at Calvin Klein, kiss a Kennedy, and have an expensive blonde mane. “You don’t have your own style, you only have wifi,” I read in And another thing, the newsletter by Shenea Walker. I wonder how we would dress, do our makeup, and style our hair if our internet connection were taken away. We are in the middle of awards season and I like to review past ceremonies, when all the stars were different. In 2026 everyone is handsome, therefore, no one is: widespread beauty anesthetizes. I see Demi Moore at 63, younger than when her hands were stained with mud in Ghost, and the first thing I think is: how much sacrifice, how few nos. It is and isn’t like that: she is also being free and sovereign. Freedom is hard work. Cosmetics need to be explained: when should you apply eye contour? Does serum work better at night or during the day? A cosmetic without an instruction manual is a failure. Another matter is that, knowing the rules, we disobey them, but guide us, oh, cosmetic industry, take us by the hand, for we are quite helpless in this world already. Creative freedom also overwhelms me. If someone says to me: “Write about whatever you want,” I start to cry. Give me a topic, characters, and a deadline. Then I roll up my sleeves, take a sip of coffee, open Word, and try to type something worthy.