Hiris
Hermès (1999)

Plangent drops of iris fall like cold rain
on crumbling wood and bitter amber.

A Chopin Nocturne is played
and mourners stand around, their heads bowed.

The temperatures have finally dipped to comfortable levels after unseasonably hot May days. The breeze comes through the window and the Hiris on my skin shifts through the air like a blue apparition.

It opens cool, yet not steely, more a salve of rosy, violet-tinged carrots and powdered rhizomes of all kinds. Then, there's a beautiful "key change," as it were, a minor key resolved to major. It smells not merely of orris root but what I perceive when one were to get intimate with one of those large, ghostly, translucent bearded irises, after the rain, damp, its pendant-like pedals saturated, leaves and stems. I did just this in a garden at Acton Arboretum here in MA this past weekend. What a mysterious scent that comes from certain iris flowers themselves if one is to lean in closer. Hiris seems to capture this in its heart.

The base is a phosphorescent cedar, glowing as if foxfire, bubbled woody ionones, traces of bitter almond, saponified dried roots and bark, still cool, still calm. It isn't any wonder that Olivia Giacobetti is behind this understated genius given her many contributions to L'Artisan Parfumeur and her skill in impactful translucency.

A much friendlier Feminine Iris to my Masculine skin Vis a Vis that most opulent Xerjoff.
This, from a boy who will top anything, with Truffled Foie Gras.
The charm of this scent is it's delicate, sculptured composition and gentle season of Coriander.
The Rosy Pink Petals wrap the cool, carroty Orris.
Cedar applied with care, to offer a mild Woodiness.
Sweetened with a dash of Vanilla Sugar countered with a whiff of Dry Clean Hay.
Ambrette has this finish ala nettoyer le linge.
Yummy!

She might have one dress, but that dress is always passing and clean and tidy. She is a charming french lady hosts afternoon tea partiers with society women. It reminds me of the sunlight you can see clash though the clouds on a rainy day, the kind of light that looks almost like a clairvoyance on the sky. Earthy, elegant, delicate, powdery, clean, versatile, classic yet modern.

At first spritz there is a burst of carnation mixed with the dreamy waxy iris and the touch of neroli. The carnation abates and then the rose becomes evident as well giving her some added vibrance. The persistence of vanilla and honey keep it from staying too soapy. It's ethereal and slightly wistful but also optimistic. Like a garden of irises after heavy rain. performance is great.

Iris, carrot and coriander are the unequivocal component ms in the opening triad. The iris is delicious in its intensity and quite typical in its character; this a clean iris The carrot is well done too, and the coriander with its slightly tart touches blends in very well. This quite a unique opening.

The drydown add bundles of dry hay, combined with a rose that is rather light, a bit mundane and more in the background on me. Hints of néroli add a bit of brightness.

The iris still is going strong, and does so well into the base. Touches of a dry almond-infused vanilla and of cedarwood are present, but they are very weak compared with the earlier stages. A musky undertone owed to the ambrette seed joins in at a later sees it out until the end.

I get moderate sillage, excellent projection and six hours of longevity on my skin.

In this autumnal scent it is the first half that truly convinces, be it by the good representation of the iris, or by the original approach that is taken. The second half is less titillating, but it is crafted well always. Overall 3.5/5.

Hermes Hiris is a rival in my list of olfactory delights to Lutens' Iris Silver Mist. A blast of purely beautiful, dry, suede-like orris greets the nose on first exposure. This deepens, but slowly, with the coriander and hay notes very subtly supporting the orris. The reserved use of the cedar and almond woods gives it a slight edge, but never permits it to become bitter or off-putting.

I await the honey and vanilla dry down, but for me it never arrives. No matter, I am happy with what I have.

Orris based scents, when properly done, are entirely unisex, in my opinion. Depending on body chemistry the genre can seem cold and aloof, or warm and earthy. Hiris seems equally at home with both men and women.

As a rival to Iris Silver Mist, Hiris comes out ahead due to its very affordable price in comparison with the Lutens, and its availability since the Lutens has up until recently only been available as an import from Europe.

To summarize one of the very best iris based scents available, expertly balanced and blended and a joy to own.

I got the purple bottle version at the Hermes store in Las Vegas, the store is gorgeous, lots of wood and gorgeous scarves all around. Hiris smelled at that moment like a small pot of pansy flowers, cold & wet, including the smell of the earth in the pot. Since then, I've noticed my perception of it always changes, it's never boring, sometimes it'll smell like a hot clothing iron, most of the time it'll smell of iris and cedar, sometimes I can smell a white floral in there too. Most of the time, it will seem to disappear on me even after 3-4 serious spritzes, but later people will say I smell very good or clean, I will have surprising people burying their nose in my chest, and my clothes will smell of it the next day. It's a very stealthy scent, so it's great for the office, or being around very sensitive people.
I love it, I will definitely buy again. I only wish there was a more intense version, or products to scent layer. I think a man could wear this just fine.

As a small child our home was a poor one. My parents frequently fought about money, paying bills and the cost of shoes. I washed my hair with soap, bottled shampoo being a luxury. I love the smell of soap in the morning, which is where Hiris slots in. In my repressed, somewhat Victorian childhood it would have been lascivious for a woman to reek of perfume early in the day, but April Violets would have been okay, Hiris would have been okay too. The lovely honey drifts in later, still quite angelic and a little milk maid rosiness rounds it out. Sometimes I wonder if a little Hiris from the Hermes library made it into Apres La Mousson, they are both accused of being vegetal and I like both fragrances. Am I animal, vegetable or mineral? I guess I'm a vegetable, an Orris root I think.

The Virgin in Prayer by Giovanni Battista Salvi da Sassoferrato 1650

This is a perfect interview fragrances. Hiris smells nice, clean, and sophisticated, but it's not pretty and it's not sexy, which makes it perfect if you want to smell good in a professional sort of way. This one doesn't turn heads, but if you are the sort of person who must always wear perfume, this is a good pick for those occasionas when you need to appear professional and sophisticated without smelling too sexy or girly.

Genre: Floral

There is a refreshing transparency about Hiris that distinguishes it from other iris scents I know. It is a dry iris with a crisp green accent and a slight bitter edge. It's more rooty and rougher in texture than Iris de Nuit, Iris Poudre, or Bois d'Argent, and much less sweet than Dior Homme. On the other hand, it's far less gritty and aggressive than Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier's Iris Bleu Gris of Serge Lutens's Iris Silver Mist.

The heart of Hiris is a lovely, soft blend of earthy-yet-clean iris, diaphanous floral notes, and cool cedar. Though Hiris is marketed as a women's scent, remnants of the opening's bitter greens and the snappy cedar note make it just as easy to wear for men. There is a point midway through the development where Hiris becomes noticeably "perfumey," as rose, neroli, and vanilla bloom on the skin. Then, a bit further on, Hiris relaxes into its honeyed cedar and vanilla drydown. Very nice, and a must-try for any fan of iris scents.

This is one of my all time favorites, the one perfume that sent me off on a never ending iris quest. But I always still come back to this one, like the comfort scent that it is.

My favorite time of year to wear Hiris is actually winter. It feels like the perfect match to a morning walk at first light, as the sun is making the frost covered plants and earth sparkle and glitter. The fragrance, at first, is cold and almost sterile, but yet it already hints at the earthiness and connection soon to come.

Just like you expect yourself to do on your walk, Hiris starts to warm up, and also warm up to you - from cold and sterile introduction to a shy sharing of her natural wonders. The warming earthy rooty smell becomes soft powder coated flowers, still fresh from their frost bath. Even warmer is the hint of honey that will sometimes greet you (and sometimes not I have found!). The softess hint of wood completes the nature walk, as the last frost melts.

Hiris is soft to me, and is nearly perfect. It can serve as an introduction to iris, or it could be the end of the iris journey. It won't over power, or powder, you, but will somehow make you pay attention to it's subtle shifts and changes, offering the steady rhythm and hum of iris, iris, iris...whispered.