Edelweiss
Leontopodium alpinum
Reinforces the skin barrier. Stabilises.
2025Eringer Switzerland
Brand. Site. Films. Press. Four weeks.
An alpine house, built in four weeks.
A Swiss hotel. Eighteen hundred metres above sea level. A press window already booked. Marie Claire. Le Figaro. Italian media.
Four weeks to deliver a brand.
No logo. No site. No imagery. No voice.
Only the altitude. And the order.
Plants that grow at eighteen hundred metres learn to resist.
Their language is the one we speak.
Four actives. Four defenses.
Leontopodium alpinum
Reinforces the skin barrier. Stabilises.
Helichrysum italicum
Supports regeneration. Holds the line against time.
Ganoderma lucidum
Awakens vitality. Brings back the glow.
Crithmum maritimum
Encourages natural oxygenation. Lets the skin breathe.
Four lead. Eleven walk behind them. Each one earned its place at altitude — chosen for what it does, named for what it is.
Leontopodium alpinum
Holds the barrier of the skin.
Ganoderma lucidum
Wakes the glow back up.
Aloe barbadensis
Soothes. Quenches.
Helichrysum italicum
Keeps the line against time.
Persea americana
Nourishes, deep down.
Punica granatum
An antioxidant signal.
Paeonia officinalis
Calms the surface.
Vitis vinifera
Tones the network underneath.
Echinacea purpurea
Strengthens the defence.
Carica papaya
Polishes the texture.
Acmella oleracea
Softens expression lines.
Crithmum maritimum
Lets the skin breathe.
Simmondsia chinensis
Speaks the skin's own language.
Camellia sinensis
Holds the line against fatigue.
Fucus vesiculosus
Carries the sea into the cream.
Every formula begins here.
Logo, palette, voice, type. Everything from the first letter to the last comma.
A bespoke showcase site, paired with a boutique built like a Bahnhofstrasse window. Two languages, one ritual. Each shelf a chapter — eight rooms, from hydration to the gift-set theatre.
Twenty-five filmed portraits — one for each product. A press film at four thousand strokes wide, opening the November window. A house film for the doorway, another for the gift boxes.
A letter to be opened — not a campaign. And a quiet machine, listening behind the scenes.
Four balconies. A single voice.
A library of takes — shot without a set, sent without a stage.
Each morning, a new scene. Written, framed, posted, gone before noon.
Black skin. Asian skin. European skin.
Mature skin. Young skin. The hands of a mother.
Each mirror finds its reflection — by design, never by accident.
A magazine breathes through its grammar. Two faces of letters. Two families of ink. A single weather across every page of the house.
The editorial face
Aa
The plants speak, the cover listens.
A slow serif, kept for the moments that matter — the cover, the manifesto, the name of every plant. It carries the weight of the paper edition without ever being printed.
The reading face
Aa
The reader holds the page, the page holds nothing back.
A clean sans, built for the body of every page. Lucid at small sizes. Holds its breath, so the words are seen and not the type.
Gold, in ten hours of the day
Forest, in ten depths
A palette of soft instructions, repeated across every shelf.
Even the cover film waits on a still frame first, so the page never holds the reader on a black square. The first image draws before the rest of the room.
Each section moves alone. Nothing thrashes the others. The scroll feels like turning a page in a fine magazine — light, deliberate, never sticky.
Letters arrive without flicker. Cards remember their place. The grid never shifts under the cursor.
If the reader prefers stillness, the page obliges. The animations grow quiet. The curtains stop swinging.
French. English. Each chosen by the path the reader takes, never by a popup at the door.
A perfect mark from the public watchman. Not for the cover. For the gears beneath it.
Speed, here, is a form of respect.
Eight shelves. Twenty products. Two languages. One ritual, repeated.
Eight rooms. Hydration. Anti-age. Cleansing. Body. Lips. Eyes. Specialty care. Gift sets. Each shelf reads like a chapter heading.
Each product reads like a card from a tasting menu — the plant, the gesture, the way it works on the skin. A guide rolled into the catalogue, not an upsell.
Two collector sets. Each opens like a small theatre — the lid lifts, the products step forward, the names of the plants take their turn.
The letter waits. The basket waits. Nothing nudges. Nothing pushes.
The customer leaves. The site remembers. The page reopens exactly where it was put down.
A boutique built like a Bahnhofstrasse window — but open from any country, at any hour.
— DAY FOURTEEN —
The first sale comes in.
The site is not yet public.
The official opening is still two weeks away.
Marie Claire Switzerland came knocking.
Inbound.
— FOLLOWERS · ORGANIC —
Reached in the weeks after launch.
No paid push. No influencer fee.
The account grew because the content earned the scroll.
Quietly. Daily.
Four weeks.
One house.
A first sale before the doors opened.
— Delivered November 2025 —
A brand. A site. A voice. All in four weeks.
Stefan Dacey · Geneva · 2025
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