The perfect circumstance for IVRY to glide seamlessly into your ears is underneath a glistening disco ball, drenched fully in lit dry ice, while emerging from a crushed velvet sofa from the back of a club. You’re likely bathed in different types of silk and or cashmere garments. Perhaps a satin turtleneck. Certainly some gator skin. An uncomfortably large rope gold chain rests steadily on your breast. Everyone else in the club was unaware of your presence, secluded in the plumes of dry ice exhaust, that linger on you momentarily as you effortlessly float to the dance floor. It’s undetermined if they are more mystified by your presence, that they are now aware of, or the existence of a crushed velvet sofa. Either way it is beyond crucial.
The smoothness of IVRY is unrivaled. It’s a glass of 25 year Macallan. A perfectly vintaged saison. Its the slow motion cascading Carmel in the twix commercials. A chinchilla that took a dust bath in cotton candy threads. The consistency of T1000 from Terminator 2 when it interacts with fire. It has notes of a house party in the mid to late 90’s where everyone has achieved a perfect buzz and has abandoned any self awareness. Lending themselves wholly to the joy of the music and the accompanying bad dance moves. Harmony.Flow.Delivery. Drop the top and enjoy.