The Bugatti Veyron Fbg par Hermès is a creature of paradox. No sooner has it bolted like a zebra, than it slows to a halt at the first zebra crossing. A strange feeling steals over you in time.

A sense of a different order of things. Speed has set out to prove her worth, her ability to devour distances, to tear through the kilometres and toss them behind. Now, she invites a more intimate knowledge, posing, turning, arching at the touch of your hand. Speed often likes to preach by the opposite example. Like a saddle-stitcher crafting an eagerly-awaited order, she'll keep you waiting expectantly, taking things slowly, the better to fly forth when the moment comes. Like fiery horses that toss their heads and paw the ground, then race to the horizon. Speed is the daughter of impatience.

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