Two things are intrinsic to my soul: 1) I love hydrating and 2) I will try literally anything at Southern California luxe-hippie grocery store Erewhon. So when I heard the latest Erewhon smoothie bar creation was a collaboration with shower filter brand Jolie on a “luxury herbal tonic” called Sacred Water that retailed for the very, very normal price of $12 a cup, I insisted to Vogue Senior Beauty and Wellness Editor Margaux Anbouba that I absolutely had to try it.
My original plan was to taste-test Erewhon’s Sacred Water alongside a glass of tap water—which, granted, does tend to come out brown in my Hollywood apartment when I’ve been traveling and haven’t turned on the tap for a while…L.A. glamour, baby!—and a bottle of Evian, which has long served as my guilty pleasure when I’m hungover and filling my gas tank and just need to run into 7-11 and indulge in a plastic bottle. (I promise I usually use my refillable Stanley cup, but as no less a wellness authority than Gwyneth Paltrow once said, “life is about finding the balance between cigarettes and tofu,” right?)
Unfortunately, once I got home with my various waters and commandeered one of my neighbors to create a blind taste test for me in unlabeled Dixie cups “for my job” (at which point he asked me in confusion, “Sorry…what do you do for work?” Fair enough, Mike!), I realized a little too late that it would be somewhat obvious which cup contained which water. Even if I could confuse Evian for tap, the Erewhon Sacred Water was of a noticeably different, amber-ish hue:
With that brilliant plan thwarted, I knocked back my glass of tap water purely for the love of the game, stuck the Evian in the fridge to finish after tomorrow’s hike, and was left solely with the Sacred Water, which glowed threateningly at me in the dim light of my studio. I took a deep sip and instantly regretted it, coughing and retching at the unexpected sweetness.
From the drink’s color, I’d unconsciously expected something vaguely akin to the water found in the fresh coconuts you can buy on the side of the PCH for a few dollars a pop (one of the greatest fringe benefits of driving back from the beach in rush-hour traffic, IMO), but it tasted more honeyed and cloying…a little bit like apple juice steeped with cinnamon and served to you in a copper cup by an extremely limber and spiritually inclined yoga teacher.
