A Cup of Tea in the Verandah

[doomsday_disco]

Whilst I was residing at Maulmain I saw a ghost with my own eyes in broad daylight, of which I could make an affidavit. I had an old schoolfellow, who was afterwards a college friend, with whom I had lived in the closest intimacy. Years, however, had passed away without our seeing each other. One morning I had just got out of bed, and was dressing myself, when suddenly my old friend entered the room. I greeted him warmly, told him to call for a cup of tea in the verandah, and promised to be with him immediately. I dressed myself in all haste, and went out into the verandah, but found no one there. I could not believe my eyes. I called to the sentry, who was posted at the front of the house, but he had seen no strange gentlemen that morning, The servants also declared that no such person had entered the house. I was certain I had seen my friend. I was not thinking about him at the time : yet I was not taken by surprise, as steamers and other vessel were frequently arriving at Maulmain. A fortnight afterwards, news arrived that he had died, six hundred miles off, almost the very time I saw him at Maulmain. It is useless to comment upon this story. To this day I have never doubted that I really saw the ghost of my deceased friend.

 

Banbury Advertiser, 18 July 1878

 

A fragrance steeped in wistful melancholy and the ache of near-forgotten longing. Black tea and bergamot shimmer in the glow of sunlit amber as cypress boughs cast lingering shadows. The heart blooms softly with jasmine sambac and tender orris.

[ghoulnextdoor]

A single bloom emerges from craggy castle walls like a long-lost, long-gone friend impossibly appearing in morning light - its petals glowing rosy with the same translucent warmth as sunbeams through stained glass. The stone beneath holds secrets in its tea-stained shadows, cool and tannic as bitter centuries of words unsaid, feelings unreturned. Memory blooms here, unbearably delicate yet persistent and softly strangling as ivy, reaching through time toward a cup that was never filled.

[Assimbya]

This scent feels very distinctively Victorian to me - there's something formal, dry, and contained, which absolutely fits the odd propriety of inviting a ghost for a cup of tea. On me it's predominantly a jasmine earl grey tea, light on the bergamot, with some subtle wood from the cypress and a hint of amber like a dusty sunbeam. Both the jasmine and the tea are quite sharp notes, with the jasmine feeling almost more herbal than floral. I cannot discern the orris, though it's a note I'm not all that familiar with. 

 

This is pleasant and elegant, but the dry sharpness of it doesn't quite win my heart. I tend to amplify sharp/astringent notes, so possibly it would be a mellower scent on someone with different skin chemistry. As it is, I am glad to have my decant and expect I will use it, but it's my favorite jasmine and I won't need a bottle of it.

[gentle-twig]

On me this opens with amber, heady jasmine, and sharp cypress. Gradually, the bergamot comes forward to unify what at first seems like an unlikely combination of notes into a beautiful, indeed wistful, bittersweet whole. In the first hour this is very much a bergamot fragrance to me, and it’s interesting to see an often cheerful note taken in a more melancholic direction. The cypress disappears or else is indistinguishable from the tart/bitter aspect of bergamot. The jasmine sambac (which I buy although the effect is almost like grandiflorum) is present but just enough to emit a brooding sigh. The amber lends just enough vanillic warmth to lend the whole thing some body.

   Midway through the first hour I start to get the black tea, which here reads as somewhat tannic and yet not as dense as in some other blends with the note, where I find it can exhibit an almost chewy malty sweetness. Here, it has a refreshing fluidity to it and somehow helps the composition flow out from that magnetic bergamot accord that dominates the early stages of the scent. 

   After the first hour the amber becomes more dominant and I worry it will take over, but somehow the bergamot, cypress, and tea are all present through the drydown. Oddly I never get orris, I wonder if it will come out with age. 

   This is really exquisite. I could see people of all genders wearing this but I’m delighted by the certified bachelor or even male diva quality this has. I don’t necessarily see myself buying a bottle because I’m just not sure how it would fit into my wardrobe, but if you enjoy the notes here, don’t hesitate.