Victorian teahouse - Serge Lutens' Five O' Clock Au Gingembre

First, let me offer you all a "Welcome back!" I hope you all enjoyed your Memorial Day weekend. I must say that having it early has disoriented me a bit, and I'm left wondering what in the world is wrong with the duration of May. I suppose the seesaw temperature in New York, in all its beautiful wet fluctuations, is part of the disorientation.

Because of the weather, the smells and details of Five O' Clock Au Gingembre have been particularly intriguing. When I smelled it on a strip and on my skin a few weeks ago, on a particularly warm day, all I could smell was lemon shortbread dunked in earl grey, with its signature bergamot. On another person, the spiciness of the ginger was more pronounced, but even he had to admit that it was incredibly lemony on the strip. Then, sampling a few days later on a colder, rainy day, I smelled tender firesmoke and ginger tea - no lemon, no bergamot (phew!). Yet again a few days later, the lemon, ginger and shortbread came through clearly, but no smoke and no tea. Now, sitting here slightly flushed and sweaty from the exertion of excessive laundry, it smells very distinctly like what my grandfather used to wear in the 70s - Muelhen's 4711 over Maurer and Wirtz's Tabac Original aftershave.

Whoa.

It's because of this that I cannot offer much of a good review of this scent. What I can do, however, is make an odd parallel. If Lutens and Sheldrake were after something that evoked teatime, it would have to be in an old manor house in the Victorian era, when the people were somewhat unwashed and rubbed lemon on their skin to keep it pale; when the houses always smelled of woodsmoke no matter how many windows were opened; when the English fascination with flavors from around the world was growing and intense. Walk through the manor to the back porch and watch the sunset; everyone will be polite as you sip and enjoy.

Happy pre-June. I wish you all a balmy summer. ;)