Triple Tea 三重茶
Fragrance notes
Character
It opens with a brisk slap of lemongrass and mint, green tea leaves crushed between fingers, a fleck of mate’s bitter earth. The heart steeps deeper: black tea and jasmine twine around a powdery violet, the florals softening the tannic edge. Then the drydown arrives like a warm ceramic cup left too long on the table, where brown sugar dissolves into oolong and a whisper of cedar smoke curls through papyrus. The whole thing feels like a single, specific image: a bamboo tray on a sun-bleached porch, condensation beading on a glass of iced tea you’re too polite to chug.
It’s a transparent scent, deliberately restrained, more an aromatic tea ritual than a heavy perfume. The sweetness is real but shy, the greenness sharp then gone. On skin it fades fast — longevity barely crests three hours, and sillage hovers like a secret you’ve already forgotten. That’s the honest weakness: this is a morning whisper, not an evening announcement.
It suits anyone who wants a crisp, meditative lift for spring or a humid summer afternoon, especially if you work from home and can reapply. Skip it if you demand presence or your skin eats volatile notes. Wear it to a quiet bookstore, a tea ceremony, or a first date that should feel effortless. It won’t linger on your sleeve, but it might linger in someone’s memory. ☕🍃
Smells similar
Built from the same materials — ranked by how unusual the shared notes are, not by how many.
