Berdoues
Berdoues
349 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The lemon strikes first with a clean, Earl Grey-like precision—zesty but not sweet, with an almost petitgrain-like green edge that immediately sets up the tea narrative. There's already a whisper of that peppery spice underneath, warming the citrus and preventing it from reading as purely cologne-fresh.
The Assam tea blooms fully now, revealing its malty, slightly tannic character with that distinctive hay-like dryness of actual black tea leaves. The lemon recedes to a supporting role, whilst the sandalwood begins its slow creep upward, adding a soft, woody creaminess that mimics milk without literal sweetness.
You're left with sandalwood's gentle embrace, still carrying ghostly impressions of tea leaves and that lingering spiced warmth. It's a skin scent now, intimate and comforting—like the scent of wooden tea caddies and the memory of citrus peel dried on the radiator.
Berdoues has bottled the steam rising from a proper cup of Assam, and Jennifer Riley's composition doesn't shy away from the tannic, slightly astringent character that makes black tea so compelling. The French lemon here isn't a screaming citrus explosion—it behaves more like the bergamot in Earl Grey, cutting through with a precise, almost Earl Grey-adjacent brightness that immediately signals 'tea service' rather than 'lemon tart'. What makes this work is how the Indian tea note occupies the heart with an earthy, malty depth that references actual Assam leaves—not the sweetened chai nonsense you find in so many tea fragrances. There's a dusty, hay-like quality that speaks to dried leaves in a tin, whilst the spice accord adds a peppery warmth without veering into obvious cardamom territory. The Mysore sandalwood provides a creamy, subtly austere backdrop that echoes the milkiness often added to strong breakfast tea, though this reads more as sandalwood's natural lactonic softness than deliberate cream. This is for the person who drinks their tea seriously, who understands that tea itself is aromatic and complex without adornment. It's refined but not precious, intellectual but not cold—perfect for those moments when you want something quietly sophisticated, like working in a wood-panelled library whilst rain drums against the windows. The woody-citrus framework keeps it unisex and wearable, though it leans slightly masculine in its restraint.
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3.5/5 (167)