There’s a teahouse in Beijing where the server pours the first steep over a clay frog, and the whole room smells like leaves waking up. Triple Tea bottles that moment — not the ceremony, but the silence between pours. It opens with the bright, herbaceous bite of fresh green tea, mint, and lemongrass, like cold-brew steeping on a summer counter. Then roasted black tea and jasmine take over, warm and familiar as opening a tin you’ve been saving, before brown sugar and Wuyi oolong from Fujian settle into dry papyrus — bitter, sweet, mellow, all three classical qualities of Chinese tea in a single arc.
This is a fragrance for slow mornings and slower afternoons. For the person who brews loose-leaf, owns one very good teapot, and doesn’t mind if their perfume stays close to skin. Triple Tea doesn’t project across a room — it leans in, the way a good conversation does. EDP. ~5–7 hours. Intimate, deliberate, unforgettable to those close enough to catch it.
The real thing, from the source — exactly as perfumers Jérôme Epinette and David Huang intended.
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