Lemon and mint, with some bergamot and the green tea mate - I get them all in one swoop right at the start. In spite of the name of this creation, the tea is in the background actually, not a lemon tea but a lemon-bergamot drink with a bit of tea.
In tea the the green tea is very discreet in me, with some elements of a very weak mate too; the latter characterised by just a whiff of transient smokiness.
Throughout the second half of this olfactory sojourn a woodsy background note develops; a touch of cedar but mainly very nonspecific, with a slightly sweetish and creamy undertone of a very weak tonka in it.
I get moderate sillage, good projection and, whilst the actual tea only lasts for about three hours, the overall longevity is about eight hours on me.
A nice idea, this scent for cooler summer days, but too generic to make it to a positive score. 2.75/5
Thé pour un Été opens with a very comfortable citrus scent then moves to a combination of green tea and jasmin. The jasmin has a slightly smokey earthy vibe like the real ones. The drydown is a gentle sweet mint scent on me. A pleasant and soothing fragrance. However, it doesn't stay long on me. The tea and jasmin phase has a soft sillage and lasts about 2 or 3 hours max then comes the drydown extremely close to skin. To smell it at this time I have no choice but stick my nose on my arm. I thus suggest testing before you buy to see if it lasts on you, though I think there are still other intereting and cheaper green tea scents out there.
The first whiff is of Bvlgari Eau Parfumee Au The Vert, a wardrobe staple of mine. Then sallies in a clean, whispery little jasmine note. After a few minutes, the jasmine warms and becomes the focal point; the scent becoming a Jasmine Tea scent, rather than a green tea and jasmine scent. I am now sitting in the Drake Hotel near the edge of a bubbly fountain, sipping my unstrained jasmine tea. The jasmine goes slightly grapey here, but it somehow never smells boiled. If I press my nose directly to it, I can almost feel the velvet rubber of petals.
But of all the little magic tricks played out by this deft little dancer, the one that leaves me stunned is the fact that ever since I sprayed it, my skin feels cool and dewy, and I could swear someone left a window open somewhere in the house, letting in some of that brisk early March air.
I don't understand it, but I know genius when I smell it.
Comes on like an animal shelter: I smell disinfectant, wet fur, and canned cat food - horrifying. Big shame, I really wanted to like this one. It quickly becomes a cheap-smelling but pleasant enough jasmine/white floral that I can barely smell even when I cram my nose in my wrists until it disappears completely around three hours in. Longevity and projection are just as poor on fabric. Imperial Tea By Kilian has a similar concept and smells divine but is a lot pricier.
Bergamot, green tea, cedarwood - yes, for openers! However, where is the jasmine in the note tree? The center around which the three other notes swirl and finally succumb to, worshipping at its feet?
Very very light composition, or as Turin puts it a "quiet jasmine." For me, however, it is too quiet. The tea and bergamot disappear quickly, leaving the non-invasive cedar wood to somehow keep the extremely light jasmine from disappearing altogether.
Don't be fooled, this is not a strong jasmine, such as one finds in Olene and A La Nuit. This is so light that it almost defies detection.
I imagine it needs to meld with a particular flesh in order to be at its best. Turin thinks it might be good for a man, but male flesh will not warm and diffuse this jasmine as will a woman's.