SMELLS LIKE OLD LADY!
She still has all her faculties.
Except for her sense of smell.
Smell is one of the things that goes downhill fast. Just ask the manufacturers of Limburger cheese, they can't smell (or they would NOT be committing their horrid crime against humanity).
In consequence of her nose weakening so, she now wears a perfume that is, well, shall we say, somewhat... unsuitable (though it is very old-fashioned).
A bit soapy. A bit too sweet and floral. A bit like how a root-beer float tastes.
A perfume made with Tonquin oil.
Tonquin oil comes from a tropical tree with sweet pungent seeds that are used for adding scent or flavour to pomades, candies, and tobacco.
[Is the light going off in your head now? Do you see where this is leading? I lured you in with the provocative title, and now, having got you where I want you, I am going to gibber on at length about pipe tobacco.]
Manufactured in Kendall, Cumbria, England, by Samuel Gawith & Co. Ltd.
Yes, it really does smell like a sweet little old lady. But it smokes much better than she would, even if desiccated, de-veined, fermented, cured, pressed, steamed, and sliced into dark fibrous sheets. It is a full flavoured yet relatively smooth smoke, that finishes surprisingly fast for a matured Virginia. Not too sweet. Tangy and complex to the tongue, round and pleasant to the nose.
Despite the pleasing aroma, Savage Kitten still forces me to smoke it in the kitchen near the open window with the door closed - she does not appreciate old women.
I expect that in another thirty years she won't mind my smoking it in the parlor - she may smell like that herself then.
Oddly, the fragrance does not particularly adhere to the pipe, as subsequent bowls of McClellands flake tobacco are scarcely influenced. Bowls of Dunhill's Durbar mixture, or Standard Mixture Medium, a few days later, will taste no different than usual. In this it is entirely dissimilar to such rancid abortions as Troost, Clan, Cherry-Vanilla Hodgepodge, or any other dreck-muck-sludge compounds much recommended by idiots and misguided sweet funk aficionados.
It is far better tobacco than anything the Dutch or Danes produce, a truly excellent compound, and well worth experiencing. It takes me about a year to go through a tin, and if it dries out during that time I remoisten it with a little whiskey. The liquor sparks up the fragrance and melds the flavour-components. At times I will hold the tin up to my nose merely to inhale deeply. Sheer heaven.
You might not like it; not everyone does.
[Dark, pressed, and dizzy.]
I've also been smoking McClellands Blackwoods Flake, Dark Star, and Virginia No. 24 of an evening. All are up to the usual high standards of McClellands, and being Virginias, they often do not alert Savage Kitten to their smoke until I've nearly finished the bowl. Unlike Oriental mixtures, Virginias are stealth tobaccos. The Blackwoods Flake is easier to smoke than the Dark Star, which pretty much knocks me sideways. A fine product.
[Beware of bears.]
The Dunhill Durbar Mixture and the Standard Mixture Medium have too much Turkish and Latakia to pass unnoticed. I seldom smoke them in the house, even near the open window. Savage Kitten, who does not drink or smoke, describes them as noxious death-weed, and has threatened to emasculate me if her teddy-bear ends up smelling like barbecue because of them.
The bear is the oldest roomy, and apparently outranks me. Flaming Hell will burst forth on earth if the bear should smell of smoke.
I am far too fond of the bear to even think of causing that eventuality.
The bear at present smells warm and fuzzy, and very comforting.
Rather like a sweet little old lady.
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