top shelf

hands quake at the very mention of its lesser known name. “Russisch Thee” says the stranger in black trousers and scruff. some twenty stairs must be ascended, past the usual bottles of cremes and oils. this creatures lair is on the edge of a dusty wooden shelf and reserved only for those hell bent on the pleasures gained through less clothing. far from the eyes of those not willing to inflict pain.

the smell of cinnamon, citrus and clove wafts through the halls like a stately gentleman long since deceased.

“here you are sir” the shop keeper says as he hands the stranger his jar and steps back. the dark orange container topped in solidified petrol encases all he’ll need to serve his will. within that jar lay fire, oil and truth. once rubbed into the skin the stranger no longer despises cold, rain or wind. they all feel the same. they feel good. they fuel the spirits deep in the gut of foul weather.

the stranger smiles as if he can’t wait to unleash his fury on the town. the shop keeper remembers that smile. he’s only seen it on a few other men. men who have come and gone. men who have made legends from two wheels, steel and leather. men who’s names are not spoken save to recall dark times when misery and rain poured down from the clouds like a dam spilling it’s excess on the small towns below. for now, their names weep from the mashed pulp and ink spread about heavy tables for all to see.

the aftermath he will call victory, others will call it defeat. what’s left on the stranger is a fine coating of tar and silt, the tired remnants of roads created to serve the rider.

many will ask why his legs shine so bright in the darkest of weather. they will ask how - when it’s so cold he looks so comfortable.

to which the stranger replies “Russisch Thee”.

a’hem, so that was my try at telling a story. This blend of embrocation (I think pronounced Russian Tea) by Mad Alchemy, goes on smooth and shiny. It washes off with ease -I use a face soap (Clinique) which may help. It doesn’t leave you with the burn of post embrocation, just a faint reminder of what you did all day. In temperature ranges between 45 and 60 I find this particular blend to be perfect. During long intervals it gently warms up as efforts get more intense yet never sets ablaze when you stop. the smell is pleasant, although reminiscent of others and no Vitalis.

If you haven’t tried Mad Alchemy’s blend of embrocations you have to, they’re the best I’ve found. Far better than anything that comes in a stick, tube, oil or tackle box stuffed in the back of an athletic directors locker.