The Dreamy Drink of The Dandies

What could possibly be the most dangerous drink in the history of the world? One that drove artists mad and made people stop work? Picture yourself sitting in a dimly lit Parisian café, with drapes of velvet framing the street ahead. A thin glass on the table before you, shimmering green like a jewel. A sugar cube perched atop a slotted spoon, with a slow drip of ice-cold water, releasing a milky swirl; an opalescent cloud unfurling. A ritual. An invitation. A performance. Welcome to the dreamy drink of the dandies, Absinthe: of poets, of artists, of rebellion.

Image on the left: Painting La Muse Verde, Albert Maignan, 1895 (Wikimedia Commons).

This slightly disturbing green drink originated in Switzerland in the late 18th century, and so Absinthe quickly became a fan favourite, especially beloved amongst the French. In the 19th century, indulgence became an art form of its own; one where Absinthe was the ultimate muse.

More than just a drink, Absinthe was an elixir, whispered about on the streets and in salons. It wasn’t just consumed, it was experienced. A sip of the Green Fairy (La Fée Verte), or in other words, Absinthe, wasn’t just about taste; it was about transformation. 

Eric Litton, 18 March 2006 (Wikimedia Commons).

The secret of this ‘trippy’ drink lay in one very special ingredient: Thujone. This herb, besides at Absinthe’s heart, is found in wormwood, a herbaceous plant, believed to unlock the mind and sharpen the senses, and perhaps, just perhaps, lead to hallucinations.

A muse in liquid form, igniting creativity and fuelling the fever dreams of figures such as Oscar Wilde and Vincent Van Gogh. The drink of rebellion, non-conformity, and artistic abandon. A drink so wicked, that it even got itself banned.

Like with most things, with genius came scandal. People began to claim that the Green Fairy had a dark side; it didn’t just bring inspiration, it brought madness.

Stories of delusions fuelled by Absinthe began to spread like wildfire. The most infamous case was that of Jean Lanfray (a Swiss labourer), who, in 1905, after consuming excessive amounts of Absinthe (along with copious amounts of brandy and wine), murdered his wife and children.

This tragic event acted as a catalyst for the anti-Absinthe movement, and the drink was blamed for a myriad of societal issues. From factory workers indulging in Absinthe during their breaks and failing to return to work, to fueling overall laziness and corruption, Absinthe’s reputation saw a steep decline in the blink of an eye.

The drink was demonised and banned in country after country, and so, the Dandies’ drink of choice, ironically, also became a relic, locked away in the pages of history. 

Jeff Nelson, 26 July 2010 (Wikimedia Commons).

Despite the controversies surrounding it, the Green Fairy never truly left. Absinthe still exists today, but the version of it found in contemporary society is a softened shadow of its former self.

The Thujone, now, is either absent or present in such small amounts that no one’s losing an ear over it. The ritual, however, remains untouched. The delicate trickle of ice-cold water over the sugar, the transformation from emerald to cloudy white, the slow, liberating sip.

But true decadence never dies. Absinthe is still recognized as the dandy’s drink of choice; a symbol of mystery, elegance, and artistic indulgence. The modern-day dandies, like those before, honour and savour the ritual – the slow drip of water, the swirling transformation, and of course, the first sip of inspiration.

For them, Absinthe isn’t just a drink; it’s an identity. A soft act of rebellion, a toast to non-conformists, to eternal aesthete. And so, the Green Fairy lives on, dancing through thin glasses, forever entwined with all things dandy; with those who refuse to be just ordinary.

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