When all things are truly considered, there are actually very few roses that merit a featured position in any mixed garden. That's quite a sad admission after so many centuries of fervent breeding and distribution. Our Zone 9 location offers no earthly challenges to any damn rose; no gophers, exotic attack beetles, frost heaving, desert summers or blue-titty blizzards- nothing. And yet, when browsing my photo files for new review candidates I'm always struck both by the number of plants we've consigned to steamy decay on our half-sentient pile and the many that have simply popped their simpering clogs for no particular reason.
 | Unless you're prepared to endlessly spray and surfeit them, roses often suck. Which is why I always pay attention when one stands out, aesthetically and constitutionally. Chartreuse de Parme is just such a paragon, a classic, high-end hybrid tea that is both aristocratic and tough; a veritable dragon in the garden. The magenta-averse may be getting the vapours at this point because CdP is the kween of the naughtily vibrant blue-pinks and you may associate this colour with bad taste; I would agree that it can be horrific in the wrong situ, but just breathe now and remember that some things are more than the sum of their parts. Chartreuse de Parme was born in 1996 in the famous Delbard nursery. Those people know what the fuck they are doing. In a previous review I insisted one should choose a rose with at least a couple of well-known stars in their genetic background, but then CdP comes along with a bonkers ancestry to poop all over that cosy theory. You won't be shocked to discover one of its parents is the very lovely Nuit d'Orient, or, as we say down here while scratching our balls, Big Purple, a highly-perfumed stunner that only made it a few years in our yard. The blooms and rich fragrance are reminiscent of that pretty little fella, if more classically pink. |
| Ancestry-wise, the deep red Charles Mallerin and pink Yves Piaget have their own striking qualities but the grandparent Peace is probably the main source of CdP's best bits, given that few of its other antecedents are spectacularly distinguished. This rose somehow squeezed every last drop of greatness from that Mendelian lottery. Golf clap! Chartreuse de Parme is an arresting rose with a decidedly haughty carriage and a generous growth habit, standing boldly upright on stout canes with enough dark, glossy foliage to balance that pose and provide a backdrop to blooms that are held clear on lengthy and gratifyingly butch stems. Here it grows to a good 1.5 x 1m wide, well beyond the '90cm' indicated on the label, though doesn't aspire to much more so you won't need a chainsaw to keep it in check. |  |
On this anonymous rootstock it is a good doer, tolerating considerable interference from underplanting and general shovel intrusion. This is especially praiseworthy because high-quality flower producers are usually hungry, thirsty and fussy about setbacks. I don't think our CdP has ever lost a main cane or aborted a flower cycle in spite of these insults, nor have I seen it defoliate with rust or blackspot, our two main aggressors. So two thumbs up for health.
But let's face it, no one plants Chartreuse de Parme for its rude health or admirable posture. Rose fanciers are flower sluts and this one comes through with a cyclic sufficiency of tough, slightly leathery, classic tea rose blooms in an intense, hypnotic blue magenta with a slightly silvered reverse (please note the camera exaggerates this phenomenon, especially in the above and below pics). That pleasing sculptural form and glowing colour withstand rain unscathed, remaining almost supernaturally clean. This is super-important in a maritime climate. CdP is a standout cut flower both in the vase and as the star of a bouquet, lasting well and playing nice with a lot of other flowers.
You may hesitate to expect more and yet there is a definite and respectable perfume, a medium-strength old-school tearose with a bit of dusty fruit and that cool unplaceable note that is possibly unique to this class. Sawn blonde wood? Crushed leaves? Aged pot pourri? The scent lasts pretty well and can sweeten up in the vase but lacks a wee bit of silage, if I'm going to pick any nits.
Does CdP suck in any respect? Not really. It can sometimes be a bit bloom-shy in the first spring cycle for me despite full sun. There might be an extended lull between flushes, understandable given the biological cost of such quality flowers. And like many five-star prospects, Chartreuse de Parme is congenitally unsuited to sitting quietly in the landscape. It will stand out like dogs’ bollocks unless provided with similarly flamboyant companions, so don’t plant it thinking it will somehow magically calm the fuck down if you throw enough gypsophila at it. Give her red and lime euphorbias and delphiniums and those giant African lobelias to hang with. CdP's surreal circus beauty is no clown show and deserves pride of place.
Does CdP suck in any respect? Not really. It can sometimes be a bit bloom-shy in the first spring cycle for me despite full sun. There might be an extended lull between flushes, understandable given the biological cost of such quality flowers. And like many five-star prospects, Chartreuse de Parme is congenitally unsuited to sitting quietly in the landscape. It will stand out like dogs’ bollocks unless provided with similarly flamboyant companions, so don’t plant it thinking it will somehow magically calm the fuck down if you throw enough gypsophila at it. Give her red and lime euphorbias and delphiniums and those giant African lobelias to hang with. CdP's surreal circus beauty is no clown show and deserves pride of place.
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