Green

Grass in fragrance captures that precise moment after you've mowed the lawn—a bright, slightly peppery greenness tinged with something almost mineral and earthy. It's the smell of crushed stems releasing their juices, verdant and alive, with a subtle anise-like warmth underneath. There's a clean, slightly watery quality, reminiscent of damp grass on a spring morning. It's herbaceous without being medicinal, and somehow both delicate and assertively present—the olfactory equivalent of green itself.

Woody

Musk is the scent of warmth itself—imagine the gentle heat radiating from skin after exercise, mingled with soft suede and a whisper of vanilla. It's deeply intimate rather than floral or sharp; think of wrapping yourself in a cashmere blanket warmed by the sun, with a faint animalic undertone that's almost imperceptible. Pure musk has a powdery, almost imperceptible sweetness, like the inside of a lover's wrist or the comfort of well-loved fabric. It doesn't announce itself boldly; instead, it envelops and lingers on your skin like a second layer.