Citrus

Italian citron smells like the thick-skinned lemon's sophisticated older sibling. Imagine biting into a perfectly ripe Femminello or Sfusato—that initial burst of bright, almost honeyed citrus with a distinctive creamy undertone that's far less acidic than ordinary lemon. There's a waxy, almost perfumed quality reminiscent of the pith and rind, with subtle floral whispers and a faint herbal earthiness. It's citrus that feels luxurious rather than sharp—less "squeezed juice" and more "candied peel steeped in honey."

Floral

Orange blossom smells like wedding day innocence—delicate, honeyed, and sweetly intoxicating. Imagine stepping into a Mediterranean grove where bitter orange trees are in full bloom: there's a creamy, almost waxy floral sweetness reminiscent of jasmine, but airier and less heady. It carries subtle citrus whispers (the ghost of orange peel) beneath layers of creamy butter and almond milk. There's something both ethereal and sensual about it—less heavy than gardenia, more refined than rose, with a green, slightly bitter edge that keeps it from being cloying.