Citrus

Nectarine smells like the fuzzy skin of a sun-warmed stone fruit—sweet but not cloying, with a delicate floral whisper beneath. Imagine biting into a ripe nectarine on a summer afternoon: there's that juicy, peachy sweetness with subtle almond notes, a touch of white flowers, and an almost creamy texture to the aroma. It's softer and more refined than a sharp citrus, lacking the sharp bergamot bite, instead offering a gentle, edible warmth that feels intimate rather than bright.

Green

Oakmoss smells like standing in an ancient forest after rain—earthy, slightly bitter, with a dry, woody undertone reminiscent of damp bark and lichen-covered stones. There's a faint greenness to it, almost herbaceous, mixed with something mineral and slightly musty, like opening a wooden chest that's been sealed for years. It's not fresh or sharp; rather, it's contemplative and deeply grounded, with whispers of leather and tea leaves underneath.