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.

Green

Tomato leaf smells like brushing your hand across a tomato plant on a warm summer afternoon—green, slightly bitter, with an almost peppery sharpness. It's herbaceous and slightly dusty, reminiscent of crushed basil mixed with fresh grass clippings and a whisper of savoury earthiness. There's something almost green-petroleum about it, slightly metallic and cooling, like the smell of broken stems releasing volatile oils. It's distinctly *alive* rather than sweet.