Fresh

Acridity is sharp, almost aggressive freshness—imagine biting into unripe citrus peel or the piercing green snap of crushed grass after rain. It's not sweet or juicy; instead, it carries a slight metallic, almost peppery bite that catches the back of your throat pleasantly. Think of walking through a garden where herbs have just been bruised underfoot, releasing that raw, almost astringent green volatility. It's confrontational in the best way: bracing rather than comforting.

Citrus

Bergamot smells like someone's just peeled a ripe orange in bright morning sunlight—that initial burst of citrus sweetness combined with something distinctly floral and almost tea-like. It's lighter and more delicate than lemon or grapefruit, with a subtle bittersweet edge and a powdery, slightly herbaceous undertone that lingers. Imagine Earl Grey tea without the tannins, mixed with candied orange peel and a whisper of honeyed florals. It's simultaneously fresh and warm, crisp yet creamy.