Citrus

Apple's scent is crisp, slightly tart, and refreshingly green—like biting into a just-picked Granny Smith on a cool autumn morning. It carries a natural sweetness balanced by a subtle astringency that tingles in your nostrils, reminiscent of apple skin rather than the flesh. There's an almost waxy, fruity brightness to it, with a whisper of green leaf underneath. It's clean and invigorating, the olfactory equivalent of fresh air after rain.

Floral

Tulip is deceptively subtle—nothing like the visual drama of the flower itself. Imagine walking through a spring garden and catching a whisper of something green, slightly peppery, and almost powdery-soft. It's more of a gentle herbaceous breath than a bold floral shout. There's a delicate, slightly waxy quality reminiscent of fresh-cut stems and pale petals, with a hint of something almost minty-fresh underneath. It's the fragrance equivalent of touching velvet in dim light—present, but requiring your attention to truly notice it.