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.

Green

Geranium absolute smells like crushed green leaves after rain, with a whisper of rose and a sharp, almost peppery bite. Imagine rubbing fresh geranium foliage between your fingers—there's an herbaceous greenness, slightly dusty and slightly sweet, reminiscent of wet garden soil and dried hay. It's fresher than rose but greener, with an almost minty sharpness that makes your nose tingle slightly. Not the ornamental flower itself, but the vital, slightly astringent plant material beneath.