Oriental

Cashmere doesn't smell like the fabric itself—it's an olfactory illusion conjured by perfumers. It's primarily the sensation of extreme softness translated into scent: creamy, powdery, and almost edible. Imagine the warmth of skin after applying luxurious body lotion, mingled with almond milk, sandalwood, and a whisper of vanilla. There's a gentle sweetness without being cloying, plus an almost imperceptible muskiness that feels like a cashmere blanket wrapped around you. It's comforting, intimate, and utterly non-threatening—the olfactory equivalent of sinking into something impossibly plush.

Green

Grass in fragrance captures that precise moment after you've mowed the lawn—a bright, slightly peppery greenness tinged with something almost mineral and earthy. It's the smell of crushed stems releasing their juices, verdant and alive, with a subtle anise-like warmth underneath. There's a clean, slightly watery quality, reminiscent of damp grass on a spring morning. It's herbaceous without being medicinal, and somehow both delicate and assertively present—the olfactory equivalent of green itself.