Green

Reseda smells like freshly mown grass kissed by morning dew, with an herbaceous whisper that's simultaneously delicate and slightly bitter. Imagine standing in a meadow after rain, where green plant matter—stems, leaves, and crushed vegetation—release their subtle, verdant essence. There's an almost soapy, mineral quality, like the smell of wet stone in a garden. It's not floral or sweet; rather, it's the pure, honest scent of living green things, somewhat reminiscent of hay or fresh spinach, but far more refined and fleeting.

Green

Sage smells like stepping into a Mediterranean herb garden on a warm afternoon. It's dry, slightly peppery, and vaguely medicinal—reminiscent of the leaves you'd brush past while walking through wild scrubland. There's an earthy, almost dusty quality, with subtle woody undertones and a whisper of camphor that catches the back of your nose. It's green without being fresh or citrusy; instead, it feels weathered and wise, like the plant itself has absorbed years of sunlight and been slightly baked by heat.