Floral

Rose smells like romance bottled. Imagine walking through a garden after rain—that's the green, slightly damp quality. Then there's the sweetness: honeyed, sometimes with a whisper of spice and subtle fruit notes. Depending on the variety, you might detect hints of honey, jam, or even a peppery warmth. It's never cloying if it's genuine; there's an elegant complexity, a velvety depth that makes you want to inhale again.

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.