Comores

Five notes do the whole job: bergamot, geranium, mint, mandarin orange, green tea. No base is listed, and that absence is the point. Green tea is technically a leaf, not a flower, and the fragrance leans into that botanical honesty. There's no amber warmth to anchor it, no woods to weight it down, no resinous undercurrent holding everything in place. Bergamot and mandarin bring the citrus spark right at the top. Mint snaps everything sharp and keeps the opening from going soft.

The evolution

The opening is all surface: cold peppermint and bitter bergamot, the kind of clean that stings the nostrils slightly. The mandarin rounds it out, adding a faint sweetness underneath the sharp. As the minutes pass the mint starts settling and green tea emerges, leafy and a touch bitter, like the scent that rises from a cup left to steep too long. Geranium threads a quiet green character through everything, never loud enough to declare itself. The first stretch stays bright and office-appropriate, close to the skin, lifting gently with each movement. As time goes on the citrus evaporates almost entirely. What remains is green tea and a faint herbal warmth from the geranium, the kind of smell that recalls damp earth and warm sunlight on grass. No heavy base takes over because there isn't one. It doesn't go sweet, doesn't go smoky, doesn't go woody. It just gets quieter.