Mediterranea

What gives the structure its particular readability is the way the three notes are treated. Bitter orange, ginger, and cedar sit close together, almost at the same altitude, each one visible from the first spray onward. The ginger holds attention because it isn't flanked by other spices, so its warmth reads cleanly rather than competing with neighbors. The cedar matters because the citrus above it isn't a sweet orange at all; it's the bitter, almost rind-like Sevilla expression, which pulls the wood toward something greener and less pencil-shaving.

The evolution

On skin, Mediterranea announces itself immediately. Bitter orange hits first, sharp and bright, with the almost-floral bitterness of marmalade rind rather than juice. The ginger arrives within minutes, not as a sharp sting but as a low, clean warmth that settles underneath the citrus like a stone holding heat. For the first hour, the two dance. The orange softens slowly, losing its peel-edge and moving toward something rounder, almost like orange tea. By the second hour, the cedar has quietly taken over the base. It doesn't replace the other two, it absorbs them. What remains is a warm, dry wood with a ghost of citrus on top and that ginger hum underneath. The drydown reads honestly: the cedar is the last voice still audible, but the orange and ginger never fully disappear, and they leave their traces woven through the wood.