Green

Terre d'Hermès Eau Givrée introduces a mineral chill to the original's earthy warmth.

Bohemian Forage 1994 opens with the bruised sweetness of fig leaves crushed underfoot, their milky sap mingling with damp moss and rain-softened earth.

Green Cedar opens with a crisp brightness—neroli and rose weave together like sunlight through leaves, fresh but not sweet.

Henri Robert composed N°19 for Chanel as a deliberately unconventional counterpart to N°5 — green, cool, and austere where its older sibling was warm and aldehydic.

Philosykos opens with the milky sap of fig leaves and wood, so vivid it conjures broken twigs still warm from Mediterranean sun.

The opening is immediately earthy and floral at once—orange blossom lifted and roughened by patchouli, creating an effect that's neither clean nor conventionally pretty.

Infusion d'Homme opens with a wash of neroli so transparent it seems to filter sunlight through petals, supported by a cool whisper of iris.

Polo opens with the canonical chypre-fougère masculinity of 1970s America — tarragon and basil share the top notes alongside bergamot in a distinctly herbal-aromatic opening that reads classic without being dated.

Florence's great formal garden lends this fragrance its organizing metaphor: ordered nature, manicured green with a classical floral core.

Boss Number One is an artifact of 1985, and it wears its era without apology.

Cipresso di Toscana opens with a burst of herbal clarity — rosemary, basil, petitgrain, and star anise providing an aromatic green freshness, citrus notes of orange and grapefruit lifting everything with bright Mediterranean warmth.

Mint, lemon, and bergamot open with clean, effervescent brightness — a characteristic green freshness that's cool, slightly herbal, and immediately readable as the fragrance that defined a generation of spa-clean scents in the late 1990s.

Grey Flannel is one of the definitive American masculines of the 1970s, and the opening announces its era without apology: galbanum's sharp, vegetable-green bitterness dominates a top that also includes petitgrain, neroli, lemon, and bergamot.

The One Luminous Night opens with a crisp burst of black pepper and bergamot that feels almost medicinal in its clarity, softened by green basil that keeps the opening from turning too sharp.

The first spray brings a jolt of clarity—frankincense smoke threaded with green basil leaves, sharp and churchlike but also kitchen-fresh.

The opening salvo is unapologetically green—lemon zest cut through with the bitter, resinous snap of galbanum that characterized a generation of French chypres.

Invasion Barbare opens with violet leaf's characteristic cool, watery greenness — an understated entry for something with such a dramatic name.

M7 opens with a flash of bergamot and rosemary that feels medicinal rather than fresh, like the air in a cedar-lined apothecary.

**Sycomore** opens with vetiver so precise it resembles fresh-cut pencil shavings—woody, green, slightly bitter.

Calèche Soie de Parfum opens with a citrus brightness that feels scrubbed clean—neroli and bergamot without sweetness or heft, more like linen than fruit.

The violet leaf opens cool and green, almost metallic, softened by a whisper of bergamot that keeps the introduction from feeling too austere.

Essenza di Colonia opens with a rush of citrus and aromatic herbs that feels both intensely fresh and slightly medicinal, like entering an Italian apothecary where lemon verbena and rosemary sit beside bottles of eau de cologne.

The opening is all citrus brightness—petitgrain and bergamot cutting through with a green, slightly bitter edge that feels more herbal than fruity.

No.19 opens with galbanum — that sharp, intensely green, almost metallic vegetable-leaf note — alongside neroli's delicate bitter-orange blossom.

Coriolan is Guerlain's late-1990s aromatic leather — a masculin that names itself after Shakespeare's Roman general and delivers accordingly.

Les Belles de Ricci opens with an unusual vegetal clarity—crisp tomato leaf and mint create a green, almost savory first impression that feels more garden than perfume counter.

Sharp citrus and crushed leaves strike immediately—not the sunny sweetness of orange blossom, but the astringent bite of green peel twisted over ice.

Givenchy III is a 1970 green floral chypre — a genre at the height of Parisian sophistication then and a genuine rarity now.

M.

M.

Green Irish Tweed opens with a bright, almost electric freshness—lemon verbena sharpness tempered by the cool powderiness of iris.

Elysium opens with a rush of brightness—lime and grapefruit meeting the green snap of galbanum and thyme.

**Forever and Ever** arrives on a rush of freesia—crisp, almost peppery, with that faint greenness that keeps white florals from turning too sweet.

Light Blue Forever Pour Homme opens with a vivid grapefruit-and-bergamot blast that feels scrubbed clean, almost soapy in its brightness.

Light Blue Forever pour Homme opens with a bright citrus greeting—grapefruit and bergamot that feel crisp rather than sweet, like sunlight on white cotton.

A fig leaf opens the composition with green, slightly bitter sharpness, tempered by bergamot's softness.

Liberty Fizz opens with a shock of green: mint and basil collide with the sharp vegetal bite of tomato leaf, tempered by a splash of blackcurrant and citrus.

The opening feels dewy and brisk—grapefruit and bergamot cut through a green, almost crushed-stem freshness that sets a crisp, masculine tone.

Renaissance opens with a brisk citrus clarity—petitgrain's green bitterness tempered by bergamot's softer glow.

He Wood Rocky Mountain Wood opens with a sharp, green bite—pine needles and crisp vetiver that recall actual forest air rather than polite aromatic accords.

Basil strikes first—green, almost medicinal, with a bright herbal sharpness that clears the air.

La Yuqawam Ambergris Showers opens with something sharp and vegetal — galbanum's bitter green note cutting through violet leaf and a brief citrus flash of tangerine before they all subside into the herbal core.

Sur la Route opens with a bright, peppery citrus that quickly gives way to its true nature: a dry, slightly dusty leather that feels more like the interior of a vintage car than a polished luxury good.

Forever and Ever Dior opens with a green-tinged floral brightness—jasmine and freesia lifted by the crisp, slightly vegetal presence of ivy.

Pure White Cologne opens with lemon and grapefruit — a clean, sharp citrus that establishes its genre without fuss.

Chergui opens with a warm gust of hay and honey, undercut by the medicinal sharpness of tobacco leaf.

Xeryus Rouge opens with a brisk slap of grapefruit and tarragon—green, tart, almost astringent—that clears the air like a cold shower.

A glassy, translucent vetiver that smells more like filtered light than earth.

Chamade opens with a brightness that feels almost translucent—bergamot lifting pale roses and jasmine into something radiant rather than opulent.

Esencia Pour Homme opens with a rush of citrus and green herbs—lavender and tarragon cutting through bergamot and petitgrain with almost medicinal sharpness.

Eau Sauvage opens with a bracing citrus clarity—lemon and bergamot lifted by aromatic herbs that feel more medicinal than culinary.

Stella opens with a raw, vegetal quality—green petals wet from rain, the faint bitterness of cut stems.

A violet leaf opening that's more green metal than garden flower—cool, almost industrial in its sharpness.

Greenley opens with a bright citrus bite—mandarin and bergamot cut with an unexpected edge of rum that lends warmth without sweetness.

Yatagan opens with a bracingly herbal collision—mint and galbanum strike first, followed by lavender and basil that feel more medicinal than soothing.

The opening is cool citrus threaded with green herbal sharpness—grapefruit and bergamot cut with basil's peppery bite.

Hommage à l'Homme opens with saffron and violet leaf alongside bergamot — a warm-metallic-green combination that's unusual for an EDT opening.

Hommage à l'Homme opens with saffron and violet leaf alongside bergamot — a warm-metallic-green combination that's unusual for an EDT opening.

Al Wisam Day is a clean aromatic fougère in the classic tradition.

A cold compress of citrus and mint announces itself immediately—lime and bergamot sharpened by an almost medicinal menthol chill.

The opening is brisk and herbal, dominated by a lemony thyme that feels more kitchen garden than citrus grove.

The original Miss Dior Eau de Toilette opens with a sharp snap of green galbanum that feels almost medicinal in its clarity—a blast of leafy bitterness that announces itself without apology.

The 2012 eau de parfum reformulation of Philosykos sharpens the focus on fig's green, milky immediacy.

Beach Hut Man opens with a jolt of green—galbanum sharp as snapped stems, mint cool but not sweet, orange blossom lending a faint bitter floral edge.

A violet leaf opening arrives with a crisp, cucumber-like greenness, quickly warmed by cardamom's resinous spice and bergamot's citrus brightness.

Sentiment Pour Homme opens with a clean citrus spark—lime, more herbal than sweet, setting a brisk, outdoorsy tone.

A citrus-vetiver flanker that strips away the original Encre Noire's brooding darkness in favor of brightness and movement.

Cristalle Eau Verte opens with a bright sweep of bergamot that feels less like citrus and more like sunlight on wet leaves.

The violet leaf opens sharp and almost metallic, cutting through with a green astringency that's immediately grounded by cardamom's warmth and saffron's leathery depth.

Silver Mountain Water opens with a rush of cool bergamot that feels almost metallic in its crispness, like air at high altitude.

Hermès turns rhubarb into something surprisingly wearable here, lifting the tart vegetable stem out of garden beds and into a clean, almost architectural composition.

A bright jolt of green-pink rhubarb opens this composition, tart and fibrous, as if snapped fresh from the garden.

**Vetiver Pamplemousse** opens with a bright burst of grapefruit that feels more candied than citrus-sharp, a sweet-tart greeting that quickly settles into something earthier.

Eau Sauvage Extrême intensifies the original's citrus-aromatic framework into something darker and more resinous.

Chrome Sport opens with a sharp jolt of grapefruit and bergamot, citrus stripped clean of sweetness and pushed into tart, slightly metallic territory.

Une Nuit à Doha opens with an unusual jolt of fennel and ginger—not sweet or gourmand, but green and almost medicinal.

The fig tree in its entirety—leaves, bark, milky sap, and fruit—captured with almost documentary precision.

A sharp intake of green—not soft garden green, but the mineral, almost metallic brightness of galbanum-laced neroli cutting through bergamot.

En Passant opens with a burst of green so vivid it feels plucked from a Parisian garden in late spring—lilac petals caught mid-bloom, dewy and slightly astringent.

Bigarade Concentrée is an exercise in restraint — Jean-Claude Ellena distilling the clean, slightly bitter freshness of bigarade orange into a composition that barely whispers.

Eau Sauvage Cologne opens with the bright snap of grapefruit, cutting through with a citrus clarity that feels both bracing and clean.

The black-ribbon counterpart to the original Daisy opens with a jammy strawberry sweetness tempered by the green snap of violet leaf—an odd pairing that somehow works, like berries crushed against garden stems.

The 2019 reformulation of Cabochard opens with a rush of green intensity—galbanum paired with sage creates a bitter, almost medicinal brightness that feels more botanical garden than perfume counter.

The 2019 reformulation of Cabochard opens with a sharp galbanum strike softened by sage—herbal, green, almost medicinal in its clarity.

The opening carries a bright, resinous spice—cardamom and pink pepper tempered by a whisper of citrus—that immediately feels more substantial than the aquatic freshness of earlier Polo Blue iterations.

Un Air de First announces itself with galbanum — that singular green, resinous note that carries the ghost of 1970s sophistication.

A sharp citrus blast—grapefruit and lemon so bright it almost stings—tempered by green herbs that keep the opening from veering sweet.

Lonestar Memories opens with a pale, slightly mineral clary sage that clears the air rather than perfuming it—a brief, aromatic exhale before the leather arrives.

A burst of bright bergamot and orange blossom opens with unexpected warmth, the clove adding a spiced, almost medicinal edge that suggests sunbaked grasses and tiny paws moving through a late-summer field.

The opening cuts through with galbanum's green snap and bergamot's citric bite—a bracing introduction that recalls the classical French perfumes of an earlier era.

Roma Uomo opens with a vivid clash of aromatic basil against bright citrus, the green herb cutting through bergamot and grapefruit with almost medicinal clarity.

A sharp green opening announces itself with unmistakable galbanum—bitter, leafy, almost metallic—softened just slightly by bergamot's citrus brightness.

Paris-Deauville opens with a burst of citrus so clean it feels almost antiseptic—lime and bergamot cut through the air like a freshly ironed linen shirt, brisk and cool.

L'Eau d'Issey pour Homme Fraiche is a crisper, colder sibling to the 1994 original — less woody, more citrus-forward, built for summer afternoons the original wasn't quite light enough for.

Tuberose stands front and center—bruised, slightly overripe, with a green-wet quality that keeps it from tipping into pure cream.

The opening is immediate and precise—bergamot and orange meet in a bright, slightly bitter citrus blast that refuses to sweeten.

Geranium Odorata opens with the raw, slightly metallic greenness of crushed geranium leaves—not the soft floral facet, but the peppery, astringent edge that catches in your throat.

Diorissimo Eau de Parfum takes the iconic 1956 lily-of-the-valley soliflore and reframes it in a denser, more enveloping register.

Summer Hammer opens with a bold tropical sweetness—pineapple and coconut meet sharp bergamot in a contrast that feels deliberate, almost confrontational.

Diorissimo opens with a brief citrus clarity before plunging into its true subject: lily of the valley rendered with near-photographic precision.

A pale floral built around lily and jasmine, Elegantly Tokyo opens with cool, almost aquatic lily—green stems rather than heavy blooms.

**Chanel No.

A green floral from an era when perfume didn't whisper.

The original Miss Dior opens with a green sharpness—galbanum and sage cutting through gardenia's creamy heft—before cascading into a white floral avalanche.

Safari opens with a sharp green thrust—galbanum and blackcurrant cutting through citrus brightness like sunlight through canvas.

Fleur du Mâle strips the original Le Mâle down to hesperidic essentials, replacing vanilla and lavender with a focused study in bitter orange.

Jimmy Choo Man Ice opens with bergamot and mandarin — a brisk, clean citrus combination with good energy.

The fig leaf arrives vivid and green, its milky sap sharpness lifted by pink pepper's gentle heat.

A sharp green opening announces itself immediately—galbanum slices through with vegetal clarity before the florals surface.

"Laylati" — my nights in Arabic — signals the register immediately: Sospiro's Afghan-inspired oriental is nocturnal, dark, and designed for wear in concentrated doses.

A green fragrance built around the tart, almost vegetal sweetness of green mango and tomato leaf, though the listed grapefruit provides the citrus lift.

The first impression is a bright jolt of citrus — not just mandarin, but orange blossom's sharper, greener side tempered by the cool vegetal bite of ivy.

The opening of Roses de Chloé arrives with a green herbal brightness—tarragon's anise-like edge cutting through citrus—that feels unexpectedly brisk for a fragrance centered on rose.

The opening brings a sharp, almost medicinal brightness—cardamom pods cracked open, green and resinous, with a faint eucalyptus edge that clears the air.

The Matcha 26 opens with a sharp, vegetal bitterness that feels closer to freshly whisked ceremonial-grade matcha than the sweetened lattes that dominate café culture.

The 1991 reformulation of Vent Vert arrives with a softer profile than Germaine Cellier's 1947 radical, though the galbanum still cuts through, sharp and almost metallic beneath a cushion of white florals.

Eau d'Orange Verte opens with the astringent brightness of unripe citrus—orange peel torn from the tree, still green and sharp.

Infusion d'Iris is iris interpreted as a cold slab of polished stone.

The opening of Cristalle is a bright, almost citrus-green jolt—bergamot sharpened with something coolly metallic, like spring water over limestone.

Ormonde Woman arrives green and cool — cardamom and dry grass opening into something unusual, almost medicinal, the kind of freshness found in deep shade rather than sunlit meadows.