Earthy · $185
Petrichor
Rain, an hour after it stops.
The smell of a sidewalk fifteen minutes into a summer storm — green tea steam, wet stone, and a hush of iris underneath.
Demo only — builds a sample selection on the discovery page.
The composition
- Top
- Bergamot, Green tea leaf, Rain accord
- Heart
- Iris, Violet leaf, Lotus
- Base
- Vetiver, Ambrette seed, Moss
The note, in full
How Petrichor wears.
Petrichor opens the way weather does — without asking permission. Bergamot arrives first, sharp and citrus-cold, cut almost immediately by a mineral rain accord that reads less like a fragrance note and more like a memory: hot pavement meeting the first drops of a summer storm. Green tea leaf sits just behind it, steeping rather than sweetening, holding the top notes at a cool remove for the first twenty minutes.
As the rain accord settles, the heart opens like the sky clearing. Iris — powdery, slightly bitter, expensive to source and unmistakable once you've smelled it — takes the lead, softened by violet leaf and a single facet of lotus that keeps the whole accord from tipping into cosmetic territory. This is the stage most people describe as 'skin but better': close, personal, not performative.
The dry-down is where Petrichor earns its name. Vetiver root, grown in the wrong soil on purpose (our perfumer's words, not ours) for a smokier, earthier cut than the citrus-forward vetivers most houses reach for, anchors everything. Ambrette seed brings a soft, skin-like musk without synthetic amber-musk sweetness, and a whisper of moss absolute — the kind normally reserved for chypres — ties the whole composition back to the ground it started on.
Wear it to a garden in October, to a stone building after hours, to anywhere you want to smell like weather rather than a room. Longevity runs six to eight hours on skin, longer on wool and linen. Petrichor is unisex by design and, we think, at its best applied to the inside of a wrist and left alone.