Tokyo (Anne Flipo)
Fragrance notes
Character
Morning light catches the steam rising from a cup of tea set on a balcony where cherry blossoms drift onto a pale linen tablecloth. Red berries and grapefruit brighten the air first, their tart edges softened by the round sweetness of pear. The fruit stays close, never reaching beyond the small space where the air is still. You lean in to catch it, and the scent meets you there rather than announcing itself across the room.
Tea and rose unfold next, the rose dewy and sheer rather than heavy with wax. Cherry blossom adds a gentle floral lift that pairs with bergamot, keeping the heart crisp and clean. The petals seem to rest on the fabric around you, part of the same washed air. There is a faint green freshness threading through, like leaves that have just been rinsed.
Linen and cotton flower carry that washed quality into the drydown, supported by white cedar extract and a soft musk. The wood is pale and dry, never dark or resinous, and the musk sits near the skin where it began. Nothing here pushes outward or demands attention from anyone down the street. It simply stays near you as the air warms and the blossoms continue to fall.
A breeze moves through the balcony rail and lifts a few petals from the cloth, carrying the faint trace of pear and tea with it as the linen shifts against the wood
Smells similar
Built from the same materials — ranked by how unusual the shared notes are, not by how many.
