Tryst

A spring drive through an orange grove ends in a parking lot where the song is still playing, and a flower remains hidden in the coat. HIRAM GREEN Tryst smells like a secret kiss under the branches, clear at first and honeyed warm later.

Orange peel and green buds open the composition crisply, bitterly, and full of juice from the peel. The greenery gives the feeling of a branch under the fingers, not a glass of orange juice.

Hiram Green places neroli and orange blossom in the heart. Neroli is brighter and sharper, orange blossom softer and more sensual; together they create a golden spring air that lingers on sun-warmed skin.

On the skin, honeyed resins slowly spread beneath the flowers. The initial bitterness becomes more rounded, but the orange doesn't disappear; it lingers as a fresh edge on a warm, balsamic trail.

If you want a cool, short neroli or a pure citrus without sweetness, Tryst will be too honeyed for you. It's not a heavy amber either; its warmth constantly recalls an open car window and green buds.

In the end, a crushed orange blossom remains in the fold of the coat, with honey and a piece of peel — proof of a secret day that still smelled louder than the radio on the way home.