Hori Hori

Hori Hori  opens like sharp metal against citrus brightness. Named after the Japanese garden knife, the scent moves between incision and softness—bright surfaces split open to reveal something warm, mineral, and quietly persistent beneath.

The opening arrives as a clean cut of bergamot peel and blood orange rind, lifted by a faint aldehydic sheen. It feels immediate and precise, like light catching on metal. There is no sweetness—only a brief flash of brightness before it begins to settle.

As it opens, the structure reveals itself through saffron cedar and cashmeran, dry and slightly textural, like warmed wood and air passing through it. The composition does not bloom outward—it tightens, becoming more intimate, more controlled.

The base rests close to the skin: sandalwood, ambroxan, and soft musks forming a quiet, continuous warmth. It wears like a second surface—clean, mineral, and faintly radiant—more felt than announced.

At once dry, warm, mineral, and quietly luminous, Hori Hori is a unisex neo-citrus composition designed to sit with the body rather than sit on top of it.