Salt-kissed air carrying the crispness of just-crushed seashells, mingling with the green tang of seaweed washed ashore at dawn. A splash of citrus—like lemon slices floating in tidal pools—brightens the mineral depth, while sheer musk mimics sun-warmed skin after a swim. This is the scent of linen shirts flapping on a yacht’s rigging, of horizon lines where sky and sea blur into endless blue.
