I second Chris's closing sentiments. Excellent call teflondog. At the risk, however, of splitting hairs, I would actually call it more of a nectarine note. This note is typical of the exquisite and magical unbearable lightness of being that makes up this fragrance.
I find that *Philosykos* starts of with a vegetal leafy greeness that is ever so slightly astringent and is closer to the smell of the totality of a fig tree's various scents--from the fruit to the leaves--than any of the other fig scents on the market. Part of its lightness, which is lacking in most other fig scents, is due precisely to that fruit note and, as it continues to drydown, to the bouyant, sunny fig note that is never leaden, and that is interlaced with an increasingly preceptible, almost ethereal, muskiness that's not really derived from musk; it's more of a white musk, but not really a white musk; it's also and actually more of a fully mellowed out lavender note, that's not exactly a lavender note per se but like a fully mellowed out lavender note; that is, it smells beautiful like fully mellowed-out lavender does when it mellows out. I am thinking especially of the way *Arome 3* mellows out here. It's a lot of things, but it's nothing really, specifically, just like the scent of a fig is like nothing else, really. Figs can only really be described as figgy. If there were fruit trees on Mars, they'd be fig trees. If you've ever actually seen a fig tree, you know how plausible this statement is. Figs have, *Philosykos* is, an other worldly scent.
*Philosykos* is, finally, airy, ethereal summer fruit and vegetal greeness softened, mellowed, transfigured, purified, and made white by late afternoon Mediterranean wind and sun. It's fig tree and its fruit magically transformed into scent. It's a truly benchmark scent in this sense and a beautiful one to boot.