Green

Absinth smells like the ghost of a licorice sweet that's been sharpened with something menthol-keen and herbaceous. Imagine biting into a fresh anise seed, then the bite transforms into something green and slightly bitter—like wormwood leaves crushed between your fingers, with whispers of mint and wet grass. There's an almost medicinal quality, reminiscent of old apothecary cabinets and absinthe liqueur itself. It's simultaneously sweet and austere, inviting yet slightly unsettling—the scent equivalent of something beautiful but dangerous.

Green

Bay leaf smells like stepping into a Mediterranean kitchen—herbaceous, slightly peppery, and unmistakably savoury. It's green and fresh with a subtle warmth underneath, reminiscent of crushed dried leaves and dried thyme, but with an almost minty coolness that catches the back of your nose. There's something simultaneously culinary and aromatic about it, neither purely floral nor entirely spicy. If you've ever rubbed a bay leaf between your fingers and inhaled, that's precisely the character: slightly bitter, gently warming, and deeply earthy.