Fresh

Aldehydes smell like a crisp, almost electric freshness—imagine the sharp, waxy brightness of a newly opened bar of soap, or that clean snap you get when you peel the white pith from inside a lemon skin. There's a slightly soapy, almost metallic quality that's oddly luxurious and powdery. They're not quite fruity or citrus themselves, but rather the *idea* of cleanliness—the scent of polished surfaces and starched linen. Some find them slightly peppery or even a touch metallic, like touching a cool stainless steel sink on a bright morning.

Citrus

Bergamot smells like someone's just peeled a ripe orange in bright morning sunlight—that initial burst of citrus sweetness combined with something distinctly floral and almost tea-like. It's lighter and more delicate than lemon or grapefruit, with a subtle bittersweet edge and a powdery, slightly herbaceous undertone that lingers. Imagine Earl Grey tea without the tannins, mixed with candied orange peel and a whisper of honeyed florals. It's simultaneously fresh and warm, crisp yet creamy.