Oriental

Benzoin smells like sweetened vanilla cream kissed with caramel and a whisper of incense smoke. Imagine walking into a bakery where warm pastries have just emerged from the oven, then stepping into a Buddhist temple where resin smoulders on hot coals. It's honeyed and slightly powdery, with an almost medicinal undertone—like comforting cough sweets wrapped in silk. There's a subtle almond note too, creamy rather than sharp. It's deeply gourmand yet spiritual, simultaneously cosy and exotic.

Fresh

Talcum smells like the powdery softness of a baby's skin after a fresh bath—clean, almost translucent, with a whisper of mineral coolness. Imagine freshly laundered cotton dusted with talc powder, or the airy warmth of your grandmother's dressing table. It's weightless and soothing, reminiscent of freshly pressed linen and the gentle sweetness of rice powder. There's no sharp edge—only an enveloping, skin-like softness that feels innocent and intimate.