Citrus

Black cherry smells like biting into a plump, juicy cherry at peak ripeness—deep, slightly tart, with an almost winey undertone. It's darker and more sophisticated than bright red cherry; imagine the fruit's flesh has deepened to a burgundy so dark it's nearly black. There's a subtle almond-like quality beneath, with hints of leather and dried fruit. It's simultaneously sweet and slightly astringent, like the sensation of cherry skin against your teeth.

Floral

Heliotrope smells like vanilla-scented powder warmed by sunlight—imagine crushing sweet almond biscuits mixed with cherry liqueur, then dusting the result with talcum. It's gourmand but delicate, with a subtle almond-marzipan sweetness undercut by something floral yet creamy. There's a powdery, almost baby-soft quality that feels nostalgic, like opening an old beauty compact. It's neither purely floral nor purely edible; it exists in a dreamy middle ground, slightly intoxicating and comforting.