Woody

Boxwood smells like freshly sharpened pencils mixed with crisp green leaves and a whisper of herbaceous bitterness. Imagine walking through a manicured garden after rain, where clipped hedges release that sharp, slightly astringent vegetal character—a bit peppery, intensely green, with an almost minty coolness. It's dry rather than lush, with an underlying woodiness that's more structural than warm. There's a faint pencil-shaving quality that comes from its woody, slightly resinous nature.

Woody

Musk is the scent of warmth itself—imagine the gentle heat radiating from skin after exercise, mingled with soft suede and a whisper of vanilla. It's deeply intimate rather than floral or sharp; think of wrapping yourself in a cashmere blanket warmed by the sun, with a faint animalic undertone that's almost imperceptible. Pure musk has a powdery, almost imperceptible sweetness, like the inside of a lover's wrist or the comfort of well-loved fabric. It doesn't announce itself boldly; instead, it envelops and lingers on your skin like a second layer.