Green

Cabbage in fragrance is deceptively subtle—it's not the boiled, sulphurous smell of overcooked vegetables. Instead, it captures the crisp, almost peppery greenness of a fresh head being sliced open: slightly bitter, herbaceous, with hints of grass clippings and wet garden soil after rain. There's an earthy, mineral quality underneath, reminiscent of crushed green tomato stems or fresh rocket leaves. It's genuinely verdant and alive, rather than vegetable-like.

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.