Oriental

Cashmere doesn't smell like the fabric itself—it's an olfactory illusion conjured by perfumers. It's primarily the sensation of extreme softness translated into scent: creamy, powdery, and almost edible. Imagine the warmth of skin after applying luxurious body lotion, mingled with almond milk, sandalwood, and a whisper of vanilla. There's a gentle sweetness without being cloying, plus an almost imperceptible muskiness that feels like a cashmere blanket wrapped around you. It's comforting, intimate, and utterly non-threatening—the olfactory equivalent of sinking into something impossibly plush.

Floral

Turkish Rose smells like walking through a sun-warmed garden after rain—intensely floral, with a slightly spiced, almost peppery undertone that sets it apart from delicate rose notes. Imagine crushed rose petals mixed with honey and a whisper of cloves; it's rich and full-bodied, neither cloying nor thin. There's an almost wine-like warmth to it, slightly animalic and earthy, as if you've buried your face in a bouquet of the most mature, voluptuous blooms imaginable. It feels luxurious and old-world, rather than the fresh, dewy quality of lighter florals.