Woody

Cedar smells like walking into a freshly opened wooden chest or a pencil sharpener's distinctive aroma—dry, slightly spicy, faintly sweet. Imagine the interior of a cedar wardrobe, that clean, almost resinous scent that repels moths. There's a subtle bitterness too, like the bark of the tree itself, combined with a warm, almost smoky undertone. It's earthy without being dirty, woody without smelling like fresh sawdust. The experience is grounding and slightly nostalgic—many recall childhood pencils and hope chests.

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.