Woody

Cedarwood smells like walking into a freshly constructed wooden cabin on a crisp autumn morning. It's warm, dry, and slightly spicy—reminiscent of pencil shavings, aged timber, and a whisper of incense. There's an almost powdery quality, with subtle earthiness underneath. Unlike the bright cheerfulness of citrus, cedarwood feels contemplative and grounded, like the smell of old furniture polish mixed with the resinous warmth of a cedar chest that's held winter clothes for generations.

Citrus

Italian citron smells like the thick-skinned lemon's sophisticated older sibling. Imagine biting into a perfectly ripe Femminello or Sfusato—that initial burst of bright, almost honeyed citrus with a distinctive creamy undertone that's far less acidic than ordinary lemon. There's a waxy, almost perfumed quality reminiscent of the pith and rind, with subtle floral whispers and a faint herbal earthiness. It's citrus that feels luxurious rather than sharp—less "squeezed juice" and more "candied peel steeped in honey."