Green

Clary sage smells like walking through a sun-warmed herb garden after rain. Imagine crushed sage leaves—herbal and slightly peppery—but softer, more refined than common culinary sage. There's an unmistakable earthiness underneath, with whispers of something almost floral and slightly medicinal, like a heated poultice of lavender mixed with dried hay. It's simultaneously fresh and warm, green yet somehow powdery. The scent has an almost creamy texture to it, less sharp than you'd expect from an herb.

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.