Aquatic

Fleur de sel doesn't smell like salt in the literal sense—there's no briny, mineral punch. Instead, it captures something far more ethereal: the clean, crystalline quality of sea air meeting sun-warmed skin. Imagine standing on a Breton coastline at dawn, where salt crystals catch morning light and release a subtle, almost ozonic freshness—slightly peppery, whisper-thin, with a faint saline-mineral undertone. It's like smelling the memory of the ocean rather than the ocean itself, reminiscent of laundry dried in coastal wind.

Floral

Heliotrope smells like vanilla-scented powder warmed by sunlight—imagine crushing sweet almond biscuits mixed with cherry liqueur, then dusting the result with talcum. It's gourmand but delicate, with a subtle almond-marzipan sweetness undercut by something floral yet creamy. There's a powdery, almost baby-soft quality that feels nostalgic, like opening an old beauty compact. It's neither purely floral nor purely edible; it exists in a dreamy middle ground, slightly intoxicating and comforting.