Woody

Indonesian patchouli smells like damp earth after rain mixed with old leather and burnt wood. Imagine walking through a tropical forest floor where decomposing leaves release a rich, almost earthy sweetness—not unpleasant, but deeply grounded. There's a subtle spice beneath it, reminiscent of cloves or cinnamon, with hints of dark chocolate and tobacco leaf. It's heavy, sensual, and slightly animalic; the smell of something authentic and weathered rather than refined.

Floral

Tunisian neroli smells like sunshine captured in a bottle. Imagine biting into a fresh Seville orange—that bright, almost zesty citrus top note—but with a delicate floral heart underneath that's sweeter and more honeyed than you'd expect. There's a subtle creaminess, like orange blossom water, with whispers of indolic depth (that slightly animalic, skin-like warmth). It's simultaneously uplifting and sensual, neither purely citrus nor purely floral, but something uniquely in-between.