Oriental

Labdanum smells like walking into an ancient library where leather-bound books meet honeyed amber. It's warm, slightly resinous, and vaguely medicinal—imagine dried apricots dusted with incense, with a subtle leather undertone and a hint of barnyard earthiness. There's a sticky, almost tar-like quality that feels both precious and primal. It's the scent of luxurious comfort with an unexpected roughness, rather like wrapping yourself in a worn cashmere blanket that smells faintly of honey and smoke.

Green

Oakmoss smells like standing in an ancient forest after rain—earthy, slightly bitter, with a dry, woody undertone reminiscent of damp bark and lichen-covered stones. There's a faint greenness to it, almost herbaceous, mixed with something mineral and slightly musty, like opening a wooden chest that's been sealed for years. It's not fresh or sharp; rather, it's contemplative and deeply grounded, with whispers of leather and tea leaves underneath.