Fresh

Mothball carries a distinctly sharp, almost medicinal pungency—imagine walking into a vintage wardrobe after decades of storage. It smells acrid and slightly chemical, reminiscent of camphor or naphthalene, with an underlying mineral coolness. There's a peculiar brightness to it, almost crystalline, like inhaling camphorated vapour mixed with something faintly antiseptic. It's simultaneously clean and oppressive, conjuring memories of old linen closets and grandmother's cedar chests.

Floral

Rose smells like romance bottled. Imagine walking through a garden after rain—that's the green, slightly damp quality. Then there's the sweetness: honeyed, sometimes with a whisper of spice and subtle fruit notes. Depending on the variety, you might detect hints of honey, jam, or even a peppery warmth. It's never cloying if it's genuine; there's an elegant complexity, a velvety depth that makes you want to inhale again.