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.

Green

Swamp is the smell of primordial wetland—earthy, damp, and slightly funky. Imagine treading through boggy ground after rain, where decomposing vegetation releases that distinctive mineral-meets-organic aroma. It carries notes of wet moss, dark soil, and a faint animalic undertone, rather like the scent of a forest floor after heavy rainfall mixed with the green-grey smell of standing water and rotting plant matter. There's an almost petrichor-like quality, but earthier and less fresh—more feral and untamed.