Citrus

Nectarine smells like the fuzzy skin of a sun-warmed stone fruit—sweet but not cloying, with a delicate floral whisper beneath. Imagine biting into a ripe nectarine on a summer afternoon: there's that juicy, peachy sweetness with subtle almond notes, a touch of white flowers, and an almost creamy texture to the aroma. It's softer and more refined than a sharp citrus, lacking the sharp bergamot bite, instead offering a gentle, edible warmth that feels intimate rather than bright.

Woody

Virginia Cedar smells like walking into a freshly built wooden cabin on a crisp autumn morning. It's dry and warm, with pencil-shaving brightness—that distinctive scent you get when you sharpen a cedar pencil. Beneath lies a subtle spiciness and mild camphoraceous coolness, almost minty. There's a hint of resin and burnt wood smoke, tinged with earthiness. It's woody without being heavy, clean without being sharp—imagine aged timber that's been lightly sanded and left in dry air.