Woody

Imagine walking through damp earth after rain, then crushing dried autumn leaves in your hands. That's patchouli's essence: earthy, almost animalic, with a subtle sweetness lurking underneath. It smells vaguely like rich soil mixed with dried tobacco and a whisper of chocolate. There's a dark, slightly musty quality—think opening an antique wooden chest. It's grounding and intensely aromatic, never delicate. Fresh patchouli has peppery brightness; aged patchouli becomes deeper, warmer, almost leather-like.

Citrus

Raspberry smells like jammy sweetness with a bright, tart edge—imagine biting into a perfectly ripe berry where juice floods your mouth with natural sugar, then that tangy pinch hits your tongue. It's not overly fruity or artificial; rather, it's warm and slightly honeyed, with a whisper of green leafiness underneath. There's an almost candied quality, like raspberry preserves warming on a shelf, mixed with the fresh snap of berries at a summer market. It's simultaneously juicy and delicate, never heavy.