Floral

Red rose smells like the inside of a velvet jewellery box—honeyed yet slightly green, with a powdery sweetness reminiscent of dried petals and old perfume bottles. There's a subtle spice underneath, almost peppery, mixed with a delicate green leafiness from the stem. Unlike fresh-cut roses (which smell surprisingly subtle and watery), a concentrated red rose note is rich and complex, like walking into a Victorian garden where blooms have been baking in afternoon sun. It's simultaneously soft and assertive—never truly delicate, always memorable.

Woody

Woody notes smell like the heart of a forest distilled into essence. Imagine the warm, dry interior of a cedar wardrobe, the earthy grip of tree bark after rain, or the comforting scent of aged timber in an old library. They're neither sweet nor sharp—rather, they're grounding and substantial, with a slightly resinous, almost creaky quality. Think of pencil shavings, sandalwood's buttery softness, or the austere dryness of vetiver. These notes smell like nature's architecture: solid, enduring, and deeply familiar.