Green

Sage smells like stepping into a Mediterranean herb garden on a warm afternoon. It's dry, slightly peppery, and vaguely medicinal—reminiscent of the leaves you'd brush past while walking through wild scrubland. There's an earthy, almost dusty quality, with subtle woody undertones and a whisper of camphor that catches the back of your nose. It's green without being fresh or citrusy; instead, it feels weathered and wise, like the plant itself has absorbed years of sunlight and been slightly baked by heat.

Woody

Vetiver smells like freshly turned earth after rainfall, mixed with dry hay and a whisper of smoke. Imagine walking through a sun-baked field where roots and soil still hold morning dew—that's the grounding, slightly dusty quality you'll encounter. There's an almost savoury, mineral-like character, with hints of cedarwood and green tea. It's simultaneously earthy and arid, never sweet, with a faint green-wood quality that feels both calming and deeply natural. Think of it as the scent of resilience and stability in olfactory form.