Green

Tarragon smells like a verdant whisper—imagine the anise-tinged greenery you'd encounter brushing past fresh herb gardens, but softer, more refined than fennel. There's a subtle sweetness reminiscent of liquorice root, layered beneath a crisp, almost peppery herbaceousness. It's the aroma released when you crush fresh tarragon leaves between your fingers: simultaneously sharp and velvety, with whispers of green apple and white pepper. Not aggressively spicy, but gently warming.

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.