Green

Tomato leaf smells like brushing your hand across a tomato plant on a warm summer afternoon—green, slightly bitter, with an almost peppery sharpness. It's herbaceous and slightly dusty, reminiscent of crushed basil mixed with fresh grass clippings and a whisper of savoury earthiness. There's something almost green-petroleum about it, slightly metallic and cooling, like the smell of broken stems releasing volatile oils. It's distinctly *alive* rather than sweet.

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.