Floral

Tunisian orange blossom smells like walking through a Mediterranean orchard in spring—delicate yet intoxicating, with a creamy sweetness reminiscent of honeyed almond milk. It's floral without being perfumey; imagine the bitter-almond whisper of neroli (orange tree flowers) wrapped in soft, powdery warmth, almost like inhaling the steam from a cup of chamomile tea laced with a touch of vanilla. There's a subtle spice lurking beneath, a whisper of clove and honey that feels both innocent and deeply sensual.

Woody

Virginia Cedar smells like walking into a freshly built wooden cabin on a crisp autumn morning. It's dry and warm, with pencil-shaving brightness—that distinctive scent you get when you sharpen a cedar pencil. Beneath lies a subtle spiciness and mild camphoraceous coolness, almost minty. There's a hint of resin and burnt wood smoke, tinged with earthiness. It's woody without being heavy, clean without being sharp—imagine aged timber that's been lightly sanded and left in dry air.