Woody

Amber smells like warmth itself has been bottled. Imagine sun-baked resin, honey left out on a hot day, and the comforting scent of your skin after lying on a warm blanket. There's sweetness here—almost vanilla-like—but deeper, earthier, with hints of powdered spices and the faint smokiness of incense. It's simultaneously creamy and slightly bitter, like caramelised sugar with a woody undertone. It wraps around you like cashmere, never sharp or jarring.

Fresh

Mothball carries a distinctly sharp, almost medicinal pungency—imagine walking into a vintage wardrobe after decades of storage. It smells acrid and slightly chemical, reminiscent of camphor or naphthalene, with an underlying mineral coolness. There's a peculiar brightness to it, almost crystalline, like inhaling camphorated vapour mixed with something faintly antiseptic. It's simultaneously clean and oppressive, conjuring memories of old linen closets and grandmother's cedar chests.