Woody

Ambergris smells like a warm, salty embrace—imagine the mineral sweetness of sea air mixed with subtle animalic musk, aged leather, and hints of vanilla. It's deeply sensual without being floral, with a slightly earthy, tobacco-like undertone. Pure ambergris is oddly comforting: like standing near driftwood on a beach at dusk, or opening an old wooden chest that's held precious things for decades. It has an almost medicinal cleanness beneath its richness—not harsh, but grounding and mysteriously intimate.

Citrus

Bergamot smells like someone's just peeled a ripe orange in bright morning sunlight—that initial burst of citrus sweetness combined with something distinctly floral and almost tea-like. It's lighter and more delicate than lemon or grapefruit, with a subtle bittersweet edge and a powdery, slightly herbaceous undertone that lingers. Imagine Earl Grey tea without the tannins, mixed with candied orange peel and a whisper of honeyed florals. It's simultaneously fresh and warm, crisp yet creamy.