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.

Floral

Jasminum grandiflorum absolute smells like stepping into a moonlit garden at midnight. It's intensely floral yet creamy—imagine honey-sweetened white flowers mixed with a subtle earthiness and a whisper of indole (that slightly animalic, almost fecal undertone that lends sophistication). There's an intoxicating richness here, almost narcotic, with soft fruity notes reminiscent of ripe peaches and a delicate spice. It's the fragrance equivalent of velvet against skin: luxurious, enveloping, impossible to ignore.