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

Rose smells like romance bottled. Imagine walking through a garden after rain—that's the green, slightly damp quality. Then there's the sweetness: honeyed, sometimes with a whisper of spice and subtle fruit notes. Depending on the variety, you might detect hints of honey, jam, or even a peppery warmth. It's never cloying if it's genuine; there's an elegant complexity, a velvety depth that makes you want to inhale again.