Green

Birch leaf smells like crisp spring air captured in a bottle. Imagine crushing fresh green leaves between your fingers on a cool morning—there's a clean, slightly herbal bite with undertones of subtle sweetness and a whisper of something almost minty. It's the scent of early woodland walks: green, bright, and slightly peppery, with a delicate dryness reminiscent of hay and pale wood shavings. Not floral, not fruity—purely, refreshingly vegetative.

Woody

Gaiac wood smells like the interior of a old wooden chest that's been storing precious things for decades—dry, slightly smoky, with an almost medicinal warmth. There's a peculiar sweetness beneath, reminiscent of burnt sugar or caramelised honey, but grounded in something earthy and austere. Imagine standing in a timber-built sauna after the coals have cooled, mixed with the scent of a smouldering cigar stub. It's woody without being fresh; instead, it feels ancient, weathered, and deeply masculine.