Citrus

Blueberry is deceptively subtle—nothing like biting into the fruit itself. Imagine the wispy sweetness of berry jam at the moment it's being made, before it darkens and concentrates. There's a faint powdery quality, almost like dusting your fingers with icing sugar mixed with crushed violet leaves. The scent whispers rather than shouts: slightly tart, gently fruity, with an underlying earthy undertone reminiscent of wet soil after rain. It's more perfume-sketch than photorealistic berry—ethereal and impressionistic.

Floral

Damask Rose smells like the most sophisticated floral you've ever encountered—imagine walking into a sunlit garden where the air is thick with velvety petals. It's honeyed and slightly spicy, with a whisper of green leafiness beneath. There's an almost powdery softness to it, reminiscent of high-quality rose water or dried petals from grandmother's linen drawer, yet it carries an unexpected fruity brightness—like red berries and ripe plums. It's unmistakably feminine without being cloying, and it commands attention without shouting.