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.

Woody

Rosewood smells like walking through a freshly sanded furniture workshop—warm, creamy, and gently sweet, but distinctly wooden rather than floral. Imagine the aroma of a pencil shaving mixed with subtle cinnamon warmth and a whisper of something almost creamy, like sandalwood's mellower cousin. It's soft and approachable, lacking harshness; rather like inhaling the scent of polished mahogany with a touch of honeyed spice underneath. There's an inherent smoothness that feels both elegant and grounding.