Citrus

Candied fruits smell like the nostalgic sweetness of a traditional sweet shop—imagine biting into a glazed orange peel or a jewel-bright preserved apricot. It's citrus stripped of its fresh, zesty bite and wrapped instead in a honeyed, almost caramelised warmth. There's a jammy thickness to it, with subtle spice notes (think cinnamon or clove) lurking beneath the sugar. It's comforting rather than sharp, reminiscent of marmalade or the aroma wafting from a Victorian kitchen during confectionery-making.

Floral

Jasmine smells like honeyed sweetness wrapped in creamy silk. Imagine walking past a night-blooming garden after rain—you'll catch something intoxicating, almost indolic, with a touch of powder and subtle green leafiness. It's floral without being shrill; sensual without being cloying. There's a faint animalic warmth underneath, vaguely reminiscent of skin musk. The scent hovers between sophisticated perfume counter elegance and heady midnight romance—simultaneously delicate and deeply seductive.