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

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.