Floral

Egyptian geranium smells like a sun-warmed rose garden with a whisper of green leaf and subtle spice—imagine crushed geranium leaves on a hot afternoon, mingling with soft floral sweetness and a faint peppery bite. It's rosy yet herbaceous, never purely perfume-counter pretty. There's an almost dusty, slightly soapy quality, like pressing your face into dried rose petals mixed with fresh green stems. It carries warmth and earthiness without heaviness.

Woody

Indonesian patchouli smells like damp earth after rain mixed with old leather and burnt wood. Imagine walking through a tropical forest floor where decomposing leaves release a rich, almost earthy sweetness—not unpleasant, but deeply grounded. There's a subtle spice beneath it, reminiscent of cloves or cinnamon, with hints of dark chocolate and tobacco leaf. It's heavy, sensual, and slightly animalic; the smell of something authentic and weathered rather than refined.