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.

Gourmand

Venezuelan tonka bean smells like a warm embrace of vanilla, but richer and more complex than simple sweetness. Imagine crème brûlée's caramelised sugar crust, honeyed almond paste, and a whisper of fresh-cut hay all at once. There's an almost smoky warmth underneath—like the inside of a well-aged wooden cabinet filled with dried spices. It's gourmand without being cloying: edible, comforting, yet mysteriously sophisticated, with subtle hints of dried fruit and warm leather that prevent it from being purely sugary.