Green

Fern smells like stepping into a cool, shaded forest after rain—green, slightly damp, and intensely herbaceous. Imagine crushing fresh fern fronds between your fingers: there's a mineral, almost cucumber-like freshness mixed with earthy soil undertones. It's crisp and slightly peppery, without the sweetness of flowers. The scent is clean but complex, reminiscent of wet moss, green stems, and that peculiar smell of plants thriving in shadowy, humid places where sunlight barely penetrates.

Woody

Musk is the scent of warmth itself—imagine the gentle heat radiating from skin after exercise, mingled with soft suede and a whisper of vanilla. It's deeply intimate rather than floral or sharp; think of wrapping yourself in a cashmere blanket warmed by the sun, with a faint animalic undertone that's almost imperceptible. Pure musk has a powdery, almost imperceptible sweetness, like the inside of a lover's wrist or the comfort of well-loved fabric. It doesn't announce itself boldly; instead, it envelops and lingers on your skin like a second layer.