Gourmand

Gourmand notes smell like indulgence wrapped in warmth. Imagine biting into a buttery caramel, then catching the sweetness of vanilla cream, perhaps dusted with cocoa powder. There's an almost edible quality—reminiscent of dessert shops, warm toffee pudding, or the buttery richness of shortbread fresh from the oven. It's comfort in olfactory form: sweet, creamy, occasionally nutty, and deeply comforting. Unlike fruity or floral notes, gourmands feel almost tactile—you want to sink into them.

Floral

Heliotrope smells like vanilla-scented powder warmed by sunlight—imagine crushing sweet almond biscuits mixed with cherry liqueur, then dusting the result with talcum. It's gourmand but delicate, with a subtle almond-marzipan sweetness undercut by something floral yet creamy. There's a powdery, almost baby-soft quality that feels nostalgic, like opening an old beauty compact. It's neither purely floral nor purely edible; it exists in a dreamy middle ground, slightly intoxicating and comforting.