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.

Floral

Jasmine smells like honeyed sweetness wrapped in creamy silk. Imagine walking past a night-blooming garden after rain—you'll catch something intoxicating, almost indolic, with a touch of powder and subtle green leafiness. It's floral without being shrill; sensual without being cloying. There's a faint animalic warmth underneath, vaguely reminiscent of skin musk. The scent hovers between sophisticated perfume counter elegance and heady midnight romance—simultaneously delicate and deeply seductive.