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.

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.