Fresh

Iris aldehyde smells like powdered iris root—dry, slightly sweet, with a whisper of white pepper and wet concrete. Imagine dusting your hands with talc that's been infused with the faintest hint of violet leaf and fresh laundry. There's a metallic shimmer to it, almost like the ozone you smell after lightning strikes. It's not floral in the traditional sense; rather, it's the crystalline skeleton of an iris flower, stripped of moisture and softened by a clean, slightly soapy haze.

Woody

Virginia Cedar smells like walking into a freshly built wooden cabin on a crisp autumn morning. It's dry and warm, with pencil-shaving brightness—that distinctive scent you get when you sharpen a cedar pencil. Beneath lies a subtle spiciness and mild camphoraceous coolness, almost minty. There's a hint of resin and burnt wood smoke, tinged with earthiness. It's woody without being heavy, clean without being sharp—imagine aged timber that's been lightly sanded and left in dry air.