Floral

Imagine walking through an English cottage garden on a dewy morning in late spring—that's May rose absolute. It smells intensely floral, almost intoxicating, with a deep, honeyed richness far more complex than a fresh-cut rose. There's a subtle fruitiness underneath (like dried apricots), a whisper of spice, and an almost creamy, indolic warmth that feels slightly green and slightly animalic. It's opulent and slightly heady—the smell of petals that have been slowly warming in the sun.

Woody

Oud is profoundly complex—imagine walking into a centuries-old wooden temple where incense has smouldered for generations. There's dark, animalic warmth reminiscent of leather and tobacco, threaded through with something almost medicinal and slightly funky, like aged wood that's been touched by earth and time. Some describe it as smoky-sweet, with whispers of honey and spice lurking beneath. It's neither floral nor fresh; it's introspective and dense, filling your senses with contemplative richness.