Green

Moss smells like the cool, earthy embrace of a forest floor after rainfall. Imagine pressing your nose against damp bark and decomposing leaves—there's a mineral, slightly sweet green quality, reminiscent of petrichor mixed with crushed ferns and old stone. It's neither floral nor fruity, but rather a subtle, velvety earthiness with faint woody undertones, like inhaling the air in a shaded woodland where sunlight barely penetrates.

Woody

Musk is the scent of warmth itself—imagine the gentle heat radiating from skin after exercise, mingled with soft suede and a whisper of vanilla. It's deeply intimate rather than floral or sharp; think of wrapping yourself in a cashmere blanket warmed by the sun, with a faint animalic undertone that's almost imperceptible. Pure musk has a powdery, almost imperceptible sweetness, like the inside of a lover's wrist or the comfort of well-loved fabric. It doesn't announce itself boldly; instead, it envelops and lingers on your skin like a second layer.