Floral

Orange blossom smells like wedding day innocence—delicate, honeyed, and sweetly intoxicating. Imagine stepping into a Mediterranean grove where bitter orange trees are in full bloom: there's a creamy, almost waxy floral sweetness reminiscent of jasmine, but airier and less heady. It carries subtle citrus whispers (the ghost of orange peel) beneath layers of creamy butter and almond milk. There's something both ethereal and sensual about it—less heavy than gardenia, more refined than rose, with a green, slightly bitter edge that keeps it from being cloying.

Woody

White woods smell like the clean, almost silvery heart of freshly sawn timber—imagine walking into a high-end carpentry workshop where pale birch or ash has just been cut. There's a subtle coolness here, almost minty-fresh, paired with a dry, slightly powdery quality reminiscent of cedarwood but airier and less resinous. It's the olfactory equivalent of pale sunlight filtering through a sparse forest. Some describe it as having a whisper of aldehydes—that soapy, slightly metallic brightness you'd find in expensive laundry water. It's refined, almost ethereal, and never heavy.