Citrus

Rhubarb smells tart and slightly green, like biting into the stalk of a freshly picked plant. Imagine the sharp, almost sour zing of ripe granny smith apple meets the leafy, vegetal quality of freshly cut grass or rhubarb leaves themselves. There's a candied sweetness underneath—reminiscent of stewed rhubarb with sugar—but the dominant character is brisk, slightly tangy, and surprisingly juicy. It's herbaceous without being medicinal, and carries a whisper of that pleasant astringency you'd feel on your tongue.

Woody

Vetiver smells like freshly turned earth after rainfall, mixed with dry hay and a whisper of smoke. Imagine walking through a sun-baked field where roots and soil still hold morning dew—that's the grounding, slightly dusty quality you'll encounter. There's an almost savoury, mineral-like character, with hints of cedarwood and green tea. It's simultaneously earthy and arid, never sweet, with a faint green-wood quality that feels both calming and deeply natural. Think of it as the scent of resilience and stability in olfactory form.