Oriental

Spanish labdanum smells like warm, resinous amber kissed by sun-baked stone. Imagine honey that's been drizzled over leather and left to caramelize in the heat—sticky, slightly smoky, with undertones of incense and dried tobacco. There's a honeyed sweetness lurking beneath an almost animalic earthiness, reminiscent of walking into a centuries-old church filled with burning candles and wooden pews. It's hedonistic and slightly intoxicating, never delicate.

Gourmand

Tonka bean smells like warm vanilla custard swirled with almond cream and a whisper of caramel tobacco. Imagine the sweetness of Madagascar vanilla, but richer and almost spiced—there's a subtle nuttiness underneath, as if someone's stirred in crushed amaretti biscuits and a pinch of cinnamon. It's gourmand without being cloying; the scent wraps around you like cashmere, creamy and comforting rather than sticky-sweet.