She smells like waking up after a storm, all wet leaves and sun-punch. Bit of berry, some skunk, maybe mango if you squint one nostril shut—then all of it disappears once you light up. The smoke’s sweet, not cloying, hangs mellow on your tongue. It fools you, though. Sneaky. That fruity promise turns into spaceflight if you keep puffing.
says she’s loved for terp curves and those frosty little trichome zippers—and yeah, they’re right. This isn’t just smell-for-show. It’s full-spectrum scent. You wanna sniff the jar all day. Seriously.