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White Linen
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Descripción
White Linen by Estée Lauder is an aldehydic floral fragrance for women. Launched in 1978, this composition was created by perfumer Sophia Grojsman. Upon release, aldehydes, lemon and peach deliver a fresh, citrusy first impression. The heart reveals a complex floral bouquet featuring hyacinth, carnation, lily of the valley, rose, lilac, iris, jasmine, iris root, violet, ylang-ylang and orchid. The base settles on oakmoss, vetiver, cedar, sandalwood, benzoin, honey, amber and tonka bean, closing the structure with warmth and persistence.
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3,792 votos
- Positivo 70%
- Negativo 25%
- Neutral 5.2%
Pirámide olfativa
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When applied to blotting paper, it smells very much like Chanel No. 5.
I’m not sure if it has been reformulated and these are the notes for the vintage: Top: Bulgarian rose, jasmine, muguet. Heart: Violet, lily. Base: Vetiver, moss, amber. I agree with Kirtash. It seems to be an American version of Chanel’s aldehydes, the No. 5 and No. 22, adapted to the taste for fresh and minimalist scents. Being very aldehydic, it generates controversy. I’ve asked several people and no one has remained indifferent. Some see it as clean, others as strong and invasive, others as cheap or outdated. It is the perfume of the strong women of my childhood, the fighters of the 80s and 90s, and the workers who refused to give up anything. I don’t see it as ‘clean’, although I understand that it recalls detergents, which explains the association with clean clothes. I do see it as strong, but beautiful and sensual. Although it may be defined as ‘for older women’, I see it as sophisticated and elegant. It is an aldehydic floral, a penetrating elixir, but above all, I note it as green, woody, and very musky. Vetiver, moss, and cedar are the most prominent notes, along with the musky chords. I detect mostly rose and muguet, fresh and lively. I don’t detect the amber. It is perfect for all seasons and uses, with moderation. It tastes warm in the cold and fresh in the heat. It is clean enough for work and sensual enough for going out.
I’m not sure if it has been reformulated and these are the vintage notes, but according to the Estée Lauder website, they are: Top: Bulgarian rose, jasmine, magnolia. Heart: Violet, lily. Base: Vetiver, moss, amber. I agree with Kirtash. It seems like an American version of Chanel’s aldehydic classics, No. 5 and No. 22, but adapted to the taste for fresh and minimalist scents over there. Being so aldehydic, it generates controversy. I’ve asked several people and no one has remained indifferent. Some see it as clean, others as strong and invasive, others as cheap or outdated. It is the perfume of the strong women of my childhood, the fighters of the 80s and 90s, and the workers who refused to give up anything. I don’t see it as ‘clean’, although I understand it recalls detergents, which explains the association with clean clothes sought by the name and advertising. I do see it as strong, but beautiful and sensual. Although it may be defined as ‘for older ladies’, I see it as sophisticated and elegant. It is an aldehydic floral, a penetrating elixir, but above all, I note it as green, woody, and very musky. Vetiver, moss, and cedar are the most prominent notes, along with the musky accords. I detect mainly rose and magnolia, fresh and lively. I don’t detect the amber. It is perfect for all seasons and uses, in moderation. It tastes warm in the cold and fresh in the heat. It is clean enough for work and sensual enough for going out.
What a wonderful comment, Tamar! You made me laugh with your description of the perfume smelling like an older lady with ‘hair on her lip’. Brilliantly put. I’ve completely forgotten to buy this fragrance. Best regards.
Hello, this is my first time writing a review, though I always read them. Years ago, whenever I approached a young friend, I loved her perfume; when I asked, she said it was White Linen by Estée Lauder. I stuck with my favourites, but yesterday I bought a miniature to try that scent I remembered as enchanting. What a letdown! It smells like a very elderly lady, in a fur coat, with a pearl necklace and hair on her lip. It also smells of dampness, like a closed cupboard. That’s how it sits on my skin, a pity.
Tamar, perfumes do not define age. There are young people who love sumptuous and vintage scents, and older people who prefer light fruity florals. Do not hold prejudices. Hair in the nasogenian groove can be present at any age. You are a woman and should not be dismissive towards older women; surely one day you will like getting older and will not have to smell of mould, will you? My grandmother smelled wonderfully good.
White Linen is the older sister of Pure White Linen, yet on my skin they are worlds apart. I adore that blend of aldehyde, narcissus and oakmoss; although acidic scents or those that turn acidic due to the moss don’t always suit me, this is a delightful acid from the very first moment. It is the most elegant and modern sporty fragrance I have tried. The longevity is brutal, lasting hours, with the trail coming in bursts. With the body lotion it outperforms many potent perfumes. It is so formal that it never fails. The bottle defines me to the hundred per cent. I only recommend it if you have strong personality; it took me a while to warm to it, but once I understood it, it became an ally I cannot do without. Another gem from Estée Lauder.
It’s a fragrance totally different to my taste, one of the loveliest I use, but it has NOTHING to do with PURE WHITE LINEN. I live in Argentina and it hasn’t arrived for four years; I don’t know if they don’t make it anymore or simply it doesn’t reach here. I love it because it’s different from everything else that smells so similar now. White Linen is one of the best, very seductive and mysterious.
White Linen is a beauty that always grabs me when I wear it. I’m in love with this Estée Lauder fragrance… A specimen that today is the house’s diamond. I compared it with others from the brand and although they’re all beautiful, this one claims its dominance. The most beautiful and cheerful aldehyde I’ve ever experienced. Describing it is complicated because it evokes a memory of a pristine white bath near a windowed garden, tree branches and vines, with flower petals in the tub. It captures a still life and a living nature, the beauty of a vintage fragrance in its splendour. When you wear it, you feel clean, inside and out; it takes you away from the city, the noise, and the artificial, bringing you closer to a mossy stone villa, old benches, walls with sundials, and statues that speak of endurance. It’s the perfume of a bohemian person who walked away from everything to feel nature and focus on the arts. It’s a delirium from minute one and only grows with time. I’d think if a man smelled this on a woman, he’d automatically fall in love with her sweetness, delicacy, and purity. Again, Sophia Grojsman reaches my olfactory feelings; she expresses sensitivity so well in every fragrance.
I tried it on blotter paper at the perfumer’s yesterday and it put me right off. Anyone would think I was mad sniffing it. I recognised it without knowing what it was and kept smelling the paper until I felt sick and got a headache. Damned aldehydes; I like them but they don’t suit me. I expected something light and virginal, but found a colourful, commanding fragrance. It’s not crisp white linen; it’s crisp light violet taffeta. At first, it smells like a salon with lots of hairspray, dry moss, dead flowers, and violet sweets. It doesn’t smell ‘old’ at all; it speaks of the eternal and universal: joy, luminosity, optimism. I understand why many young people might see it as the ‘queen of old lady perfumes’. White Linen isn’t for everyone. The opening is a charge of crystalline aldehydes, a cloud of gaseous powder like from an extinguisher. What a slap in the face. I grabbed the nearest stable object. Mixed with citrus, it’s like a thunderous string section with sharp tremolos. Those despotic aldehydes are like Le Nôtre taming nature. The rest doesn’t smell like it does in the pot, and that’s lovely because they don’t want to be literal. When it calms down, it teaches us things. The hyacinths aren’t clear; more like those in Cristalle or Anaïs Anaïs. To enjoy the musicality, you have to get past the overture. I get over the aldehydic slap. The evolution is subtle, slow, and charming, very orderly. What comes next I like a lot. From the aldehydic cloud emerge lemony accents, then slightly aniseed violets, and yes, lilacs. A few hours later, on blotter, it leaves a soft but powerful blend of citrus, woods, and moss. It reminds me of Eau de Rochas pour homme, but with more quality, depth, and an indescribable femininity. Here I see perfect balance and the most spectacular aria. It’s the right scent for any occasion. Unless I get used to this strength, I’d exclude the romantic side so I don’t have to say ‘no today, I have a headache’. The bottle is comfortable and pretty. Great to find things like this. The pity is they’re often tucked away at the top. It’s gorgeous. For anyone wanting to stand out with a scent of light and radiant femininity. For born queens.
Smells of balanced neutral talc and soap.
I took it out yesterday to try it. In the perfumery, when I applied it to blotting paper, it got me all worked up. Anyone would have seen me pacing around smelling it and thought I was mad. I won’t talk about what I already knew without realising it. I kept smelling that paper constantly. Even in the first few sprays, I felt dizzy and got a headache. Damned aldehydes; I like them, but they upset me. I was expecting something light and virginal, but instead found a colourful and imperious fragrance. Not white linen, but crisp light violet taffeta. At first, it smells like a hairdresser’s with lots of hairspray, dry moss, dead flowers, and violet sweets. It doesn’t smell ‘old’ at all. That aroma speaks to me of the eternal and universal, of joy and optimism. But I understand that for many young people, it may be a contender for the throne of ‘older women’s perfumes’. White Linen isn’t for everyone. The opening carries crystalline aldehydes, like a gas-dust extinguisher. A slap in the face. I cling to the nearest object. Mixed with citrus, it becomes a thunderous string section. Those aldehydes rule like a Le Nôtre taming nature. The rest doesn’t smell like it does in the pot, and that’s lovely; they don’t want to be figurative. When it calms down (it takes ages), it teaches us things. The hyacinths aren’t clear; they seem more like Cristalle than Anaïs Anaïs. To enjoy the slow, graceful evolution, you have to get past the overture. I overcome the aldehydic slap. The evolution is orderly and technical. From the aldehydic cloud emerge lemony accents, then aniseed violets and lilacs. Several hours later, on blotting paper, it leaves a soft but potent blend of citrus, woods, and moss. It reminds me of Eau de Rochas pour homme, but with more quality and a feminine touch. Here I see perfect balance. It is the right scent for any occasion. Unless I get used to this strength, I would exclude the romantic aspect to avoid saying ‘not today, I have a headache’. The bottle is comfortable and pretty. Great to find things like this. The pity is that they are usually hidden away upstairs. It’s gorgeous. For anyone who wants to stand out with a light, radiant feminine aroma. For born queens.
I’ve bought this four times, first when I was 17. It smells of elegance, class, and is unlike anything else on the market. It can be worn at any time of year, but sparingly. At first, it’s a strong aldehydic blast, but soon it settles into a unique, tender scent with a subtly powdery finish. I don’t see the ‘older lady’ vibe; older women wear what they want—I know many who use Britney, Killer Queen, or Nenuco fragrances. Besides, what age is it? 30, 40, 50, 60, 70… I wore it at 17.
I’ve bought this four times; I purchased my first bottle when I was 17. It smells of elegance, class, and something different from the market. It can be worn at any time of year, but only in small quantities. At first, it is a strong aldehydic scent, but soon it settles into a unique, tender aroma that is subtly powdery. I don’t see it as a perfume for ‘older women’. Older women wear what they want; I know many who use Britney’s Fantasy, Killer Queen, or Nenuco. What age counts as ‘older’? 30, 40, 50… I wore it at 17.
I recall an Italian actress, Caterina Boratto, from the 60s and 70s, who was, for me, the height of maternal and relaxing elegance. That’s what WHITE LINEN by Estée Lauder smells like in its vintage version. It reminds me of those older ladies, supremely attractive and embracing, close in distance yet empathetic in their hauteur. When they placed a hand on my head, I felt as though the heavens had settled upon me. From the outset, it unleashes its aldehydic power: soapy, greasy, floral and spiced. It includes notes that remind me of Chanel No. 5, Joy, Joy Patou, Youth Dew, Cinnabar and Opium, those Ladies of Perfume who reign in a protective Olympus. It’s so potent it can almost be chewed; on my skin it shifts from gaseous to solid, compacting my mucous membranes and making itself felt on the palate. It’s savoury and sends me a nectar of apricot-scented flowers, a shower of roses, carnations, jasmine, ylang, orchids and more flowers from the Temple of the Goddesses. It dusts with starlight of cloves, amber and sandalwood, and mossy, labdanum sighs of nostalgia for those days when I gazed at my Goddesses from my short stature.
What a beautiful review; it could describe any classic lady’s perfume worn with dresses and handbags. Unfortunately, on my skin the aldehydes and cedar dominate, so it’s not for me. It’s a pity because I loved it on paper.
Wow… I didn’t know this one and I absolutely loved it. It reminded me of stepping into a church or hermitage, with the altar and the Virgin surrounded by flowers and the scent of burning candles.
It’s a quirky scent, ideal for determined women and perfect for evening. As it’s potent, don’t apply directly to the skin. It’s elegant and mysterious.
Total bliss, even though the aldehydes give me a headache. Still, I dare to wear it because it’s a unique, kind, sincere and tender scent that takes me to heaven.
This is Estée Lauder; we know we are facing a composition of extremely high quality, no need to say that this fragrance was born during the brand’s great peak in the 70s. For Bernard Chant and Sophia Grojsman to create fragrances is no small feat, and the repertoire of famous noses who passed through this company is dreamlike. After the boom of Azure, Aliage, and Private Collection, Estée Lauder stepped back from its green aromatic fragrances, which gave it so much success, to give way to a powerful aldehydic floral. This is not the first time this happens; its first Estée fragrance (1968) had an aroma overflowing with aldehydes/florals. Flowers laden with high doses of aldehydes remind us of a known classic: Chanel N22. So, when building this fragrance, we do not know if Sophia might have had Ernest Beaux in mind, or perhaps, not going back so far in time, taking inspiration rather from the first fragrance Bernard made for Lauder. White Linen opens with an explosion of flowers, of which I sense lilac as the primordial (to my nose), and an overwhelming brilliance of aldehydes. Some violet, iris, and roses adorn part of that floral bouquet. In its flowers and part of its base, it is the little difference that marks it from Chanel N22; the latter uses jasmine and ylang-ylang (as main notes) with a high dose of woody vanilla. White Linen chooses something more resinous/ambery in its base, a fine touch of moss, accompanied by woods (which are measured so as not to overshadow the floral bouquet). I bet there is also some musk (even though it is not listed). Great noses influencing each other and creating exquisite fragrances. The projection is moderate/light and the fixation is excellent.
If you go to a cabin with a fireplace in autumn or winter, you must bring this perfume. Its scent multiplies by a thousand, becoming unique by the fire; if you have tried it in another context and do not like it, you might pass from hatred to love. But be careful, it is a vintage scent, nothing to buy blind. The other scenario where it looks very good is as a clean, soapy fragrance for summer days. My husband detests it, which is why I have not repeated it; however, when I wore it in front of the fireplace, he loved it and always asked what perfume it was… me, as is logical, I answered with a poker face: the one you hate so much and just told me not to wear anymore. So I encourage you to try it if you do not know it.
It is a perfume jewel; I cannot find words to describe it, so I will limit myself to enjoying both the fragrance and the reviews below: Selene, Josesan, Ts6, Casablanca 77, ladamedenoir, Maeva. How beautifully you write. Thank you!!!
I bought it blind. It is a wonderful scent. But it gives me a headache. Perhaps it is the aldehydes. I have worn it to exchange or sell. It is a pity because it is unique.
This perfume creates contrasting perceptions in me. On one hand, it has a scent I like; it reminds me very much of Chanel N22: soapy, floral, luminous vintage. However, I perceive the evolution as flat, plain, opaque, and very incisive. Let us say the ingredients are not flexible; it is not a scent with sparkles or layer changes, but a solid block that remains sharp and equal from start to finish. That can be a virtue or a defect; for my taste, I would prefer it to be different. A drop is enough. Perhaps the problem is that I am looking for a Chanel N22 in this perfume and it is not. The scent is lovely but with those characteristics, it eventually overwhelms me. Still, it is a great fragrance, very clear from beginning to end. Light and flowers with a strong wind. For lovers of the classic, vintage that will never age. Longevity of 10.
I tried it without knowing anything about it. It’s an incredible fragrance, but it gives me a headache, perhaps due to the aldehydes. I’ve put it up for exchange or sale. What a pity, because it’s truly unique.
An explosion of aldehydes that transports us back to times when every perfume had personality, rather than that uniform grey floral sameness of recent years. I think it isn’t for everyone, and that is why it is unique. For me, it evokes being amongst freshly washed and sun-dried sheets in my grandmother’s courtyard. It is a luminous, brilliant, and sophisticated scent. It is worn in all directions, spring-like, summery, daytime… and then, by magic, its trail changes at night into something much sexier and mysterious.
An explosion of aldehydes that transports us back to the times when every perfume had its own personality, not that grey floral uniformity of recent years. I think it is not for everyone, and that is no bad thing. That is why it is unique. It evokes for me being amongst freshly washed and sun-dried sheets in my grandparents’ patio. It is a luminous, bright, and sophisticated smell. I wear it in all directions; spring, summer, daytime… and by magic, at night its trail changes to something much sexier and mysterious.
On trying White Linen, it evokes sheets spread out in the sun, mixing a soapy, floral scent and, although it does not appear in the notes, a slightly musky aroma. It is a subtle and non-invasive smell, perhaps a little too soft for my taste, yet I still detected it after seven hours. I have liked it. It is versatile: it suits both formal and informal situations.
I met it in 1985. A friend used it and I fell in love. Many years later I bought it and have had a bottle ever since. It is my signature scent. None of the perfumes in my extensive collection dethrones it. I always have spare bottles of this and of Calèche (Hermès).
Luxury perfume, crafted for those who truly understand scent, not for the general public. The aldehydes are perfectly balanced with the florals and a very soft citrus note. I’ll buy it every time I find it while it remains in stock.
A perfume beauty, when fragrances were made for connoisseurs and not just consumers. Perfectly balanced aldehydes with the flowers and a light citrus touch. I will buy it every time they sell it while it is still available.
A nod to a golden era: White Linen smells like a freshly ironed white shirt. That 2000s bottle brought back the old days for me. I forgot how beautiful it is, provided you don’t overdo it. It is clean, pure, and comforting, yet not naive. To me, it is very aldehydic and floral, perhaps a little dry, revealing a moderate soapy and spicy character. What I notice most, apart from the aldehydes, is a potent base of vetiver and moss. A touch of amber adds warmth. Everything fits perfectly. The flowers, such as rose, hint harmoniously, just as the jasmine and valley lily do. The iris root and carnation stand out against the dry base. When the floral explosion calms down, I notice strong soapy notes that I adore. It evolves between intense flowers and a silky creaminess, growing in intensity. Its longevity is notable for a clean scent, leaving a considerable trail. Use it with moderation; it is ideal for sophisticated people and is outside current trends.