Estēe Lauder
Estēe Lauder
91 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Grapefruit and mandarin ignite immediately, their zippy acidity cutting through a honeyed sweetness that the orange blossom imparts. The green notes arrive like a clearing agent, sharp and slightly bitter, preventing the opening from tipping into candied territory whilst bergamot provides architectural structure to what could otherwise feel scattered.
Gardenia and freesia emerge with quiet insistence, their creamy, slightly soapy character rounding the citrus's earlier angularity. The rose deepens the composition from bright to contemplative, whilst that Chinese rhododendron adds a subtle peppery-herbal dimension that keeps everything from settling into predictable floral softness.
Precious woods and amber build beneath a fading gardenia, though the performance here is notably attenuated—the fragrance retreats to a whisper, leaving mostly a sensual skin accord that smells of warm amber and musk rather than distinct notes, eventually fading to barely-there warmth within hours.
Intuition Estēe Lauder arrives as a burst of Mediterranean morning—bergamot and mandarin orange colliding with sharp grapefruit, their citric brightness tempered by a whisper of green notes that suggest crushed leaves rather than floral greenery. There's an almost candied quality to the citrus here, particularly where the mandarin meets orange blossom; it reads less "fresh" and more "sweetened," as if you've bitten into fruit that's been left in the sun. The heart unveils a gardenia-freesia pairing that's respectfully restrained—these florals don't screech for attention but rather settle into the composition like silk slipping beneath cotton. Rose and Chinese rhododendron add a faintly herbal, slightly peppery undertone that prevents the middle from becoming saccharine or overly powdery, a crucial balance given the citrus-sweetness already established.
This is a fragrance for the pragmatist with romantic leanings—someone who appreciates florals but won't tolerate cloying excess. It's unisex in the way only early-2000s niche perfumery understood it: neither aggressively masculine nor bathroomy-feminine, simply *present*. Wear it to the office over linen, to afternoon tea when you want to smell considered rather than conspicuous, or layered on clean skin when you need something that suggests effort without announcing it. Alberto Morillas has crafted something deliberately understated, a composition that whispers rather than declaims—which, given contemporary rating scores for longevity and sillage, proves both its greatest appeal and its fundamental limitation.
Add fragrances to your collection and unlock your personalised scent DNA, note map, and shareable identity card.
3.5/5 (377)