Men
Estivalia
Acordes principales
Descripción
Estivalia by Antonio Puig is a floral fragrance for women. Launched in 1973, this composition was created by perfumers Jean François Latty and Rosendo Mateu.
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123 votos
- Positivo 90%
- Negativo 7.3%
- Neutral 2.4%
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A fresh scent that reminds of spring, my mom used it when I was a child. Right after application, the vetiver notes are perceived with greater intensity, which after an hour of application (over a moisturizing cream base) fade to give greater prominence to flowers, highlighting the soapy aroma of jasmine, which sometimes gives a musk sensation.
My mom also used it during my childhood, and I sometimes used it too. Indeed, it was very floral and spring-like, but for me there was something dark, something wild and unsettling that I couldn’t define in it, which made it more attractive than other fresh florals of the time. Now thanks to Fragrantica I know it could be the vetiver. I suppose this, among other scents from my childhood, would be the culprits of the addiction I suffer from today…
My mom also used it when I was a child! I started using it in my adolescence and now my 13-year-old sister started using it because it reminds us of our mother. I think it’s being discontinued in Chile. It’s fresh and exotic, a very unique scent, it plays with vetiver and is intense but not invasive.
My mom used to wear it when I was a kid, I remember the bottle and seeing and smelling it always, that was about 35 years ago, such memories.
By the way, yesterday I reviewed Guerlain’s Aqua Allegoria Gentiana, and I think that idea of a refreshing cologne that stays away from citrus led me to Estivalia. Like Gentiana, it’s a much more complex fragrance than it seems at first glance. Both Gentiana (from my faint memories) and Estivalia share a woody, slightly animalic, clay-like drydown with a masculine touch that absolutely intoxicates me.
I went in specifically looking for Estivalia, and I was so happy to see the good reviews. It was a wonderful fragrance. In the seventies and eighties, Puig created a series of excellent popular perfumes made with no pretension other than being accessible products, and I believe they are absolutely modern. It’s rare to find a Spanish house that didn’t have a couple of Puig bottles in the bathroom. For me, the brand’s feminine scents are associated with spring and summer: colognes with lots of personality, each distinct from the other, with decent sillage and longevity. I think an Estivalia or an Agua Brava fulfill the goal of keeping you scented for a few hours, something that can’t be said of most perfumes today. Specifically, Estivalia was an incredibly fresh and floral fragrance but with a very marked character. It wasn’t a generic floral with the typical muddy, similar floral notes we’ve smelled in so many perfumes; Estivalia was a floral and refreshing fragrance but with a delicious dark, damp touch. Almost narcotic in its freshness. Have you ever entered a closed room in a large old estate that is nonetheless cleaned with regularity? Estivalia reminded me exactly of that: an old house surrounded by vegetation, with a pool or irrigation ditch, a mansion with lots of activity where everything is old but clean, where some rooms have a living humidity, that dark humidity that almost slaps you in the face, mixed with the floral touches of some seasonal bouquet placed in a vase. A beautiful mix of dark dampness with the sharp tinkling of a flower. Normally floral fragrances repulse me in summer, however this Estivalia was pure summer, a summer sheltered from the heat, like a genre painting of quiet, everyday life with a touch of romance, sticking to the original definition of the word. For me, Estivalia is a fragrance made into a Memento Mori, but a happy Memento Mori, full of tenderness and youth. My mother used it in the eighties along with Anouk and Zinnia, also by Puig. Anouk always seemed horrible to me, and I remember begging her please never to use it again, to give away the bottle (it smelled to me like acidic hair lacquer); however, I loved Zinnia (incredibly fresh and crisp) and Estivalia. “Gloomy garden on a summer day,” I love the definition given by LaDamedeNoir; whenever I’ve remembered it over the years, the image that formed in my head to describe it is very similar. And the bottle? A cheerful, jovial, and elegant design, with a playful and classic touch that for me is a small work of art. I don’t know what I like more, the design or the color; I think they are combined perfectly here to give hints about the fragrance you will find inside. I can’t explain how wonders like this are discontinued when they are timeless fragrances that pass the test of time more than victoriously.
I met Estivalia through my mother, and thanks to her, I acquired a taste for perfumes. What a delicate and strong personality Estivalia had; the vetiver mixed with the green and wood gave it that fresh and dark game that I loved. I speak in the past because it was discontinued two years ago in my country, a great pity. If I had known, I would have stocked up on several bottles. Another beauty left behind in the past.
A classic from my adolescence; I heard it recently… pleasant memories.
Estivalia, how pure your name is and what memories you’ve brought me… Walking today through a flea market with free time, I found bottles of this wonderful herbal water. Small 25ml bottles for a euro, I took one and worriedly noticed how everything has changed, the difference between today and yesterday. Has so much time passed? At home I opened it and noticed it’s terribly imperious, less sweet than I remember, with an abrupt vetiver that’s not friendly, but full of life, a life of the underworld. Or my sense of smell has changed, or it has; I remembered it as more affable, feminine, and less rough. Now it’s the quieter sister, less loaded with Alliage Sport by Estee Lauder. It softens with minutes but keeps a masculine, stubborn, and gloomy touch, like a Roger Corman movie. An archaeological marvel for the price of a tip; here I have it to close my eyes and return to my deepest root, since it was the first cologne I had as a child.
@casablanca, those masculine notes you noticed correspond to the Estivalia I remember: earthy, floral but very somber, with mud nuances. It was wonderful.
Review based on the 2013 version (doubts about the code). Rosendo Mateu, a Catalan perfumer, joined PUIG at 15. For 40 years he created Spain’s emblematic perfumes in the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, and 2000s. Antonio Banderas owes him several fragrances, and he created myths like Agua Brava, Anouk, Brummel, Qorum, Sybaris, Vetiver, or Zinnia. And in 1973, Estivalia. Since 2010, he’s one of the few Maître Parfumeurs in Europe, creating custom scents. I don’t know the 1973 version, but with the 2013 one, I get an idea. Who was the woman of the 70s using a masculine fougère? What can they teach us now in a world of sugar and ambroxan? Estivalia portrays a powerful, strong, independent woman with clear ideas, who relies on herself, enjoying herself without seeking acceptance. I think of Luz Casal. It’s drastic, even for me. It’s not a fresh citrus, nor summery, nor aquatic, nor ozonic. It’s an aldehydic fougère slap from a strict schoolboy curriculum, with some nebulous floral androgyny making it transgender, with a wild animal forest tint. It’s a panther, leopard, tiger, puma, lynx, jaguar, feline scent on the prowl. Glowing eyes in the darkness, lion-like mane, black tights, movements that attract and confuse. Abstract jazz is heard in the jungle. It has all the moss of the forest, bitter herbs of the undergrowth, lichens, and ferns. It has the roundness of an old Dior or a classic Lauder. It’s so fougère it seems like an animalic floral chypre, with epidermal, bronchial, sinus, and animalic tissue flowers that the current world doesn’t want to smell. The Estivalia I have is from 2013, and I can’t believe it. There must be an error in the code; such a scent hasn’t been made for decades.
ESTIVALIA Hello, A Bofifa: It’s not the same for a scent that accompanies and pays tribute to life, as for the same scent when it accompanies and pays tribute to death. (As in your case, Estivalia) That’s why most of the people I know don’t like chrysanthemums. Everyone says they are the flowers of the dead. Chrysanthemums bloom in early autumn and that’s why they are used so much on All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day. I love chrysanthemums (because I like all flowers), but their scent is associated with tragedy in our culture. On the contrary, Japan adopted the chrysanthemum as the imperial seal flower and there is a Festival of Happiness that honors this flower. Also, you were “sensitive” due to the experience you recount. But everyone has priorities and evolves, the more a child… so don’t be hard on yourself. And said all this, so the Fragrantica moderators don’t kick me out, I’ll say that I have had ESTIVALIA for a couple of months. (Never used it before) ESTIVALIA: It is clearly a unisex scent. Strong opening with vetiver (and vetiver oil) and other herbal and field essences, with a citrus touch. It softens after a while and lasts quite well on the skin but much softer. It remains a “green” perfume. It doesn’t highlight any floral note, not even the jasmine. For me, the exotic notes, more than the flowers, are provided by some woody resin. It’s a fresh scent, but not excessively fresh. It has a hint of melancholy, and I don’t associate this melancholy with the fact that I smelled it in the past. I don’t remember this specific perfume. I associate it with the fact that these scents are not usually heard in perfumes today and were typical of the 70s/80s. If I had to define it, I’d say it’s a green forest after the rain, full of ferns and vines that mix with evergreen trees and moss. Huge wet stones appear in the forest. It’s a perfume for daytime use, preferably spring-summer, but could be used at any time. For any age range. I think it’s a bit “mythified.” I like it and will finish the bottle I have, but it doesn’t excite me. I won’t repurchase. Good fixation and longevity… although one shouldn’t exaggerate. Cordial greetings.
Gerard was born deaf-mute and with a mental disability. Hearing him express himself was a spectacle; in the park, dignified and proud at eight or nine years old, with messy red hair, gesticulating and jumping at the laughter of children. I was thirteen; I fell in love with him because one day he gave me a hug. Maybe because I never laughed at him, or because we lived close and I greeted him. His purity had no prejudices: he could shout in a fruit stand (‘Oh, my God’, his family was very religious) or jump for joy when he saw me, drawing a smile on his freckled face and following me like a superhero. I went to his house many afternoons to play on the console (some of you remember ‘Street Fighter 2’). His mother lived alone; his husband disappeared shortly after Gerard was born. She was a chubby, kind, and very neat lady, but the most intense memory is how good she smelled. A fresh, delicate, floral, and woody aroma, full of contrasts. I closed my eyes when she served me Nutella sandwiches to perceive it better. Very different from my mother or my cousin (who used Alada); it wasn’t just a ‘good smell’; it said many things, hiding mysteries and adventures. Today I know it was Estivalia, and it suited that big, elegant lady perfectly, with a slight trace of sadness that imposed her kindness. Over time, I drifted away from Gerard. He continued on the street with his gestures and joy. But my priorities changed in the summer when I got into children’s discos. Before, we waited in the square eating sunflower seeds. I remember with shame the day Gerard approached with candies and offered me one. I accepted, but basically ignored him (Gerard didn’t fit into my world of tough guys), and I felt bad seeing his red head disappear. I forgot about him with the ‘Yellow Tractor’. I don’t know how many months passed, but I remember the morning my mother told me something had happened to him. On a narrow two-way street, Gerard got stuck between a parked car and one passing by. He fell, and the next one ran over him. He ended up face down, without injuries, eyes closed and mouth open, like sleeping, as if all his tenderness had been lost forever. I went to the funeral home with my parents. Gerard’s mother came to me, crying, broken. She gave me a desperate hug, looking for a pillar. Estivalia penetrated my nose again, but this time it didn’t seem fresh or majestic. I thought it was dangerous, random, raw, and meaningless.
Hi Bofifa: it’s not the same for a scent that pays tribute to life versus one that accompanies death (like Estivalia in your case). Many people don’t like chrysanthemums because they are flowers of the dead in our culture, even though they bloom in autumn and are used in festivals. I love all flowers, but their scent is associated with tragedy here. In Japan, it’s the imperial flower and there’s a happiness festival. You were sensitive due to your experience, but everyone evolves, especially children. Don’t be hard on yourself. I’ve had Estivalia for months (never used it before). It’s unisex, with a strong opening of vetiver, herbs, and field essences with a citrus touch. It softens and settles on the skin, remaining green. It doesn’t highlight flowers or jasmine; the exotic notes come from woody resins. It’s fresh, not excessively so. It has melancholy, not because of the past, but because these aromas aren’t typical today, they were in the 70s/80s. I’d define it as a green forest after the rain, full of ferns, vines, evergreen trees, moss, wet stones. It’s for daytime use, spring-summer, but works in any season and age. It’s a bit mythologized. I like it and will finish the bottle, but it didn’t excite me. I won’t repurchase. Good fixation and longevity. Regards.
@Bofifa, your story moved me. With your experience. I don’t know Estivalia, so I can’t review it or imagine its scent just from the notes… But it’s clear, with your review, that scents revive moments, good and bad, transporting us there, becoming part of our lives and emotions. Your experience with Estivalia touched my heart; I’m emotional. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to smell it without thinking of Gerard, even without knowing him. Truly. Sorry for using this space without a review.
The perfume that stole my heart back in my early years. That soft jasmine and patchouli blend is perfect for youth or anyone who prefers very subtle scents.
Intriguing and mysterious, a Spanish gem. Estivalia is like the sea breeze crossing a lush forest, a fresh caress on the skin. A unique balance between herbal, woody, and citrus notes, with none dominating. Moss and vetiver are perfect: the citrus gives an open-air freshness while the flowers embellish that humid forest. The TV ad captured it well. It’s harmonious, with a masterful moss/vetiver duo that emanates melancholy and citrus freshness touching the emotions, yet also floral tranquility. As it develops, the floral notes accentuate. It didn’t grab my attention the first time, but upon re-examining it, I admired its beauty. Today it would be obsolete, a shame, because for me it’s pure poetry. The bottle is magnetic and striking. The current formula approaches the original but loses that special side by reducing notes. For lovers of the 70s and intriguing florals, it doesn’t disappoint.
My early teenage perfume. I loved those soft jasmine and patchouli notes, perfect for that age or for anyone who prefers very subtle scents.
A fragrance of emotions and personality, a unique work in commercial perfumery, now gone. What a pity; this fragrance would be a bomb today, especially for people who don’t know what to wear among the thousands of versions on the market, most of which smell the same. Puig took great care of these fragrances, both their image and their juice. It was Puig.
What a disgusting fragrance. They gave it to me a couple of times in my teenage years and I could never stand it; I preferred not to wear perfume than to smell that aroma. It would always break down, too masculine for me.
What a terrible smell. They gave it to me as a gift several times during my teenage years, and I never could stand it. I’d rather go without perfume than wear that scent; it felt off and way too masculine.
When I was little, one of the perfumes I saw most around the house was Estivalia; I remember my mom and my aunts loved it a lot. I also remember one day I sprayed it to try it out and it seemed very strong to me, with a forest-like smell. Recently I went to the website and reading the reviews, I found the one by Bofifa, which touched my heart and brought back my few memories of Estivalia, so I bought a bottle online. Upon trying it, I felt a blend of notes that transported me, as some comments said, to the depths of a dark, humid forest where ferns and moss grow. I perceive it mainly as feminine with a touch of unisex, but unlike that time, I don’t find it strong, maybe a bit intense due to the vetiver.
Hi, does anyone remember Moana Bouquet? Is there any fragrance today that is equal or similar to it?
My beloved Estivalia, I hope you stay available in your full range: ODT, deodorant, soaps. I still have some half-used bottles because I refuse to finish them without being able to buy more, and the scent remains intact. I only come near you to smell you again when no one is home and nothing distracts me. This fragrance should never have disappeared: it’s iconic, wild, vintage but not powdery, rather rugged, modern, youthful, and with that romance of the forest and wildflowers, like when, on summer vacation in the countryside, we ran under the rain of the north on cool days. Maybe a new version with a softer vetiver would fit better today, yes, but I hope they bring it back and commercialize it again, even if reformulated. It’s the scent of my older sister as she got ready to go out in her teenage years, along with Verté by Puig, which I also hope never disappeared. These are scents you never forget and want to smell again, with your eyes closed so the memories flood back with greater intensity. Pure nostalgia. Only Azur by Puig remains available, and its longevity in 2023 is a sigh.
The scent of my mother when I was little. I loved it. I still remember that smell, which at the time was of a modern, young woman.
I’ll always remember my mom with this perfume every morning before she went to work and when she said goodbye with a kiss; I always felt that scent to hold onto her embrace. The day I need my mom, I’ll need to have, even if it’s just the slightest trace of her, but it’s discontinued.
This was my favorite scent for years, from my teenage years until my daughters were born. It’s still etched in my memory. Unfortunately, they discontinued it, and I miss it so much.
I used to wear this cologne in high school in Chile when I was 15-17. It’s discontinued; let’s write a letter to Antonio Puig to bring it back, haha. There’s nothing quite like it. There was a blue Natalie sold around that time (2004-2006) that was very similar to it, but that one disappeared too.
Does anyone remember Pure Gold by Montale? I have one on each wrist, and even though the notes don’t match (except for the jasmine), they smell identical to my nose. It’s curious… It smells a bit sweeter to me than the original. Anyone else want to compare them?