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Aire Loewe

Marca
Loewe
Olivier Cresp
Perfumista
Olivier Cresp
3.66 de 5
549 votos

Acordes principales

Descripción

Loewe Aire by Loewe is a floral fragrance for women. Launched in 1985, this composition was created by perfumer Olivier Cresp. Upon release, the scent unfolds with aldehydes, green notes, galbanum, citrus, calendula, basil, bergamot, petit grain, lemon, neroli, jasmine, ylang-ylang, asafoetida, tangerine, mandarin, and peach. The heart of the fragrance reveals valley lily, jasmine, iris, carnation, iris root, rose, cyclamen, incense, and amber. To finish, the base notes offer a foundation of oakmoss, vetiver, musk, sandalwood, cedar, and vanilla.

Resumen rápido

Cuándo llevarla (votos)

  • Invierno 9.2%
  • Primavera 38%
  • Verano 36%
  • Otoño 17%
  • Día 79%
  • Noche 21%

Notas clave

Comunidad

549 votos

  • Positivo 67%
  • Negativo 23%
  • Neutral 9.7%

Pirámide olfativa

Estructura completa de la fragancia: de la salida al fondo.

Comunidad

Qué dicen los usuarios sobre propiedad, preferencia y mejor momento de uso.

Propiedad

¿La tienen, la tuvieron o la quieren?

Uso recomendado

Estación y momento del día con más votos.

Dónde comprar

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Envío rápido

Entrega rápida y política de devoluciones conocida.

Ideal si priorizas velocidad y disponibilidad.

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Características

Resumen de votos sobre longevidad, estela, género y percepción de precio.

Longevidad

Escasa

Débil

Moderada

Duradera

Muy duradera

Estela

Suave

Moderada

Pesada

Enorme

Género

Femenino

Unisex femenino

Unisex

Unisex masculino

Masculino

Precio

Extremadamente costoso

Ligeramente costoso

Precio moderado

Buen precio

Excelente precio

Reseñas

Experiencias reales de la comunidad sobre uso diario, rendimiento y estela.

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39 reseñas

Mostrando las más recientes primero.

  • Mariana7945

    The first perfume I chose to buy for myself when I was 12 was very similar to this one; it’s not in the database, the bottle is the same but in light blue, and it’s called Loewe Aire Aquamarine. The fragrance must be similar because Aquamarine was also quite citrusy. It brings back such good memories; I wish I could find it again.

  • It’s a delight, especially when you apply it right after a shower. I love that citrus scent without it being overpowering; it’s very wearable, especially in summer.

  • AlianzRebel

    Perfect for warm climates. Citrusy but soft, slightly sweet and powdery. Elegant and fresh, impossible for anyone to be offended by it. Very wearable, whether you’re in a suit or going casual; it works for all styles and occasions. A beautiful fragrance.

  • Black.orchid

    This is the best fragrance for me; I die for it. No matter how many perfumes I try, I always come back to this one. I bought it again today and I’m so excited; it brings back good memories of a summer in Calafell where I used it for the first time. The only thing Loewe should do is launch an EDP version so it lasts longer and has more sillage. The magical world of fragrances that make you remember past moments just by smelling them…

  • Natalylopez

    I have to say it smells like an old perfume, from the 80s. It’s too strong and lasts too long. The aroma is too mature, the typical kind older women use. It happens to me with perfumes like Lulu or Chanel No. 5; they overwhelm me and start to seem unpleasant.

  • I’ve always been intrigued by the fascination some women have with this perfume in the 80s and 90s, when it was a boom in Spain. It’s curious that ladies of a certain age, or even young women in their thirties, find it wearable, pleasant, light, and refined. Or at least, whenever a woman explains to me why she uses Aire Loewe, she describes it as versatile, soft yet classy, an inoffensive but personality-filled perfume for people who don’t want to stand out but enjoy grooming themselves. And that’s exactly what I don’t understand: that supposed pleasant simplicity of Aire, because on my nose, I only smell an intense hair lacquer or hair dye product scent. As it sounds. At first, you notice an overwhelming amount of aldehydes, very strong, green, and citrusy, a smell similar to the milky scent some wild herbs release when you break them—a raw, vegetal, creamy, dry, and greasy aroma. That is Aire de Loewe to me: an unbearable cocktail of citrus and green notes, and one of the most nauseating fragrances I’ve ever smelled. It’s clear that a man’s trash can be another’s treasure, there’s no discussion on that. However, I find it so curious that people consider this fragrance ‘inoffensive’.

  • I know this won’t win over the fans, hehe, but I have to share my story with Aire de Loewe. I absolutely love smelling a well-perfumed woman, even if I’m not attracted to her; it seems like good taste to me. There are very few feminine fragrances I find repulsive, only a handful I wouldn’t buy for my wife, but they don’t generate rejection, just indifference. Until now, the only one on my list was the original Carolina Herrera. Until today… A coworker, around 50, who usually wore a scent I adore (CK Euphoria), came into the office, followed by a beastly flood of an aroma I found intrusive and unpleasant: citrusy, powdery, and heavy with aldehydes. It didn’t just make me reject it instantly; it made me and many other colleagues in our large office recoil. We had to endure it for several days until, unable to take it anymore as it flooded everything in its path, I asked her what she was wearing. She said, ‘Aire de Loewe.’ I diplomatically told her that the previous fragrance made her look younger and that this one didn’t suit her personality; the next day, she stopped using it. Hehehehe. (To a good listener…). I’m sorry for the negative review, but it’s the most misguided and intoxicating feminine fragrance I’ve ever smelled.

  • Dear mariana 7945 aquamarine was the first summer version of Loewe’s Aire. A year or two later, they discontinued it and released Mi Aire with more citrus notes and less powdery vibes than Aquamarine. I mention this because around that time, I worked in a perfumery, and I really liked Aquamarine. Anyway, Mi Aire has a very fresh scent for summer, and when it dries down, it leaves that classic trail characteristic of the elegant Loewe brand.

  • Fresh, citrusy, light… nothing heavy, but also not eye-catching. I have it because it was a gift, and although I use it occasionally for casual occasions, it gives me a slightly ‘grandma-ish’ vibe. It doesn’t seem special to me; rather, it’s flat and boring. I’d prefer ‘A mi Aire’ a thousand times over.

  • Neutral fragrance. It’s the concept of wearing perfume to feel fresh. I could categorize it as unisex or even childish. If someone told me it was a 2L shower cologne, I’d believe it. I like it, but it doesn’t convey anything about the person wearing it. It adds nothing.

  • Fresh, familiar, neutral, casual, unisex? To me, this fragrance differs enough from those adjectives. It’s an aldehydic/creamy and citrus/floral bomb with hints of plastic, corrupted latex, and stagnant chloroform, scented with calendula, lots of moss, and galbanum. Greasy, raw, with a taste of a church hall, a crime scene, or a mad scientist. Few perfumes cause me such stomach pain as Aire; in fact, it could be called ‘mummy breath’. Seriously, I don’t doubt it’s a masterpiece. But I can’t stand it; I get sick just smelling it. It disturbs me.

  • I’ve tried this perfume many times and never liked it. At first, I didn’t understand why, because in the 80s I was practically a teenager, and a classmate whose parents had plenty of money wore this and talked about it as if it were a great miracle. Back then, I could only afford colognes like Eau Jeune. But whenever I had the chance to smell Loewe’s Aire in perfumeries, I still didn’t understand how they could spend money on that. And no matter how many years have passed, I still think the same.

  • It’s curious to see such contradictory opinions. I’m one of those who thinks it’s neither light, fresh, nor harmless. Some perfumes have notes that clash with me, but when I smell them on others, I appreciate them more. Aire always seems pretty unpleasant to me, no matter who wears it.

  • Stinky, too heavy, ‘grandma-ish’. A very polarizing perfume: you either hate it or love it; there’s no middle ground. I hate it. It smells like incense, and on my skin, it’s worse, as if I walked out of a witch’s session with all the ingredients spilled on me. It’s a heavy scent that you don’t know whether to wear in summer or winter, without smelling like the witch from fairy tales. It’s a piece in my collection that came as a gift from my boyfriend, who paired it with another I liked, Aire Sutileza. Since it was a gift, I can’t get rid of it, even though the poor thing is laughing at me.

  • One of my favorite perfumes. I love how it smells. It’s very distinctive; one of the few I could identify if someone wore it. Too bad it’s so expensive. The scent is citrusy and spicy; youthful, but not over the top. In my opinion, it suits spring and summer better.

  • I feel bad for it, but the scent reminds me of room freshener—maybe because that’s how they’ve made it since. I know this because I once worked in an office where they bought it. I used it once, years ago, because it reminded me of my grandmother; she wore it and it smelled amazing, like all her perfumes. She had incredible skin that made any fragrance shine.

  • rafajurado

    I see the same problem here as with Chanel No. 5. It’s outdated. It’s a floral with too many aldehydes, yet it has huge projection and longevity.

  • Soap, detergent, or fabric softener on overdrive. The blue flower, unleashed. It smells like an old lady. It’s sharp in the nose despite the soapy vibe. I look at the ingredients and it seems like an impossible creation. How do they fit so many different scents into one bottle? What does all that mean, and on top of that, call it Air? It feels like a total lack of coherence.

  • When I spray it, it’s like an 80-year-old lady from Salamanca’s neighborhood suddenly sat next to me. I suppose Loewe refuses to retire its flagship, but I agree—it’s outdated. It’s overwhelming, and I can’t find any of the “air” from the name. It should feel like a fresh breeze (it doesn’t), but with something more, fitting an ambitious perfume (also not). It needs a major update or should disappear entirely.

  • It hurts because Loewe Air was an unattainable dream when I was 15. I thought it was light and youthful until a friend showed us the Saphir imitations, which weren’t available in my city and came in a different format: a translucent crystal ball with a gold cap. I ordered the Air version, which is one of Saphir’s least successful equivalents. I got tired of it quickly, developed a grudge, and left the bottle half-finished. Now I can’t stand it when I smell it, not even the original (and ironically, you can smell the imitation more on the street than the real thing). I thought my phobia was just mine because I used the copy until I read your reviews here.

  • KohlEyedNessie

    I have a complicated relationship with Loewe Air: I like it, but only on mild days—neither cold nor hot—when my chemistry allows and I crave that classic lady scent. Green notes and aldehydes aren’t usually my thing, but here they hook me, perhaps out of nostalgia, even though I don’t recall anyone wearing it in my childhood. I love that soapy opening note; it’s hard to find. On the downside, it has a sharp edge that bothers me with sudden temperature changes. I know people see it as a perfume from another era—aloof and indifferent—and that’s exactly what it evokes for me. It’s not bad: there are days it fits that image perfectly, and I use it. I have little left in the bottle and no rush to finish it; it’s for personal enjoyment and very occasional use. I wouldn’t recommend buying it blindly or gifting it; that’s how it ended up in my hands.

  • sagitaria64

    I’m going to speak up for this perfume, especially after reading the comments from the ‘fanatics’ who say if they don’t like it, it should disappear. I imagine if you walked into a restaurant and found a menu item you hated, you’d think it should be removed from the menu, right? I’m surprised by such low tolerance when perfume is infinite and tastes are as varied as people themselves. A neighbor uses a scent that smells like vomit and sweat to me; I can’t talk to her for more than five minutes without feeling sick, sometimes I can’t even eat if I find her before I’m ready. She loves it, she drowns in that sludge because it projects far. Let her enjoy it; in these turbulent times, something as simple as a perfume, even if it’s disgusting, makes you feel good; it’s a gift. Watch out, those who complain probably use scents others won’t like. For some tastes, some colors, some smells. And maybe we shouldn’t forget that our favorites won’t appeal to others, even if they’re art to us. Plus, it smells different on every skin. I do like it; it reminds me of my university years, the wonderful 80s. It has a green vibe, and the aldehydes feel great on my skin. Not all citrus notes work for me, but for me, the combination is perfect for hot weather. It has brutal longevity; one spray lasts for hours. It’s not meant to spray half the bottle, just one and it’s enough. The sillage is moderate. It feels like a wild, country scent. It’s not sophisticated or elegant; it’s wild. Nothing like today’s tastes, those perfumes that leave you stuffed like you’ve overindulged in sweets within minutes. From the 80s until today, I’ve bought it like crazy, used it for a year, then a decade, left it for five years, and bought it again. It brings back good memories and seems different from today’s tastes, but I don’t want it to disappear, just as I wouldn’t want Don Quixote to vanish from bookstores because that kind of literature isn’t trendy anymore.

  • sagitaria64

    I’m going to speak up in favor of this perfume, given the terrible comments from some ‘perfume Taliban’ who think if they don’t like it, it should disappear. I imagine that when they go to a restaurant and find a menu item they don’t like, they’ll also think it should be removed from the menu, I don’t know, I’m surprised by such little tolerance when the perfume world is infinite and tastes are as variable as people. A neighbor of mine uses a perfume that, I swear, smells to me like a mix of vomit and sweat. When I talk to her for more than five minutes, I start feeling sick. Sometimes I haven’t been able to eat if I ran into her right before a meal and had to stop talking to her. It’s impossible until that smell leaves my nose. However, for her, it’s not just that she likes it; she loves it. She literally bathes in that mess because it smells from afar and very strongly. So let the creature enjoy it; in these convulsive times, something like a perfume, even if it’s disgusting, that makes you feel good, is a gift. Watch out, those who complain about the smell of this perfume probably use scents that others absolutely don’t like. To each their own. Or smells, in this case. And perhaps we shouldn’t forget that when making critiques: our favorites probably won’t suit others, no matter how much they are a work of art for us. And let’s not forget that on every skin, the same perfume smells different. Said all that, I personally like this perfume. It reminds me of my university years, the wonderful 80s. It has a green air, and the aldehydes sit very well on my skin. Not all citrus notes suit me, but for me, the combination of notes is perfect for hot weather. It has excellent longevity on my skin, to the point that a single spray lasts hours. It’s not a perfume to spray a whole bottle of at once, but one spray is enough. The sillage is moderate; I don’t think it’s excessive. Personally, I think it’s a wild scent, like the countryside. It’s not sophisticated at all, nor do I see it as an elegant aroma, but rather wild, as I said before, rugged. Nothing like today’s taste, those perfumes that after smelling them for a while leave you stuffed, as if you’d gorged yourself on sweets. From the 80s until today, I’ve bought it in a fairly random way; I might have used it for a year in an entire decade, left it for five years, bought it again the next. It brings back good memories and generally seems like a perfume different from today’s taste, but I don’t want it to disappear, just as I wouldn’t want Don Quixote to disappear from bookstores because that literature isn’t trendy today.

  • I’ve always had a soft spot for this perfume; it was the signature scent of one of my grandmothers. I like it because, even though it’s not subtle, it gives me a feeling of being freshly clean. I love wearing it right after a shower. I understand that many people don’t like it because of the striking aldehydes (even though they fade quickly) and because it’s worlds away from the sugary bomb-shells that are popular now.

  • My mom used to switch between Aire and Agua by Loewe, and even though she ended up keeping the Agua, I recently bought a dupe of the Aire just to remember it. It fits me perfectly—I’m not an old lady, and I love it. I think it’s more of a winter scent because in summer it can be a bit heavy. Maybe I’ve aged out of it and it feels a bit behind the times, but it’s rich and doesn’t smell like stale vintage like so many from that era.

  • Teresa Molina

    Rating a perfume as trash, smelling of old, rancid things from Calle Serrano, and saying things like that is pure nonsense. And the idiots who try to discredit a scent by insulting older people who used it or still use it are just that, idiots. Given the lack of imagination from today’s perfumers, I’d almost prefer a vintage perfume over those pasty, sweet-to-the-point-of-fainting aromas, which make it seem like you’ve been stirring custard all day.

  • Mr. Baskerville

    With apologies, sometimes it’s better to smell like ‘old lady’ or ‘grandma’ but know how to read aloud, use manners, know that a cloth handkerchief is useful, and put a brake on spoiled grandchildren. Many older women are more respectful and cultured than the young ones who faint or vomit when they smell ‘Aire,’ ‘Eau,’ or ‘Poison.’ Half the world doesn’t know what Calle Serrano in Madrid is or what it means, yet they use it with gusto. The world is big; perhaps a bit of open-mindedness and writing useful reviews is a good start to give a humility cure. Being older isn’t bad; being radical can be.

  • adabarcelona

    I find Sagitaria64’s review so coherent that instead of criticizing people who speak in childish, absurd ways as if the world revolves only around their outdated tastes, I’m sharing my own experience. I’m not looking for the extermination of something as innocent as a perfume, which brings joy to so many and is one of the few pleasures we can enjoy today without being censored, labeled, embarrassed, or stigmatized by this ‘free and equal’ hive-mind society we live in. Indeed, Air reminds me of a distinguished, free woman who didn’t live on Calle Serrano or act like a prim matron, but a woman with a capital W. She has an impulse of freedom, creativity, struggle, mysterious innocence, natural neatness, and pure air, but with so much, so much character. I love this perfume, which speaks to her and my childhood: when I was little, I loved Air because it was hers, even though I didn’t feel identified with it, and now I’m starting to understand it even with my eyes closed, smelling it and appreciating notes I once viewed with suspicion. I’m very confident in myself, very childish. Now I adore thousands of scents, super different, some rare, others overused to infinity, but in the end, each personality is woven with so many threads, smells, memories, desires, efforts, songs, sounds, textures… that fortunately there are no rules. For me, perfume is bringing the past, present, and future together in a personal, genuine, immediate, and pleasurable way; it’s reuniting with oneself in an unforgettable instant. So… don’t come at me with which perfume should be discontinued and which shouldn’t :_)

  • I laugh thinking that for years I was smelling like a mummy with bad breath from Serrano without knowing it. It’s a fragrance I like because it ‘means something’ to me, memories of a stage in my life. I suggest trying it to appreciate it. As for the reviews, yes, a minimum of substance and respect is necessary. Blunt and histrionic opinions lose weight. Tomorrow I’ll wear Aire to scandalize a bit at the supermarket, maybe with a pearl necklace, although my memory says I don’t have one. It’s irony.

  • My poor Aire… Ethereal, fresh, citrusy, green, and soapy. It hit the market just as Mecano sang ‘Aire de ciudad,’ and like the song, you were the air of the city. Recognizable, fresh, and clean, you survived the reformulations and shameful criticisms. Don’t sell out; hold on a bit longer until the city breathes again. They’ll put you back on vintage trench coats at the Rastro, with a Mecano vinyl and a Martini. My dear Aire de Loewe, from Madrid to the sky.

  • A few days ago, I greeted the mother of a friend who was wearing this perfume. It wasn’t a happy or opportune moment, and I couldn’t tell her how much kindness that hug and the aroma enveloping it conveyed. Sometimes people make things beautiful, and not the other way around… So it created in me the need to rediscover this perfume, simply because beautiful things shouldn’t go out of style… My surprise was when, while browsing Fragrantica reviews as I always do before buying a fragrance, I saw that the poor thing couldn’t be more aggrieved. So, dear Aire, here is my review to try to convince those who criticize you: (I continue in the next review)

  • Yesterday, I greeted a friend’s mother who was wearing this perfume; it wasn’t a happy moment, but her hug and that scent conveyed so much kindness that I wanted to rediscover it. Beautiful things shouldn’t go out of style. I saw on Fragrantica that the poor thing was very aggrieved by the reviews, so here’s my opinion to convince the critics.

  • I wore it for over 15 years and loved the entire line, but I stopped using it in 2020. When I bought it back three years later, it didn’t smell the same anymore: it seems more unisex and less citrusy. I don’t like it as much now and don’t have another perfume for the moment.

  • It’s a good perfume, pleasant, though it didn’t excite me as much as the current sugary gourmands that give me headaches. It doesn’t smell old like some claimed; it’s green, citrusy, and has personality—something modern perfumes no longer have and just copy.

  • Oh my goodness, the comments… Loewe’s Aire isn’t for everyone and depends on who wears it. To me, someone sensitive to strong scents, it always seemed dignified and respectful. My mother and several aunts have worn it for 30 years; it’s soapy and clean, perhaps old-fashioned, but classic. I like people who move through life without fuss; that’s true elegance.

  • I remember an Argentine children’s cologne called Mujercitas; when I smelled it again, it smelled very mature. Out of curiosity, I tried this, and it looks very similar, especially due to that classic oakmoss note. If you’re from Argentina, it smells quite alike.

  • An ultra-feminine and timeless aroma, like an Inés Sastre strolling through Paris in a trench coat with soft gloss under the rain. It’s green, woody, and floral without being overwhelming, radiating naturalness, confidence, and sweetness. Insulting it is a sin; I deeply respect Chanel No. 5, and this is simply marvelous and unique. I adore it!

  • This is my mother’s perfume since I can remember; I used to get dizzy and thought it was too loud, associating it with car rides, but now I respect it as an eternal memory. I prefer gourmand or fruity scents, but if you like strong florals and aquatic notes, this is for you. I hope they don’t discontinue it; it will be my link to her when she’s no longer here.