Earth by Loewe

Reminds me of Petricor, soft and sublime; its notes really shine in autumn.

I tried it today and it’s adorable—very atmospheric and addictive. Perfect for daily winter or autumn wear. It doesn’t try to stand out or leave a trail; instead, it blends seamlessly with the wearer. To me, it feels deeply earthy—not pot soil or field dirt, but the ‘Earth’ of the planet itself. It’s a lovely floral chypre with fruity and aquatic touches, dusty violet that elevates it, and a misty, almost foggy texture that floats. The dry down is sweet and silky, like a subtle memory anchored to the skin, perhaps from ambrette, patchouli, or vetiver. It’s like a stroll through the Earth’s atmosphere.

Not earthy enough to be called Earth, honestly. Slightly sweet, very floral and musky from start to finish, with moderate projection. It lasts about 7 hours at most, fading to skin scent by the fourth hour. To my taste, it’s a MYSELF version that’s less unisex and sweeter. It’s a pleasant scent that will always be liked—a safe gift. The problem is that for 97 euros for 100ml, it doesn’t offer much value within the Loewe line since 2022.

It’s slightly sweet, as the name suggests, with an earthy essence. Once dry, it sits close to the skin, and in my case, it doesn’t last more than a couple of hours. After drying down, there’s that pleasant musk I noticed, though nothing fantastic. For the price, it feels flat and unremarkable, lacking in both projection and longevity.

Loewe conquered me even more with this perfume; I wear it before bed and I’m head over heels. It becomes very earthy and autumnal, smelling of perfumed wet earth, like a walk through the woods on a cold autumn afternoon, with dry and mossy aromas. At the same time, it feels elegant and fresh enough for a casual evening or night out. I also have this strange association that it smells like an old magazine—those vintage issues with sample stickers that leave every page smelling of elegant perfume. I hope to pick it up soon to add it to my collection as one of my favorites.

A curious perfume that, when dry, smells exactly like earth and moss, as its name suggests. It’s not strong or annoying, but it doesn’t appeal to me for personal use; it leaves me indifferent. It makes me think of a rainy autumn day, as if I can feel the dampness of the soil. I see it as a more masculine fragrance; when I wear it and smell it, it feels like a men’s cologne.

Starts super fresh and aquatic, floral at first, but then changes radically: it becomes damp, like wet autumn earth searching for mushrooms or fertilized soil after rain. I don’t understand how such an explosive floral opening leads to such a dark dry-down. It’s not very projective, but it shows; it doesn’t attract compliments either, but I absolutely love it. It changes the game for my friends: on them, it doesn’t lose its florality and feels more fruity, like pear. It lasts 6-8 hours and never loses that damp-aquatic touch. I find it extremely pleasant, addictive, and very original.

Everyone has their violet, La Violetera’s, and while Earth has more going on (mimosa and truffle), it’s my choice. Hearing the song, I smell its nuances. It’s delicate, pure spring—not vigorous, but the end of winter, the thaw, a less cruel cold. Flowers with a hint of acid, no velvety textures, so unpolished they smell like truffle, specks of black earth mobilized by February rains that stain stems and leaves. It’s also liquid, almost aquatic, the opening of days announcing the solstice: cloudy but luminous sky after seven, wet pavement. I remember Sara Montiel selling violets in December, out of season. This timid, acidulated beginning, a modest shoot that takes root in the heart of winter, is what links Earth to the film.

I was surprised that upon application, I couldn’t smell it much at all; I had to finish the rollerball to really get to know it, and it was a surprise: I liked it, it accompanied me for days, and for moments, I thought I was wearing Lancôme’s Tresor, very similar, just a bit drier. It’s very rich, and if you wear a lot of it, it lasts forever; that’s its flaw, you have to reapply during the day. The name has nothing to do with what I smelled: I’m looking for wet earth, mud after rain, or dry earth, and this isn’t it, but it’s very rich anyway.

Powdery floral with a standout violet note, totally unisex. As they say, it steps out of the commercial world. Maybe I’ll make it one of my daily fragrances. I loved it.

Earth seems niche, off-the-beaten-path, rare, and purposeful, living up to its name. Although putting it in English is probably marketing; in French, it would be ‘Terre de Loewe’, which would clumsily remind one of another classic from the French carriage house, the harnessed horse and the elegant gentleman. A house founded by a German leather worker. Leather goods versus harnesses. How about just ‘Tierra’? Or ‘Terra’. ‘Tierra de Loewe’. Sure, selling earth at a golden price has its appeal. Okay, Earth isn’t so bad. Black earth, fertile, swollen with organic remains, seeds, fungi… fragrant earthworm humus. A row of mimosas in the wind, battered by a sudden rain after thunder; an old wicker basket with freshly picked pears before the birds peck them, half-soaked by the downpour, with leaflets and petals like ephemeral tattoos on smooth, slippery skin; muddy earth, a cap, a raincoat, and tall rubber boots. More than cheerful aquatic, I’d say damp, soaking to the bones. Dusty, ozonic, acidic, sweet, floral, and phenolic. And yes, for my taste, all that smells good and comforts me. It doesn’t evolve much, mitigating its initial surprise, the storm languishes, it becomes human, and remains a memory that returns to the earth. It’s a floral chypre, if I push it, more feminine, as we commonly consider it. I see it as less youthful, more for ages leaning mature. Ideal for spring and autumn, and very valid for summer nights or clear winter days. It’s light, weighs little, doesn’t overwhelm anyone. Light, as we wish earth to be. It seemed so rare that I liked it.

I’m editing again after continued use: It’s a very original and unisex scent. Now I don’t detect the pear, the violet, or the powder. I do sense the mimosa, especially in the opening which is more floral and green, though it remains subtle. It develops over an earthy, creamy base with a certain damp smell. By the way, for lovers of Agua de Agatha Ruiz de la Prada, give Earth a sniff, it has a slight similarity in the dry-down. In winter, it takes on an exquisite personal scent, but I’m eager for summer to arrive because spraying this aroma should be a treat.

I don’t usually review without testing it 3-4 times, but this disappointed me. I expected much more from this perfumer. Maybe I had high expectations, but to me, it smells like the first day of class: new book, green spring breeze, and a base of Play-Doh. If you like it, no harm done. It lasted 7 hours on skin and 10 minutes on the trail; on blotting paper, it vanished by the 5th minute. I almost would have bought it blind based on the description, but I expected something cold, wet, dirty, and floral with a stem. I love violet like this, but this smells like something else. What a pity.

Another feminine floral fragrance with a hand cream vibe. It’s not bad, but that formula just bores me.

Loewe… I think it’s their worst marketing move. The name has nothing to do with the scent: no earthiness or anything. It smells good, but it lacks their usual quality; it’s a step backward. It’s an elemi resin with extra ingredients that mark phases: fruity/floral, then powdery, then aromatic. I like it but it doesn’t thrill me; the price at big retailers is a rip-off. I’ve tried it 4 times and like it more, but if it needs that many chances at first, it’s not for me. I’m a ‘sniff-and-go’ person and this falls short.