Men
Senteurs Fraiches
Acordes principales
Descripción
Senteurs Fraiches by Eau Jeune is a chypre fragrance for women. Launched in 1977, this composition features mandarin and mint as top notes, while neroli and jasmine unfold in the heart. The base is built on oakmoss and sandalwood.
Resumen rápido
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?
Preferencia
Cómo valora la comunidad esta fragancia.
Uso recomendado
Estación y momento del día con más votos.
Dónde comprar
Compara tiendas verificadas para Senteurs Fraiches y elige según envío, precio o disponibilidad.
Amazon
Envío rápidoEntrega rápida y política de devoluciones conocida.
Ideal si priorizas velocidad y disponibilidad.
Ver en Amazon
eBay
Más opcionesMás opciones de precio, formatos y vendedores.
Útil para comparar alternativas antes de decidir.
Ver en eBay
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.
Para dejar una reseña necesitas iniciar sesión.
25 reseñas
Mostrando las más recientes primero.
Category:
It’s the fragrance of my adolescence. Before, in the round, opaque bottle, it lasted all day on skin and clothes. Now, after the reformulation, it barely lasts 2 to 3 hours. I love the notes of tangerine, mint, and jasmine, with a patchouli moss base that gives it body and wood. It’s the freshest I’ve tried, ideal for spring and summer when you want to feel clean and vital. Although it was discontinued, since October it’s back in all perfumeries. It reminds me of Elizabeth Arden’s Eau Fraiche, though I prefer Eau Jeune. Many friends ask me about it to gift to their teenage daughters and relive the 80s. Even friends have told me, ‘Wow! This was the perfume of my first girlfriend!’ There are scents to keep forever.
This is the fragrance of my adolescence. I remember an earlier edition in a round, opaque jar. You’d put it on and it would linger on your skin and clothes all day. Now, with the new reformulation, it barely lasts 2 or 3 hours. I love its scent of tangerine, mint, and jasmine. In the background, there’s oakmoss that gives it that woody note and body. It’s the freshest fragrance I’ve ever used. Perfect for spring and summer days when you want to feel clean, fresh, and vital. Although it was hard to find because it was discontinued, since October it’s back and easy to buy in perfumeries. I found a similar scent in Elizabeth Arden’s Eau Fraiche, sharing some notes. I still prefer Eau Jeune more. Many friends ask about it to gift to their teenage daughters so they smell like their mothers did in the 80s. Even some friends say upon smelling it: ‘Wow! This was my first girlfriend’s perfume!’ There are scents that you remember for a lifetime…
So green, so light, so casual… Citrus and herbal cleaning scents, innocent, ethereal, harmless, and totally unisex. Perfumes for the whole family.
I’ve had this since the 90s and I’ve started using it again with the new bottle. It smells fresh like mint and orange, super pleasant. I also owned the deodorant and even used it to scent my room because I loved the smell.
Dress me in Eau Jeune, with your freshness blooming on your skin. Come close to my skin… I remember when I was little, before going to an exam, I used to steal a bit from my sister. In a rush not to get caught, I’d splash it directly on my face and almost sneeze. The feeling of oxygenation gave me a burst of well-being. I’d walk out smiling like an idiot because that juicy citrus aroma refreshed my memory and gave me a sense of security. I’d just finished using the round bottle with the dark green cap, completing my ritual. I’ve always been very ritualistic; now they call it OCD, but I called them my ‘secret tricks’ that only my invisible friend and my white teddy bear knew. When I stole a little bit of Eau Jeune, I felt deep down that I was going to pass.
I asked a colleague if she was wearing Eau Jeune, and she told me she was using Escale a Portofino. The scents are almost identical, but the price is in a completely different league. The longevity is short on both, which is also similar. I’ve tried all three: the original, the reformulated version, and the Escale one. They are all soft, cheerful citrus scents, purely for summer.
To me, it smells like Christmas, or rather, the Three Kings. My mother always gifted it to me around those dates at the end of my adolescence. I think it was discontinued in Spain, but I saw it again two years ago and it made me smile. I bought three 75 ml bottles: one for my sister, one for my teenage niece, and one for myself (I still have half left). The oranges are typical of winter; here I notice more tangerines and neroli, with lots of rosewood. It’s uplifting, fresh, and sparkling. Its longevity and trail are soft, just as I felt it in my youth, perfect for going to sleep. It helps you relax before dreaming and leaves good vibes; you’ll surely fall asleep before it hides. I also love it for afternoons at home, with a good book on the couch, perfuming the living room and misting my clothes. Soft, soft, fresh, and vital: Eau Jeune / Senteurs Fraîches. It was by L’Oréal before, now by Genesse. It dresses me in joy and freshness, comforting my soul. Ideal for carrying in your bag on long trips, it will give you great vibes. I love it; its scent is soft but gets engraved in the brain.
To me, it’s the smell of Christmas, or rather, of the Three Wise Men. My mother always gave it to me during those dates, year after year, at the end of my adolescence. I think it was discontinued here, but I saw it again two years ago and it made me smile. In the past Christmases, I bought three 75 ml bottles: one for my sister, another for my teenage niece, and one for myself (I still have half left). Oranges are a winter fruit, and what I notice most are the mandarins and neroli, with a prominent rosewood note. It’s invigorating, fresh, and sparkling. Its longevity and sillage are soft (that’s how I perceived it in my teens); it’s perfect for going to sleep. It helps you relax before bed and sets a good mood. Before the scent fades, you’ll probably already be asleep. I also love it for any afternoon, any time of year, when I don’t feel like going out. With a good book in hand, I stretch out on my big sofa, perfume the living room, and mist my clothes with this soft, soft, fresh, and vital aroma: Eau Jeune / Senteurs Fraîches (Young Water / Fresh Scents). At first, it was by L’Oréal, now it’s by Genesse. The scent dresses me in joy and freshness. My soul is comforted. It’s also perfect to carry in your bag if you’re traveling for hours; it will give you great vibes. I absolutely love it; its scent is soft but lingers in my mind.
A scent that transports me straight back to adolescence. That melody from the ad is a classic that’s etched into everyone’s memory. It smells of citrus and summer, it’s youthful, and has such a characteristic aroma that I recognize it instantly. I wouldn’t wear it at night or for special events; it’s for daytime, in the heat, and for daily routines. I hope they haven’t reformulated it because the bottle is different from what I remember; it was the perfect perfume for a young girl and will always stay in my memory.
Today I tried this fragrance, and wow, it doesn’t look like the same as the Eau Jeune from before. This new one left me cold, what a shame, because the old one had a fresh memory that never fades. The current version is a total fiasco.
It’s a radiant, green, and fresh aroma. The only downside is the spell doesn’t last long, but it’s worth it. It’s a hit of freshness and joy. Mint and tangerine are the stars, defining an easy-to-identify but unmistakable scent. It has everything a citrus cologne asks for: to be refreshing, energizing, and ethereal. Deeply green and optimistic, it’s a classic. I remember the ad with a young girl in her apartment getting ready to go out; I imagined it was for an independent girl with personality and freedom. I wanted to grow up and be that girl who perfumed herself before going for a walk, to work, or to travel. Full of life, hope, and freshness. Now I enjoy it mostly in summer as a faithful camping companion. I wish it lasted longer because it’s a joy to be wrapped in such a natural and vital scent, but for now, there’s no magic to keep the citrus notes just as they are at the start.
It’s a radiant, green, and fresh aroma. The only downside is that the magic doesn’t last long, but it’s worth it. It’s a hit of freshness and joy; mint and mandarin are the stars. The smell is easy to identify yet unmistakable. It has everything you ask for in a citrus cologne: refreshing, energizing, and ethereal. Deeply green and optimistic, it’s a classic. I remember the ad with a young girl in her apartment getting ready to go out. I built an image of it being for an independent girl, with personality and freedom. I wanted to grow up and be that girl who put on perfume before going for a walk, to work, or on a trip. Full of life, hope, and freshness. Now I enjoy it mostly in summer as a faithful camping companion. I wish it lasted longer because it’s a treat to be wrapped in such a natural and vital scent, but for now, there’s no magic to keep the citrus notes as they were at the beginning.
A cascade of natural fragrances: Sicilian mandarin, rosewood, and green mint. A lively eau de toilette, for you and for him. I still have a bottle left, and I can’t add much more than what others haven’t said: it’s a scent of teenage memories, it gives off good vibes and a desire to live.
It’s one of the freshest fragrances I’ve tried, a good citrus, it doesn’t resemble anything else; it’s like a clean breath of air. Too bad it lasts so little.
A classic. One of the first fragrances you get as a child. I remember it fresh and citrusy. I had it without a spray and would soak myself to go to school.
It was a midday in the early 80s. A group of friends, barely kids, were having something when someone asked, ‘What cologne do you use?’ and a girl replied, ‘For daily wear, Eau Jeune.’ Oh, Yshen… what a great sound! I imagined it smelled like a mix of Fa Patricio Floïd Mentholated shower gel and Agua Brava. Why do I keep this in a drawer? Because a good friend introduced it to me and I was instantly smitten. Clear eyes, freshly dried golden hair, a perpetual smile, worn-out jean sandals, and a white dress. I wanted to get closer. Yes, I remember it perfectly. Was she with someone? Obviously, to my misfortune. Years later, there was something more: one night in a cheap bar, delicate hands covered my vision, and she said, ‘Cu-cú, who am I?’ The perpetual smile! An old photo brings me back to that innocent era full of freedom and danger. ‘Panta rei,’ everything flows and cycles repeat. Everything is early green: fruit, grass, flower, and wood. Nothing mature. A tart slap of tangerine and a bitter hit of orange blossom, Moroccan tea with mint comforts, and jasmine with rosewood lulls it all together. Young water of fresh scents is now a modest cologne. Surely it has no Persian jasmines or exotic woods. It changed hands, sells in supermarkets… and still keeps its properties, a small vice to relax and smile. More than an eternal love, it’s one of those fleeting ‘One Night Stands’ without regrets. Do you remember the scene in Galdós’ ‘The Grandfather’? ‘I toast to eternal loves.’ ‘To the little bit they last.’ That’s it. Oh, Yshen…
It was a radiant midday, late first half of the 80s. We were having a drink with a small group, all of us just past the age of puberty, when the question came up: ‘So, what cologne do you use?’ A girl answered: ‘Me, for daily wear, Eau Jeune.’ Oh Yshen… it sounded so good! I suspect I would have smelled like a mix of Fa shower gel, Patrico, Floïd mentholated vigor, and Agua Brava. Why did that event end up in a drawer in my brain? I suppose because a good friend had just introduced it to me and I’d forgotten. Clear eyes, freshly air-dried golden ponytail, perpetual smile, wedge sandals, denim choker, and rounded shapes under a white dress. I wanted to lean in. Yes, I remember it perfectly. Was she seeing someone? Obviously, to my misfortune. Years later, there was something more: a wasted night in a notorious dive bar, when delicate hands covered the little vision I had left. ‘Cu-cú, who am I?’ The perpetual smile! A photo from yesterday in the local paper takes me back to that innocent era. ‘Panta rei,’ everything flows and cycles repeat. Everything is early green: citrus fruit, grass, flower, and wood. Nothing mature. A sour slap of tangerine and a bitter kick of Seville orange wake you up, the Moroccan tea with lemon balm accompanies you comfortably, and the shy sweetness of jasmine and rosewood lulls you. The young water of fresh aromas is now a modest cologne. No trace of Persian jasmine or exotic woods. It has passed from hand to hand, sold in supermarkets… and it still retains its therapeutic properties. It’s a refreshing, fleeting, passing, guilty vice without remorse. Do you remember ‘The Grandfather’ by Galdós? ‘I toast to eternal loves,’ he proclaims. ‘To the little bit they last,’ she replies. That’s how it is. Oh Yshen…
Whenever I remember it, I always smile; it’s tied to my youth. What rehabilitative freshness. Ambrox, thanks for such a beautiful review.
This little gem was a star on the dressers of girls in the 80s. Fresh, appealing, repeatable until you’re sick of it, kind to the wallet, and nothing generic. Although citrus fragrances were abundant back then, these were the gourmands of today: the natural girl of then smelled of citrus just like the girl of now smells of sweets. It sold alone and was one of the few that listed its notes on the label. Its TV ad is a classic: it repeated year after year until the late 90s or early 2000s, with the same girl in a white suit, wicker furniture, and the voice of Manolo García (the one who dubbed Superman). The aesthetic worked because it was timeless, although today the packaging seems plain to me. I have the vintage and the reformulated version. Subtly, but reformulated: it’s still fresh and kind, but now the neroli and jasmine dominate over the original trio of tangerine, mint, and sandalwood. Fixation and longevity are nothing to write home about; you had to reapply. My vintage held up well, although the opening was very alcoholic and it evaporated in a breath. Miracles at Lourdes. The decent alternative I’ve found is Pomellato’s 67 Artemisia: it has more grip, more bitterness, and more punch, but less innocence and joy. Who doesn’t remember that overwhelming freshness of a crystal stream crossing a green meadow? Or dreaming of trees laden with golden fruit and a house in the Ibiza countryside?
This modest little gem was an 80s teen classic. Fresh, craveable, and endlessly repeatable without breaking the bank or feeling cheesy. Back then, while citrus fragrances were everywhere, these were the gourmands of today: the girl of the past smelled of citrus, the girl of now of sweets. It sold itself and was one of the few that listed its notes on the label. Its TV ad is one of Spain’s longest-running, airing until the late 90s or early 2000s: the same girl in a white suit, wicker furniture, and the voice of Manolo García, the man who dubbed Superman. The aesthetic always worked, though the packaging feels very boring today. I own both the vintage and the current subtly reformulated version. It remains fresh and friendly, but now neroli and jasmine dominate over the original trio of tangerine, mint, and sandalwood. Fixation and longevity weren’t its strong suits; you had to reapply constantly. My vintage held up well, but the opening was very alcoholic and it vanished in a breath. Miracles at Lourdes. The best decent alternative I’ve seen is Pomellato’s 67 Artemisia: more grip, more bitterness, more punch, but less innocence and joy. Who doesn’t remember that overwhelming freshness of a crystal stream crossing a green meadow? Or those trees with golden fruits and a house in Ibiza?
At some point in 1984, late afternoon, sitting on the railing with pipe tobacco and some girls smelling of tangerine and mint. I remember that translucent bottle with its round cap that my cousins had on the dresser, and especially the TV ad with ‘Vísteme Eau jaune…’ (Dress me in yellow water…). These are fragrances from another era; I have a couple of bottles just to travel back in time, since Einstein got into a state that’s scary when getting on the machine. Too bad it lasts a breath.
When I was young, I wore Eau Jeune, but Fleur à Fleur. They recently gifted me this, and it has nothing to do with it. Even if it’s true that it bears a resemblance to my green companion, Fleur à Fleur, I don’t remember it being exactly the same. It’s a fresh, very citrusy cologne; not my favorites, it doesn’t speak to me much, so I’m going to gift it because I don’t think I’ll use it.
This was my summer cologne for dressing up during my childhood. The old ad and that song, ‘Vísteme Eau Jeune! ¡Vísteme con tu frescor!’ (Dress me in Eau Jeune! Dress me in your freshness!), decided my choice because they conveyed naturalness, freshness, and elegance without complications. I was thrilled to find it again and couldn’t resist buying it. For me, it’s almost the same; the tangerine and the neroli’s citrus touch are intact. Maybe the oakmoss lacks a bit of depth, but the differences are minimal. It’s ideal for heat and for the whole family. It’s over forty years old but timeless: fresh and elegant. It never lasted long on skin, but it did on clothes, and movement made it project. It’s a cologne meant to be reapplied; the type of fragrance and the price allow it. A blast from the past that we still enjoy.
It smells very similar to Le Labo’s Limette 37. Finally, there’s a quality fragrance that reminds me of this 80s gem (the unreformulated version). Nostalgics: it’s worth grabbing Limette 37; it’s pricey and only available in September, but having this is like owning the niche version closest to the original Senseurs Fraiche from the 80s, a little treasure :_)
Already hard to find in Spain; used to be in every supermarket. I still use it because I buy it in France, where it’s still sold well, though it’s mostly nostalgia now—I admit the scent isn’t quite the same anymore. It still has that minty spark, the zesty tangerine, and the white flowers, but the moss is barely perceptible. That lush green base is gone :'( Well, its personality remains; it’s the beloved Senteurs Fraîches de Eau Jeune from the 70s… just watered down and a bit synthetic. As expected, it lasts a breath and the trail is ridiculous, but it’s perfect for walking around the house or after a shower. I’ll keep buying it until I can’t find it anymore. It’s a classic of popular perfumery that’s always been in my home, and while its quality isn’t what it used to be (a flaw that’s corroding the whole industry), it’s still decent compared to the terrible invasion of gimmicky, cloying molecules masquerading as high-end fragrances. I’d choose this humble Eau Jeune a thousand times over any of the endless flankers of L’Interdit.