Men
White Linen
Acordes principales
Descripción
White Linen by Estée Lauder is an aldehydic floral fragrance for women. Launched in 1978, this composition was created by perfumer Sophia Grojsman. Upon release, aldehydes, lemon, and peach deliver a fresh, citrusy first impression. The heart reveals a complex floral bouquet featuring hyacinth, carnation, valley lily, rose, lilac, iris, jasmine, iris root, violet, ylang-ylang, and orchid. The base settles on oakmoss, vetiver, cedar, sandalwood, benzoin, honey, amber, and tonka bean, closing the structure with warmth and persistence.
Resumen rápido
Pirámide olfativa
Estructura completa de la fragancia: de la salida al fondo.
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Propiedad
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Características
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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
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32 reseñas
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When applied to blotting paper, it smells very similar to Chanel No. 5.
I’m not sure if it’s been reformulated and these are the vintage notes, but according to the Estée Lauder website, they are: Top: Bulgarian rose, jasmine, muguet. Heart: Violet, lily. Base: Vetiver, moss, amber. I agree with Kirtash. It seems like an American version of Chanel’s aldehydic classics, N. 5 and N. 22, but adapted to the taste for fresh and minimalist scents over there. Being so aldehydic, it generates controversy. I’ve asked several people, and no one has remained indifferent. Some see it as clean, others as strong and invasive, others as cheap or outdated. It’s the perfume of the strong women from my childhood, the fighters of the 80s and 90s, and the workers who didn’t give up anything. I don’t see it as ‘clean,’ though I understand it reminds people of detergents, which explains the association with clean clothes sought after by the name and advertising. I do see it as strong, but beautiful and sensual. Even if they define it as ‘for older ladies,’ I see it as sophisticated and elegant. It’s an aldehydic floral, a penetrating elixir, but above all, I note it as green, woody, and very musky. Vetiver, moss, and cedar are the most prominent notes, along with the musky accords. I detect mostly rose and muguet, fresh and lively. I don’t detect the amber. It’s perfect for all seasons and uses, with moderation. It tastes warm in the cold and fresh in the heat. It’s clean enough for work and sensual enough to go out.
I’m not sure if it’s been reformulated; these are the vintage notes: Top: Bulgarian rose, jasmine, muguet. Heart: Violet, lily. Base: Vetiver, moss, amber. I agree with Kirtash. It seems like an American version of Chanel’s aldehydics, the No. 5 and No. 22, adapted to the taste for fresh, minimalist scents. Being so aldehydic, it generates controversy. I’ve asked several people, and no one was indifferent. Some see it as clean, others strong and invasive, others cheap or outdated. It’s the perfume of the strong women of my childhood, the fighters of the 80s and 90s, and the workers who didn’t give up anything. I don’t see it as ‘clean,’ though I understand it recalls detergents, which explains the association with clean clothes. I do see it as strong, but beautiful and sensual. Even if defined as ‘for older ladies,’ I see it as sophisticated and elegant. It’s an aldehydic floral, a penetrating elixir, but above all, I notice it’s green, woody, and very musky. Vetiver, moss, and cedar are the most prominent notes, along with the musk accords. I mostly detect rose and muguet, fresh and lively. I don’t detect the amber. It’s perfect for all seasons and uses, with moderation. It feels warm in the cold and fresh in the heat. It’s clean enough for work and sensual enough for going out.
What a great comment, Tamar! You made me laugh with the bit about the perfume smelling like an older lady with ‘hair on her lip.’ Brilliant description. I’ve completely forgotten to buy this fragrance since. Best regards.
Hi, this is my first time writing, though I always read the reviews. Years ago, whenever I approached a young friend, I loved her perfume, and when I asked her, she said it was White Linen by Estée Lauder. I stuck with my favorites, but yesterday I bought a mini to try that scent I remembered as enchanting. What a letdown! It smells like a very old woman, with a fur coat, a pearl necklace, and hair on her lip. It also smells like dampness in the house or a closed closet. That’s how it hits on my skin, what a pity.
Tamar, perfumes don’t define age. There are young people who love lush, vintage scents, and older folks who prefer light, fruity florals. Don’t let prejudice get in the way. Having hair in the nasogenian groove can happen at any age. You’re a woman, and you shouldn’t be dismissive of older people; you’ll probably love aging one day and won’t have to smell like mold, right? My grandmother smelled absolutely wonderful.
White Linen is the older sibling of Pure White Linen, but on my skin, they’re completely different. I love that blend of aldehydes, narcissus, and oakmoss; although I’m not always a fan of perfumes that turn sour or acidic due to the moss, this one is a delicious acid from the very first moment. It’s the most elegant and modern sporty scent I’ve ever tried. The longevity is brutal—you can feel it for hours, and the sillage hits in powerful bursts. Paired with the body lotion, it outperforms many potent fragrances. It’s so formal that it never fails. The bottle defines me 100%. I’d only recommend it if you have a lot of personality; it took me a while to warm up to it, but once I understood it, it became an essential ally I can’t live without. Another gem from Estée Lauder.
It’s a perfume totally different from my taste, one of the most beautiful I use, but it has NOTHING to do with PURE WHITE LINEN. I live in Argentina and it hasn’t arrived in 4 years, I don’t know if they don’t make it anymore or simply it doesn’t reach here. I love it because it’s different from everything that smells now, so similar. White Linen is one of the best, very seductive and mysterious.
I tried it out yesterday. In the perfumery, applying it to paper made me nervous. Anyone watching me sniffing it would think I was crazy. I won’t talk about what I already knew without realizing it. I kept smelling that paper constantly. Even the first whiffs made me dizzy and gave me a headache. Damn aldehydes—they’re my thing, but they sit badly with me. I was expecting something light and virginal, but found a colorful, commanding fragrance. Not crisp white linen, but crinkled light violet taffeta. At first, it smells like a salon with lots of hairspray, dry moss, dead flowers, and violet candies. It doesn’t smell ‘old’ at all. That scent speaks to me of the eternal and universal, of joy and optimism. But I understand why many young people see it as a contender for ‘old lady perfume.’ White Linen isn’t for everyone. The opening carries crystalline aldehydes, like gaseous extinguisher dust. A slap in the face. I grab the nearest object. Mixed with citrus, it’s a thunderous string section. Those aldehydes rule like Le Nôtre taming nature. The rest doesn’t smell like it does in the pot, and that’s beautiful; they don’t want to be literal. Once it calms down (it takes forever), it teaches us things. The hyacinths aren’t clear; they seem more like Cristalle than Anaïs Anaïs. To enjoy the slow, graceful evolution, you have to get past the overture. I get over the aldehydic slap. The evolution is orderly and technical. Bursting from the aldehydic cloud are lemony accents, then aniseed violets and lilacs. Several hours later, on paper, it leaves a soft but potent blend of citrus, woods, and moss. It reminds me of Eau de Rochas pour homme, but with more quality and a feminine touch. Here I see perfect balance. It’s the right scent for any occasion. Unless I get used to this strength, I’d exclude the romantic side to avoid saying ‘not today, my head hurts.’ The bottle is comfortable and pretty. Great to find things like this. The pity is they’re usually hidden away upstairs. It’s gorgeous. For anyone wanting to stand out with a luminous, radiant feminine scent. For born queens.
Smells like balanced neutral talc and soap.
White Linen is a beauty that I always hog whenever I use it. I’m in love with this Estée Lauder perfume… An exemplar that today is the diamond of the house. I compared it with others from the brand and although they’re all beautiful, this one claims its dominion. The most beautiful and cheerful aldehyde I’ve ever experienced. Describing it is complicated because it exhumes a memory of a white, spotless bath near a windowed garden with tree branches and vines, with flower petals in the tub. It captures a still life and a living nature, the beauty of a vintage perfume in its splendor. When you wear it, you feel clean, inside and out; it takes you away from the city, the noise, and the artificial, bringing you closer to a mossy stone villa, old benches, walls with sundials, and statues that explain endurance. It’s the perfume of a bohemian person who walked away from everything to feel nature and focus on the arts. It’s a delirium from minute one and only grows with time. I’d think if a man smelled this on a woman, he’d automatically fall in love with her sweetness, delicacy, and purity. Again, Sophia Grojsman reaches my perfumery feelings, how well she expresses sensitivity in every perfume.
I tried it on blotter at the perfumery yesterday and it got me nervous. Anyone would think I was crazy smelling it. I knew it without knowing it and kept smelling the blotter until I got dizzy and got a headache. Damn aldehydes, I like them but they don’t agree with me. I expected something light and virginal, but found a colorful and imperative perfume. It’s not white linen; it’s crisp light violet taffeta. At first, it smells like a salon with lots of hairspray, dry moss, dead flowers, and violet candies. It doesn’t smell ‘old’ at all; it speaks of the eternal and universal: joy, luminosity, optimism. I empathize that for many young people it might be the aspirant king of ‘old lady’ perfumes. White Linen isn’t for everyone. The opening loads with crystal aldehydes, a cloud of gaseous dust like from an extinguisher. What a slap. I grabbed the nearest stable object. Mixed with citrus, it’s like a thunderous string section with sharp tremolos. Those despotic aldehydes are like Le Nôtre taming nature. The rest doesn’t smell like in the pot, and that’s nice because they don’t want to be figurative. When it calms down, it teaches us things. The hyacinths aren’t clear; more like those in Cristalle or Anaïs Anaïs. To enjoy the musicality, you have to pass the overture. I overcome the aldehydic slap. The evolution is subtle, slow, and graceful, very orderly. What comes next I like a lot. From the aldehydic cloud emerge almondy accents, then slightly aniseed violets and yes, lilacs. Several hours later, on blotter it leaves a soft but potent mix with citrus, woods, and moss. It reminds me of Eau de Rochas pour homme, but with more quality, depth, and indescribable femininity. Here I see the perfect balance and the most spectacular aria. It’s the right scent for any occasion. Unless I get used to this strength, I’d exclude the romantic aspect so I don’t have to say ‘no today, my head hurts.’ The bottle is comfortable and pretty. Great to find things like this. The pity is they’re usually hidden away at the top. It’s gorgeous. For anyone wanting to stand out with a scent of light and radiant femininity. For born queens.
I’ve bought this four times; I got the first bottle when I was 17. It smells of elegance, class, and something different from the market. It works year-round, but only in small doses. At first, it’s a strong aldehydic blast, but soon it settles into a unique, tender, subtly powdery scent. I don’t see the ‘older woman’ vibe here. Older women wear what they want; I know many who use Britney’s Fantasy, Killer Queen, or Nenuco. What age is ‘older’? 30, 40, 50… I wore this at 17.
I’ve bought it four times, the first time at 17. It smells of elegance, class, and is different from everything on the market. It can be worn any time of year, but in small quantities. When you first spray it, it’s strong and aldehydic, but soon it leaves a unique, tender, and subtly powdery aroma. I don’t see the ‘older lady’ vibe; older women wear what they want, and I know many who wear perfumes like Britney, Killer Queen, or Nenuco. Besides, what age is it? 30, 40, 50, 60, 70… I used it at 17.
I remember an Italian actress, Caterina Boratto, in the 60s/70s, who for me was the peak of maternal and relaxing elegance. That’s what WHITE LINEN by Estée Lauder smells like in its vintage version. It reminds me of those older ladies, incredibly attractive and embracing, close in distance but empathetic in their aloofness. When they placed their hand on my head, I felt as if heaven had settled over me. From the start, it unleashes its aldehydic power: soapy, greasy, floral, and spicy. It includes notes that remind me of Chanel No. 5, Joy, Joy Patou, Youth Dew, Cinnabar, and Opium, those Ladies of Perfume who reign in a protective Olympus. It’s so potent you can almost chew it; on my skin it goes from gaseous to solid, compacting my mucous membranes and making me taste it. It’s flavorful and sends me a nectar of apricot-tinged flowers, a shower of roses, carnations, jasmine, ylang, orchids, and more flowers from the Temple of the Goddesses. It sprinkles stardust of clove, amber, and sandalwood, and mossy, labdanum sighs of nostalgia for those days when I looked up at my Goddesses from my short stature.
What a beautiful review; it could be for any classic elegant lady’s perfume with dresses and handbags. Unfortunately, on my skin the aldehydes and cedar dominate, so it’s not for me. It’s a pity because I liked it on the blotter.
It’s a quirky perfume, ideal for determined women and perfect for night. Since it’s potent, don’t apply it directly to the skin. It’s elegant and mysterious.
Wow… I didn’t know it and I absolutely loved it. It felt like stepping into a church or hermitage with the altar and the Virgin surrounded by flowers and the smell of burning candles.
Total glory, even though aldehydes give me a headache. Still, I dare to wear it because it’s a unique, kind, sincere, and tender scent that takes me to heaven.
This is Estée Lauder, we know we’re facing a composition of extremely high quality, no talk about how this fragrance was born during the brand’s great peak in the 70s. Having Bernard Chant and Sophia Grojsman produce fragrances for you is no small feat, and the repertoire of famous noses that passed through this company is dreamlike. After the Azure boom, Aliage, Private Collection, Estée Lauder stepped back from its aromatic green fragrances, which gave it so much success, to give way to a powerful floral aldehyde. It’s not the first time this happens; its first Estée (1968) had an overflowing aldehyde/floral scent. So when building this fragrance, we don’t know if Sophia might have had the famous Ernest Beaux in mind, or perhaps, not going back so far in time, taking inspiration more from the first fragrance Bernard made for Lauder. White Linen opens with an explosion of flowers, of which I sense the lilac as the primary one (to my nose), and an overwhelming brilliance of aldehydes. Some violet, iris, and roses adorn part of that floral bouquet. In its flowers and part of its base, it’s the little difference that marks it against Chanel N22; the latter uses jasmine and ylang-ylang (as main notes) with an elevated dose of woody vanilla. White Linen chooses something more resinous/ambery in the background, a fine touch of moss, accompanied by woods (which are measured so as not to overshadow the floral bouquet). I bet there’s also some musk (even though it’s not listed). Great noses influencing each other and creating exquisite fragrances. Projection is moderate/light and fixation is excellent.
If you’re heading to a cabin with a fireplace in autumn or winter, you must bring this perfume. Its scent multiplies by a thousand, becoming unique by the fire; if you’ve tried it in another context and didn’t like it, you might go from hate to love. But be careful, it’s a vintage scent, nothing to buy blind. The other scenario where it works great is as a clean, soapy fragrance for summer days. My husband hates it, so I haven’t repurchased it, however when I wore it in front of the fireplace he loved it and always asked what perfume it was… me, as logical, answered with a poker face: the one you hate so much and just told me not to wear anymore. So I encourage you to try it if you don’t know it.
It’s a perfume jewel; I can’t find words to describe it, so I’ll just enjoy both the fragrance and the reviews below: Selene, Josesan, Ts6, Casablanca 77, ladamedenoir, Maeva. How beautifully you write. Thanks!!!
This perfume creates contrasting perceptions in me. On one hand, it has a scent I like, reminding me a lot of Chanel N22: soapy, floral, luminous vintage. However, I perceive the evolution as flat, dull, opaque, and very incisive. Let’s say the ingredients aren’t flexible; it’s not a scent with sparkles or layer changes, but a solid block that stays sharp and equal from start to finish. That can be a virtue or a flaw; for my taste, I’d prefer it to be different. A drop is enough. Maybe the problem is that I’m looking for a Chanel N22 in this perfume and it’s not. The scent is precious but with those characteristics, it ends up saturating me. Still, it’s a great fragrance, very clear from beginning to end. Light and flowers with a strong breeze. For lovers of the classic, vintage that never ages. Longevity of 10.
I bought it blind. It’s a wonderful scent. But it gives me a headache for me. Maybe it’s the aldehydes. I’ve put it out for exchange or sale. It’s a pity because it’s unique.
I tried it blind. It’s an incredible scent, but it gives me a headache, maybe because of the aldehydes. I’ve listed it for exchange or sale. Such a shame, because it’s one-of-a-kind.
An explosion of aldehydes that transports us back to times when every perfume had personality, not that gray, uniform floral sameness of recent years. I think it’s not for everyone, and that’s why it’s unique. To me, it evokes being between freshly laundered sheets spread out in the sun on my grandmother’s patio. It’s a luminous, brilliant, and sophisticated scent. It works in all directions, spring, summer, daytime… and by magic, its trail transforms at night into something much sexier and mysterious.
An explosion of aldehydes that transports us back to the days when every perfume had its own personality, not that gray, uniform floral trend of recent years. I think it’s not for everyone, and that’s a good thing. That’s why it’s unique. For me, it evokes being between freshly washed and sun-dried sheets in my grandparents’ backyard. It’s a luminous, bright, and sophisticated scent. I wear it in all directions, spring, summer, daytime… and by magic, at night its trail changes to something much sexier and mysterious.
Trying White Linen evokes sun-dried sheets for me, mixing a soapy, floral aroma and, although not listed, a slightly musky note. It’s a subtle and non-invasive scent, maybe a bit too soft for my taste, but I still detected it after seven hours. I liked it. It’s versatile: it works in both formal and informal situations.
I met it in 1985. A friend used it and I fell in love. Many years later, I bought it and have had a bottle ever since. It’s my signature scent. None of the others in my extensive collection can top it. I always keep spare bottles of this and Calèche (Hermès).
A beautiful perfume, when fragrances were made for connoisseurs and not just consumers. Perfectly balanced aldehydes with the flowers and a light citrus touch. I’ll buy it every time they have it in stock.
Luxury perfume made for those who understand scent, not for the general public. The aldehydes are perfectly balanced with the florals and a very soft citrus note. I’ll buy it every time I find it as long as it’s in stock.
A wink to a golden era: White Linen smells like a freshly ironed white shirt. That 2000s bottle took me back to the good old days. I forgot how beautiful it is, as long as you don’t overdo it. It’s clean, pure, and comforting, yet not naive. For me, it’s very aldehydic and floral, perhaps a bit dry, revealing a moderate soapy and spicy character. What I notice most, aside from the aldehydes, is a potent base of vetiver and moss. A touch of amber adds warmth. Everything fits perfectly. The flowers, like rose, hint harmoniously, just like the jasmine and lily of the valley. The iris root and carnation stand out against the dry base. When the floral explosion settles, I notice strong soapy notes that I love. It evolves between intense flowers and a silky creaminess, growing in intensity. Its longevity is notable for a clean scent, leaving a considerable trail. Use it in moderation; it’s ideal for sophisticated people and outside current trends.