Lanvin Me ~ fragrance review

Lanvin Me advert

Lanvin's latest fragrance for women is the new Lanvin Me. Per Lanvin, its credo is "be myself, become ME", but it also promises to embody elegance, style and Parisian chic — if that doesn't sound like you, perhaps you need Lanvin Me all the more? 

Elegance, style and Parisian chic are personified here by a fruity and sweet floral gourmand, with a decent dose of blueberry in the opening and a full-bodied floral heart. There's also plenty of licorice (the notes: mandarin, blueberry, licorice, rose, tuberose and sandalwood). Like nearly any licorice-heavy fragrance, it calls to mind the gold standard, Lolita Lempicka, but only vaguely — this one has a warm woody base, but without the Thierry Mugler Angel-inspired dark patchouli sugar. It might be more useful to think of it as a kind of cross between Diesel Loverdose and Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb, although it lacks Loverdose's youthful sparkle and it isn't really quite as sweet as Flowerbomb. The floral notes are done here with a heavier hand than in either of those examples, especially in the later dry down, which of course you may or may not find preferable.

Verdict: the notes sounded like they held at least the potential for what a perfumista might call a 'hot mess', but Lanvin Me is nicely done, and I liked it more than I thought I would. It's too sweet for me personally, and I found Loverdose much more fun — I'm not dying to own either, but if offered a choice, I'd go with Loverdose, despite the fact that Lanvin Me is arguably the more sophisticated of the two, and is probably geared towards a somewhat older age cohort. Still, if you like most or all of the primary elements, and you don't mind sweet, Lanvin Me is definitely worth a shot.

Lanvin Me

Lanvin Me was developed by perfumer Domitille Bertier. It is available in 30, 50 and 80 ml Eau de Parfum.

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24 Comments

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  1. Dilana says:

    I realize that I am far more sensitive to ad campaigns, bottle designs and fragrance names than most here. (Or apparently most consumers anywhere).
    But I find this one is a celebration of narcissism at a near sociopathic level. Apart from the name and the slogan, that woman has actually actually blindfolded herself from sight of the outside world while smooching with her own reflection. She also seems to be wearing her designer purse, apparently unable to relax in her own living room without the high cost item on her wrist.
    I’d be embarrassed to be seen with that bottle or associated with that woman.

    If the same perfume showed a lady eating a licorice decorated blueberry tart,I might even have been interested.

    • Robin says:

      LOL…whereas I have been almost entirely desensitized…I couldn’t care less about the ad campaign, or the name, or anything, so long as I like the fragrance.

    • Merlin says:

      Yes, its an updated version of the Narcissus myth – with the flowers, water and woods replaced with a designer dress, sunglasses and jewelry:)

      • Dilana says:

        Oh, wow, I did not even think of this in terms of that myth. But there is no iris in this notes.

    • solanace says:

      Love your comment. I was going to say that I hate the name. When I was an undergraduate we had a drinking game of writing very narcisistic poetry, which should compose a book, “Me”. It was fun (there were a few good ones!), but real silly. A Me perfume? Come on! What happend with Magie Noire? This is a good name for luring the kids. It sure lured me back then. And the picture is very lame too. Just sad. This gal should leave all this stuff, eat a big burger with a chocalate shake and take a very long walk. And read a little too, she doesn’t look very interesting.

    • Poppie says:

      I’m not so worried about the “Me” aspects of this fragrance and the social implications of extreme self centered action. I think that it may well be targeted to women who feel overwhelmed by the demands of work, family, social obligations and so forth, and are being lured into throwing money at a substitute for quality time of their own.
      This may be a very symbolic mothers day gift for women who give their all to their families, a reminder that there should be some more ‘Me” in their lives.

      • Merlin says:

        Equally valid interpretation: its part of the Spoil Yourself marketing drive.

  2. Nile Goddess says:

    That’s the way to go.

    We’ve seen “Envy Me”, “Incredible Me”, “Desire Me”, “Absolutely Me” “Marry Me”. There is a fragrance called “Adore Me” by a South African Designer Notes Group. Not sure if the F word has been used yet, but there’s every hope. :-)

    So what’s left for a new Sugar Coated Narcissistic fragrance? Just “Me”. LOL

    • Robin says:

      It is true! Although I have trouble thinking of it as ‘Me’ so I think of it as ‘Lanvin Me’, almost as though Lanvin was the verb :-)

      • C.H. says:

        Ha yes–and really, I would mind if there were a good, (relatively) low-cost way to “Lanvin myself”!

        (Alas this perfume probably isn’t it. I def agree with your assessment–it’s not for me, but I was prepared for a scrubber, and it’s really not bad at all. Just not my thing.)

        • Robin says:

          Exactly — it’s so much better than the scrubber it might have been.

          Don’t know if I feel the need to be Lanvined at all, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt :-)

      • pyramus says:

        That’s just how I interpreted it — the brand is part of the perfume’s name, kind of the way Dior Addict isn’t called just Addict, but Dior Addict, which is not the same thing at all. And in fact Dior already turned its name into a verb with 2004’s Dior Me, Dior Me Not.

  3. Merlin says:

    My impression of this was just overwhelmingly sweet, but at the same time I’m not exactly sure what I mean by this since at the moment I’m thoroughly enjoying a sample of Ginestet’s Botrytis! So its sweet in the wrong way?

    • Robin says:

      I guess that’s another way to put it. There are some very sweet perfumes that I do like — Prada Candy, for instance.

      • Merlin says:

        Problem is I hit a dead-end here. Too sweet in what way? I’v heard people dislike a fragrance because its too sweet but then adore another much sweeter one. So it’s not sweetness per se.

        I adore Chergui, for instance, but find Traversee du Bosphore tooth-aching. I love PdE’s Ambre Russe but detest S.L’s Louvre. I find TdB too sweet, and Louvre too sweet – but actually I’m not sure I find them sweeter than Ambre Russe and Chergui. I come back to finding some types of sweetness offensive and others wonderful, but cant work out why.

        • Robin says:

          Good point. I do like some sweet perfumes, but they have to be interesting, or fun, or comforting, or something…this is well done, but does not hit any of those other requirements for me personally.

          • Merlin says:

            That might solve the impasse!

            What I had been thinking is that ‘sweetness’ like sourness is actually to do with taste, and this has more to do with the flavour – which in food turns out to be constituted by scent. So it comes down to not liking the combination of ‘notes’. Which means going back to begin with the anaysis.

            Yes, I chase my own tail a lot!

        • annemarie says:

          I completely understand what you mean Merlin. I enjoy the sweetness of Shalimar Parfum Initial but can’t deal AT ALL with Flowerbomb or La Vie est Belle or Loverdose. Traversee is too sweet for me but Botrytis and Chergui are fine, maybe because they share a honeyed sweetness, not sweetness derived from sugar. Prada Candy is okay I think, need to give it another go. I can’t account for my inconsistent reactions to sweet fragrances but I’m glad to hear I’m not the only one!

          • Merlin says:

            Annemarie, I definitely think that this is the case with most people. Its always something about the sweetness. I agree, honeyed seems ok, but I don’t like candied so much.

            Its even funny with Botrytis because I love the fruity effect of it – but the fruitiness of of some of Serge’s concoctions puts me off. And while we are at it, I recently discovered I quite like the curry note in Fougere Bengale but its the curry note that ruins Fille en Aguilles for me!

  4. austenfan says:

    I always admire your stamina in reviewing what must have been quite a boring fragrance. It doesn’t sound like I will like it. I have never tried Loverdose or Flowerbomb either. So maybe I should. Flowerbomb is supposed to be quite good.

    On another note: I reread your review of Iris Silver Mist today as it is what I have been wearing this day. Probably the antithesis of this one.

    • Robin says:

      Oh, you smell nice today!

      It is hard to believe you’ve never smelled Flowerbomb, or a copy of Flowerbomb, on someone else — when you go test it, you’ll probably recognize it. It is quite good for what it is, but what it is isn’t my style either.

  5. antonpan says:

    I do like ME and think it’s the best Lavin from Rumeur times, and it has a great potential at the market. But, yes, it is extremely similar to Loverdose, like a mature version of Diesel fragrance. To my nose Lanvin ME is a cross between Loverdose (fruity licorice accord) and Prada Candy (woody sweet accord), not the Flowerbomb. Lovely creation however.

    • Robin says:

      I detested Rumeur (totally agreed w/ Angie’s review), but have not tried everything since then…did not smell Marry Me at all, nor all of the Jeanne Lanvin flankers. This one could do well. No idea how much of a pull the Lanvin name is these days — don’t think it’s big in the US but that doesn’t mean much.

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