Anais Anais by Cacharel

Today I finally got this miracle, which transported me back to my mother, who is no longer with us. I remembered the first time she wore it; she was such a coquettish woman, bringing out all her femininity and romance, highlighting everything. After so much time, this bottle miraculously fell into my hands. I thank the universe.

IT SMELLED LIKE WHO WE WEREN’T YET. There are perfumes that don’t smell like the body, but like the memory of the soul before it became flesh. Anaïs Anaïs is one. Born in 1978, when innocence was still believed in without irony, it arrived like a love letter in petals of lily, hyacinth, and orange blossom. It seemed made for the idea of youth: ethereal, white, immaculate, yet with something deep, a nameless sadness. Its round, milky bottle seemed to hold warm milk and lace dreams. It wasn’t sexy; it was virginal. But the trap lies there: beneath that angelic appearance hid a convoluted heart, floral to the point of exhaustion, with spicy carnation, unctuous ylang-ylang, and a rose that didn’t blush. Its base of moss and white leather anchored it to the skin with almost desperate tenderness. As if it wanted to stay, knowing it couldn’t. Over the years, reformulations softened it. The current version (L’Original) keeps the gesture, but not the depth. What was once lyrical is now a faint, translucent whisper, like a worn photograph. But still… there are days you smell it and it comes back. The girl on the white bicycle, the folder full of dreams, the pressed flowers. It wasn’t a perfume; it was a way of beginning to be.

What a lovely memory to try it today; I hadn’t smelled it in years. I sprayed it, thought about it, and loved it. I felt it right up against my skin, which disappointed me at first… well, after more than 12 hours, it’s still right up against my skin, another point in favor for this classic of classics. In three words: Feminine, floral, delicate. White floral aroma. Daily occasion. Versatile climate; it’s not my style in extreme heat, but I think it works for others. Would I buy it? Yes. Do I recommend it? Yes, it’s worth it. I’d get it in 50ml or 30ml to remember those times.

I was gifted an Anaïs Anaïs for a birthday a long time ago. I agree with Rot: it’s a floral bomb and very eighties. I liked other scents from the same brand, like Loulou and Eden, but I could never overcome the overwhelming first impression of the flower mix in this fragrance. Projection and longevity on the skin… eternal, like all perfumes from that era. Ultimately, I could only wear it a couple of times and gave it away.

I have the original fragrance from the 00s, a gift from my aunt that I never opened. I tried it and have to say, it was probably expired because upon application, the smell was incredibly strong; I didn’t like it at all. It’s the only one that makes me dizzy, even though I like some strong scents. I’m more of a gourmand than a floral person, but this one is definitely not it. It’s sophisticated and matronly, nothing youthful. Longevity and sillage are excellent. They surely reformulated it, and now it doesn’t smell as strong; I’m sure that one was just expired. If I see it in a store, I’ll give it another chance.

For those seeking the original Anaïs Anaïs, beware: most old bottles are fakes. You can tell by the material quality, and the contents are terrible. If you’re lucky enough to find an authentic one, there’s a 99.99% chance the perfume has already degraded; Anaïs components spoil faster than others, unlike an Alien Essence Absolue that remains intact after ten years. Cacharel, what are you doing? All of 2023 releasing trash like ‘Yes I am Blooming Up.’ I think they’ve lost their love for perfumery; all they need is to release a mango and a coconut scent next. From my collection came Noa, Loulou, and the reformulated Anaïs. I won’t buy anything from this brand again until they get their act together.

Anaïs Anaïs, along with Youth Dew and L’Air du Temps, marked my childhood. I grew up with them and remember how my mom would hide them, especially the Anaïs Anaïs, so I wouldn’t use them, but I always found them. Although the reformulation lost some of what it used to be, the dry-down reminds me a lot of the original. I still use it from time to time, especially when I want to feel carefree and with the sensation that everything will turn out well. As long as they keep selling it, I’ll buy it.

I’ll clarify that I’m part of the 2% of women who didn’t have this perfume as a child nor had I tried it. Recently I had the opportunity and it never caught my attention due to the ‘girl’s perfume’ label, but my impressions stray from that concept. Soft and fruity opening; I’m on the boat of those who consider it soft, but only the first sniff felt that way to me. I sensed a certain freshness that turns sweet and vanilla-like, but not dense. I think it’s very feminine, sweet but different from what’s customary today. It didn’t seem vintage to me, but different from contemporaries. It has longevity, but I doubt its performance in hostile environments, so don’t hesitate on the sprays. It has a sensual point, definitely, which is why I’m surprised that girls from those eras used it; it’s a powerhouse, it smells like it’s for girls aged 23 to 30, not for young teens. I don’t feel it’s powdery, but fresh, nor pinky. If there wasn’t the possibility of generating nostalgia, it would be a hit for smelling different.

It’s not the same for me; now it smells weird and nothing pleasant, it didn’t remind me at all of the old one which I thought was floral, aquatic, and sensual, and it lasted days. What a pity, but just as youth doesn’t return, you can’t recover the old scents. I hope they launch a limited version of the bombs from before. Also, Fleur de Orlane has reappeared, same thing, it’s not the one I use now, they’re ugly, I don’t understand who’s going to buy them.

I had the edition from years ago, a friend gifted it to me when I finished high school. I remember how exquisite, fresh, and floral it was. Recently I saw the bottle in a perfumery and was tempted to try it, thinking it would take me back to those times. The disappointment was immediate; I felt terribly powdery and no trace of that freshness I remembered. Obviously, with the years, our perfumery tastes change.

It’s an 80s perfume: super potent, with great projection and longevity. Everything was like that back then, even this Eau de Toilette that many would wish were an EDP. It’s a bookish floral, powdery, intense, and nothing youthful; it’s not subtle, light, or fresh. The opening is overwhelming, floral, woody, and powdery, from before everything smelled like candy. It reminds me of my adolescence, when my mother wore it and I’d put it on because of the flower scent. I love the opening less than the evolution; by the hour I start to see the charm and understand why it’s a top seller. It smells great if you have patience, because if you stick with the opening, you wouldn’t buy it. It’s a floral bomb, pretty and a classic, though not easy to wear. There are faithful fans and I understand them; you need personality to wear it, it will never go out of style. P.S.: The bottle is a real gem.

I just found a small bottle of Anais Anais among my mother’s old and forgotten perfumes; seeing the name Cacharel triggered memories. I sprayed it on my wrists and detected that classic floral identity, but due to contamination from other fragrances and neglect, it smells like old essence, like an old church lady. I want to enjoy it, but I can’t right now. I’m intrigued by the memory of the creator and his other creation, Amor Amor, which I believe I never knew, just like Anais Anais.

I’ve always wanted to try it, I heard the name as a child but never smelled it until now. I love it; many people describe it as tender and they’re very right.

Anaïs Anais was my first perfume; I stole the little bottle from my mother’s Premiere Collection giftset in the early 90s. My six-year-old self fell in love with that delicate white and pink bottle. I liked it so much that my mom bought me a big bottle and I used to bathe in it on special occasions. 30 years later, I bought the same little bottle to remember what I liked. It’s a soapy white floral, complex and well-executed, but it no longer captivates me. The lily scent is too heavy; it’s not my favorite note. The dry-down is more pleasant, shifting to honeysuckle, galbanum, and carnations. It’s a versatile, all-terrain feminine floral with good sillage and longevity. I can see why my little girl fell in love, but I doubt I’ll use it again. Pleasant: 5/10, Interesting: 7/10, Versatile: 7/10, Original: 7/10.

It was my first perfume, which is why I hold a special affection for it; my mom gifted it to me when I was a child, and I still have it, proving it doesn’t go bad over time (the bottle is about 15 years old). I love the scent—it’s floral, very feminine, complex, powdery yet delicate, perfect for daily wear and the office because anyone can enjoy it and it leaves a pleasant trail. It suits girls, teens, adults, and seniors alike; I started wearing it at 12 for special occasions, and now at 27, it’s one of my favorites for everyday use. I’ll buy it again when I run out, not out of nostalgia, but because I genuinely love it. It’s a classic that has truly stood the test of time.