Men
Anais Anais
Acordes principales
Descripción
Anais Anais by Cacharel is a floral fragrance for women. Launched in 1978, this composition was created by Roger Pellegrino, Robert Gonnon, Paul Leger, and Raymond Chaillan. The top notes unfold white lily of the valley, hyacinth, honeysuckle, galbanum, orange blossom, lavender, bergamot, lemon, and black currants; the heart reveals lily of the valley, Moroccan jasmine, carnation, honeysuckle, neroli, ylang-ylang, iris, rose, and iris root; while the base notes settle on oakmoss, incense, musk, leather, sandalwood, vetiver, cedar, patchouli, and amber.
Resumen rápido
Cuándo llevarla (votos)
Notas clave
-
Salida
White Lily
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Corazón
lily
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Base
oakmoss
Comunidad
9,102 votos
- Positivo 64%
- Negativo 33%
- Neutral 3.3%
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
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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.
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40 reseñas
Mostrando las más recientes primero.
Category:
Anais Anais has been ruined, literally… a perfume that always reminded me of Jane Austen heroines, their Empire-waist dresses, and that delicious romanticism… now it’s just watery. Another murder of a great fragrance, and they keep going.
Indeed, it seems to me that there was some adjustment to the formula, as now I perceive it as more simplified. Nevertheless, it remains a delicate glass-enclosed garden full of white flowers. I used to love how I occasionally caught small bursts of some stem or other. It’s the bouquet of flowers a little girl picks while playing in the park; it’s the scent of childhood.
Beware! Don’t confuse this version with the ‘original,’ which is the latest reformulation—I’ve seen people vote ‘dislike’ because of the reformulation. That’s why Fragrantica also lists the current Anais Anais. Having said that, I’m glad I managed to find an unrefurbished bottle; I’ve wanted it for ages. I must confess, I actually prefer the new version much more. Of course, this is a fantastic perfume and I like it, but its notes are quite more intense. I detect leather, incense, and iris root… which aren’t in the current version. It’s entered my collection as a worthy representative of its era, but I wouldn’t use it daily (the reformulation is much easier to live with).
I recently acquired this perfume after many years. Maybe my sense of smell isn’t my strongest suit, but it feels just as similar to the one I wore in my adolescence, 10 or 15 years ago. The longevity is quite decent, and I like the little bottle even more. Perhaps due to my experiences with Anais Anais (nothing as strong as olfactory memory), it seems like a very young and cheerful fragrance to me; I imagine it’s more suited for an innocent girl just stepping out into the world. It’s not a ‘sexy’ scent, but rather feminine, fresh, and friendly, which I identify with.
It’s the only one I can wear with such a prominent galbanum note and incense; lavender and clove are present but not as strong. It relaxes me and makes me feel great. This scent is rare these days, especially where sugary, dessert-like fragrances dominate. It has that vintage excellence in its note blending and evokes the nostalgia of classic perfumes.
I can’t help but feel nostalgic when I wear it. It was my first perfume, gifted to me when I was a child. Back then, with my middle name being Anahí, they thought it was ideal for a young girl, but today it still carries that innocent, pure, magical aura. I used it recently and fell in love all over again. I remembered it as more intense and harder to wear then; I was wrong. It’s a beauty. It’s like a garden surrounded by nymphs and mythical creatures. It also reminds me of the character Lolita from Nabokov’s novel. It’s a small masterpiece.
This is my mother’s signature fragrance. I’ve always loved that warm, floral aroma. I tried it on myself and liked it, but honestly, I prefer to enjoy it in the air.
I’ve known this scent since I was a girl; the bottle belonged to my mom. At the time, it seemed too strong and gave me a headache. I’d give it another try as an adult.
Romantic, white, feminine, and delicious… It’s one of my daily perfumes… I love it…
It’s a delicious perfume, its scent is sweet and noticeable, however for me it is elegant and relaxing.
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.
I’ve always wanted to give it a chance, tried it years ago and no dice. It’s a strong, heavy, loaded, lugubrious scent; nothing fresh or youthful; you smell it and want to pull your nose away. Very unclean, it has too many different flowers. I don’t like it a bit, I feel it.
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.
In my family it’s tradition to gift this perfume to every little girl; it was my first perfume for many years, perhaps due to the memories. It has a powdery, floral, feminine, and very tender aroma, I find it perfect for daily wear.
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 is a pretty, tender, and very feminine floral, versatile and all-terrain with good sillage and longevity, suitable for young ladies and discreet women. Its projection is notable and the dry-down is very delicate; a jewel from Cacharel, though like any great success, it became hyper-massified even in colognes. But I still like it, it’s a classy classic.
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.
While organizing my vintage miniatures, I found a bottle of Anais I once gifted to a bride in the 90s; back then, she made discotheques uneasy with that makeup and outfit of ill intent. I tried it and it’s a sweet, sticky delirium that knocks you to the floor; you can’t cook or sleep, only surrender. It’s an intense slap, I almost dropped it and stained my shirt. Tomorrow they’ll say I frequent a harem; it’s incredibly beautiful and potent. Marketed as floral and innocent, it has that dual attraction of being tender and sexy, leaving you speechless between candor and sin. Today I see its undeniable sexual character, that subliminal eroticism that reflected my bride: innocent on the outside, seductive on the inside. It’s an ingenious floral arrangement with incredible nature: citrus, then a fire of flowers like hyacinth, lily, and jasmine. Nard is elegant, with a bit of spicy carnation and powdery iris, but the abundance overwhelms and the powdery-talc note closes it out. At three hours, moss, woods, musk, and patchouli add depth; the bouquet recedes but lingers in the background. The longevity is luxurious; I wore it for 5 hours and it’s still crisp. The 90s are gone, the wild lioness left, but I have good memories. We were young, carefree, everything was possible, living at the limit. Many dreams stayed on the road, life took its toll, but like Anais Anais, we remain young at heart. I invite niche lovers to try it without prejudice, but beware, it’s a one-way trip.
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.
Anais Anais is my soul scent: incense and white flowers with a hint of anise that bring me to mind of sadness, those gray and lugubrious days. It’s an unreformulated 80s classic that I mix to cut or reduce the sweetness of other fragrances. It reminds me of my innocence and youthful dreams.
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.
I had a formulation from the late 80s and another from the 2010s. The 80s version was a very nice floral that transported me to weekends at my grandmother’s house and outings to the park with my aunts. It was long-lasting but not overwhelming, perfect for late winter. In contrast, the Anaïs Anaïs I bought in 2015 was a fatal mistake. It’s unbearable, it smells like a closet that hasn’t been cleaned in decades.
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.
Piccohan, I tell you, you’re going to be surprised with this fragrance because most people have never tried it and it’s super versatile. It lasts for hours; it’s a splash of water, use it and they’ll fill you with compliments.
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.
Who hasn’t loved this perfume? Years ago, for a school event, we rented a theater on Av. Corrientes. I chose the dressing room of a Uruguayan actor and was surprised to see shelves with hundreds of empty Anaïs Anaïs bottles. It transported me back to the freshness of adolescence, the irreverence of believing the world was in the palm of my hand. Sweet and vibrant warmth. It’s the perfume loved by teenagers, women, and men. It’s the eternal perfume.
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.
Anaïs Anaïs brings back memories of a TV commercial from over 30 years ago (hey, I’m not even 50, lol). I used it in my teenage years to go to high school: a festival of white flowers, floral, and more floral. I felt clean and fresh with it. I think it was ideal for a teenager back then, though now I place it among fruitier florals for girls. It’s beautiful, like almost all of Cacharel’s, and very special to me, although I don’t currently own it since I tend toward fruitier florals.
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.
I’m inviting men back to enjoy this fragrance, whether on velvet, skin, or even the pillow before sleep. I made the mistake of gifting the last bottle to a friend; she appreciated it, but I’ll never part with this treasure again. I have the miniature, but ideally, I’d have the full size to use every time I get out of the shower or want to go to sleep feeling protected.
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.
This is another perfume with so much affection. When I was a child, my financial situation wasn’t the best. I lived with my grandmother, and sometimes we’d go to ‘dollar stores’ to hang out and treat ourselves to a little ‘luxury.’ She always bought a perfume that smelled wonderful. Whenever she sprayed it, I’d be transported to a magical garden and ask to use it. Years passed, and I kept the bottle from that dollar store. One day, while cleaning, I found it almost empty and looked for a refill to preserve the memories and that scent. My surprise: that cheap, short-lived perfume was actually a dupe of Anaïs Anaïs. So now, at 28 with a better income, I went to buy a bottle of Anaïs Anaïs. I think it has been reformulated, but still… for me, it’s a delight, like being in a green field with fairies and forest creatures. Feminine and delicate but intense. It has no age or era; it’s a marvel, the epitome of femininity. A hit by Cacharel that never goes out of style. 10/10.
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.
Incredible perfume, one of those that are no longer made. I have some of this vintage bottle, and it’s a marvel; they gave me the new packaging, and it’s a disaster—they’ve ruined a masterpiece. Today I tried Eternity Moment, and it reminded me of the original Anaïs Anaïs… I know they aren’t the same, but the Calvin Klein one smells much better than the horrible reformulation.
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 met Anaïs Anaïs in my youth, and it has always accompanied me. It’s a quiet, harmonious, and ethereal scent that goes with any moment, though it transports me to Mediterranean afternoons with sun and that placid, nostalgic blue. It’s very original yet discreet and subtle; I suppose that’s part of its success, along with being delicate. For me, delicate is the word that defines it best. It’s a delicate being, like soap bubbles, a whisper, or a dream. It reconciles us with the subtle, simple beauty that emerges every day. With Anaïs Anaïs on my skin, the world seems kinder, more human, less strange. Impossible to hide that I love it and always will.
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.
My first perfume at 12, a gift from a relative. I bought it many times afterward. It reminds me of all the beautiful things about my adolescence and my first love. It’s what made me addicted to fragrances: a bouquet of tender, feminine, innocent, and crystal-clear flowers. Romantic, long-lasting, with excellent sillage—nothing weak, just a subtle, creamy, soapy echo. Patchouli, moss, and sandalwood give it character in the dry down. A work of art I will always love.
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.
The best clean, classic floral scent. Gentle on the nose, with that powdery touch reminiscent of old-school cosmetics, like dusting your nose with powder amidst vanity room flowers. I chose it as a teenager and missed it for years until someone gifted me a flanker, and my soul finally rested. It lives up to its reputation. 10/10.