Anais Anais

(Skip if not interested into seriously reviewing. Long writing. Thankyouverymuch) Anais is Syncrétisme. The practice of combining different beliefs and various schools of thought. Syncretism involves the merging or assimilation of several originally discrete traditions, especially in the theology and mythology of religion, thus asserting an underlying unity and allowing for an inclusive approach to other faiths. While syncretism in art and culture is sometimes likened to eclecticism, in the realm of religion, it specifically denotes a more integrated merging of beliefs into a unified system, distinct from eclecticism, which implies a selective adoption of elements from different traditions without necessarily blending them into a new, cohesive belief system. Did perfumers know that? I don't know. Anais was launched in 1978. In but more normal timing... Anais Anais was created by Roger Pellegrino, Robert Gonnon, Paul Leger and Raymond Chaillan. It would be interesting to know how they invented this great perfume. The ideas. The cooperation. Is there any book about perfumery art dealing with these questions? No. Tells a lot about this crippling dying civilisation. That has no respect for art. It has respect for trash. The art world is filled with worthless, empty blah blah, so-called art. The perfumery world is full of clones and senseless, characterless so-called perfumes. Hardly anything is to talk about them. That's not the case when it comes to Chacharel scents. Well... That doesn't go for all. Goes for Anais. Definitely. Anais is a timeless historical time-splitting perfume. It's the perfume that, in its composition, captured the split in the female natural existence, body and spiritual level. Every girl asks herself at one point in her life "Am I a woman now?" Every girl thinks of that. If not otherwise, then when pubic hair comes, your period comes, you suddenly need a bra. That's the breaking point. First one. The initiation is the next one. When you become a mother. That goes for, let's say, normal females. Because we have the born priestesses. Witches. And that you can only be born as one. Passing on from mother's side. Anais is the echo of the spiritual transitions. Pré bodily and prey spiritual girls can't wear it. It's pretty simple. Lily doesn't allow them. Only when you pass the Lily test you have a chance. Anais is a bottled goddess. Testing your wisdom. Challenging your waters. It's the epitome of the feminine fragrance. Not unisex, whatever that means. Whoever wants her husband to smell of Samsara. Probably ones convinced that everyone can wear everything... Because they make money. All over your immature spiritual state and cracks of insecurities. Well... Illusions are flexible and change when merchants' tribe needs them. Your existence doesn't. So go ahead. Offer Anais scent to pre-period girls. Or to a female in her menopausal process. They won't like it... It's the law of nature. Because perfumery is human composing symphonies to flatter the existence. Remember the commercial for Anais? One of the last seriously fitting approaches and commercials, " beauties in soft focus showing no inch of skin beyond their necks set to pre-classical music? And yet Anais Anais, the first perfume by Cacharel (1978), was advertised exactly like that and became the reference scent for the early 1980s for droves of young women who still reminiscence fondly of it 30 years later. It's also one of the most influential perfumes in history. " (perfumeshrine) What I love is that Anais is ANTI feminist fragrance. To the core." The goddess was a testament to a peculiar cultural phenomenon on what concerned the position of women in the zeitgeist: On the one hand, Anais Anais with its imagery disrupted the context of feminism in perfume; the complete antithesis of Charlie by Revlon (1973), if you will, where Shelley Hack was dressed in pants skipping off to work or grabbing the bum of a cute guy in the street as an outward manifestation of her desire to be divested of her traditional passive role. These were both youthful fragrances advertised to the young." (perfume shrine) And I am even more happy when someone notices that. In general, Chacharel has a red line when it comes to its perfumes. That's rare in the perfumery world and even more rare to keep it. Chacharel is probably the only one still keeping their red line. Let's call it, perfumery style. I very much dislike the armpit" roll-on" bottle. And I am devastated by that. I love that long vase-like one with a blossom cover. Let's go into composition. Indeed very interesting... The top notes are White Lily. It opens with subtle nuances, smelling at once waxy, slightly green-tinged, and spicy. It also often carries an earthy-honeyed aspect, which, to me, evokes the pollen stems these flowers have in nature. White lilies symbolise purity and rebirth Often chosen for both weddings and funerals, white lilies symbolise a rejuvenation of the soul. This meaning represents purity, commitment and rebirth, which is why they're often chosen as Sympathy Flowers. It's a smell that challenges right there. At the first smell. The second smell is aldehydes in green aspects. This first lily stays. Till the end. Like "one me, being reborn into other me," in the Middle notes. Pardon. This is total mastery. Of course, the top notes get more complicated with Hyacinthe, again a very, very delicate-smelling flower. It can literally heal or give a headache. The hyacinth's name comes from an ancient tale of love and sorrow, and each colour of its blossoms conveys a different sentiment. Whether it's the playful joy symbolized by pink hyacinths or deep regret represented by purple ones, this flower has been used for centuries to communicate emotions. It's narcotic, green, fresh linalool, balsam, spice, metallic rose. Connected to Iran and the Anais goddess btw. The perfumery noses behind Anais decided to soften both of the first flowers. With Honeysuckle smelling heady and nectarous, a little like jasmine tinged with vanilla. Smelling even in the night. Like just blossoming a young woman who seeks the attention of the opposite sex. Not over yet. Galbanum, again Iran and goddess Anais, is a natural resin that gives a natural green effect. The scent is very green and quite sharp — green peppers, cut grass — and becomes balsamic in the dry down. With Orange Blossom, Lavender, Bergamot, Black Currant and Lemon. Giving a softer, very, very delicate opening. This is so beautiful again. Very very fitting to the Chacharel red line. Of course, perfume was reformulated at least 2 times. The striking magic is gone, but not to the level of giving up Anais. The middle notes tell you that Lily, the reborn one, is here to stay. The only difference is she will use the witch's poisonous magic of the Lily-of-the-Valley and the masculine power of eroticism of Moroccan Jasmine to seduce you. To test her new "body." Carnation will keep the violators away and Honeysuckle will enhance the seductive through the night. Amazing play! Feminine play. A bit naive. Very brave. With that eternal seductive queen Tuberose, breaking the point of letting you touch her odored into Ylang-Ylang, Iris, Rose and Orris Root powder! That's what Anais is... And if you think it's just that? It's not. Then she leads you into the forest. To lie down with her into, not on, but into Base Notes! Oakmoss, Incense, Musk, Leather, Sandalwood, Vetiver, Cedar, Patchouli and Amber... Clumsy and inexperienced, she follows the rules of nature. Seducing with early poison as every serious female fragrance should. Breaking the point of water between her legs. Will she take you as an observer and him as a pollinator, depending on the will of Anais? The goddess. (The bottle. I hate. Please, Chacharel, do something about it. It's a ridicule to this great composition. It's like an armpit roll-on. The version in the shape of the vase with the flower cover collection Fleur. Eau de Toilette is DIVINE. I love! Bring it back Chacharel! Bring back the soaps also. The scarf is beautiful! Also, the green bottle with flower as a cover I love. 75ml Eau de Toilette. It's so nice! Fits. Also, the white, thick milk-rounded bottle is nice. The same version in Opac is nice. The 7.5 ml I mean. It's very nice. Even flacons in different sizes are nice. Very Cacharel! Except for one selling now! The worst and most ugly. In general, totally ugly and not fitting.)

This perfume is completely different from any other in the world, in my experience. I've worn several fragrances (mostly green scents like Chanel Cristalle) through the years, and I adore several other fragrances (mostly soft spices like Obsession) that smell fabulous on other women but, alas, not on me. For the past 20 years I've also owned a studio that is almost exclusively patronized by women, so I've been exposed to lots and lots of various perfumes of every type, all day every day. My sister has always called me "The Nose" because of my ability -- for good or bad -- to discern scents that most other people aren't immediately aware of. I'm the person who sometimes has to get up and change seats at a show because the person in front of me is wearing Poison, the person beside me is eating Juicy Grape bubblegum, the person on the other side of me just took his coat out of mothballs, and the person behind me is in the midst of slathering on Jungle Gardenia hand lotion. It's a curse. All of that is just a lead in for one of the things that I like about Anais Anais: it is a very private sort of scent. I have never smelled it in a cloud around anyone else, and my husband tells me that, although he can clearly detect it on my neck and wrist, he could never locate me in a room (even a small one!) purely by following a trail of fragrance. This makes me happy. The other thing that makes me happy about Anais Anais is that, unlike so many other brash, sharp, single-edged fragrances out there, it is complex and subtle and DELICIOUS . . . at least on me. I truly think, like so many others have reported in this thread, that it's a body chemistry thing. Things that smell lovely on other women tend to take on a life of their own on my skin; every time I think I might just sample a different perfume in a store, within 30 minutes I am looking for the nearest place to wash it off, because the fragrance will grow to the point of making me ill before long. Anais, on the other hand, steps back into the shadows, lying low until hours later, when I lean on my hand while reading or working, for instance, and the warmth between hand & neck will release it again . . . and it will have changed into something that makes me want to just continue breathing it in. On me it is extremely lush & soft, not powdery or soapy or any of the other things others have reported. I get orange blossom most of all, but also fresh green (cedary -- like Christmas trees) & citrus scents as well as elements that remind me of vanilla or leather or pipe tobacco (even though most of those things aren't really in there). It's not an old lady's powdery scent at all or a young girl's wispy, wimpy floral -- it's a grown-up fragrance for someone who doesn't follow every trend, who looks for depth & substance, and who'd always rather speak than shriek. For a long time now, it's the only perfume I wear, and I wear it every day. It never gets old, because it is so multi-faceted. I was really & truly distressed when it appeared that it was going to be discontinued a year or so ago, and I bought every bottle I could lay my hands on. I'm cautiously relieved to see that it's been re-released in a slightly different packaging -- we'll hope that they haven't changed it so much that it wears differently on me. I hope they never do!

When I started to re-ignite my interest into perfumery a few years ago, I wrote a lengthy review on the reformulated version L‘Originale, which I felt was super prim-and-proper, very white and very beautiful. Over the time, however, I fell a little bit out of love with it because, while I continuously liked the heavy white florals and the powdery, almost talcum notes, some of them felt screechy. Not overall bad, but I just did not like it not well enough anymore to want a full bottle. However, when recently I had the opportunity to obtain an unopened bottle of the vintage version for a good price, I went for it on a whim and I do not regret it. While today I will not be getting into the deep details, two differences struck me as significant. 1.) The reformulation certainly made me feel super innocent and pretty, but the vintage version transported me right back to my childhood. To the locker room at the local- at the time very new and nice - public swimming pool, where this fragrance was omnipresent. It smells lotion-ey, white, a bit like then equally ubiquitous jojoba-oil hair treatments. Not as almost-fundamentalist-pure as the reformulation, but more like the innocence of young mums accompanying their small children to a fun activity. While the reformulation reminds me of a somewhat expensive, clean, freshly-washed very frilly, very white blouse, the vintage version smells like well-groomed nudity. Not mainly sexual, but not asexual as well. 2.) The drydowns are fairly different. While the reformulation in its final stage transitions into clean talcum notes, the vintage one has more of a softcore animalistic smell that very strongly reminded me of the final stage of Malle‘s Lipstick Rose. Now I am not the biggest fan of animal smells and the drydown is by far the least favorite stage of Lipstick Rose for me. Just from the notes alone, the reformulation would be a clear winner for me. I like powdery and cool scents. However, with the vintage drydown, the transition feels incredibly much smoother. It carries a bit of an association with the end of a hot summer day: ergo, it has it becomes a bit sweaty, a bit dirty, which I also do not need per se, however, as it makes sense in the whole composition and is not too obnoxious, I can appreciate it. There are other points of comparison that merit a mention: for instance, the longevity and the sillage, which are equally strong with both versions, or the target group, which makes me think that the vintage version leans even a bit more towards the unisex direction than the L’ Originale. To sum things up, Anaïs Anaïs deserves to be enjoyed in both versions, the vintage and the new. If you want that prim-middle-class-young-girl-of-the-1980s-vibe, go for the reformulation, if you need to evoke specific memories, the vintage version will be for you. Overall, I think that the vintage version is better crafted in the drydown, although the reformulation caters more to my taste strictly fragrance-wise. I can certainly recommend both variations of this scent and probably now will have to get a bottle of the reformulation as well.

I'm 65 (OMG, how'd that happen). Parfum has been on my radar for decades, through the highs, lows, screeching, and nouveau riche. I've spent a fortune on it, and that was my choice. Never be sorry for being "young and dumb". Each parfum (EDP)(EDT) will be like a new friend to enjoy. Some will turn against your skin, they were flankers anyway. 🤌 The future holds joy and laughter. Live it and don't look back. "Shake It Off." Tip: Keeping your body hydrated helps any composition of scents last longer. If your scent starts to lose potency, I suggest getting well-hydrated (keep drinking your water) so the scent will last longer.👍 🥉Eau de Cologne (EC) is very light. 🥈Eau de Toilette (EDT) is slightly more concentrated. 🥇Eau de Parfum (EDP) is concentrated in raw materials and more intense than the EDT; It will stick to your skin for about 8 hours of the day, "so the experts say," dependent upon your body chemistry. I stick with the Parfum. Sillage & longevity are 7+ for my body chemistry. I get the Hyacinth, Moroccan Jasmine, Carnation, and Honeysuckle. I get the middle note Orris Root and NOT the Rose. YAY! I get base notes: Incense, Musk, Sandalwood, Vetiver, and Amber. No cedar or Patchouli. YAY! The notes play well together. 😉 This should not be described as a "grandma-ish" or "old lady" scent. Roll with the times, it just wasn't for you. I don't get any honey or rose, which is fine for me, not my favs. I do get the orange blossom, mandarin orange, gardenia & vetiver. All notes play together extremely well. No one note jumps out for me. It is not cloying. I consider it office-friendly. I can't imagine this lovely "whisper" composition offended anyone. I like to layer this with 1 or 2 drops of white musk on my skin if I go out on the town at night. A little dab will certainly do ya.😉 The longevity on me is 7+ hours, though the sillage is faint. MAYBE I want someone to come back to me.😂 It's a lovely composition for me, from 1st spritz to the dry down (no powder, YAY). It lasts forever on clothing. It can be sunshine, flirty floral & delicate. It can also be sensual & alluring thanks to just enough vetiver to bring it all together nicely. BRAVO!🍃Don't worry about allergies and other medical problems: perfumes are widely made of alcohol that acts as an antiseptic.👌 The perfume (also called extract, pure perfume, or perfume essence) is even more powerful. A few drops are enough for a whole day of smelling wonderful, "so they say."

Anaïs Anaïs was worn by my mom in her youth - her first gift from my dad apparently, so it is close to my heart. I have a bottle of the current version, marked "L'Original", but recently acquired a vintage miniature of this, the true original. I've compared the two versions, and while the new one isn't a bad recreation of the beloved original Anaïs Anaïs, it is a simpler, sweeter, less nuanced version that runs out of steam at the drydown. I still like it, it does the job and evokes memories, but this 1970s original is superior. AA opens with bold, waxy hyacinth - a note that evokes childhood memories, as we had hyacinths in the garden at home. A bold, funereal lily note rounds it out, alongside soapy, green lily-of-the-valley. Hazy green galbanum adds a beautiful vintage-style greenness to the background - notably absent in the reformulation - while honeysuckle adds a sweet, polleny edge. It is more complex and less soapy up top than the new version. As it develops, a powdery bouquet emerges, mostly made up of white florals. Bold and lush, it sweetly innocent rather than carnal. Muted tuberose, clean jasmine and the muguet of the opening are most evident. Rose and iris follow, enhancing the powder while adding interest to the white florals. The drydown is much better here than in the reformulation. A soft but nicely-formed chypre base emerges, led by a hint of delicious vintage-style oakmoss. Woody notes are also evident, alongside a musky, slightly animalic amber accord. A pinch of patchouli adds earthiness. The powdery florals remain centre-stage, enhanced beautifully by the chypre base. This stands in stark contrast to the thin, aquatic, soapy drydown of L'Original that just tapers off. Here, it fades to a musky, earthy skin scent with a hint of powdery florals. Sillage and longevity are moderate. A true classic, AA is a beauty that evokes memories for many, myself included. The reformulation is passable, but it fades in comparison to the true 1970s original. A classic feminine springtime scent, I'm glad I got a chance to smell the original again. A personal favourite, I will always have a soft spot for AA thanks to my mom. 5/5.