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, hyacinth, honeysuckle, galbanum, orange blossom, lavender, bergamot, lemon and blackcurrant; the heart reveals lily, valley flower, 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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eBay
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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’s heroines, their empire-waist gowns, and that delicious romanticism… now it’s just watery. Another murder of a great fragrance, and they keep going…
Indeed, it seems to me there has been a tweak to the formula, as I now perceive it as more simplified. Nevertheless, it remains a delicate glass-enclosed garden full of white flowers. I used to love how I’d occasionally catch small bursts of some other stem. It’s the bouquet of flowers a girl picks while playing in the park; it’s the scent of childhood.
I recently acquired this perfume after many years. Perhaps my sense of smell isn’t my strong suit, but it feels the same or very similar to what 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 so strong as olfactory memory), it seems a very young and cheerful fragrance to me; I imagine it suits an innocent girl just starting to enter the world. It’s not a ‘sexy’ fragrance but rather feminine, fresh, and friendly, with which I identify.
It’s the only one I can wear with such a marked galbanum note and incense; lavender and clove aren’t as prominent but are present. It relaxes me and makes me feel wonderful. This scent is rare these days, where perfumes smelling of pastries and excessive sweetness abound. It has vintage excellence in its blend of notes and that longing for the great perfumes of old.
Watch out! Don’t confuse this version with the ‘original’, which is the most recent, as I see people have voted ‘don’t like it’ because it has been reformulated. That’s why Fragrantica also lists the current Anais Anais. Having said that, I’m fortunate to have found an unrefurbished bottle; I’d wanted it for ages. I must confess I 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 version available now. It has entered my collection as a worthy representative of its era, but I wouldn’t wear it daily (the reformulation is much more wearable).
I can’t help but feel nostalgic when I wear it. It was my first perfume, gifted to me when I was a child. As my middle name is Anahí, back then they thought it was ideal for a young girl, but today it still retains that innocent, pure, magical aura. I used it recently and fell in love all over again; I remembered it as more intense and difficult to wear now, so I was mistaken. 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. It’s a small masterpiece.
It’s my mother’s signature fragrance. I’ve always loved that floral and warm aroma. I tried it on myself and liked it, but honestly, I prefer to enjoy it in the air.
I’ve known it since I was a girl; the bottle belonged to my mother. I found it far too strong and it gave me a headache. I’d try it again as an adult.
Romantic, white, feminine, and delicious… It’s one of my daily perfumes… I love it…
It was my first perfume, which is why I hold it in such special affection; my mother gifted it to me as a child and I still have it, proving it doesn’t go off over time (the bottle is about 15 years old). I absolutely adore the scent; it’s floral, very feminine, and complex, with a noticeable talciness. It’s delicate yet distinct, ideal for daily wear and the office because anyone can enjoy it and it leaves a pleasant trail. It suits girls, teenagers, adults, and the elderly alike, adapting to any age; I started wearing it at 12 for special occasions, and now at 27, it’s one of my favourites for everyday use. I’ll buy it again when I run out, not out of nostalgia but because I genuinely like it. It’s a classic that has managed to endure.
It’s a delicious perfume; its aroma is sweet and noticeable, yet for me it’s elegant and relaxing.
I 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 back in the early 90s. My six-year-old self fell in love with that delicate white and pink bottle. I liked it so much my mum bought me a large bottle and I used to bathe in it on special occasions. Thirty 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 favourite note. The dry-down is more pleasant, shifting to honeysuckle, galbanum and carnations. It’s a versatile, 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 girl; it was my first perfume for many years, perhaps due to the memories. It has a talc-like, floral, feminine and very tender aroma; I find it perfect for daily wear.
I always wanted to try it, I’d heard the name since I was a child but never smelled it until now. I love it; many people describe it as tender and that’s very true.
Anaïs Anais is a pretty, tender and very feminine floral, versatile and all-rounder with good sillage and projection, suitable for young ladies and discreet women. Its projection is notable and the dry-down very delicate; a Cacharel gem, though like every 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, forgotten perfumes; seeing the name Cacharel, the memories came flooding back. I tried 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 delight in 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 as I never knew Anais Anais.
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 not youthful; not subtle, light or fresh. The opening is overwhelming, floral, woody and powdery, from before everything smelled of sweets. It reminds me of my adolescence, when my mother wore it and I’d put it on for the floral scent. I love the opening less than the evolution; after an 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 beginning, you wouldn’t buy it. It’s a floral bomb, pretty and a classic, though not easy to wear. There are faithful followers and I understand; you need personality to wear it, it will never go out of style. PS: the bottle is a real gem.
While sorting through my vintage miniatures, I found a bottle of Anais I once gifted to a bride in the 90s; back then, that makeup and outfit made discotheques feel unsafe with their ill intentions. 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, almost dropping it and staining 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 candour 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 blaze of flowers like hyacinth, lily and jasmine. The neroli is elegant, with a touch of spicy carnation and powdery iris, but the abundance overwhelms and the powdery-talc finish seals it. After 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 five hours and it’s still crisp. The 90s have passed, the wild lioness is gone, but I have good memories. We were young, carefree, everything 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 journey.
Anais Anais is my soul scent: incense and white flowers with a hint of anise that bring me to mind those grey, lugubrious days. It’s an unreformulated 80s classic; I mix it to muffle or tone down the sweetness of other fragrances. It reminds me of my innocence and youthful dreams.
I had a formulation from the late 80s and another from the 2010s. The 80s version was a very lovely 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 overpowering, perfect for the end of winter. In contrast, the Anaïs Anaïs I bought in 2015 was a fatal mistake. It is unbearable, it smells like a closet that hasn’t been cleaned for decades.
I had the edition from years ago; a friend gifted it to me when I finished secondary 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 it terribly powdery and no trace of that freshness I remembered. Evidently, with the years, our perfumery tastes change.
I must clarify that I am one of the 2% of women who did not 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 distance themselves from that concept. A tender and fruity opening; I am on the boat of those who consider it tender, but only the first whiff felt like that to me. I sensed a certain freshness that turns sweet and vanilla-like, but not dense. It seems very feminine, sweet but different from what is customary today. It did not seem vintage to me, but different from contemporaries. It has longevity, but I doubt its performance in hostile environments, so one should not hesitate with the sprays. It has a sensual point, definitely, which is why I am surprised that girls from those eras used it; it is a great perfume, it smells like it is for girls aged 23 to 30, not for young teens. I do not feel it is powdery, but fresh, nor pink. If there were no possibility of generating nostalgia, it would be a success for smelling different.
For me, it is not the same; now it smells strange and nothing pleasant, it didn’t remind me at all of the old one which I thought was floral, aquatic and sensual and lasted for days. What a pity, but just as youth does not return, you cannot recover the scents. I hope they launch a limited edition of the bombs from before. Also, Fleur d’Orlane has reappeared, same story; it is not what I use now, they are ugly, I don’t understand who is going to buy them.
Piccohan, I tell you that you will be surprised with this fragrance because most people have never tried it and it is super versatile. It lasts for hours; it is a splash of water, use it and they will fill you with compliments.
Who hasn’t loved this perfume? Years ago, for a school event, we hired a theatre on Avenida Corrientes. I chose the dressing room of a Uruguayan actor and was surprised to see shelves with hundreds of Anaïs Anaïs bottles, all empty. It transported me back to the freshness of adolescence, the irreverence of believing we had the world in the palm of our hand. Sweet and vibrant warmth. It is the perfume loved by teenagers, women and men. It is 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 mother would hide them, especially the Anaïs Anaïs, so I wouldn’t use them, but I always found them. Although the reformulation lost a bit of what it once was, the dry-down reminds me so much. 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. Whenever they continue to sell it, I will buy it.
Anaïs Anaïs brings back memories of a TV commercial from over 30 years ago (mind you, I’m not even 50, haha). I used it in my adolescence 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 then, although now I categorise it as a fruity floral for girls. It is beautiful, like almost all of Cacharel’s creations, and very special to me, although I currently do not own it as I tend more towards fruity florals.
For those seeking the original Anaïs Anaïs, I warn you that most old bottles are fakes. You can tell by the material quality, and the contents are dreadful. If you are lucky enough to find an authentic one, there is a 99.99% chance the perfume has been ‘picked’ (oxidised); the components of Anaïs spoil before others, unlike an Alien Essence Absolue which remains intact after ten years. Cacharel, what are you doing? All of 2023 releasing the rubbish from the Yes I am Blooming Up line. I think they have stopped loving perfumery; they just need to release one made of mango and another of coconut. Noa, Loulou and the reformulated Anaïs have left my collection. I won’t buy from this brand again until they come to their senses.
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; although she appreciated it, I should never part with this treasure again. I have the miniature, but ideally, I’d have the full size to use every time I step out of the shower or want to drift off to sleep feeling protected.
This is another perfume with much affection. When I was a child, my financial situation wasn’t the best; I lived with my grandmother and sometimes we went to ‘everything at one price’ shops to pass the time and treat ourselves to a little ‘luxury’. She always bought a perfume that smelled wonderful. Whenever she sprayed it, I would be transported to a magical garden and ask to use it. The years passed and I kept the bottle from that dollar shop. One day, while cleaning, I found it almost empty and looked for a refill to keep the memories and that scent. My surprise: that cheap and short-lived perfume was a dupe of Anaïs Anaïs. So now, at 28 with better purchasing power, I went to buy a bottle of Anaïs Anaïs. I think it has been reformulated, but still… for me it is 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 is a wonder, the epitome of femininity. A success by Cacharel that never goes out of fashion. 10/10.
For a birthday (a long time ago) they gave me an Anaïs Anaïs. I agree with Rot: floral bomb and very 80s. From the same brand I liked Loulou and Eden, but I never could overcome the overwhelming first impression of the flower mix in this fragrance. Projection and longevity on skin… eternal, like all perfumes from that era. Finally, I couldn’t use it more than 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 I have to say, it was probably expired because when I applied it: what a strong smell, I didn’t like it at all; it’s the only one that gives me a headache, even though I like some strong scents. I am more of a gourmand than a floral person, but this one is not. It is sophisticated and matronly, nothing youthful. Longevity and sillage are long. They surely reformulated it and now it doesn’t smell so strong; I am sure that one was expired. If I see it in a perfumery, I will give it another chance.
Incredible perfume, one of those that are no longer made. I have some of this old bottle and it is a wonder; they gave me the new packaging and it is a disaster; they have 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 many years. I smell it, I think about it, I love it, but I feel it too close to the skin, which disappoints me… well, after more than 12 hours it is still close to the skin, another point in favour for this classic of classics. In three words: Feminine, floral, delicate. White floral scent. Daily occasion. Versatile climate, not my style in extreme heat but I think it works for others. Would I buy it? Yes. Would I recommend it? Yes, it’s worth it. I would get it in 50ml or 30ml to remember those times.
I met Anaïs Anaïs in my youth and it has always accompanied me. It is 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 is very original yet discreet and subtle; I suppose that is part of its success, along with being delicate. For me, delicate is the word that best defines it. It is a delicate being, like soap bubbles, a whisper, or a dream. It reconciles us with the subtle and 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 will always love it.
IT SMELLED LIKE WHO WE YET WERE NOT. There are perfumes that don’t smell of the body, but of the soul’s memory before becoming flesh. Anaïs Anaïs is one. Born in 1978, when innocence was still believed in without irony, it arrived as 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 contain warm milk and lace dreams. It wasn’t sexy; it was virginal. But the trap lies there: beneath that angelic appearance, it hid a convulsive heart, floral to exhaustion, with spicy carnation, unctuous ylang-ylang, and a rose that didn’t blush. Its moss and white leather base 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 whisper, translucent, like a worn photograph. Yet still… there are days you smell it and it returns. The girl on the white bicycle, the folder with 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 afterwards. It reminds me of all the beautiful things of my adolescence and my first love. It’s what made me addicted to fragrances: a bouquet of tender, feminine, innocent, and crystalline flowers. Romantic, long-lasting, with excellent sillage, nothing weak, with a subtle creamy and soapy echo. Patchouli, moss, and sandalwood give it character in the base. A work of art that I will always love.
Today I finally got this wonder, which transported me to my mother, who is no longer with us. I remembered how she wore it; such a coquettish woman who brought out all her femininity and romance, highlighting everything. After so long, incredibly, this bottle fell into my hands. I thank the universe.
The best clean, classic floral scent. Gentle on the nose, with that touch of talc that smells like old-school cosmetics, like dusting your nose between vanity room flowers. I chose it as a teenager and missed it for years until they gave me a flanker and my soul finally rested. It lives up to its reputation. 10/10.