Anaïs Anaïs L'Original Cacharel 2014 Eau de Toilette

Even though the box says L'Original, I must have the new formulation and either my particular bottle or this particular batch contains that unfortunate hyacinth that to me has the vegetal smell of flowers decaying in a swamp. Halston's Catalyst similarly revolted my nose. Add Lily-of-Valley, the other note that can make me gag, and Anaïs Anaïs for me goes so wrong that if all other perfumes vanished from the face of the earth, I'd just have to go without scent, rather than smell like this. At least now I know for sure that whenever I see hyacinth, narcissus and/or Lily of the Valley among a perfume's notes, I need to proceed with extreme caution because chances are I will find it putrid beyond belief as in this case--and, for instance, Liz Claiborne--or it will be a skillfully rendered masterpiece, as in Van Cleef & Arpels' First, Chanel No. 19, or my new love, Rodin by Olio Lusso. It's as if these three are near-magical ingredients that must be respected. Too much and you get a smelly frog. Let some wizard of a designer mix them and, oh my, there's the prince.

There are some notes in perfumery that, due to sharing molecules with others, are prone to unflattering associations. Lilies and jasmines, for example, draw fecal comparisons, while oud reminds many people of manure. Blackcurrant absolute has an unfortunate tendency to smell like 'cat pee', and I don't think I ever fully understood that comparison until I sprayed Anais Anais.

If I try very hard to think of lily of the valley and 90s-style white floral soap, I can just about wrench my mind away from the thought. And indeed, as the scent dries down, it feels less astringent, more floral— and then I catch an edge of greenery and my mind goes back to it. I think I even understand now why people dislike my beloved jasmine, because in this context it's wholly unappealing. The whole design and marketing campaign of this fragrance is, I believe, meant to put one in mind of a porcelain bathtub filled with attractive young ladies. Unfortunately, it reminds me of a significantly less enticing bathroom fixture.

Perhaps the original version (the real original, not 'L'Original' orignal) of this was better, perhaps this was a victim of reformulation. I don't know, but I don't like it.

March 2024:
Well, it was on sale so I finally bought a cute (very cute!!) little bottle containing 30 ml. I just wanted to explore this better and for a longer period of time.
It actually is quite pleasant in a strange way. This is what I would call: an abstract kind of scent. I think this is very appropriate for work without it being too dull or unremarkable. The top notes are mesmerizing/confusing/unique (in a good way), then something darker starts which disapears again, reveiling a faint, but still lively, memory of those lovely topnotes. And then it stays that way. I do get that powder everyone is talking about, but it's not the powder as in the 'usual' powdery scents: less sweet and less 'baby-whipe-like' in my opinion. Unless you're someone that prefers the fruity, gourmand or dark, vanilla kind of perfumes, you may like this.

Remember the song from the add long ago?
Well I think that song does justice to the fragrance. I find it a very quiet, polite and modest fragrance. I can't remember the original from the seventies, because I never liked it enough from first spray then to give it a proper try (the adds then were even more beautyful though: very romantic, vintage styled actresses in beautyfully designed old bathrooms and, because of that, I so much wanted to love the fragrance, but I didn't). I tried it today in a shop after al that time and I don't dislike it now. Ofcourse my olfactory preferences have changed or maybe the scent has changed for the better, I'm not able to tell.
In the opening, I smell the LOTV performing like soft and gentle aldehydes and a touch of jasmine and rose and hyacinth, but very faintly so. The drydown is more chypre, but not as 'chypre' as most chypres. It stays quiet all the way.
Nothing is 'bossy' or making a statement here.
I'd say this would be a great 'beginners chypre' actually.
I always loved that bottle and I still do :-)
Here in the Netherlands it can be bought for a song in drugstore chains sometimes,
I won't buy it though, because it doesn't really thrill me.

"Anais Anais" surprised me with a very soapy start, chemical and aggressive. I was honestly taken aback as I did not remember the scent to be like this (my mother used to have it in the 90s and I remember it being one of my favourite of hers).
So, I made at least 10 sprays into the window and let the bottle sit on my table for a few days.
Today, I gave it another try. Soapiness is still there, but now with the green and raspy notes, like freshly cut stems. There is a shadow of hyacinth lingering behind the green, together with the sweetness of the honeysuckle. In all honesty, honeysuckle is more accurate and believable of the two.
Moss and vetiver pierce through the composition almost from the start, and appear to be locked in a tug of war with the florals. Rose and ylang-ylang do the "heavy lifting" providing heart's sweet and powdery note. LOTV (lily-of-the-valley) is somewhat muddled by hyacinth, but can still be discerned with some effort. Lily's note is definitely a synthetic one, not bad, but obvious.
The fragrance softens through its heart and becomes more sweet and powdery, with the raspy green moss and vetiver subdued but still present. Musky sandalwood is nicely executed and add a needed fluidity and softness to the composition. Conflict between notes is settled and "Anais Anais" becomes what it should have been from the start, - a cosy, powdery floral, with romantic and nostalgic feel. I tend to associate the perfume with Francoise-Athenais de Montespan a famous favourite of the Sun King - Louis XIV, who embodied and encapsulated beauty, elegance and wit with cold-blooded strategy and merciless ambitions.
All in all "Anais Anais" is still a favourite of mine, loved for its floral cloud-like scent, even with the few hiccups in the blending and recreation of the notes (which I confidently lay at the L'Oreal's door, - not the first time that they messed up a beautiful creation in pursuit of "financial efficiency"), and am certain to keep it on my dressing table for many more years to come. After all, a perfume with character, even a self-contradictory one, is much better than the one without.

Today, determined to get to know a legend, I spent twenty euros on the 30ml legend. As everyone knows, every legend changes over the decades and centuries...
I have read that Anaïs Anaïs L'Original is no longer 'the' original. I lack the background knowledge, so I will comment on the 2014 version without bias.

I had previously taken a sample home, but only on a white paper strip.
So much in advance: the paper strip suited Anaïs Anaïs much better than I did.

I was quite enthusiastic and still am, in a way, about the top note and heart note. I couldn't experience the base note at that time, due to the lack of body heat on the strip.

But back to the beginning: I really liked the beautiful white bottle with the veiling pink flowers. Elegant in an old-fashioned way. Vintage. This would look lovely on a delicate white dressing table, alongside a vase with white lilies, behind it a gold-rosé brocade wallpaper. Dame Blanche, draped in flowing silks, enters the sunlit room for her morning routine, strokes her hair with a goat hairbrush, powders her nose, and dabs Anaïs behind her ear, beneath her flowing hair...
My mood picture confirmed me, quite prosaically in jeans, sneakers, and a parka at the local Karstadt as I released the first spray of Anaïs... The first floral cloud wafts away. No citrus, no fruits, and none of the usual notes found in the top note.
A very delicate, light, floral, but also somewhat peppery freshness, as if someone were holding a bouquet of freshly bloomed hyacinths in the fresh morning air under my nose, 'Here, smell this!.....aaaaaah!'
Top note is great! Check!
Soon, however, this person approaches with more samples from the early bloomers' selection. She becomes a bit pushy. More and more and more and more flowers she presents.....
- Hyacinths! Take this!
- Violets! Take this!
- Hawthorn! Take this!
- Lily of the valley! Take this!
- Roses! Take this! And this! And this!
And as a rosy backdrop, she throws in a few fluffy cherry blossom petals....I am up to my neck in a spring potpourri...

Suddenly, I realize that the Anaïs fairy with the dressing table has a Mireille Mathieu hairstyle. Hippie-esque, but with elegance... The dew on the flowers is now drying, a slightly muffled jasmine comes through, along with some trendy plants from the 70s...Ylang-ylang and is that patchouli?
I am almost feeling a bit groovy....
Up to this point, I liked it. I thought this overly dense floral abundance would surely subside.
On the way home, I kept sniffing my paper strip....aaaah interesting...a wonderful soap. This floral quality, yet without heaviness....I also perceive a bit of sharpness...

Only today, after my purchase and the actual wearing on my skin, do I get to know the true Anaïs. She has a dark, musty secret, a corpse in the cellar....Moss and musk put an end to the cornucopia of spring.
On the skin, every freshness disappears; it smells a bit like my grandmother's generous baby powder donation at the birth of my first child. A lush bouquet of roses and lilies thickly powdered white....

If I could wish for something from the Anaïs fairy, it would be a bit of citrus or bergamot in the top note, a bit more vetiver in the base, and fewer dark notes.
That would be my personal version of Anaïs.

Still, I find that this is a coherent fragrance, but for a different type of woman than I am, and perhaps from another time.

I do not know the much-praised original, but for me, this version conveys a hint of the seventies. Well-groomed bourgeoisie gone astray. If it could be smelled as a spectator, then Isabelle Huppert could wear the scent for the film adaptation of Madame Bovary. The scent is beautiful, but for my type, it lacks clarity and freshness or the complete wickedness. Moreover, it is too dense for me and a bit shrill synthetic. Oh, what a pity....