Anaïs Anaïs
Cacharel (1978)

In spite of its image of flower-patterned pinafore naïveté, Anaïs Anaïs, underneath its Victorian sharp green and powdered ruffles, isn't really a petticoat prissiness after all. Those of a masculine persuasion may initially scoff at its prim opening, all tra-la-la and tiptoes through the tulips, all rosy-cheeked, but once we reach the corner of the cottage garden where the heaving madonna lilies and sultry trumpet lilies bloom, all sweaty and exposed, we realize, "hmm...we smells hyacinths here, but this is no Hyacinth Bucket."

While the flowers are the centerpiece here, there is something to be said for the later stages of development, all woody, mossy, and even musky, seeming to include some Tonkin musk style bases, rendering the innocent knickers not so immaculate after all. I appreciate another reviewer's (Brian Buchanan) comparison to Kouros in some aspects. It also dares to straddle two styles: while Kouros pairs fougere with sensuous amber and dirty musks, Anaïs Anaïs juxtaposes the genteel floral with its own lustful understory. Enough with the ukelele strumming, cue Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff." 

Anaïs Anaïs the bathroom goddess: or Kouros for girls.
A paeon of white tile innocence, the Mirror Phase perfume par excellence;
a time when children discover a mature, reflexive sense of self.
And, with an undertow of spicy amber musk, it's not as naive as it seems.

Gentle but bright at the same time. Loud and clear. There is certain heaviness here, but not for the winter time. It truly has a spring character. For the bright, sunny day which is not too warm. Evokes awakening and everything is livelier after the winter dullness.

This is a women classic that doesn't necessarily smell dated under condition one doesn't overspray, that is - application should be very modest. If overapplied it starts to remind of YSL Kouros and that "toilet" smell.

Citruses are not dominant in this scent at all. White flowers, strong musk and solid pinch of incense are the dominant notes in this choir. This scent is kind of "immortal". Indeed it reminds me of already mentioned Kouros, but does that mean that this is not a "womanly" scent? No. It can be misinterpreted in modern times, but only if overapplied. With mild application it might even garner a few compliments.

Originality 6/10 - not an unknown style when compared with its contemporaries
Scent 7/10 - not exactly modern, but with careful application it might avoid being perceived as "démodé"
Longevity 8/10
Projection 6/10 if you apply modestly and 8/10 if you overapply
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Overall impression 7/10

Eerily erotic, and more than a little bodily-gross. It has almost a kind of bathroom smell. In that way, for me it's reminiscent of YSL Kouros. But while that one's decidedly the smell of a debauched European man's bathroom, this is really the shared bathroom of young women in a suburban household seen through a vinatge Tumblr tinge. Flowery, soapy, sweaty, a little chicken-y, too.

Anaïs Anaïs has got this vintage floral feel that some (and I) like, but that may make some others say you smell like their grandmother.

Good performances, even from a vintage bottle.

In 1982 in my 20s I was unaware that it was aimed at a teenage target market. I tried it one morning and was amazed that I could still smell it that evening. I saved up to buy a bottle and never regretted it. I happily wore it for over 25 years and collected all the various "gifts" you could get with it - I've still got the silky bathrobe.

I don't know why I stopped wearing it, but have recently rediscovered it. Oh, the memories! Instantly I felt like myself again. All the current worries about Covid-19 and everything else seem to disappear for a short space of time whenever I sniff it. Love it. Softly floral with a hint of powderyness. Slightly woody and not quite green. Sensuous in an innocent way if that makes sense.