Anaïs Anaïs L'Original
Eau de Parfum, Cacharel (2014)

A cult uncompromisingly feminine and more than vaguely decadent fragrance from Cacharel, issued in its first eau de toilette-formulation back in 1978 and at that time performed by a team of perfumers as the renowned Roger Pellegrino along with Robert Gonnon, Paul Leger and Raymond Chaillan. Anais Anais is a powdery sensual hyper floral languid (and vaguely victorian) concoction with an articulated orchestra of fruity/floral/woody/resinous/leafy/musky accents and with a vaguely gothic resinous aura (the same aura I tend usually to perceive while smelling a powerfully talky bouquet exuding a solitary, nostalgic and romantic sort of "graveyard's winter afternoon atmosphere"). This more recent Eau de Parfum version is richer but less graceful and complex. This iconic fragrance was re-launched by Cacharel in the 2014 with the suffix L'Original in two concentrations - Anais Anais L'Original Eau de Parfum and Anais Anais L'Original Eau de Toilette. I've tested both and have to say that the differences are basically minimal (it is just a matter of intensity and articulation while the aroma itself is basically identical). Nostalgic and lovelorn the Anais Anai's wearer is in my moonshiny mind a solitary gracious person with a deep unmentionable inner pain and an assertive impenetrable facial expression. The romantic bouquet starts definitely fresh, citric, grassy and fruity (slighly aldehydic I'd say) but gradually evolves kailedoscopically in to a valzer of diverse accents before endly sliding towards a weird dissonant sensual massive floral dry down. Yes definitely orange blossoms are heady in the top immediately supported by leafy white florals as hyacinth and lily of the valley (not yet powdery or creamy). The general atmosphere is musky (mossy galbanum is a key element) and soapy floral (with rosey detergent nuances) with sweet/mild fruity accents. The sweetness is languid and vaguely heliotropic. It is really hard to describe the floral musky evolution but definitely muguet, lily of the valley, rose and jasmine are notable in a sort of powdery-mossy atmosphere gradually becoming creamier and woodier in its gorgeous talky chypré formula. Anais Anais is extremely feminine and poetic. I get the comparisons with Cacharel LouLou but while the former is far creamier (kind of vaguely semi gourmand in effects and slightly more modern) Anais Anais is drier, muskier and definitely more structured, complex, musky-green-leafy and naif. Finally frankincense, amber and vetiver provide a darker more almost sinister victorian aura which is the mossy main substance of this floral bouquet. Imagines of abandoned musky-wild gardens (with the climbing ivy invading the walls of the old monolithic aristocratic house), medieval castles visible in the heights and remembrances of noisy and more laborious left back colonial ages jump on mind in a sort of general nostalgic flashback and you are teleported back in the age of dreamy youth when the children white laced dressed used to run vociferously along the alleys limited by the garden's hedges. Overall the atmosphere of this gorgeous floral/chypré is delicate and languid as in a Doris Lessing's romance. An extremely haunting classy creation (vaguely sinister) and definitely an 800's romance in a bottle. Excellent performances. A pillar of the olfactory classicism in its excellent remake.

Got this as an 8 year old child decades ago, one of a bag full of cast offs from my Godmother. Decided to revisited it after reading Luca Turin's 4 stars review calling it "the great-granddad of all florals aimed at the adolescent market, which makes it one of the most influential fragrances in history. It was also the first example of coherent top-down design in a fragrance launch" - Perfumes (p. 69). It is indeed very good: fresh & floral and at that price, it has got to be part of anyone's collection.

Very very very powdery, but not sweetly so. It's very neutral on the sweetness scale, or should I say not sour at all, but also truly unsweet. Clean. Floral. A bit stuffy. I can understand how it was perceived as young and innocent many years ago. It has kept that naivety and prettiness. But it's also very, very stuffy.
I kind of like it and I kind of don't. That stuffiness repels me a bit. But there is something in Anais Anais that grabs me with its powdery soothing hands and makes me lie, smile and dream for a while - even if I'd never want a bottle for myself.