A fragrance that changed everything: Anaïs Anaïs by Cacharel

By Donna Back in 1978 a perfume sensation hit the department store shelves of the U.S.A. Packaged in a dreamy abstract floral design, Anaïs Anaïs really made people sit up and take notice. It was a fresh but heady green floral built around the elusive white lily, Lilium candidum, known commonly as the Madonna lily for its long association with purity and religious symbolism but rarely used as the main floral accord in perfumery. It was truly like nothing else, and furthermore, most of us had never even heard of Cacharel, a French house formerly known more for fashion than fragrance. The marketing blitz was complete; for this new perfume sensation came in every form you could think of from shower gel to a skin-silkening dry oil spray and was supported by a lush ad campaign. I fell for it myself the minute I smelled it. I was young and looking for a more grown-up perfume than what I had been wearing (don’t ask – okay, it was Babe by Fabergé). Anaïs Anaïs was perfect. It was one of the few fragrances I can recall that really was as good as its publicity. It also spawned a host of imitators, some good and others not so hot; by far the best to follow in its footsteps was the original Jessica McClintock fragrance, which I also wore a lot back in the day. Both had a pure yet heady aura and were decidedly feminine and very girly, in a good way. Both featured cool white flowers and green notes with a high, sweet backbeat, a combination I will always love. Years passed and Anaïs Anaïs remained popular, but things began to happen in the Cacharel brand. New scents were introduced, and products began to disappear from the Anaïs Anaïs lineup. It had been available in two formulations that quickly became my favorites – a pure Parfum and a heavily scented bath oil. Never has the concept of different strengths and formulations of a perfume been so clear to me – talk about night and day. On the upper end of the spectrum was the Parfum – this was quite simply the most beautifully romantic perfume I had ever smelled, a distillation of pure white flowers centered on the white lily and muguet, and an ethereal dream of a scent. Its polar opposite was the bath oil, a heavy, viscous deep amber potion that showcased the sexy, indolic side of the lily and hyacinth notes and emphasized the wood and incense. I did use this as a bath oil, but my preference was to use it as perfume; just a tiny dab lasted for hours on end and made me feel very daring. The Parfum was discontinued first, and then the bath oil went away. I got the last bottle in town and hoarded it for years. If I had know that the Parfum would disappear I would have found a way to get more of it before the axe fell. I had to settle for the Eau de Parfum from then on, but guess what? That started getting hard to find as well, and eventually only the Eau de Toilette remained on the shelves. If you try you can still find the Eau de Parfum online at the better discounters, but it’s highly unusual to see it in a store, at least in this country. I stopped wearing this fragrance after a while except for my precious bottle of the bath oil. It’s still sold everywhere in the Eau de Toilette form, which to me is the least interesting; I preferred the EDP as it brought out the lily note more prominently. Cacharel kept introducing new scents, and continues to do so now, but they have never hit the jackpot that way again. Their biggest success to date other than Anaïs Anaïs was Noa, followed by its flankers Noa Fleur and Noa Perle, all of which are nice but not innovative, and rather tame to my nose. Despite its pastel packaging, Anaïs Anaïs was a bold departure in style. Just imagine seeing these listed notes (from the Fabulous Fragrances maven Jan Moran) thirty years ago, and what an unusual formula it still is for a mainstream scent. If it were released today, and you smelled it for the first time you might think it was from some avant-garde niche house: Top Notes: White Madonna lily, blackcurrant bud, hyacinth, lily-of-the-valley, citrus Heart Notes: Moroccan jasmine, Grasse rose, Florentine iris, Madagascar Ylang- ylang, orange blossom, Bourbon vetiver, California cedarwood, Singapore patchouli, Yugoslavian oakmoss Base Notes: Russian leather, musk I have been testing it on my skin again recently, and trying to separate my nostalgia for it from its true character, much as one would read letters from an old lover and think mostly of the good times, forgetting how they broke your heart so long ago. And you know what? I still love it, and I still believe it is a great perfume destined for classic status. I believe it has been done a great disservice by having its best incarnations taken off the market, but that does not change how I feel about it. It started my long love affair with both green florals and lily scents that continues unabated today. It has outlasted many other “new sensations” in perfumery and still has legions of loyal fans, not all of whom are under 21 either. I will always have a soft spot in my heart for this most unabashedly romantic of perfumes. Image of the elusive Anaïs Anaïs Eau de Parfum from perfumestore.co.nz

Lotus Blossom & Water Lily and Dark Amber & Ginger Lily: The Kohdo Wood Collection by Jo Malone

The Kohdo Wood limited edition collection made a brief appearance in 2008 and has been re-introduced again this year. I managed to miss it last time, so I cannot compare the fragrances, but I assume they were not reformulated. The fragrances are homage to Kohdo, "the ancient Japanese art of incense appreciation". Both, therefore, have a resinous undertone, however, lovers of hardcore incensey incense should not expect to get their fix here. Incense is fairly subtle in both perfumes (stronger in Dark Amber) and serves more as a balancing tool. In the case of Lotus Blossom & Water Lily it balances the fresh wateriness of the floral accord keeping it from becoming too aquatic and too transparent. It gives body to the ethereal composition and infuses it with a hint of darkness. I wrote before that I am in a mood for fresh floral fragrances right now, and LB&WL is exactly what I am in a mood for. The scent is a sip of cold water on a hot day. It is a gauze of pure-white, fragile petals...I could go on. I love it. Jo Malone copy warns about "aquatic nuances", but, even though present, the watery element is not agressive. It is, moreover, a necessary and attractive part of the composition. That wateriness is what evokes an image of lotus and lily, what gives the scent its transluscency and what contrasts so beautifully with the darkness of incense. Sometimes ,the scent is completely dry, cold and "pure" on my skin, sometimes ,the sweetness of freesia, mandarin and lily is more apparent. I love it more when it is coldly innocent. Dark Amber & Ginger Lily is indeed a dark(er) scent. The black angel to the snow-white one of Lotus Blossom. It is sweeter, more full-bodied, a sensual, languid fragrance. It starts with a hit of pepper and ginger, which simultaneously announces both incense (which, to me, has a very obvious peppery undertone) and lily. The floral accord, which includes rose and jasmine, is ripe and candied and brings out both the balsamic sweetness of amber and the heady honey-like quality of ginger lily. Were there no incense to keep it in check, it could have been too sweet. As it is, every ingredient in the composition makes sense in regards to every other ingredients, everything is in there for a reason; I love it when a scent is so well-blended. I don't want to scare anyone off by repeatedly using the word "sweet". DA&GL is indeed sweet, but it is Jo Malone sweet, as in - still rather transparent. To bring down the sweetness, layering with Lotus Blossom works wonders. Both are available for a limited time at Jo Malone boutiques, Bergdorf Goodman, etc., $55.00-$100.00. The collection also includes bath oil and candle in both fragrances.

Three Days of Lilies. Day Three: Annick Goutal, Frederic Malle, Serge Lutens...And a Prize Draw.

Today is the last day of lilies, devoted to my most favorite scents featuring the note. These are the lilies to die for, nor a thorn nor a threat stains their beauty bright. Serge Lutens Un Lys is the lily that I loved even when I did not like floral perfumes in general and lily scents in particular. Reading reviews and forums, I noticed that very often "floral-haters" single out Un Lys as one of a few obviously-floral perfumes they can wear and love. The secret of its success with the floral-phobic and lily-phobic perfumistas, I think, lies in the presence of vanilla. The scent is a perfect example of what a judicious, masterful use of the note can do to a composition. When used right, vanilla softens what otherwise could have been overly-sharp, soothes what could have been too harsh, but it does not overwhelm, over-sweeten or take over the composition. In the case of Un Lys, vanilla rids the lily note of its grating, high-pitched, metallic quality and enhances its lush, sweet (but not too sweet) floralcy. The delicate musky drydown is a comfortable skin-scent, which lingers long after the velvety flowers wear off. Annick Goutal Des Lys is another lily scent that is soft and non-aggressive. The delicacy is achieved here by the means different from those employed in Un Lys. There is no vanilla in Des Lys, no sweetness added to the naturally sweet-smelling lilies. In fact, the lilies aren't even that sweet here. This is a cold scent, but not in an unpleasantly-aquatic manner. Des Lys is cool as a transparent white fabric wavering in the fresh morning breeze. This is a green (I smell leaves and stems of the flowers, not just the petals, especially in the beginning), translucent lily and the translucency is what prevents the scent from being sharp. The notes listed for Des Lys are casablanca and white lilies, and I am not an expert on lilies, but of the two, the fresher, brighter smell of white lilies seem to me to be more prominent than the spicy-creamy aroma of casablancas. Believe it or not, I also smell a leather-like accord in the base of Des Lys. One would not expect it from a scent so airy, so ethereally-feminine, but I swear there is something in the drydown that makes me think of leather (and, sometimes, hay) ... evoking in my mind an image of a fragile white lily with a black leather stem. Edouard Flechier's Lys Méditerranée created for Frederic Malle's Editions de Parfum is anything but fragile. This is a Big Flower, just like one would expect from Flechier. Lys Méditerranée is a dazzling beauty viewed in close-up, larger than life, an intoxicating, unapologetically luscious rendition of (ginger) lilies. It starts with a bright, piquant bang of lilies and orange blossom. At times, the top notes are so spicy on me, I suspect the presence of carnations, but that of course might just be the zingy natural smell of ginger lilies. Sometimes the scent has a slightly marine undertone, sometimes Lys skips that part of its composition completely on my skin. When I smell the vaguely aquatic note in Lys Méditerranée, it does not bother me, as it does not possess the jarring metallic quality I abhor. When I smell Lys Méditerranée, I see majestic (and gigantic) white flowers, so big and ripe that their stems are almost unable to hold them, their sultry petals luxuriating in the coolness of the wind that comes from the sea. I love the musky base of Lys Méditerranée; the musk here is neither too clean nor overtly animalic. It is white musk gone slightly wild, led a little astray by the decadent, lascivious lilies. Lys Méditerranée is also available as body oil, and is just as gorgeous in that formulation albeit a little less complex, less audacious and much sweeter. If the regular version seems a little too heady to you, huile à tout faire might be a good alternative. Along with Antica Farmacista's Casablanca, Lys Méditerranée tops the list of my favorite lily scents, with Un Lys, Des Lys and Gold following closely behind. Un Lys is available at Aedes, $120.00 for 1.69oz; Des Lys was last spotted on 99perfumes.com, $49.40 for 1.7oz; Lys Mediterranee is sold at Barney's, $75.00-$180.00. If you would like to receive a set of (7) samples of some of the lily scents I talked about this week, including Lys Méditerranée and Lys Méditerranée oil, Des Lys, and more, please let me know in your comment that you want to be entered in the prize draw. A winner will be announced on Monday morning.

Three Days of Lily Perfumes. Day Two: Jill Stuart, Crown Perfumery, Yves Rocher, Donna Karan

Today I am focusing on the lily scents that are more to my liking than the ones I discussed yesterday, but, with one exception, don’t quite reach the level of full bottle worthiness. In other words, close but no cigar. Jill Stuart Night Blooming Lily aka Stuart’s answer to Lutens. In my opinion, Night Blooming Lily strives to achieve the same soft, velvety effect as Un Lys and ultimately fails, simply because it overloads on vanilla and caramel, which take the emphasis from the floral aspect and push the scent into the realm of gourmand. While at the beginning the lily note is very apparent (and very pretty), it soon becomes overwhelmed by the vanillic sweetness. Not even the piquancy of carnations can cut through the sweet fluffiness of the foody accord. Don’t take me wrong, this is a lovely, extremely wearable scent, but caramel and vanilla make the potentially so very elegant lily note smell…for the lack of a better word…common, and I find that disappointing. Crown Perfumery Alpine Lily. I couldn’t decide whether to talk about this scent during the lily of the valley week or to include it into the lily days. The muguet, which is declared in the notes, is quite strong, but alongside its cool floral verdancy I also smell a stronger, high-pitched, colder – and “whiter” - flower, which I can’t help but think of as white lilies. Dabbed on, Alpine Lily is refreshing and airy, absolutely non-sweet, a welcome break from the many vanilla and/or fruit laden lily renditions. In the heart, I smell slight booziness of roses, which adds a little bit of warmth to this chilly composition; the base is woody and dry. When sprayed or over-applied, however, the scent becomes sharp and dusty. Still, it is a beautiful, refined take on lilies (and lilies of the valley), and I might eventually get a bottle. Yves Rocher Pur Desir de Lys is a bargain of the bunch – if you can manage to obtain it that is, because it seems that the American branch of Yves Rocher does not carry it or perhaps it has been discontinued altogether. The scent is uncomplicated, fleeting but very pretty, a fresh, green lily rendition, which too seems to include a good dose of muguet (noticeable in the very beginning) and quite a lot of green, grassy notes. A small amount of vanilla softens the sharp accords but does not add any sweetness to the blend, which is a plus. Pur Desir de Lys is a little too simple for my taste, but I find it much more appealing than some of the overpriced, overly sweet lily scents out there (yes, I am talking to you, Calypso St Barth Lily). Donna Karan Gold. Karan is famously enamored with Casablanca lilies and uses them in her scents as often as she possibly can, and Gold is built around the intoxicating aroma of these heady, nectarous flowers. My relationship with the scent evolved from the acute desire to, following the application of Gold, crawl out of my skin and run away shrieking in horror to the yearning for a full bottle. In fact, Gold’s inclusion among the OK But Not Stellar lily scents is unfair and I would like you to consider it as the prelude to the Friday’s Lilies to Die For. I actually think that it is a composition of rather magnificent beauty. In fact, I want to use this opportunity and to applaud Karan and the perfumers, Yann Vasnier and Rodrigo Flores-Roux, for creating a scent that is – gasp!- neither fruity nor aquatic nor gourmand, but, in our puerile and politically correct times, is a rare species indeed – a luscious, sophisticated floral blend. The fragrance of Casablanca lilies, enhanced by cloves (which underscores the spicy aspect of the lilies) and amber, balsam and acacia (which add a warm, resinous undertone to the composition) is so opulent and somehow effervescent, it makes me giddy. The dry, slightly earthy patchouli in the base is an unexpected and welcome twist…it is like a lecherous gleam in the eyes of a regal beauty dressed up in a magnificent dress of dazzling white and shining gold…Unapproachable and majestic by day, she sneaks out at night to dance naked under the light of the full moon…and to generally get up to no good. There is most definitely a bottle of Gold in my near future. Where to find the scents discussed today: Night Blooming Lily at Beautyhabit, $62.00 for 1.7oz; Alpine Lily at First in Perfume EUR89.00 for 3.3oz; Pur Desir de Lys sometimes on eBay, inexpensively; Gold at Saks, $95.00 for 3.3oz.

Three Days of Lily Perfumes. Day One. The Un-lily-like: Calypso St Barth, Marina de Bourbon, Parfums 06130

Writing the review of Amoureuse made me realize that the last white floral bastion has fallen: the lily note, which used to be one of my biggest enemies, has become one of my favorite perfume ingredients. No, Amoureuse did not bring the change along; it simply reminded me how much I adore lilies. I think that if there is just one fragrance responsible for turning me into a lily-fan and perhaps even a white-floral fiend in general, it is the beautiful, creamy and slight spicy Antica Farmacista Casablanca. Granted, even in my lily-hating days, I used to like Angel Lily and Lutens Un Lys, however, the former is really not a lily soliflore by any stretch of imagination but rather a gourmand floral with an obvious likeness to its Big Mamma Angel, and the latter is, to me, a lily scent for the lily-phobic. But more on Un Lys later. I knew that my transformation into a white-floral lover has been complete when one of the scariest white florals of them all, Malle’s Lily Méditerranée, suddenly became breathtakingly exquisite and what’s more important - wearable, on my skin. More on Lys Méditerranée on Friday. Today I am talking about the lily scents I don’t like. As much as I love the note, not all lily scents have been created equal, and this post is about the ones that cower at the lowest stratum of my Lily Hierarchy. Calypso St Barth Lily. I seriously, seriously dislike this one. I am actually not sure why it is called “Lily”, as the list of ingredients doesn’t even seem to include the note. What it includes, and what I smell, loud and clear, are roses, a generous helping of extremely sweet berries and fruits (black currants, peach, mandarin) and some sandalwood. If I put my imagination into the work-hard mode, I can sort of, kind of envision that the creators might have been trying to suggest the heady sweetness of lilies rather than to go the straightforward route and actually put some lilies into a scent bearing the name “Lily”. They are being creative and kudos to them for that, but the end result is, on my skin, a cloying, syrupy mishmash of fruity notes. Another “inventive” take on the theme is Lys by Marina de Bourbon. Marina de Bourbon’s signature fragrance is one of my longest standing holy grails, and, out of sheer loyalty (and masochism), over the years I’ve been seeking out other scent from this obscure line. Unfortunately, apart from Marina de Bourbon EDP, the perfumes are nothing to write home about…unless you are writing a lament about the lack of beauty, refinement and originality in modern perfumery. Lys’ long and impressive list of notes (fig, passion fruit, plum, tagette, apple, rose, mimosa, jasmine, cinnamon, cypress, cedar and musk) does not include any sort of lilies, and I cannot in all honesty report that the scent which, two-thirds through its development, does evolve into a cold, somewhat sharp white floral, smells of lilies. What I mostly smell is harsh, robust jasmine which makes me think of Diane Von Furstenberg’s white floral monster that is Tatiana, but sweetened considerably by fruits aplenty. Those fond of figs might be delighted by the figgy- green beginning of Lys, but the note is very short-lived. The fans of dry woody base notes will feel at home at the drydown stage of Lys. Lovers of lily scents should look elsewhere. Yet another unappealing and, to me, rather un-lily-like lily scent is Lys by Parfums 06130. I tried it a while ago and wrote a review. Having re-sampled it recently, I can say that my opinion hasn’t changed. The scent is as pale, dull and strangely reminiscent of (although much inferior to) another of the brand’s offerings, Yuzu Rouge, as I remembered it. Tomorrow, the lily scents that are OK But Not Stellar, and on Friday, the post on Lily Perfumes to Die For. Calypso St Barth Lily is available at Luckyscent, $90.00 for 100ml. Marina de Bourbon is sold at FragranceX, $25.95 for 100ml. 06130 Lys can be found at Aedes, $90.00 for 100ml. The painting is Lilies by Walter Crane.

Perfume Review: Parfums 06130 Lys

Being a big fan of Parfums Zéro Six Cent-Trente scents, especially Yuzu Rouge, and their incredibly considerate, generous customer service, I was very excited about the new release, Lys. The notes of the new perfume sounded very appealing: cedrat, bergamot, mandarin, coriander, grapefruit and blackcurrant, water lily, cardamom, verbena, thyme, nutmeg and rose, musk, vetiver, sandalwood, moss and (“a very discreet touch of”) patchouli. Considering that the list included quite a lot of spices, coriander, cardamom, nutmeg, I hoped that Lys would be a new and unusual take on the water lily note, a piquant and fresh scent with a warmer, “substantial” base. In reality Lys was not in the least alike the scent I conjured in my imagination based on the list of notes. The perfume was unexpectedly sweet; the rose was very prominent in the top notes, prominent to the extent that I thought that my sample was mislabeled and was in fact a citrus-rose blend Yuzu Rouge. The lily note became more evident in the middle stage and, as water lilies are very often prone to do, it had a manifestly aquatic undertone. The spices were basically non-existent on my skin, as were sandalwood and moss. The rose note was still apparent in the drydown, and if I had to describe Lys in a few words only, I would have said that it was a rose and water lily blend, a sweet, rather indistinct scent with a pronounced marine accord. It was perfectly lovely and most probably would be quite pleasant in summer, but I found it uninteresting and unexciting. Lys is available at Aedes, $90.00 for 3.4oz. *The photo is from Aedes.com.

Angel Garden of Stars by Thierry Mugler

Thirteen years after bringing upon us the great Angel, Thierry Mugler introduced Garden of Stars, three floral versions of the classic, Angel Lily, Angel Peony and Angel Violet. I do not wear Angel often, it is a difficult scent for me to pull off, but I do admire its dark gourmand composition; it is undoubtedly a masterpiece and one that launched a thousand scents. I must admit that I thought that the new trio will not be original enough to actually justify their existence. I still find it somewhat ironic that, after receiving much acclaim for creating a non-floral composition, Mugler decided to add flowers to the blend. I will start with the one Garden of Stars scent that confirmed my misgivings, Angel Violet (Top note: Violet Green, ‘Crystallized Sugar. Middle note: Violet, Woody Notes. Base note: Patchouli, Vanilla Notes). For some reason I expected to like it the most, but then I always imagine I would like violet fragrances and I am often wrong, perhaps the sad fact is, violets and I don’t like each other all that much after all. Do therefore take what I say with a grain of salt, but the fact remains that, on my skin, there is nothing left of Angel in Angel Violet, just dusty old violets that dry down to something reminiscent of the scent of sweaty skin…Angel Violet had a certain dull powderiness that I found rather disagreeable. Angel Lily is a different story altogether. The image of lilies dripping with chocolate comes to my mind whenever I smell Angel Le Lys (Top note :”Dew” Note, Green Stem. Middle note: Nutmeg, Lily, Honey. Base note : Patchouli, Vanilla Notes) . The chocolate note is much stronger in this composition than it is in the original. Chocolate and lilies flourish side by side for quite a long time, which I found to be a great and unusual effect. The luminous cool scent of lilies and the dark warm scent of chocolate are stunning together. Unfortunately, Angel Lily dried down to a rather pale, vague smell of lilies more than anything else, thus somewhat spoiling the effect. Still, it is a lovely scent and I wouldn’t mind owning a bottle of it at some point. I also like Angel Peony, in which Angel’s heady gourmand notes are made softer by the sparkly and delicate peonies (Top note : Airy Notes, Stem Green. Middle note : Peony, Pepper, Floral Notes. Base note : Patchouli, Vanilla Notes ). This is a pretty scent, no other word can describe it better. Pretty in a pink but not overly girly kind of way. Whereas lilies pick up and showcase the chocolate note of Angel, peonies emphasize vanilla and patchouli. This is a warm and soft composition, and I like the fact that does not lose its complexity in the drydown, the way Angel Le Lys does. Angle Lily, however, is my favorite “Garden Angel”, despite the fact that I am not a fan of lilies in perfume (or indeed in real life) and regardless of the disappointingly bland drydown. I admire the way it contrasts the cold incandescent lilies and the warm opaque chocolate note making it possible to smell them simultaneously, side by side. I found the new floral versions of Angel to be significantly softer and thus much more wearable than Angel The First (or Angel The Terrible, for some people). They don’t last on the skin as long as their formidable ancestor, neither do they leave a fearsome trail of sillage. Like it or not, Angel has Presence and Charisma, both of which were sacrificed in the Garden of Stars to perhaps make the new scents more wearable (less feared?). As I mentioned before, I am unable to pull off Angel as often I would liked to, so for me this is a positive development. Angel Garden of Stars scents are strangely expensive. They can be found at Nordstrom Online, $60.00 for 0,8oz each. Next, the scents that remind me of my icon, the incomparable Marlene Dietrich.