Positive Reviews of Après L'Ondée Eau de Toilette 
Guerlain (1906)

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Après L'Ondée Eau de Toilette by Guerlain

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Reviews of Après L'Ondée Eau de Toilette by Guerlain

I smiled the first time I smelled this. I always liked the idea of a very french interpretation of violet but could never find one that was not childish or cloyingly sweet. This is young but elegant , clean but not naive . Powdery with fresh waves of green violet keeping it alive
Just beautiful. For days you want to be discreet but not unseen

Après l'ondée was described in so many ways and the notes breakdown detailed hundeeds of times.
It's one of the rarest perfumes that i don't want to analyze, i just feel it, l'heurebleu gives me that feeling too.

Apres L'Ondee is an experiential fragrance. It is an atmosphere, ambience. It was never meant as a vehicle for grabbing attention and making a grandiose statement. I can't speak for previous formulations and therefore cannot pine over how much more beautiful it may have once been. I just have this bottle, and it's more than beautiful enough for me. Moreover, the base lasts on my skin for several hours; perhaps I'm lucky.

As I apply this to my skin, my emotions are awash with nostalgia, distant echoes of the past. I am reminded of those moments in life where you just come to terms. Grief, impermanence, passages of time that shape and age and cause all that is vibrant to fade one day. This may all sound depressing to those who resist bluer feelings; but for those who embrace them as the fulcrum of life's rich pageant, they drive us to appreciate the joy that we know inevitably comes and goes. We have visual art and film that remind us of this and that nourish our soul, why not a fragrance? There are only a handful that come to mind, and Apres L'Ondee is one of them.

The many melancholic shades conveyed by the assemblage of iris, violet, heliotrope and mimosa as they sing a solemn, sweet chorus—the volume fades ever so slowly and lulls you. It's as if the dry down was imbued with raindrops slowly evaporating on spring flowers.
Today is mostly cloudy, with slivers of sunlight. As I write this, I am about to reapply Apres L'Ondee and go for a walk, and just be present moment by moment with this scent, and I will reflect.

This is a very beautiful, light fragrance. I had to use the whole 1/2 ml sample to smell it. If I could afford the vintage edp I would get that.

All that they say about Après L'Ondée is true: it is very similar to L'Heure Bleue, just lighter, brighter, more herbal and not powdery, sweet nor bready - but just as dreamy. And just as beautiful!

Guerlain Après L'Ondée (1906) is not the first fragrance from the late and great Jacques Guerlain, but it is often considered his first breakthrough commercial success for the house, after such entries as Mouchoir de Monsieur (1904) and Fleur Qui Meurt (1901), the latter only existing as a name mentioned anecdotally online as most surviving examples remain in museums un-smelled by us common perfume fans. Unlike older turn-of-the-century Guerlains made by Jacques that remain in either limited distribution or not at all, Après L'Ondée (or "After the Rain" in French), would become the first perennial favorite of the house after the controversial Jicky (1889). Après L'Ondée was meant to smell like it sounds, as a garden of flowers after a freshly-fallen rain, and the scent carries a light dewy ephemeral quality that makes it hard to over-apply. Jacques showed his interest in building perfumes out of other perfumes he's made very early on with Après L'Ondée, as the core structure of Fleur Qui Meurt (or "Flower that Died" in French) was carried over to it, in which this case was a newly-synthesized violet accord. Combining this violet with an equally-new heliotrope accord (from heliotropin) and an anisic aldehyde, Jacques created a bright and crisp floral bouquet that nobody had seen at the time, laid upon a bed of a orris root and eugenol (clove). There was a lot of science going on in Après L'Ondée that not many wearers of the perfume were aware of, but the results of this orchestration led to an aroma copied then copied again by competitors much like the later Shalimar (1925) would be, making Après L'Ondée feel a bit ubiquitous in the modern day but no less quality.

The opening of Après L'Ondée is that aldehydic anise accord combined with orange blossom and a touch of damask rose. The literature of the day described Après L'Ondée as melancholic, and I can totally see it by the visions of a wet garden on an overcast day that the opening implies. The violet comes next, as does a lovely carnation note which helps connect the violet to the heliotrope and a dry semi-fruity hawthorn note flitting about through the heart. Finally, the orris root base shows up after some time on skin. There is an awful lot of orris in Après L'Ondée, so folks not fond of the note will likely not appreciate the final phases of this perfume, if they even made it past the powdery heliotrope in the heart anyway. The orris was flanked with a vanilla infusion and clove in early batches, but after the creation of vanillin some years later, was replaced by that synthetic to help with economy of scale. I can't vouch for what that vanilla infusion must have smelled like, since I only have a more-recent batch in my midst, but what I get here is a soft vanillic soap which underpins all the light florals above, creating what society would perceive as the quintessential feminine accord for decades to come. The finish of Après L'Ondée is powdery, a bit soapy, with wisps of heliotrope, violet, and the fruit impression caused by the hawthorn, which lasts for a few hours on skin at modest sillage. I don't think Après L'Ondée was ever meant to be a "statement perfume" like the assertive Mitsouko (1919), and shares more DNA with the later L'Heure Bleue (1912), which takes the floral accord of Après L'Ondée in a more ambery semi-fougère direction appropriate for its evening aesthetic. I enjoy what is on display with Après L'Ondée, but admit that represents a "dainty" mindset of femininity not entirely acceptable over a century after it was made.

Most modern noses won't perceive the melancholy that noses at the turn of the century seemed to pick up, and that is largely in part to the way every perfumer from department store to dime store created their own heliotrope and iris perfume throughout the 20th century in hopes of capitalizing on the trend set by Après L'Ondée, which is an unfortunate by-product of massive long-term success. Most notably, Avon would crank out iteration after iteration of ambery iris, carnation, and heliotrope perfumes in the US, further solidifying this accord as that of "old women" once sharper leathers, headier orientals, and tomboyish green oakmoss chypres came to the fore as the 20th century progressed. Après L'Ondée and all of its copycats would seem irrevocably dated in time, even if Après L'Ondée was considered novel upon creation, the origin of the species, and superior in most regards to its progeny. I give this an approval for being such a landmark perfume, but admit its interest for many will stem from an interest in perfume history, outside those who still relish the kind of quaint innocence on display with Après L'Ondée. Unisex appeal is rather low, making this one for the ladies, but transgender perfume enthusiasts or anyone that prefers soft, soapy, light, and somewhat transparent florals might find favor in Après L'Ondée as a great after-shower or casual summer refresher that lacks harsher modern chemical bite. For everyone else, this is just a window through time in perfume form before Jacques Guerlain really solidified the concept of "Guerlinade", and worth at least a sniff or two, if nothing else. Thumbs Up.

As fleetingly and hauntingly beautiful as everyone says. Personally, I find it contemplative more than melancholic. I'll never be without a bottle of this.

When I first tried a sample of Après l'Ondée, about 10 years ago, I thought it was one of the most beautiful perfumes I'd ever smelled. I didn't get around to buying a bottle until about four years ago, though, at which point I had that strange sensation that sometimes happens when perfume memory and reality don't quite mesh. Especially since I'd been spending a lot of time with L' Heure Bleu—I found them to be redundant to each other, if that's the right way to put it.

And, as it turns out, it's not just my nose making that assessment. As Guerlain admits on it's own site: "Guerlain creations each have their own story and sometimes strong similarities. This is the case of Après l'Ondée and L'Heure Bleue, two countryside fragrances inspired by the beauty of a moment and a photograph of nature. Created six years earlier, Après l'Ondée has a more watercolour and pastel aspect than L'Heure Bleue."

That's it exactly.

Thankfully, the distinctions do become apparent enough to justify having both bottles, if only to note how skillfully Jacques Guerlain could push a certain theme. Whereas L'Heure Bleu becomes increasingly heavy on my skin, woody and sharp, with medicinal, pencil-shaving notes joining the florals, Après l'Ondée becomes softer and yet more spicy—a duet between iris and carnation.

And ALO always wears like a cologne, never a perfume (it's hard to believe, in fact, that it ever came in an extrait version). If it's a really hot day, and if I spray enough of it, it will waft up and out for a good three to four hours at least. But in the cold, it stays very very close to the skin and disappears entirely after a few hours.

I have sniffed hundreds of perfumes since I was first bowled over by ALO, and at times I'm nostalgic for that naiveté, that gut reaction to something, ignorant of history and experience. Regardless, this will likely always remain in my collection, if for no other reason than it's so pretty and wearable, so youthful and goodhearted, in a way that many Guerlains are not.

I like iris (iris root, orris root), which is one of two main components I get from Apres L'Ondee. The other is a sharp, astringent smell, like a skin-drying soap. It works for me.

Instead of a post-rain smell, I get a post-cleaning smell, and a persistent image of perfectly clean ivory white dishes, still warm in the drying rack.

I never have, and probably never will, have the privelage of experiencing the vintage extract - which leaves me in a completely open position to admire the beauty of the "eunuch" on offer today. Apres L'Ondee in it's current form can and should be viewed as the most beguiling of the Guerlain "Eau De Colognes" (Imperial, Coq, Cedrat). Like the aforementioned Eaux, there is simply NO longevity - after an hour any scent is barely perceptible - yet the brief time one does have with L'Ondee is spent in joyful sadness. It is a Cat Power record in a bottle - fragile, beautiful, fleeting.

It remains to be seen whether we go into the dark or the light in our final breaths. Either way, I should hope that in my final moments the attending nurse leans in close and whispers "Have a wonderful trip..." and as my eyes close, I'll drift into the unknown with a smile on my face, remembering her beautiful, kind eyes and how she smelled like violets after the rain.

I give this glorious fragrance 5 stars, even though it's low on projection and longevity, compared to other Guerlain scents; yet in another way, it performs exactly as a fragrance inspired by fresh showers should. There is something silvery and iridescent about it, with a here-one-minute-gone-the-next quality: when I hold my nose to my wrist only moments after spraying, sometimes I can't smell Apres L'ondee at all - yet it coalesces gently around me as I sit with my hands in my lap. It seems to be primarily a skin scent, which (as another reviewer observed) might actually have been the idea, since rain purifies the air at the same time that it elicits soft scents from beds of iris and violet. I can't even imagine how heavenly the original extrait must have smelled.

Ethereal beauty...

Après L'Ondée by Jacques Guerlain is, like all of his work, soemthing which has no specific time or place. It just is what it is. I think it's amazing that we can still smell and experience something made from over a century ago, it's like looking through a window into the past...

For me, this perfume is about Iris (Orris Root) and powdery violets... along with a selection of delicately balanced florals. Like a bouquet of flowers that only stays fresh for a few days, before wilting and shrinking out of existence. I also get the heliotrope and anise, which were hallmarks of his later masterpiece L'Heure Bleue.

I think, many of these older perfumes by Guerlain provoke an emotional response. It's not just something nice to put on and go about your day. This one, along with stuff like Jicky, L'Heure Bleue, Mitsouko and the legendary Shalimar all create different emotions in the wearer. In short, they are all perfumes that make you think. That is why they are around long after the people who created them have died. Like paintings hanging in galleries. Except these are things you can smell and touch. It's fascinating... and Après L'Ondée is no exception.

Sometimes, the most beautiful things in life are often fleeting and temporary. Après L'Ondée is one of those experiences. It's one perfume which everyone should experience at least once. You may be surprised by how simple and delicately beautiful this one is. Even if it's not for you, I don't think you'll have smelled anything like this being made today. It is a lovely one though. Do try it.

Beautiful! Lasts about two hours on my skin, but am more than happy to spray again. This is quite a surprise to me; have read just about every review ever written about it and was expecting a floral that I would probably mostly appreciate for the history of it. Not so. This doesn't smell musty or dated in the least. Nor, to my nose, is it even primarily a floral. This smells like candied violets and cherry pie, like a sweeter L'heure Bleue....and so for me it's just what I love, a gourmandish treat. Guess my skin mostly picks up the violets, heliotrope, some musk?, and vanilla. I love it. It's fresh, clean, sweet and spicy...I guess it's the carnation, but I get a lot of clove and cinnamon.
Delicious from start to finish. And not faint at all while it's there. A good, strong scent, albeit fleeting. Though not as fleeting as several eau de parfums I own. Excellent blind buy. A huge love.

I tried the perfume first and then the EdT and I like both:

On my skin the anise and the citrus component form a great and harmonious dyad, which very soon is transformed into a delicious floral drydown with jasmine and a light summery rose in the foreground. Later a very delightful hawthorn emerges, light and happy, like an even lighter and brighter version of Creed's Aubepine Acacia without the wood. In the base a touch of tonka is added, but this scent never develops any sweetness outside that of the natural fragrance of a wet field of lowers après l'ondée - rarely has such an evocative name be more suited to the fragrance it represents.

Overall this is mainly a wonderfully composed and exquisitely blended floral scent, a whisper of natural elegance and floral beauty, and really nothing more that floral - that is enough for me. It is a fragile and ephemeral fragrance, with soft sillage and poor projection on me, and an overall longevity of three hours on my skin (perfume - an hour less for the EdT). The performance of this natural beauty is more that of an Eau de Cologne needed frequent reapplication; it is ideal where a discrete scent is required like the office.

A simple, paradigmatic classical floral creation. 4.25/5.

It begins with a powdery iris and anise with some floral. If the rose is there it's very much in the background. The violet appears but the sweetness is subdued by the powdery iris note. It's very understated compared to Bois de Violette and stays close to the skin but blooms out beautifully in the dry down. It's like Habit Rouge was mated with Green Irish Tweed and all the wood and leather was removed. The sillage is okay and longevity typical of Guerlain. It's like a powdery violet (GIT style) after the rain and definitely smells old like Habit Rouge or Acqua di Parma because of the iris and possibly the Hawthorn. It's does have the effect of sending you back in time 100 years.

I recently compared the Eau de Toilette with the perfume, no longer available due to regulatory restrictions. My nose is not the most sensitive in the business but my impression is that the special dewy freshness has been successfully captured and preserved - possibly even enhanced, in the E de T. There is an excellent review of the reformulation challenge on MonsieurGuerlain by a knowledgeable expert who laments the loss of the richness of the original. However the rather heavy sweet basenote which characterises many perfumes of this era is no great loss it seems to me. The only problem I have is that since learning the fragrance contains anisic aldehyde and realising the implications in terms of a kinship with Faberge's Brut, I cannot help thinking of Brut whenever I now smell Apres l'Ondee.

Not much to explain or emphasize about Après L'ondée, but here's my take on this beautiful piece of culture and history. The opening is already pure classic sumptuosity, here declined in a cozier, fresher and more sheer way. Green, botanical and vibrant, neoclassic and sinister, shady but radiant. The notes span from diverse floral nuances (the powderiness of iris, the animalic earthiness of carnation, the romantic juiciness of rose, the "pollen" yellowness of mimosa) to a resinous-almondy accord of tonka, amber and benzoin, to citrus hints, herbs and woods. A manual of gracefulness - describing the notes is not really enough to deliver the beauty of this perfume. Classic, but completely modern, even more than other classic scents, thanks to this cozy, intimate, melancholic but also bright sort of transparency and lightness. Like a sort of "prehistoric" attempt to accomplish a rendition of the concept of sea (as the name suggest), just in a more poetical and romantic way, playing with the colours, the brightness and daintiness of certain notes. Needless to say that every bit of Apres l'ondée exudes also class, sophisticacy, evanescent and graceful sensuality. The longevity is in fact not that long, although the drydown, despite being close to skin, is incredibly beautiful and graceful, perfectly fitting the general mood of closeness and melancholic intimacy. Timeless!


Genre: Floral Oriental

The anise and violet opening of Après l'Ondée is a thing of simple beauty: faintly melancholy, wistful, yet paradoxically bright and transparent. The composition soon turns very powdery, and with that more conventional and "perfumey." This is the stage at which my wife says Aprés l'Ondée smells like her mother, though not in a bad way. The scent never gets too heavy, and a light, clean musk and vanilla show themselves in the delicate drydown.

The whole olfactory experience vividly evokes another time and place: sophisticated, civilized, and ever so slightly ironic. Perhaps a certain age in Paris, or old Vienna just before its empire fell. I can see how it might not appeal to many modern women, but Après l'Ondée is a monument to classical perfumery.

Certain scents are difficult to explain but easily inspire the adjectives "breathtaking" and "heartbreaking." Après L'Ondée is one of these scents. Gaia, the Non-Blonde describes smelling Après L'Ondée in parfum "like entering a dream. It can be familiar, like a memory you can't quite place but you know you've been there, maybe in your subconsciousness."

Like any other art form, at its finest perfume can convey a distinct idea or emotion. The more complex the idea, the more moving the artwork. Après L'Ondée means "after the rain shower," and between the floral, herbal, earthy, and watery notes, it literally translates as a garden after the rain. Yet there is something more to this scent, that inspires consistently more romantic reviews. At its debut, La Liberté said it had "something of the melancholy of a poet's thoughts." (Monsieur Guerlain). Turin's review is also full of dark metaphors, describing the base accord as a "funeral", but for the fact that "Guerlain suffuses the whole thing with optimistic sunlight by using, as in so many of their classic fragrances, a touch of what a chef would call bouquet de Provence: thyme, rosemary, sage. This discreet hint of earthly pleasures is what makes Après L'Ondée smile through its tears."

Après L'Ondée does smile through its tears, for the scent of the earth following the rain parallels a feeling of calm after the passing of grief. The sadness behind Après L'Ondée makes the beautiful notes all the more real, precious, and poignent. This scent brings you deep within your own reflections. It is undoubtably one of the greatest perfumes ever made.

An unaulterated masterpiece in the discontinued parfum form and currently available on EBAY! This never happens, if only I had the money for it.

I don't have the perfume vocabulary to describe Apres L'ondee, nor can I think of where to start without sounding pretentious. I'll simply say that, to me, this smells like my mother's herb garden early on Easter morning: damp, chilly, clean and quiet, light and beautiful.

I'm not a "perfumista." I don't have a wardrobe full of fragrances, and I truthfully don't care for most perfumes I encounter. Every Chanel I've ever smelled reminds me of unwashed skin; most modern fragrances are too sweet for me, or too strong, or too something that gives me a headache.

All that being said, I have fallen in love with a few Guerlains. I love Herba Fresca. Oddly, I love L'Heure Bleue. I cannot stand Champs Elysees, and the modern Geurlains (Insolence, the other Aqua Allegorias, etc.) fall into the headache camp.

But Apres L'ondee smells of spring and dew and young flower petals, and my mom and her garden. And home.

And, oh my God, I love it.

Fresh, clean, flowery and powdery. As ingenuous and natural as can be, APRES L'ONDEE has no hidden, inner, subterranean depths to penetrate, and thus differs rather radically from my concept of classic Guerlain--especially from compositions such as MITSOUKO and L'HEURE BLEUE. Yet this perfume is beautiful, too, in its own way. My distinct impression is that Prada was trying to capture something like this aesthetic in its Infusion series, especially INFUSION D'IRIS edt, the most recent launch, to which violet has been added. The INFUSION trio is also very clean, but it is far more woody and, in the case of INFUSION D'HOMME, soapy as well. There is no soap in APRES L'ONDEE at all. The cleanness of this scent is that of fresh rainwater-washed purple flowers, no more and no less.

Although APRES L'ONDEE features key notes--violet, iris, heliotrope and anise--in common with a number of other more recent perfumes, here they are presented in an unsweetened state and without other components which tend to muddy the waters somewhat. There is not a single speck of dirt anywhere to be sniffed in APRES L'ONDEE. For that reason, some people may find this perfume simply too simple, more like a nineteenth-century violet soliflore than a masterpiece. However, those who seek out high-quality notes such as are featured in the sometimes simple perfumes of niche lines are bound to appreciate APRES L'ONDEE. In my case, the appeal is overdetermined: I love niche-quality notes, in general, and violet, iris, heliotrope and anise, in particular!

My understanding is that this perfume has been discontinued, and I'm thinking that maybe that's not such a bad thing, since at least if I manage to acquire a bottle it will not (I presume) have been disastrously reformulated.

(EDT) A wonderful wonderful fragance, sleek and posh, an amazing iris that opens with a sweet and quiet anis (or maybe almond).

Bears some emblance to Lheure bleue, which to my nose, is stuffier and sweet/greasy to the point of being cloying.

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