This is a serious grown up perfume. There’s no messing, there’s no laughing at the back. It’s not playful (This isn’t Ô de Lancôme for Heaven’s sake!). It’s melancholy and rather beautiful and… well, it doesn’t really suit me if I’m honest. However, I admire it greatly, in spite of the fact that it makes me feel like I wearing someone else’s clothes. I also admire the Old Masters in the National Gallery, but I wouldn’t want one on my mantelpiece.
Après L’Ondée (translation: after the rain shower) was created by Guerlain in 1906 and has stood the test of time, still with a die hard fanbase of ( I imagine), elegant Parisian widows with mournful expressions and good jewellery.
My initial impression at first spray was of an old bookshop. The papery dry Iris and Heliotrope made me think of very old shops with a bell that rings when you enter, and of sniffing ancient reams of paper or antique tomes. In other words, it made me think of Hay on Wye.
It’s a rather sombre scent with mournful heliotrope notes. Light violet tones try and cheer it up, but heliotrope has slammed the door and gone to its room to listen to her gramophone.
It’s powdery in a dusty way, rather than a talcum powder sort of way. It makes me think of a pair of evening gloves that I inherited from my late grandmother. When you sniff closely there is the faintest hint of a long gone party. It’s a kind of the good times were here, but now they’ve gone sort of scent. You would only wear it to a wedding if you hated the groom and thought the bride was making a huge mistake.
It’s beautiful, but a bit sad, like a statue of an angel in a rain sodden formal flower bed. (Don’t get nervous Doctor Who fans, I don’t mean Weeping Angels)
Après L’Ondée venir les larmes. If you work in a funeral parlour, this is your new office fragrance. Congratulations!