It’s hard to be snarky about violets, they’re soft and purple-smelling, and are about the only choice if you want to say “innocent” without cloying sweetness, tho historically, they apparently mean something else. Après l’Ondée (After the Heavy Rain) is all about violets, it’s got violets out the wazoo! Picture that for a moment….

Remember the end of “Poem, or Beauty Hurts Mr. Vinal” by e. e. cummings?

. . .
perpetually crouched, quivering, upon the
sternly allotted sandpile
–how silently
emit a tiny violetflavoured nuisance: Odor?

ono.
comes out like a ribbon lies flat on the brush
. . .

Apparently, violets mean something else to mr. cummings.

That “ono” allbyitself isn’t just “oh no” or even a certain aging Japanese princess/performance-artist-breaker-up-of-infamous-rockgroups. Ono! This is referring to Odo-ro-no, a “toilet water” sold to prevent “excessive perspiration.”
It’s still sold in Canada as an antiperspirant. One could guess, based on mr. cummings’ reference that it once smelled like violets.

Speaking of infamous rockgroups, The Who used Odorono as a reference to consumerism and banality much as e. e. cummings did, but in a less scatological vein:

. . .
She ripped her glittering gown
Couldn’t face another show, no
Her deodorant had let her down
She should have used Odorono

Odorono could have saved your day
Could have helped her to get the part
Odorono and he would have stay
To help her to save her heart.
. . .

Wait, this is a scent blog, not an arts & humanities blog… I think…

Après l’Ondée is an old perfume, it’s not well known in the U.S. Perfumistas everywhere are gaga for it, and usually in the same breath proclaim its sibling, L’Heure Bleu, to be even better. Après l’Ondée’s famous violet note (which disappears in less than 10 minutes), is followed by a very light powdery scent whose volume turns down to zero very swiftly. Hope to god, dear reader, you don’t take a serious shine to this one, at about $100 per ounce you’d go broke spritzing it on 5 times a day just to get a whiff!

For all the artistic allusions in recent history of Violet = Cheap B.O. Coverup, it’s just “purple” to me, not a complex scent at all. For everything “purple” you’ve ever smelled that wasn’t fake grape, it was probably fake violet. Hand soap in rest stop rest rooms and scented fancy grade-school pencils comes to mind, but of the two the pencils are the stronger association for me (oops! my demographic is showing!).

This is not my grandmother’s perfume, this is my (and your) great-grandmother’s perfume. Save your money, move on to shinier, newer consumer goods with fresher allusions, not overpriced ones weakly scented of violets. There is no point to this perfume’s existence. Please, just Let It Be.