Azzaro Chrome Intense by Azzaro

I’d already read reviews, but the previous one was so bonkers I felt compelled to save the honour of this beast of a fragrance. Sometimes I read things and think people bought a counterfeit version, not the original. I had this with a 10ml decant; I remember that lovely blue liquid and it seemed to have more personality than the regular Chrome. Curiously, both Chrome and this flanker are among the few scents that have earned me compliments. Perhaps it’s because this line plays well with my pH. I see everyone talking about compliments, but I only receive them for 5% of my fragrances (one in twenty). It might be because I work with the same people daily, so I’m no longer the coveted bachelor and they aren’t going to be talking about my scent. But back to the intense: it’s one of those fragrances with its own stamp, its own personality. It doesn’t resemble anything else I know, has more character than the Nautica ones, and feels less generic. I truly regret it being discontinued; it had a special charm. I see it as youthful, though not as much as a 212 Heroes by Carolina Herrera, King by Dior, or those fruity bombshells; rather than teenage, I’d say it’s for the 20 to 30 age range, although I’m in my forties and don’t feel uncomfortable wearing it. To conclude: among blue fragrances, I can’t recall any I like more. It would be my daily wear if it weren’t discontinued.

A super-industrial madness, I think it’s one of the most synthetic colognes I’ve ever heard. I loved it so much I bought a bottle; at the rate it lasts, I’ll finish it before summer ends because the fixative is terrible. I like the original Chrome a lot; this is a ridiculous version that recalls the first but with its own personality. I suppose when updating the formula they could have added ambroxan and made a sugary fruit Invictus. Fortunately for me, they released a marine air freshener in the form of a cologne. I admit this is indefensible if you don’t like the smell of floor cleaners or toilet air fresheners. I love that sweet, artificial, fake Calone scent, and that is exactly what is here: a mop soaked in detergent in a perfume bottle. I understand that some may feel nauseous, and it is true that it is a blue abomination. A delicious blue abomination. Upon application, you get a gale of bottle Calone just like those one-euro air fresheners from Chinese shops, with no nuances, the cheapest Calone you’ve ever heard. I float in a cloud. Beneath those poor-quality cleaning molecules rise threads of something indefinable and horrendous that I love, a sweetness between herbal and ozonic, mineral, sulphurous, sweet, gaseous, intolerably musky and insidious, with an aggression to the nose like pouring alcohol on a wound; I suppose it’s the mixture of the worst mate ever created with green notes that were on sale, because truly this is a byproduct I haven’t seen equal. I’m still drooling. There’s a moment when I catch a hint of something like green tea, certain airs of fake wood, undefined bergamot with memories of 90s Adidas deodorant. When it dries, it loses the airy, anaesthetic sweetness and settles down into a 90s marine paste exactly like Acqua di Giò, losing the streams of fizzy drink that you’d die if you drank them. I would never recommend it to anyone because there’s no way to sell this unless you flirt with perfuming yourself with the Pato toilet cleaner or a bucket of mop water with detergent. Zara perfumes beside it have the quality of an Amouage, I promise you. I’m not much of a friend of the guilty pleasure concept because I like to enjoy what I like without theorising, but this openly presents itself as a proper guilty pleasure.

The blend of yerba mate and citrus works well and gives a quite pleasant finish, good longevity and staying power, excellent for summer.