Horizon by Guy Laroche

A spectacular perfume from the 80s-90s in a bottle. I found a 50ml one at a discount store. Aquatic-herbal aroma at first, drying down to floral-woody with a ‘cozy’ touch, though it doesn’t declare tobacco. It’s not timeless; today it clashes with trends, but back then you wore a single scent as your signature. Not for beginners, but for adults over 40. A beautiful perfume that reminds us of that era; those who grew up with it can still wear it without issues.

A pine forest submerged underwater—there’s no better description for this lost gem of the 90s, a hybrid between the green fougères of the 80s and the aquatics of the 90s. The first time I heard about it was in a Bofifa video about discontinued perfumes he considers great, little-known gems; it immediately caught my attention, and since none of the perfumes I’ve bought following his recommendations have disappointed me, I started looking for more info and online stores. I saw the reviews were all positive, and seeing current prices between $7 and $14 for 50ml, I didn’t risk much. I ordered one to try, and wow, it really is a true gem that transports me to what I consider the golden age of men’s perfumery. It’s true the opening is a bit strong; some people who smelled it right after I applied it said it smelled like Pine-Sol (pine-scented disinfectant) and others like Baygon (insecticide). To my perception, it’s not that strong; the salinity is a herbal-citrus mix, a bit strident, but after 20-30 minutes it moves to the heart notes, and here is where the real magic happens: you perceive the smell of pine needles with marine salty notes and a floral part that gives it a unique touch I haven’t felt in any other. Projection and longevity are very good: it projects constantly for the first 3 hours, then a bit softer for about 5 more hours, though in this stage it releases bursts with original projection spaced out. After 8 hours, it stays close to the skin for about 2 more hours. As for versatility, I think it could be used any time of year, though in extreme heat you need to be careful with the number of sprays—no more than 5. I’ve already built up a significant stock and plan to keep buying more since it’s economical and unique at the same time, a very rare condition these days. It’s currently my signature fragrance; I use it to go to work, and honestly, I haven’t seen anyone else wearing it, which makes it ideal for what’s described. I recommend it for lovers of 70s-80s-90s perfumes like its brother Drakkar Noir, One Man Show, Balenciaga, Lapidus, Kour, Quorum, Pierre Cardin, Cerruti 1881, Polo Sport, among others. If you’re not a fan of any of these, I think this perfume isn’t for you, though you won’t lose much on a blind buy due to its low cost.

Been searching for this machine for years. I didn’t remember its name, only its trail. I asked in a group and found it. Now I’m waiting for it to come back to me, even though it’s discontinued. But I found it; I hope to smell that aroma I remember from over 20 years ago…

One of my favorite perfumes from the 90s. Unfortunately, it was discontinued because it was timeless, liked by men of any age. Very versatile, usable all year round, and well-received. Exquisite opening of citrus and green notes, settling into a vintage floral phase where clove, geranium, and pine give it an aged touch. It quickly moves to the final dry-down, where leather, salt, cedar, and musk dominate, giving it a talc-like base. One of Guy Laroche’s best proposals, and I don’t understand why they decided to pull it from the market.

11/2022: After spending several large bottles in the 90s, it disappeared overnight and I never crossed paths with anything similar again. Forget ‘it reminds me of…’; nothing, it doesn’t resemble anything; it might share notes, but that’s all. The perfect combination is in that beautiful blue bottle. Recently, I managed to get a nearly full bottle from the 90s. What a wonder. All those described notes are there, but frozen, figuratively and literally. The blend of aldehydes and mint freezes everything, at least 5-6 hours. That’s another virtue of vintage: eternal longevity. The development is slow and even, with the final phase as evident as the first. Although it’s ‘summery’ with instant freshness, it works perfectly in winter, as if we discovered where that bottled cold comes from. The phase-by-phase development is another world: sea salt appears at the start with mint and aldehydes, then disappears until the end where it returns inside unfrozen but wet woods; fresh lavender and pine at the beginning, then vanish and return dry at the end; flowers go from the wet freshness of cyclamen and jasmine to the warmth of rose and clove. All this takes its good twelve hours of travel. If this were launched today with an Avatar spot frozen by the Narnia witch, it would be THE fragrance of the decade. Out of time, it exists only in its own universe, like a small Aleph in that bottle, and if we find it, we can access it for hours and live it too, outside of time.

Using this fragrance back in the early 90s was a unique olfactory experience. Distinct, evocative, and penetrating, just like the Enya music in the commercial that captured the essence of this masculine gem. Wearing Horizon today is like diving into memories: my adolescence, the parties, the rise of designers and supermodels—that golden era. Deeply green and oceanic: those are the three adjectives to describe its trail. It smells like a wet pine forest where you crush herbaceous plants, releasing oils that enrich the wood’s resin until you reach the sea. It’s not pure freshness, but the opening is clean and revitalizing: a masterful assembly of greens (mint and absinthe), floral lavender, and bergamot that adds luminosity. The aquatic effect comes from the interaction between balsamic mint and aldehydes, creating a marine atmosphere without using the cheap accords of later years. It’s complex, evolves a lot on skin, and has an architecture of at least twenty notes. It’s deceptive: its initial freshness makes you think of summer, but its green-balsamic character places it better in intermediate seasons. I associate it with spring and use it during the day where it unfolds its narrative. It makes me think of an attractive man of few words but cultivated with innate elegance. A city man with a wild soul who loves peace and the grand. A free spirit who finds meaning in the simple. It’s the Horizon archetype. It’s one of the most special fragrances I own, a masterpiece to stand out and connect. A testament to an era when perfumery was made with vision and excellence—an era that’s gone and won’t return.

One of the hardest scents to define, a Guy Laroche masterpiece that evokes a new era waiting to be discovered. It opens mentholated, settles quickly, and leaves an ethereal gray ice trail on the skin, making you feel unique. It might not appeal to everyone, but it’s a magnificent composition I haven’t found anywhere else. A total gem.

Horizon was executed brilliantly. Many fragrances from that era are mere copies, but this one turned the tables. It’s a transitional bracken between the dry, rough 80s and the polished, ironed-smelling 90s. It’s a manual aromatic-spicy-green typical of the early 90s, but made fucking great with novel nuances. For me, it doesn’t smell so much like pine or wild nature, but rather prefabricated nature: hot irons, body lotions, brand-new rooms, lacquers, and dyes. The pine is heavily covered by two key notes: the aldehydes, captains of the fragrance, and cinnamon, which I hate but works here by contaminating with that fruity, bitter, sticky skin body. There is pine, lavender, and nature, but they’re overshadowed by that strange mix of cinnamon and aldehydes: a puzzling accord, luminous, like a chemical cloud with velvet toxicity, hints of body cream, depilatory wax, and impersonal stores, with a mass-market familiar creaminess. I’d never wear it and it makes me feel sick in the stomach, but while others from its era give me indifference or disgust, this mesmerizes me for its artistic vein. It has a vanguard delicacy between nature and the lab, like a flower cemetery and a disinfected operating room that leaves me hallucinating. It could be a perfume from the first Comme des Garçons collections, combining aldehydes, florals, and industrial vibes. I find it very unisex, not by usage, but by having no sex, like a vacuum cleaner. It’s worth trying, women included. The bottle is a treasure, and the juice surprises with its strange fineness. Evocative and enigmatic. P.S.: It’s rare that if you like Insensé, you won’t like Horizon.

This fragrance doesn’t remind me of anything; it has an 80s DNA, a mix of fougère and aromatic herbal. It has a ton of notes, but the ones that stand out are the pine needles, florals, a base lavender, a spicy touch (I imagine caraway), and maybe salt. What does it smell like? Like an exotic flower in a pine forest after a storm (with a mentholated and medicinal undertone). I don’t recommend it for heat; despite being green, it’s heavy and loaded with fern vibes; its best use is spring or late autumn on fresh evenings or after rain. I got it online at a ridiculous price, found it abandoned without a box, and brought it to the clearance bin with a sense of shame, but what a pleasant surprise. Performance is outstanding. If you were born between 1970 and 1990 and grew up with Polo Green, Paco Rabanne, or Drakkar Noir, I recommend it. If you’re very refined and prefer Invictus, better test it first. Scent 9, Longevity 8, Projection 8, Sillage 8, Price 20.

I was gifted Drakkar Noir a few days ago, and it’s a disaster for me, but if they had given me this Guy Laroche instead, I would have loved it. It’s a delight and a total beauty.

I confess that I loved this scent since I tried it in the department store, but I haven’t been able to get it. I know it’s discontinued, but I cling to the hope of finding the bottle to have it as a collection piece. It’s an excellent scent, and I was about 12 or 13 when I first encountered the perfume.

Indeed, if you overapply as Prieth Callas rightly says, it becomes heavy, strong, and intense for the nose. The bottle design and the commercial from its era with Enya’s music made me fall in love with it. I was 12 years old.

Bought a mini of Guy Laroche for the collection, even though I hate green scents, and this one was no exception. It starts with a brutal absinthe note that, when mixed with aldehydes, drowns out the citrus, mint, and lavender (maybe a hint of cassia shows through). At 4 hours, the green notes are still there with cyclamen and something that smells like Drakkar Noir for sure—pine needles. By 10 hours, those greens finally fade, giving way to musk, amber, and patchouli. There’s nothing sweet about it; it’s dry and the greens are very strong. The sillage should be moderate with a few sprays, but as always happens to me, I overdid it and it stayed heavy on the absinthe for hours. The longevity on me is clearly twelve hours. For its type, it’s best for spring or mid-season, outdoors, informal, and daytime. Only for those who love green scents or want the bottle.