Azzaro Chrome Intense by Azzaro

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An ultra-industrial pigsty; I think it’s one of the most synthetic colognes I’ve ever smelled.

I loved it, had to buy a bottle, but at the rate it lasts, I’ll finish it before summer ends because the longevity is pretty bad. I like the original Chrome a lot; this is a crazy version that reminds me of the first but with its own personality. I suppose the normal move when updating the original formula would have been, given current trends, to add ambroxan and make a sugary-fruit Invictus. Fortunately for me, they released a marine room freshener in the form of a cologne. I admit this is indefensible unless you like the smell of blue floor cleaners or bathroom air fresheners. I love that fake, sweet artificial Calone smell, and that’s exactly what’s here: a mop soaked in detergent presented in a perfume bottle. I understand perfectly why some people feel like vomiting upon smelling it, because truly, this thing is a blue abomination. A delicious blue abomination. Upon spraying, you get a gale-force wind of bottle Calone just like those one-euro air fresheners sold in Chinatown, no nuances whatsoever, the cheapest Calone you’ve ever smelled. I float in a cloud. Under those low-quality cleaning molecules rise strands of something indefinable and horrendous that I love: a sweetness between herbal and ozonic, mineral, sulfurous, sweet, gaseous, intolerably musky and insidious, with an aggression to your nose similar to pouring alcohol on a wound; I suppose it’s the mix of the worst mate ever created and green notes that were on sale, because truly this is a byproduct I’ve never seen before. I’m still drooling. There’s a moment when I catch a hint of something like green tea, certain fake wood vibes, undefined bergamot with memories of 90s Adidas deodorant. When it dries, it loses those airy, anesthetic sweet nuances and settles into an early 90s sea paste exactly like Acqua di Giò, losing the streams of fizzy drink that would kill you if you drank them. I would never recommend this to anyone because there’s no way to sell it unless you flirt with the idea of perfuming yourself with Pato toilet cleaner or a bucket of detergent-soaked mop. Zara perfumes next to it have the quality of Amouage, I promise you. I’m not much of a fan of the guilty pleasure concept because I like to enjoy what I like without theorizing or justifying myself, but this clearly presents itself as a full-on guilty pleasure.

• Longevity
• Summer
• Green
• Ozonic