About the FRAGRANCE
In 1996, California became the first state in the US to legalize medicinal cannabis. But scratch the surface and there has always been a long history of cannabis cultivators and enthusiasts dedicating their lives to refining the herb, including the strain Chronic. However, the name of the fragrance also alludes to the debut album of Dr. Dre. ‘The Chronic’ was released in 1992, the same year as the LA riots. Fragrance notes include Bitter Grapefruit, Cannabis Accord, Vetiver.
INGREDIENTS
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FRAGRANCE NOTES
- Bitter Grapefruit
- Bright and sharp with a clear citrus bite. Juicy flesh and bitter peel over a clean, slightly dry freshness.
- Cannabis Accord
- Green, herbal, and earthy with a dry, leafy character. Reminiscent of freshly crushed cannabis leaves rather than smoke.
- Amber
- Warm, resinous, and slightly sweet. Soft balsamic richness with a smooth, golden warmth and a gentle powdery depth.
- Patchouli
- Earthy, woody, and slightly damp. Rich and deep, with hints of soil, dried leaves, and soft spice.
- Vetiver
- Dry, earthy, and woody. Smoky roots with a clean, grassy bitterness and a subtle mineral edge.
- Cashmere Wood
- Soft, woody, and smooth. Warm, airy woods with a slightly musky, velvety dryness and a gentle amber-like glow.
MR. GONG
A Fragrance Journey exploring the cultural landscape of aromatic plants.
The year is 1993, and I’m strolling down Abbot Kinney in Venice with my dog, Sniffer. It’s less than a year since the riots, and it’s a rather cool January night. As I turn right onto Palms Boulevard, I hear the pounding G-funk beat from a subwoofer as a well-polished black Coupe DeVille ’74 with chrome rims cruises by. Soft fuzzy dice dangle from the mirror, and the personalized license plate reads “LEGAL.”
Before long, I bump into my old acquaintance Jack. Oozing purple, he is riding his metallic green tricycle, fully equipped with the California bear flag, a boom box, long rearview mirrors, and a black horn. After some catching up, I learn that my friend has left his old trade and is now a serious green activist, running his own grow house on Electric Avenue. What started with tomato plants evolved into a first-class weedologist operation under the guidance of notorious head shop owner Mr. Gong. “It’s all about perfecting the strain’s molecular composition, constantly pushing the art of sativa to a new level,” he declares. With some luck, a very potent hybrid will be harvested within the next couple of days. However, with his new calling comes the risk of being grassed on by competing operators and vicious neighbors. Jack points out, “The boys in blue have been extremely attentive in the area since the shutdown of the Muscle Beach building between 18th and 19th. One thousand five hundred plants were confiscated, and the smell of bubblegum lingered around the block for what felt like days.”
Meanwhile, look who’s here if not Venice’s finest, Mr. Gong himself. “Hey man, how y’all doin’?” he wheezes, carrying a wicker basket in one hand. The pager attached to his belt beeps, but he ignores it. “Thank God for my homies lookin’ out for me this mornin’, giving me time to close down the action. I rushed out with the plants but left my own specialized fertilizer blend behind, and you know, these lil’ babies need to eat.” Mr. Gong lifts one of the scrawny clones planted in a red plastic cup from the basket and takes in the aroma. Then, pulling a one-hitter from the breast pocket of his garden vest, he lights up and exhales, creating a large cloud of smoke. “Precious Mother. This Chronic is just amazing, man.”