Drakkar Intense (Guy Laroche)

Jason Dean: "I knew this stuff would be
Too intense for her." Heather Chandler:
"In-tense. Grow Up." 

Drakkar Intense is not a flanker of Drakkar Noir. I repeat: Drakkar Intense is NOT a flanker of Drakkar Noir. It is better thought of as a pseudo-modernization of the original Drakkar from 1972. "Pseudo" because, well, read on. I've never actually smelled the original Drakkar, so no flexing here. But a comparison of the pryamids suggests a closer kinship to that first Laroche masculine, and what I smell recalls the '70s more than the '80s. L'Oréal isn't aiming for the youngsters with this stuff, that's for sure.

They're also not aiming for the average guy, either. The opening blast is upscale '70s barbershop. European barbershop, if you will, and specifically Parisian. Scratchy greens, indistinct in identity, but sharp, and cool in effect. Certainly some lavender and rosemary, juniper and citrus, very tart and bitter, but the cacophony settles into a certain type of muddled, somewhat coumarinic sweetness that vintage fanatics who are familiar with old-school masculines will immediately recognize. It's sort of floral, sort of hay-like, and rather akin to the romanticized idea of a sunset in the countryside, if you could bottle it. Think forgotten gems like MEM's Racquet Club, and even Monsieur Rochas. Intense boasts the same coumarin wallop, but not a contemporary woody-amberassault "tonka" that smells like candy. Any sweetness is from patchouli, and it's a little spicy from carnation, of all things. I also get some beta-ionone for woodiness, tobacco-adjacent depth, and a modern analog of macrocylic musks for the human skin feel. And again, being real: I really like it. It's anachronistic, but good, a literal blast from the past.

Gentle wisps of vanilla and amber add warmth and roundness to the base, and Drakkar Intense smells like a drugstore fragrance from 1972, which is early enough in the decade that it borrows heavily from drugstore fragrances of the 1960s. Many reviewers have claimed that this fragrance is "boozy" and "sweet," but it reads more woody and only incidentally sweet, like the crudely-blended naturals and synthetics just happen to have approachable personalities. It bears virtually no resemblance to Drakkar Noir and has precious little dihydromyrcenol, if any. I see myself curled up in a papasan, smoking shake while reading Portnoy's Complaint with the Stones in the background . . .