Haze
Akro (2018)

I'm going to ignore the mimetic, representational ambitions of Akro: that each perfume is built around analogy to a specific addictive thing. "Akro" is the phonetic spelling of "Accro," which is the abbreviation of "Accroché," commonly used to mean addicted, and can be metaphorical, to mean one just has to have something. The previous reviews have masterfully engaged with the ambitions and failings of the mimetic representation of cannabis in Haze. What I smell--having no interest in or experience with cannabis to relate to this--is like green moss and gray-blue lichen on rocks leading to the sea. Or like a little fairy garden: very green, but I imagine filmy, minute, distinct miniature plantings, of furry sage, tough dusty blue eucalyptus, curl-edged spearmint. The armoise note for me makes this surprisingly evocative of Guerlain Derby, which has a strong and distinctive armois/mugwort note. Overtime, I find that it gets a bit soapy. You can actually feel the eucalyptus in your sinuses, ever so lightly. A lovely green perfume, not easy to reduce to any one dominant impression. On the dry down, it could make you smell as though you had just drunk mint tea and had a shower.

This is weirdly addictive. The opening was sharp and bitter with strong underlying sage (not something I usually like) but heady.

I think it basically smells like using a mild patchouli soap, putting on a faded leather jacket, and then picking up a bundle of fresh-picked and slightly crushed sage, eucalyptus, artemisia, and spearmint.

It's probably not a scent I'd wear often, but it seems perfect if I were going to hang out in a library or cafe or park and wanted to smell like herbs. I'm impressed at how well it matches its intention and description.

This opens with the purest wormwood oil that I've ever smelled in a fragrance. It really does smell like Artemisia absinthium, the very oil used in the fabled absinthe, among other liqueurs. I was in Awe, eager to experience where Haze would turn in its development, and when I first sampled this (the first of any Akro), I was completely unaware of its very concept. Imagine my dismay when I learn that this is meant to represent the vice of...cannabis.

Now, I have smelled many raw botanical materials but truth be told, I haven't smelled a fresh cannabis plant, only many strains of processed ganja. This doesn't feel like cannabis but rather a lovely aromatic, and to be frank, this is an instance where the concept sours the experience for me. I can't get past what this is trying to be, I can't "unthink" it. Therein lies the problem with overly conceptual perfume houses/brands, when they put too fine a point on their vision, it leaves little room for the wearer to make their own interpretations.

Whether it's the power of suggestion or just plain cognitive dissonance, I can't really connect with brands like Akro when they force me into their story, no matter how nice the perfumes themselves might be. When faced with the choice between this and a house that doesn't clobber me over the head with the concept, I will invest time and money elsewhere. One last thing: the font used on the bottle makes me scowl; it reminds me of one that might've been used in an early 90s lifestyle magazine.

Dressing up Mary Jane's dank shadow

Haze is a cannabis fragrance, even though this is not mentioned in the notes pyramid or promotional copy save accompanying photographs. Instead there’s reference to absinthe which I think is a cop out as there isn’t any anise, just some cooling notes. I am really unimpressed with this. So many activists were stigmatized and took risks to legalize cannabis and these perfume executives want to play coy? Weak.

I had low expectations for Haze because in my experience, cannabis fragrances are just cashing in on a new, profitable trend. No one wants to smell like skunk, those unpleasant thiols that the terpenes in cannabis resemble so closely.

Haze is probably the closest approximation I’ve come across while remaining entirely wearable. At first whiff I was not impressed. But then, this dank bud starting taking shape. There’s definitely no skunk, but Cresp managed to accurately capture that deep, vegetal aspect of cannabis that comes up from below. It’s like he modified the top, editing weed’s citrusy, hoppy top to something closer to a traditional fougere, deleted the skunky middle and then kept the bottom. I’m genuinely impressed. As a whole, it still does not smell like cannabis, but you can pick out a shared dankness. Dries down to a pleasant, barbershoppy aromatic.

A decent scent, but the scaredy-cat marketing is a turn off. Just say it's weed.

Akro Haze is part of the brand’s original launch in 2018, the Luckyscent descriptor of being an “aromatic fog of a Bohemian Café” seems quite fitting. It’s green, semi-fresh, a little herbal, and a little smoky, with notes of absinthe, eucalyptus, spearmint, sage, and armoise/mugwort, the last of which I had to look up / was not familiar with it. The entire formula might sound potentially heady and sharp, but it’s fairly smooth and easy to wear, with hints at some of the more provocative notes in the list, but an overall landing spot of a woody, green, slightly fresh and herbal mix. This is definitely worth trying, and deviates from some of the more gourmand leanings while not infringing on the territory of Smoke, either, while still performing pretty well.

Haze, like the rest of the line, is priced at $160 for 100ml and is sold in the US via Luckyscent, and also the house website.

7 out of 10

Heavily spiced, green herbal opening. Later, it dries down to a mossy, damp, slightly sweet, clean leather. Interesting stuff. More artful to the wearer than pleasing to others, but not offensive in any way.

Projection is just okay and maybe even lacking a little. More sprays should help. Longevity is pretty good though, lasts most of the workday.