Chronic is a tribute to the hemp cultivation of the 1990s in Southern California. The scent is leafy, lively and green. The fragrance notes include bitter grapefruit, a cannabis accord and moss.
Johan Bergelin: ‘In 1996, California was the first state in the US to legalise medical cannabis. However, if you look behind the scenes, there has always been a history of hemp farmers and hemp enthusiasts who have dedicated their lives to refining the herb. Chronic is a term for cannabis and also refers to Dr. Dre's debut album, The Chronic. The Chronic was released in 1992, the same year as the Los Angeles riots.’
The Chronic fragrance journey: Mr. Gong
It's 1993 and I'm walking down Abbot Kinney Boulevard in Venice with my dog Sniffer. It's not even a year since the riots and it's a cool January night. As I turn right onto Palms Boulevard, I hear the pounding G-funk beat of the subwoofers. A highly polished ‘74 Coupe DeVille with chrome rims drives by. Soft, fluffy cubes hang from the rear-view mirror and the personalised number plate says ‘legal’. I bump into my old acquaintance Jack. Sweating dark red, he sits on his green metallic trike, fully equipped with the Californian bear flag, a boom box, long rear-view mirrors and a black horn. After catching up with him, I learn that my friend has given up his old trade and is now a serious green activist with his own greenhouse on Electric Avenue. He started with tomato plants and developed into a first-class cannabis expert under the guidance of the notorious head shop owner Mr Gong. ‘It's all about perfecting the molecular structure of the parent culture to constantly take the art of sativa to a new level,’ he explains.
With a bit of luck, a particularly potent hybrid could be harvested in the next few days. However, with his new calling comes the risk of being ratted out by competitors or malicious neighbours. Jack makes it clear: ‘The boys in blue have been extremely vigilant in the area since the Muscle Beach Building between 18th and 19th Avenue was shut down. 1,500 plants were confiscated and left the area smelling like bubblegum for days. Look who's here now, if not Venice's very own Mr Gong himself. ‘Hey man, how's it going, everyone?’ he gasped, carrying a wicker basket in one hand. The pager on his belt beeped, but he ignored it. ‘Thank God I have my homies who watched my back this morning and gave me time to finish the job. I ran out with the plants, but I left my special fertiliser mix behind, and you know, these little babies need to eat.’ Mr Gong lifts one of the scrawny clones planted in red plastic pots out of the basket and inhales the aroma. Then he pulls a pipe out of the breast pocket of his gardening waistcoat, lights it, exhales and produces large clouds of smoke. 'Holy Mary. This Chronic is amazing.'
