Dior’s Poison blazed the trail for outrageous 80s scents that everyone still remembers. They typified the 80s era of greed, glitz and excess. You were nobody unless you had shoulder pads, stilettos, and a mobile phone the size of a house brick. The mantra was “More is More” and Poison added it’s volume to the clamour of noise to ensure anyone who wore it made an entrance.
Some perfumes are born a myth. Provocative and mysterious since its creation, Poison is Dior’s ultimate weapon of seduction.
Meanwhile, many people were wrinkling their noses at this confusing cacophony of perfume notes that were the olfactory equivalent of entering a nightclub whilst watching a television show and listening to music at the same time.
Sometimes I can look at the notes in a perfume and ascertain whether I would like it or not. This is not a substitute for trying it on skin, but it often helps me make a list of future Must Tries.
If you look at the notes in Poison, it would still be hard to imagine what it smelled like. Smelling is believing. There’s Plum, Booze, Amber, Patchouli, Jasmine, Roses, Woods, Honey, Incense, Tuberose, Carnation, the kitchen sink, a cuddly toy, a coffee maker and Uncle Tom Cobley and all. I could go on. I can usually smell a hint of Liquorice too.
Poison will swallow up all its rivals. In a room of a dozen different perfumes, you would only be able to smell the Poison wearer. It obliterates and dominates. Longevity is as long as a prison sentence and harder to reduce.
However, I will go against the grain and say it’s brilliantly done. It captures an era in a bottle more effectively than a spell. It takes me back to being 15 years old and watching Joan Collins strut her stuff on Dynasty, whilst over on BBC, JR was pouring himself a large Scotch in the middle of the day, and on the news, Diana was all coy glances and dazzling gowns. One whiff of Poison and I am there.
The bottle is like Cinderella’s pumpkin: full of dark magic. I don’t want to smell like this, but I am so glad they made it.