Poison Girl Dior 2016 Eau de Parfum

In the 80s - the birth hour of the first and true Poison, epitome of the sultry scent of a man-killing Femme fatale, who lures lovers to her lair and then crushes them like an insect between her thighs - it was often read in youth advice forums (back then still exclusively in print media) about 'petting', an early and somehow innocent form of safer sex. The general tone: one could first just fumble a bit with their dream boy (or girl) before it 'really gets serious', we were advised back then - because later there would be no tears, and no one would have to rush off to Holland, so the promise went. Petting had something equally cute and harmless as it was somewhat awkward - because fundamentally, one wanted to finally create facts. To avoid misunderstandings (even if this is probably 'too much information'): there is nothing wrong with fumbling around - on the contrary - but at some point, the moment does come when one slightly impatiently whispers: 'And the panties stay on, or what?'

One is tempted to shout something similar to the new little sister of the legendary original Poisons - small and round and pink and in the same (just differently colored) well-known notorious bottle, in which the house of Dior has so far filled all its poison waters. Nothing of the lascivious audacity (which one may like or not) of the big purple brother can be found in Poison Girl, which, like the round plastic bumps of a Barbie, only hints at where something should be. The opening is fresh and (half-)synthetic-floral, then gently descends to leave a vanilla-warm finish on the skin - too soft and too pleasing to seriously displease anyone. This warm-sweet note runs through its scent progression like a pink thread - and there is such a thread! - and remains as a vague but noticeable quote of the 'real Poison' consistently present - which one could criticize as lacking creativity, but is certainly not unsuccessful. Not a great fragrance - no one seriously expected that, right? - yet to make a youthful delicate scent out of the essence of Poison, this olfactory war galleon, which is harmless in the best sense and beyond impertinent cheapness, deserves at least recognition.

Conclusion: a fragrance for the girl with glossy strawberry lip gloss, who plays bored under the desk with her smartphone (with pink glittery accessories) during class and nervously chews one strand of hair after another while checking out boys on Tinder. In reference to the names of the cute drugstore waters for teenagers - a perfume 'like petting in the party cellar'. Girl instead of woman. Fumbling instead of intercourse. Not at all bad.