Filed under: Perfume, strippers | Tags: Dior, Hypnotic Poison, Jessica Rabbit
Christian Dior’s Hypnotic Poison is the kind of scent I can’t help but kind of love even while every fiber of my being screams out that it is wrong, bad, and evil. It’s sort of an olfactory composite of everything women’s magazines tell you that men like turned up another 10 notches until it becomes this scarily effective fem-bot on a rampage to steal your boyfriend.
Bitter almond, jasmine, vanilla, and sandalwood are blended here to create a high-pitched shriek that is part rootbeer float, part lapdance, and all it’s own phenomenon. No particular note sticks out to me, rather, it’s the sum total of its parts working together to create a distinct and unforgettable effect. It’s not a rootbeer float and a lapdance, rather it’s a seductive pull on the straw stuck in a rootbeer float while performing a lapdance. It’s a mean-spirited comedy sketch about frumpy suburban women so desperate for a man that they dab vanilla extract behind their ears after reading about it in Cosmo, performed by a twenty-two year old Russian supermodel in a spangled garter belt. Hypnotic Poison’s genius lies in its cruel sense of humor. Hating it is beside the point. It’s a lot more likely to make you hate yourself.
Part and parcel of Hypnotic Poison’s “funny” little joke is the way it sticks around literally days after you’ve put it on. While most perfumes seek to avoid offending, Hypnotic Poison courts it. Spray it on your clothing? Well… remember that roommate you used to have who was hotter, skinnier, better with boys, and smarter than you to boot used to like to borrow your shirts sometimes and you’d end up letting her keep it because it looked so much better on her than you? It’ll be kind of like that. If this stuff gets on your clothes, it will own them.
Wearing a fragrance like this one requires a lot of guts. You can’t be afraid that it smells too strong, or that its distinctiveness is off-putting to others in your proximity. You need to make up your mind about Hypnotic Poison before spraying it on, because if you haven’t, you’ll spend the next week feeling self-conscious and writing apologetic emails.
Christian Dior is one of my favorite fragrance lines for this reason. No pussyfooting around. They’re an entire line of love-em-or-leave-em’s that stick around long after their welcome is worn out and you would like to move on to something subtler, tamer, and more appropriate for the office or the boyfriend’s parents. They have a new one called “Midnight Poison” coming out sometime this year that apparently makes good use of patchouli. I can’t wait.
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