Death by pretty flowers.
The beginning is a burst of odd sweet spice and bright citrus, that drowns in honey–with that jarring, almost discordant sweetness that defines the Poison line.
Tuberose fills the middle at arms length and turns the flower nectar to rosy bubble-gum musk, which I love lovelove and wish lasted longer, but sinks into the skin after an hour.
Sugary sandalwood on the bottom with an occasional breath of the orange opening the rest of the afternoon.
(Sigh.) I always fall for the discontinued ones.
I wonder why they stopped production. It still seems fresh and unique, and even 25 years old it would hold its own with any of the new Gucci’s.
The shy little sister of Diorissimo.
Opens with an Earl Grey tea splash that gets lost in a huge green not-quite-blooming-yet flower garden–a bit of jasmine and blushing rosebuds–for an hour.
Big starchy oakmoss dries up the bottom a foot off the skin and stays there most of the day.
It’s nice, but doesn’t say much.
This oddball song was a huge hit in France in 1972, the same year Diorella came out.
Soooo much better than the first draft.
The sad Earl Grey sachet is now bright bergamot zest, the pale cream made into sweet vanilla custard, and the rose is a full bouquet of long stemmed high teas.
Sandalwood and tonka add warmth and spice, and if the musk were a little more sheer, I’d buy it by the quart.
(The backup ladies absolutely steal this cover!)
Opens with fresh peaches and jasmine that gets mixed into a fruit salad and white flower arrangement–in an elegant Martha Stewart catered way.
Lasts for three hours at arm’s length, with musk anchoring a bit of rose on the skin for several more.
J’adore was special when it came out in 1999, but it’s kind of everywhere now, so it seems generic.
(In 2011 Christian Dior launched a massive advertising campaign with the iconic video featuring Charlize Theron and this song, to huge success.)
I remember Miss Dior being lovely a long time ago– but this 2017 version not so much. Just opening the magazine peelie makes me feel hungover.
There’s some throat-clenching citrus, a bang on the head of rose, and some nauseating patchouli.
Not one I’m going to chase down in the shops.
Here’s another unnecessary 2017 cover–Rihanna’s song is awesome as is–though this one does it justice, stripped down and acoustic.
Jennifer Lawrence’s bottled tears.
This is department store white musk and Earl Grey tea with cream. She might have a rose in her teeth, but it’s faux silk and plastic.
Joy by Dior has none of J-Law’s fun spirit. The musk is too cheap, the citrus too sharp, the rose too artificial.
I’m sad, too.
So apparently Johnny Depp smells like sawdust and lemon meringue pie–or maybe it’s sugared furniture polish?
There’s some old spice cabinet and an amber musk that is apropos to the aging pirate mystique, and a wave of evil English wizard lavender wand.
I like it, even though I don’t want to.
This song from the same year has some pretty savage guitar.
Muguet and nostalgia.
Titania gracing an outdoor wedding, the Snow Queen in her sled in winter.
Pure lily-of-the-valley, budding green, blooming to ringing white bells and fading to pungent roots.
My mother wore Diorissimo, which is the only thing I’ll ever have in common with Prince Harry, I’m afraid.
Dior released this one in 1956. The same year Alfred Hitchcock’s The Man Who Knew Too Much featured Doris Day singing Que Sera Sera.
Dior’s Hypnotic Poison is the femme fatale in the upscale mall who laces the gourmet sweets with cyanide.
It took over my house and punched me in the teeth and made me watch movies about international intrigue.
Jordan Almonds and loud vanilla sex, this stuff.
Morcheeba, a trip-hop R&B band, has been going strong since the mid nineties, too. This song has some of the same lethal sweetness.