I experienced my first squall downwind of Poison in a hospital elevator, in 1986. The smell was so, so strange to me, it didn't occur to me that it was emanating from a woman sharing the elevator. I knew it wasn't a hospital smell, but it smelled unsettling. After the elevator, the parking lot, the treck home, all I could smell was this strange odor. Somehow it had transferred onto my jacket, and the jacket smelled of it for days. It was almost scary, because I didn't know what it was, and it smelled so odd. I absolutely HATED it. I couldn't believe anyone would smell that way on purpose. Not long afterward, while walking through a department store, I followed my nose and was lead to the gorgeous, weird black bottle, in which this strange, cruel potion was housed. I HATED it. It was awful. It was dark, and depressing, and creepy. Haunting.
So, of course, I wanted it. I wanted it soooooo bad. It would be perfect with my black eyeliner, my black boots, my black coat, my black beret, and my Kate Bush records. But, oh, the price...How would I ever have it?
To soothe my craving, I went to a drugstore, and bought a fragrance spray cooked up by those olfactory geniuses at Parfums de Coeur Designer Imposters, (and saved myself $30 whole dollars),...le jus came in a green metal spray container. It was called "Turmoil". (Because who can resist buying an aerosal can on which is written, "If you like Poison You'll love Turmoil"?)
It turned out Turmoil was actually a vicious, caustic, tenacious scent blend whose notes were moth balls the cat peed on, and radiator fluid. People at the laundramat I used, complained to the managers about using the machines after me, because of the lingering stench on my clothing. They couldn't imagine what caused that horrible smell, and they never wanted to know. They just wanted me banned from the laundramat. I noticed people tended to avoid sitting with me on the bus, and discreetly relocated in the library, etc. etc. I thought I smelled disgusting,too, but if I tried really, really hard, when I was trashed, I could imagine that Turmoil smelled something like that grail of an elixir called Poison.
Within weeks, I was frustrated, because it seemed that I was smelling Poison EVERYWHERE. I wanted it to be "My Potion" and I would be just like the mysterious woman in the ads. My secret, that I wanted to hoard, was now drowning out Giorgio, Anais Anais, and even Lauren, in the perfume pool. At first I thought I imagined it; like the damn fragrance was an obsessive delusion. However, my nose confirmed that I was smelling Poison (the real Poison, not the imposter,) everywhere. It was so cruel that everyone could project its mysterious aura. I decided I must own it. I would simply give up eating lunch, drink coffee completely black, walk everywhere instead of paying fares, and stay home and watch tv instead of socializing with other humans. Eventually I would have the extra money to buy my very own Poison (and impress the masses with how unique I was?).
As luck would have it, the week before I was ready to make my purchase, my sister managed to buy an EDP bottle of it, and she gave it to me as an early birthday present. Her motive, she claimed, was to get me to stop wearing that toxic Turmoil. (I hadn't worn Turmoil in weeks by then, but I think it had contained a Turmoil amoeba that lived in me.) So I had my Poison...after all...plus $30.00 to throw to the wind (I paid my gas bills). Life was great.
Except I HATED Poison. I hated it. I couldn't bear to wear it. My sister pickled herself in Obsession, which I thought I couldn't stand, but she smelled good to me, in contrast to my own reeking self. Poison made me feel depressed, claustrophobic, and bland. I have absolutely no idea what eventually happened to that beautiful, longed-for bottle, but it wasn't used much by me.
A couple of years ago, a very close friend was exploring the world of perfumes, while staying with me for a couple of months. Her first three fragrance loves, and purchases, were Chanel No. 5, Bath and Body Works Moonlight Path, and Poison (EDT). I winced when I saw the Poison. I just knew my whole house would reek of it, and possibly the property management association would fine me or something...
No need to worry. Her Poison wasn't even a shadow of the Poison-ous memory. I didn't even recognize it.
I suppose, by then, I had become so desensitized to extremes in fragrances, and had worn so many different scents over the years, I no longer had anything to fear from Poison. Knowing fragrance notes better, I can say that my memory of Poison is that of a dark tuberose-laudanum-cedar-orchid-oppoponax-turpentine-elderberry wine-labdanum-eye of newt-toe of frog, and loganberry blend.
My friend's EDT smelled vaguely of white florals, noni fruit, and amber. I was a little disappointed that it was no longer menacing, or mysterious. All the turmoil over Poison had merely been a dated reaction. There was nothing left to conquer with this mild EDT.
Dec
19
2011