The Tea Party… Midnight Poison by Dior The Perfumed Dandy’s Classic Collection

As an adult, never arrive at a children’s tea party until it’s over.

She had said, ‘Come around about seven. They’ll have worn themselves out and the ‘grown ups’ can have fun.’.

Why oh why didn’t I listen?

Why did I think it would be generous, amusing even, to arrive when the ankle biters were still going tooth and claw at the table groaning with juvenile junk food?

So, my evening starts with too cheap, too strong and too sweet orange soda. Made fizzy at home with alarming novetly machine that keeps threatening to explode.

Then it’s a game of ‘hunt the jewel’.

Somewhere in a giant bowl of half set mandarin jelly there’s a prize.

It must be removed with the mouth: no hands, no spoon – just head in said jelly.

Total immersion.

‘Please, please’ they yell, a youthful chorus ‘join in, JOIN IN!!!’. And so, ever the sport, my petrified visage plunges into a whirling, swirling tepid pool of luminous gunk.

I emerge, eventually, face, neck, collar covered in the most revolting fake fruit sweet slime that money can buy and mummy can make.

A roar from the crowd – clenched between my suddenly yellowed teeth an amber pendant, it’s silver chain resting wet on my chin.

I pass it dutifully to the birthday girl and another cheer goes up.

The final festive climax reached, the kids scatter and ready for the off as I skulk upstairs to reclaim my face and give any help possible to my poor hair.

Returning to the scene of my triumphant undoing, the children have departed. Mother is about to take celebratory daughter upstairs for a bath and bed. I am to watch the door.

Gradually the later, older guests arrive wrapped in their all surrounding adult smells.

One wears patchouli as she has done since we were young, another rose to remember her mother by, a third antique vanilla with a touch of fragranced powder.

Our host returns, daughter settled fast asleep.

She has wrested the amber amulet from her child and dabbed a little of its namesake’s scent, her signature, on the nape of her own neck.

As the evening floats onwards to the blue hour, the room glows with warm conversation, time-earnt friendships and the notes of perfumes too personal and familiar to need introduction.

Even the congealed jelly on my collar has dried to an almost semi-precious crystal, though now and again emits a saccharine citrus to remind me of my mistake.

If only I’d have arrived late.

Midnight Poison by Dior is a fragrance of enormous contrasts.

Sadly, in this reformulation at least, these are far from complimentary.

The opening is quite simply catastrophic.

A syrupy, synthetic and supremely nauseating fruit cocktail: it is an assault on the senses.

And, like lurid pineapple chunks skewered next fluorescent plastic cheese on cocktail sticks this hors d’ouevres, it can’t fail to out stay its welcome.

What happens very gradually after is, however, almost remarkable: this raucous, rancorous, childish affair yields to an accomplished, enigmatic and glancingly enticing composition whose apparent complexity belies a breathtakingly simple palette.

Rose, amber, patchouli, vanilla.

It is, in many ways, a work of dark mysteries. Of day and night, with midnight being by far the best hour.

If only that opening just wasn’t.

There is no question that this can be worn by a man, indeed I know from conversation and correspondence this is worn by many men.

But The Dandy’s not for wearing.

That opening is too much to be gotten over, it leaves one feeling… besmirched.

Yours ever

The Perfumed Dandy.

The Perfumed Dandy

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18 Comments

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18 responses to “The Tea Party… Midnight Poison by Dior The Perfumed Dandy’s Classic Collection

  1. “And, like lurid pineapple chunks….” Oh, Dandy you’re killing me with this! It sounds almost sickening. I love your reviews when the fragrance is pleasing, but when the fragrance misses it’s mark, oh how you make me laugh!
    Gripping

    • Dear Gripping
      The Dandy must confess that whilst wearing some of these mark-missing potions might not be much fun at the time, there is a certain glee in telling all about the horror afterwards!
      I’m so glad you enjoy the good with the bad…
      Yours ever
      The Perfumed Dandy

  2. HAHAHAHA! Oh dearest Dandy, the perfume world is so much better with you in it :-) Thank you for the laugh and for the completely accurate review of Midnight Poison.

    I will stick with Hyponotic Poison for sure!

  3. Dear Mr Dandy,

    What a perfect review! I would first of all like to thank you for the heads up, I’ve had far too many howlers this year and am keen to sidestep any more. As for the fragrance itself: I often find that a good opening can end badly and a bad opening can sometimes end well, like a panto ending in good opera. Many times, it is not worth wading through the orange jelly to get to the good stuff when there is so much good stuff to be had without that inconvenience.

    I always look forward to your reviews.

    Your friend
    IScent

    • Dearest Iscent
      The Dandy is so pleased if he can be of any assistance in your brave project – even if it is by trying howlers so you needn’t!!
      The opening of this I fear is not as refined as pantomime, more third rate theatre in education gone wrong, while the ending, though lovely, is at best good Gilbert and Sulllivan.
      Yours ever
      The Perfumed Dandy

  4. I love this review! – it has the ring of truth and somehow I fear the Dandy has experienced being up to his neck in synthetic orange jelly – my sympathies!
    I notice they have featured Eva Green in the Ad, I bet she got paid handsomely for her work, but I doubt she’d wear this perfume. Apparently she wears Santa Maria Novella’s Melegrano – pretty low key and refined I’m told, though I’ve never tried it as yet

    • Lilybelle

      I was thinking the exact same thing, Rosestrang: I just *know* the head in the jelly actually happened. You can’t begin to make that up. Great review, Mr. Dandy! I’m not a fan of Midnight Poison, but I wore it as a Halloween scent once with my witch’s costume and it suited that occasion. I could never make it my own, have no interest in trying. :)

      • Dear Lilly
        A Halloween scent indeed!!
        Being something of a minor horror itself!
        Both you and rose I fear no me only to well to see where some kernel of the truth is hidden in these tales…
        Yours ever
        The Perfumed Dandy

    • Dearest Rose
      How perceptive you are.
      I fear The dandy has not always been a stranger to luminous gelatinous matter.
      Yes, it is the beautiful Ms Green, I’m intrigued to know that she more of a Santa Maria Novella sort of woman, quite so.
      Gone, it appears are the days where the celebrity actually took some interest in the quality of the merchandise, one thinks of Miss Hepburn and Givenchy and Ms Deneuve with the various houses she patronised.
      Perhaps these idols were even exeptions then and The Dandy romanticises. So hard to know…
      Yours ever
      The Perfumed Dandy

      • Heehee! I wonder what it is with children and ‘luminous gelatinous matter’! I used to like it myself, also synthetic angel delight, how taste changes..
        (Lillybelle I love the idea of a halloween perfume!)
        I agree Ms Green is beautiful indeed – let’s hope that this wonderful type of French style doesn’t become MacDonaldized or homogenised. I know women of all ages still look to Deneueve and Hepburn as the yardstick of style and elegance (yardstick sounds a bit clunky as a measure! – better to say that they’re synonymous with elegance). I’m still on a search for the ultimate trench-coat that says ‘Deneuve’ or ‘Hepburn’ rather than ‘day at the office’!

      • Ah yest Rose
        The trench coat is a difficult item of apparel. The Dandy still seeks one that makes him appear more Jean Paul Bemondo than pervert…
        Yours ever
        The Perfumed Dandy

      • Oh, also, I just thought of one ‘thoughtful’ celebrity fragrance – L’Air de Rien by Jane Birkin and Lyn Harris (of Miller and Harris). I love it but can’t wear it all the time as it really reminds me of leather saddles and horse manure (what can I say, I was one of those kids who volunteered to work in horse stables so it’s a nostalgia thing!)

      • Heehee! Never mind Deneuve I’ve decided I want a pervert trenchcoat just for the comedy value!

  5. Deliriously… dreadful, and scathingly funny. You rock my world and I haven’t been hitting the Easter eggs ;)

  6. Truly fabulous. I adore this. Please say we can meet up the next time I hit thine shores. xx

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