Poison officially debuted in Paris in 1985, though trademark records indicate that the name had been secured two years earlier, in 1983. Its arrival marked a radical departure for Parfums Christian Dior. For decades, the house had relied on fragrances that carried the Dior name directly in their titles—Diorella, Diorama, Dioressence, Diorissimo, Dior-Dior, Miss Dior. The failure of Dior-Dior had already prompted a major corporate restructuring in the mid-1970s, leaving pressure on the brand to reassert its authority in the fragrance world. By the early 1980s, Dior’s perfume portfolio was perceived as losing its edge. Poison was conceived as the bold and uncompromising antidote.
The mid-1980s were defined by a cultural climate of extravagance—sometimes summarized as the apex of the “Decade of Excess.” Fashion favored commanding silhouettes, lavish fabrics, and dramatic color palettes. Power dressing, high glamour, and unapologetic sensuality dominated both runways and mainstream style. In perfumery, this era produced opulent, assertive fragrances that reflected a growing appetite for luxury and indulgence. Houses were eager to create scents that matched the confidence of the time, and consumers gravitated toward rich orientals and heady florientals that made an entrance before the wearer even spoke.
Competition was fierce. The resounding success of Yves Saint Laurent’s Opium in the late 1970s and Revlon’s Scoundrel had set new standards for hedonistic, attention-grabbing perfumery. “I think we should have had this 10 years ago,” remarked Jean Pierre Lippman, then president of Christian Dior Perfumes USA, acknowledging just how powerfully these earlier blockbusters had shaped the market.
Despite Dior’s global prestige, the company faced sobering numbers. In 1984, their worldwide sales reached $152.7 million, yet only 18 percent of that volume came from the United States—and merely 30 percent of that U.S. figure was tied to fragrance. Even more concerning, executives anticipated that 1985 would fall short of the previous year. “Our fragrances did fairly well last year,” Lippman noted. “In 1985, it has been a little flat in the fragrance business, with the exception of fragrances like Obsession and Giorgio.”
Why “Poison”? A Name Designed to Stop Time:
In this crowded and increasingly noisy landscape, Dior understood that the name alone had to command attention. Susan Biehn, Dior’s vice-president for advertising and creative services, explained the philosophy clearly: “Today you must cause women to pause to think about a fragrance. Obsession did it through its advertising. Dior will do it through the name and the scent itself.” She described the name Poison as “revolutionary,” calling it “an adventurous name for an adventurous product. The name was definitely created to make you pause,...you gift the gift of ‘Poison’ to a person who lives that type of life.”
Although the word “poison” originates from French (pronounced pwah-zon in layman’s terms, often heard as pwah-zohn), its meaning carries vivid effects across languages. It evokes danger, seduction, fascination, forbidden substances, and irresistible risk—precisely the emotional terrain Dior wanted to occupy. Biehn emphasized that in Europe, the word carried a nuanced, even fashionable implication: “In Europe, the word Poison—in French it is poizon—is understood in a trendy sense. For example, she is a poison translates to she is a special woman, different, a character.”
The word shimmered with ambiguity. It suggested both peril and attraction; it implied something potent, distinctive, and impossible to ignore. This duality became the foundation of the brand message. Dior Perfumes defined Poison as “a new temptation a new seduction a new emotion.”
The Launch: Shock, Strategy, and Spectacle:
To ensure that Poison made an unforgettable impression, Dior invested heavily—$10 million in advertising alone, according to Bill Slater, then senior vice president and general manager of Christian Dior in New York. Bloomingdale’s stores in Stamford, Connecticut and eight additional U.S. locations were granted exclusive selling rights until September 1986. Afterward, the fragrance would expand to other retailers across the country. “We were looking for something to shock the consumer,” Slater explained. “The name is provocative and it stops the customer. Each year it becomes more difficult” to capture public attention.
Internally, Dior positioned Poison as a high-stakes gamble that relied on careful, elegant execution. “Poison is an innovative and daring concept in women’s fragrances,” Biehn said. “With so many new fragrances introduced each year, it is necessary to break through the noise surrounding these launches. We realize the name Poison is controversial, but we feel that as long as we handle every aspect of this fragrance nobly, there’s nothing to fear. Knowledgeable women are not afraid to try Dior’s Poison, because they know it is harmless and enticing to men.”
Slater echoed this sentiment, noting the intentional provocation built into the name. “With Poison, we wanted to say something, shocking in all languages,” he said. Why choose such a charged word? His answer was simple: “If someone says to you, ‘Would you like to smell poison?’ you’re interested because everyone wants to know what Poison smells like. It's all in how Poison is going to be taken. It's not done with a skull and crossbones,” he warned.
Ultimately, the messaging was bold, direct, and unapologetic. “It is an adventurous name for an adventurous product...you give the gift of ‘Poison’ to a person who lives that type of life,” Biehn concluded.
Public Reactions: Shock, Fascination, and Unease:
When Poison entered the market in 1985, it did so at a moment when consumers were becoming increasingly accustomed to bold fragrance launches—yet the name still struck many as startlingly provocative. Men and women of the era had already seen the uproar surrounding Opium, whose title pushed social boundaries in the late 1970s. Even so, Poison felt like a new escalation, a deliberate flirtation with danger and taboo.
Some found the name daring, clever, even wickedly appealing. Others found it tasteless or unsettling. Designer Halston captured the ambivalence perfectly. Although he had previously remarked that the name Opium was “kind of an odd social statement,” he considered the naming of Poison to be something altogether different—what he called “an example of the true decadence of the fashion business.” To Halston, the choice seemed designed solely to provoke. “I think it’s just being done to create controversy,” he said. “You can’t tell people to go in and ask for a bottle of Poison.”
On the selling floor, reactions ranged from uncomfortable laughter to frank disapproval. The department manager at the Stamford, Connecticut Bloomingdale’s—one of the stores that held exclusive early rights to the fragrance—observed this tension firsthand. “People don’t like the name, but they think it’s a wonderful fragrance,” she explained. “I hear a lot of negative things about the name, but I hear some jokes too. Some people come by and say, ‘Can I have some Poison?’” Others questioned whether such an ominous, “musky” name could logically match what was, in reality, a lush, sweet floral scent.
The controversy extended beyond marketing chatter or fashion-world opinion. By 1986, concern had reached suburban communities and even schools. The Daily Herald reported that parents and teachers in Northwest Suburban Illinois hoped to organize a national campaign urging Christian Dior to change the perfume’s name—or failing that, to persuade television stations to ban what they viewed as suggestive commercials. Joan Kuffel, a nurse at River Trails Junior High School in Prospect, Illinois, articulated their worry in plain terms: “How can you call something poison? We have taught (children) what poison is. Now all of a sudden poison is supposed to be sprayed all over their mother.”
For many families, the issue went beyond taste. It touched a cultural tension in the 1980s between glamour and responsibility, indulgence and safety. At a time when anti-drug messaging was intensifying and households were saturated with “Just Say No” campaigns, the idea of glorifying the word poison—and associating it with beauty—felt jarring. Meanwhile, for consumers steeped in the decade’s fascination with excess, drama, and sensuality, the name’s transgressive edge only heightened its allure.
In the end, Poison became a mirror of the era: admired by some for its audacity, questioned by others for its implications, and impossible for anyone to ignore.
Interpreting “Poison” as a Scent:
To translate the charged, provocative name Poison into olfactory form, Dior aimed for a fragrance that felt as transgressive and unforgettable as its title. The house classified Poison as a soft oriental fragrance for women, a category known for warmth, sensuality, and enveloping depth. Its composition opened with an unexpected mix of Russian coriander, Malaysian pepper, Ceylonese cinnamon, and lush fruity notes of wild berries. This striking introduction flowed into a heart shaped by orange blossom and honeyed amber tones of labdanum, creating a scent that felt both intoxicating and disarmingly rich.
The name came long before the formula. Maurice Roger, Dior’s international company president, had licensed the word Poison more than three years before the fragrance launched. Confident that the title alone carried dramatic power, he challenged his team to develop “a revolutionary fragrance, unlike any which had gone before.” Over the next several years, Dior evaluated nearly 800 sample scents from independent perfumers in an attempt to match the audacity of the name with an equally daring composition.
The final creation came from Edouard Fléchier of Roure Bertrand DuPont. His mauve-colored formula combined wild berries, orange blossom, honey, Ceylonese cinnamon, Russian coriander, Malaysian pepper, amber, opoponax, and cistus labdanum. The blend was so unconventional that Dior boasted “it does not yet have a branch on the fragrance tree.” Internally, the company viewed it as “the most audacious scent they had ever created,” a perfume that pushed far beyond the familiar structures of contemporary florals and orientals.
The Role of Synthetics: A New Dimension of Intensity:
But the true structural anchor was methyl anthranilate, used in great concentration. Known for its lush orange-blossom and tuberose character, this material amplified Poison’s narcotic floral intensity and gave the fragrance its unmistakable, expansive aura. The result was a perfume that projected boldly, lingered powerfully, and felt almost otherworldly—qualities that aligned perfectly with a scent named after something dangerous, tempting, and potent.
Uniqueness or Continuation of a Trend?
Yet its structure and execution made it distinctly original. Few fragrances at the time fused such dense fruit notes with heavy spice, resinous amber materials, and narcotic white-floral synthetics at this scale. The combination of wild berries with pepper, coriander, cinnamon, honey, and labdanum created an unusually dark, velvety, and pulsating character. The scent was neither a straightforward oriental nor a typical floral—it belonged to no established category. Dior’s claim that it “does not yet have a branch on the fragrance tree” reflected the genuine difficulty of classifying it.
Compared with its contemporaries, Poison felt more extreme, more atmospheric, and more unapologetically intense. It followed the decade’s trend toward bold luxury, yet its composition marked a clear departure from the scent architectures commonly used in the period. In effect, it fulfilled Maurice Roger’s demand for a fragrance as revolutionary as its name—one that could stand alone, provoke curiosity, and reshape expectations of what a modern oriental could be.
Fragrance Composition:
So what does it smell like? Poison is classified as a soft oriental fragrance for women. It has a top note or Russian coriander, Malaysian pepper and Ceylonese cinnamon, fruity notes of wild berries and orange blossom, honey and ambery notes of labdanum.
- Top notes: aldehydes, West Indian pimento, bay, Sicilian mandarin, Zanzibar clove, plum, Calabrian bergamot, Malaysian pepper and Russian coriander
- Middle notes: Ceylonese cinnamon, French carnation, wild berries, Tunisian orange blossom, Provencal honey, lily of the valley, Grasse rose, French orris, myrrh, peach and Egyptian jasmine
- Base notes: Abyssinian civet, ambergris, incense, Tibetan musk, benzoin, labdanum, myrrh, opoponax, Canadian castoreum, Atlas cedar and Mysore sandalwood
Scent Profile:
Smelling Poison for the first time is like stepping into a chamber where warm air is saturated with spice, fruit, and shadow. Classified as a soft oriental, it begins with a rush of aldehydes—modern, airy molecules that smell fizzy, slightly waxy, and shimmering, as if the surface of the fragrance were lit from within. In Poison, aldehyde C18 lends a creamy, almost peach-skin glow, softening the intensity of the darker notes to come. This shimmering lift immediately mingles with the aromatic fire of West Indian pimento and bay. Pimento berries from the Caribbean are prized for their multifaceted character: a single berry smells simultaneously of clove, cinnamon, and pepper, creating a spicy warmth that feels both exotic and comforting.
Zanzibar clove adds another dimension—sharper, deeper, and more resinous than other clove varieties. Clove from Zanzibar is renowned for its high eugenol content, which gives it a commanding medicinal-spicy bite. Here it foreshadows the floral-carnation heart to come. Sicilian mandarin and Calabrian bergamot brighten this opening with Mediterranean sunlight—mandarin offering sweet, juicy radiance, while bergamot delivers a refined green-citrus profile, smoother and more elegant than other citrus fruits grown elsewhere. Their fleeting brightness draws attention to the darker spices beneath.
From Malaysia comes a pepper that is distinctly citrusy and bright, less abrasive than black pepper grown in other regions. Its sparkle interacts beautifully with Russian coriander, a herbaceous, slightly nutty spice with a soft, floral edge; coriander seeds cultivated in Russia are admired for their cool, clean aromatics that lack the sharpness found in warmer climates. Together they create a spiced top that feels simultaneously cool and hot, like breathing in perfumed steam.
Plum and wild berries swell through this spiced mist, dark and syrupy, the fruit note deepened by gamma-decalactone, a peachy lactone that smells velvety and milky, lending ripe fleshiness. Methyl salicylate contributes a green, minty, wintergreen-like quality that sharpens the berries’ sweetness and keeps them from becoming cloying. In these opening minutes, the fruitiness feels dense and nocturnal, like crushed berries on satin.
As the top notes settle, Poison blooms into its voluptuous middle—a floral heart of extraordinary density. Tunisian orange blossom is the first to rise, lush and narcotic, sweeter and thicker than orange blossom grown in other regions. It is amplified by methyl anthranilate, a powerful natural-synthetic bridge molecule that smells like orange blossom with undertones of Concord grapes, tuberose, and night-blooming flowers. This material magnifies the floral radiance until it becomes almost incandescent.
French carnation follows, bringing its clove-like eugenol brightness and spicy warmth. Carnation from France is admired for its smoothness—never harsh, never medicinal—and in Poison it intertwines with Ceylonese cinnamon. Cinnamon from Sri Lanka (ancient Ceylon) is softer and sweeter than the cassia-type cinnamon found elsewhere; it carries a golden, almost buttery warmth that seems to melt into the honeyed heart.
Then comes Provencal honey—a sun-thickened, aromatic sweetness that feels both edible and floral, its pollen-rich warmth connecting naturally to the rose from Grasse, a region synonymous with exceptional rose cultivation. Grasse rose has a lemony brightness and green undertone that makes it feel almost three-dimensional. Egyptian jasmine adds its opulent, indolic depth; jasmine from Egypt is famed for its richness and body, often described as fruitier and more sensual than jasmine from India or the Mediterranean.
French orris brings the powdery-soft scent of violet petals and warm earth. True aged orris butter is one of perfumery’s most prized materials—its buttery, suede-like texture binding florals and spices into a seamless whole. Lily of the valley contributes its crystalline green-floral freshness, though in Poison it is largely achieved through synthetic molecules that replicate the dewy, airy character of the real flower. Peach lactones provide velvety sweetness, deepening the fruit tones from the top. Drifting underneath all this is myrrh—warm, resinous, balsamic, with a faint medicinal shadow. Myrrh adds depth to the honey and makes the flowers feel darker, more mysterious, and dramatically sensual.
As Poison settles on the skin, it moves into a base that is dense, resinous, and glowing. This is where the fragrance reveals its true oriental soul. Labdanum—the heart of many amber accords—provides a leathery, honeyed, smoky sweetness. Labdanum from the Mediterranean, especially from Cistus ladanifer, is prized for its complexity: sweet, animalic, ambery, balsamic, and faintly herbal all at once. It merges with benzoin, whose vanilla-like warmth adds softness, and opoponax, with its sweet, resinous, faintly powdery character.
Incense rises through these resins in soft curls—smoky but refined, never overwhelming. Myrrh appears again, grounding the sweetness with its ancient, ceremonial depth. Ambergris adds a luminous, diffusive quality; though rarely used in modern perfumery, its scent is marine, warm, slightly animalic, and almost velvety, making the entire composition feel expansive and radiant.
Then come the animalic notes—Abyssinian civet, Canadian castoreum, and Tibetan musk. Civet from Abyssinia (Ethiopia) possesses a warm, creamy, slightly fecal depth, but in refined form it reads as sensual warmth and radiance. Castoreum from Canada evokes fur, leather, and smoky woods. Tibetan musk (historically derived from the musk deer) imparts an enveloping, velvety depth—sweet, powdery, slightly leathery. Though animalics can be challenging, in Poison they operate like the shadows in a painting: essential for dimensionality, never meant to dominate.
Atlas cedar offers dry, aromatic woodiness, smoother and less harsh than other cedar varieties. Mysore sandalwood completes the base—creamy, milky, rich, and sacred-smelling. True Mysore sandalwood is treasured for its warmth and depth, far more buttery and rounded than sandalwood from other regions. The coumarin and vanillin present in the formula enhance these woods with gentle sweetness: coumarin adding hay-like, almond tones, and vanillin supplying soft, comforting warmth.
Heliotropin lends a powdery, almond-vanilla facet that softens the darker notes, while damascenones—powerful aroma molecules—add honeyed rose, dried-fruit richness, and even a touch of tobacco sweetness. These synthetics amplify the natural materials, making the scent feel fuller, rounder, and more diffusive.
To smell Poison is to experience a fragrance that unfolds in waves: spiced brightness, velvety fruit, narcotic flowers, golden resins, animalic warmth, and creamy woods. Every material—whether natural or synthetic, delicate or forceful—plays a role in its hypnotic progression. The spices from Russia, Malaysia, Zanzibar, and Sri Lanka; the florals from Tunisia, Egypt, and Grasse; the resins from ancient trade routes; and the treasured woods from India and Morocco all combine into a composition that feels both global and timeless. It is a scent that lives up to its name—not because it harms, but because it entrances, overwhelms, seduces, and refuses to release its hold.
The Flacon:
The bottle created for Poison was the result of meticulous research and sculptural refinement. Designed to rest naturally in the palm, its rounded form immediately evokes the forbidden apple—a shape that conjures deep cultural associations. One cannot help but think of Snow White and the poisoned fruit that sealed her fate, or of Eve reaching for the apple from the Tree of Knowledge, the bite that “poisoned” Eden and altered humanity’s destiny. Dior understood the psychological power of such imagery: an object that looks innocent, beautiful, and tempting, yet carries an undercurrent of danger. Holding the bottle feels almost ritualistic, as though the wearer is participating in a seductive myth.
The color palette strengthened the drama. The amethyst-purple glass paired with flashes of emerald green created a combination that was, in the words of Jean Pierre Lippmann, Dior’s U.S. president, “bold, rich and different from all other brands.” The shades are jewel-like—sinister yet luxurious, royal yet enigmatic. Interestingly, the exact purple hue was a fortunate accident. Lippmann explained that it emerged from a miscalculation during the development of a promotional roll of film. What could have been a technical error instead produced a tone so mesmerizing that Dior adopted it immediately. The bottle glows like a captured spell: purple that deepens toward black, like the skin of a dangerous fruit ripened under moonlight.
Crowning the bottle is a crystal-ball stopper—a detail that heightens the sense of enchantment. It sits atop the amethyst form like a talisman or an oracle’s globe, reinforcing the idea that Poison is not merely a perfume but a kind of magic, something to be uncorked with intention. Encased in an emerald green moiré presentation box, the fragrance rests as if in a jewel casket. The moiré fabric, with its rippling, water-like pattern, creates the illusion of movement and depth, transforming the unboxing into a small theatrical moment. Every detail—shape, color, texture, light—was conceived to surround the fragrance with mystery, seduction, and a touch of danger.
Together, the bottle and its presentation communicate the essence of Poison before a single drop is smelled: irresistible temptation wrapped in exquisite artifice, a luxurious object that feels both beautiful and ever so slightly perilous.
The bottle created for Poison was the result of meticulous research and sculptural refinement. Designed to rest naturally in the palm, its rounded form immediately evokes the forbidden apple—a shape that conjures deep cultural associations. One cannot help but think of Snow White and the poisoned fruit that sealed her fate, or of Eve reaching for the apple from the Tree of Knowledge, the bite that “poisoned” Eden and altered humanity’s destiny. Dior understood the psychological power of such imagery: an object that looks innocent, beautiful, and tempting, yet carries an undercurrent of danger. Holding the bottle feels almost ritualistic, as though the wearer is participating in a seductive myth.
The color palette strengthened the drama. The amethyst-purple glass paired with flashes of emerald green created a combination that was, in the words of Jean Pierre Lippmann, Dior’s U.S. president, “bold, rich and different from all other brands.” The shades are jewel-like—sinister yet luxurious, royal yet enigmatic. Interestingly, the exact purple hue was a fortunate accident. Lippmann explained that it emerged from a miscalculation during the development of a promotional roll of film. What could have been a technical error instead produced a tone so mesmerizing that Dior adopted it immediately. The bottle glows like a captured spell: purple that deepens toward black, like the skin of a dangerous fruit ripened under moonlight.
Crowning the bottle is a crystal-ball stopper—a detail that heightens the sense of enchantment. It sits atop the amethyst form like a talisman or an oracle’s globe, reinforcing the idea that Poison is not merely a perfume but a kind of magic, something to be uncorked with intention. Encased in an emerald green moiré presentation box, the fragrance rests as if in a jewel casket. The moiré fabric, with its rippling, water-like pattern, creates the illusion of movement and depth, transforming the unboxing into a small theatrical moment. Every detail—shape, color, texture, light—was conceived to surround the fragrance with mystery, seduction, and a touch of danger.
Together, the bottle and its presentation communicate the essence of Poison before a single drop is smelled: irresistible temptation wrapped in exquisite artifice, a luxurious object that feels both beautiful and ever so slightly perilous.
Product Line:
Poison first appeared in a range of carefully tiered concentrations, each designed to shape the fragrance’s dramatic signature in a slightly different way. The richest form, Esprit de Parfum, offered an Eau de Parfum strength with an almost parfum-like density. In this version, Poison revealed its fullest character: the spices curled more slowly, the fruit accord felt plush and opaque, and the resinous, ambery base lingered with an enveloping softness. Sold in splash and spray bottles—including 1.7 oz, 1 oz, and 0.5 oz splashes as well as a 1 oz spray and a 0.33 oz refillable purse spray—this concentration allowed the wearer to control application, creating either a delicate aura or a commanding trail.
Esprit de Parfum (still being sold in 1996).- 1.7 oz Splash
- 1 oz Splash
- 0.5 oz Splash
- 1 oz Spray
- 0.33 oz Refillable purse spray
Esprit de Parfum Concentration Proche du Parfum:
A step further in refinement was Esprit de Parfum – Concentration Proche du Parfum, introduced in 1987. Often described as a “soft perfume concentration,” it bridged the space between Eau de Parfum and extrait. It softened some of Poison’s sharpest facets while amplifying the velvety, honeyed, and floral heart. This formulation delivered greater longevity than the standard Eau de Parfum but felt cushioned and quieter, as though the wildness of the berries and spices had been smoothed by a silk veil. It remained in production into the early 1990s, a testament to its popularity among those who loved Poison’s richness but preferred a more intimate expression.
The Eau de Toilette offered a brighter, more expansive interpretation. In this concentration, the mandarin, plum, and coriander sparkled more vividly, while the white flowers unfurled with greater lift. The EDT emphasized radiance over density, making Poison feel more airborne and energetic. It was widely available—through 0.17 oz minis, sprays in 1.7 oz, 3.4 oz, and 6.8 oz sizes, and corresponding splashes—appealing to wearers who wanted the drama of Poison without its full nocturnal depth.
Eau de Toilette- 0.17 oz Mini Spray
- 1.7 oz Spray
- 3.4 oz Spray
- 6.8 oz Spray
- 1.7 oz Splash
- 3.4 oz Splash
- 6.8 oz Splash
Esprit de Parfum (still being sold in 1996).
- 1.7 oz Splash
- 1 oz Splash
- 0.5 oz Splash
- 1 oz Spray
- 0.33 oz Refillable purse spray
Esprit de Parfum Concentration Proche du Parfum:
A step further in refinement was Esprit de Parfum – Concentration Proche du Parfum, introduced in 1987. Often described as a “soft perfume concentration,” it bridged the space between Eau de Parfum and extrait. It softened some of Poison’s sharpest facets while amplifying the velvety, honeyed, and floral heart. This formulation delivered greater longevity than the standard Eau de Parfum but felt cushioned and quieter, as though the wildness of the berries and spices had been smoothed by a silk veil. It remained in production into the early 1990s, a testament to its popularity among those who loved Poison’s richness but preferred a more intimate expression.
The Eau de Toilette offered a brighter, more expansive interpretation. In this concentration, the mandarin, plum, and coriander sparkled more vividly, while the white flowers unfurled with greater lift. The EDT emphasized radiance over density, making Poison feel more airborne and energetic. It was widely available—through 0.17 oz minis, sprays in 1.7 oz, 3.4 oz, and 6.8 oz sizes, and corresponding splashes—appealing to wearers who wanted the drama of Poison without its full nocturnal depth.
Eau de Toilette
- 0.17 oz Mini Spray
- 1.7 oz Spray
- 3.4 oz Spray
- 6.8 oz Spray
- 1.7 oz Splash
- 3.4 oz Splash
- 6.8 oz Splash
The lightest traditional concentration, Eau de Cologne, provided a translucent wash of the fragrance. Here, the fruit and citrus elements glimmered softly, while the heavier notes of musk, incense, and resin receded into a gentle hum. This form made Poison more approachable for daytime wear, offering a refreshing, breezier style without sacrificing its recognizable signature. It came in refillable purse sprays as well as 1 oz, 1.7 oz, 3.4 oz, and 6.8 oz sprays.
Eau de Cologne:- 0.25 oz Refillable purse spray
- 1 oz Spray
- 1.7 oz Spray
- 3.4 oz Spray
- 6.8 oz Spray
Responding to the growing demand for softer interpretations, Dior later introduced Poison Light Cologne in June 1989. Still available in the mid-1990s, it was designed to reinterpret the fragrance with a cooler, more modern ease. Rather than diluting the scent, this version intentionally shifted its emphasis: the spicy facets felt more diffused, the fruit accord more crystalline, and the floral heart less opulent. It retained the identity of Poison but wrapped it in a gentler, more luminous structure. Offered in 1.7 oz and 3.4 oz splashes and a 3.4 oz spray, it became an appealing alternative for those who loved the concept of Poison but wanted it softened for warm climates or casual use.
Light Cologne (still sold in 1994)- 1.7 oz Splash
- 3.4 oz Spray
- 3.4 oz Splash
The lightest traditional concentration, Eau de Cologne, provided a translucent wash of the fragrance. Here, the fruit and citrus elements glimmered softly, while the heavier notes of musk, incense, and resin receded into a gentle hum. This form made Poison more approachable for daytime wear, offering a refreshing, breezier style without sacrificing its recognizable signature. It came in refillable purse sprays as well as 1 oz, 1.7 oz, 3.4 oz, and 6.8 oz sprays.
Eau de Cologne:
- 0.25 oz Refillable purse spray
- 1 oz Spray
- 1.7 oz Spray
- 3.4 oz Spray
- 6.8 oz Spray
Responding to the growing demand for softer interpretations, Dior later introduced Poison Light Cologne in June 1989. Still available in the mid-1990s, it was designed to reinterpret the fragrance with a cooler, more modern ease. Rather than diluting the scent, this version intentionally shifted its emphasis: the spicy facets felt more diffused, the fruit accord more crystalline, and the floral heart less opulent. It retained the identity of Poison but wrapped it in a gentler, more luminous structure. Offered in 1.7 oz and 3.4 oz splashes and a 3.4 oz spray, it became an appealing alternative for those who loved the concept of Poison but wanted it softened for warm climates or casual use.
Light Cologne (still sold in 1994)
- 1.7 oz Splash
- 3.4 oz Spray
- 3.4 oz Splash
The Launch:
Dior poured extraordinary resources into Poison, convinced that this bold new fragrance could expand the house’s presence in the global perfume market. As company executive Slater explained, “In the U.S., we’re in the top 10 in fragrance and cosmetics, but we should be much, much stronger. We’re hoping Poison is a springboard…and will help project us into greater volume.” For Dior, subtlety was not an option. “You can’t tiptoe into this market,” Slater said. “You have to march.”
By early August, the strategy appeared to be working. Poison had already generated $500,000 in sales, the most successful launch in the company’s history at that point. Still, Slater cautioned that the true measure of success would lie not in the initial excitement but in sustained performance: “The main test is not the launch, but the release. And the resale in Europe is tremendous.” During its early rollout, Poison was test-marketed in the United States, France, England, and Japan, each showing strong early enthusiasm.
The in-store promotions matched Dior’s investment and ambition. Retail counters were transformed into theatrical stages: giant amethyst-colored factices towered over displays, surrounded by long, scented peacock feathers, complimentary samples, and brand ambassadors dressed in emerald-green jackets and black skirts who announced the fragrance’s arrival with confident flair. Advertising echoed the same drama—a heavily made-up model clutching a bottle of Poison, while a panther prowled in the shadows behind her, projecting danger, seduction, and a touch of the forbidden.
One of Poison’s most spectacular unveilings took place at Galeries Lafayette in Paris in October 1985. The event became a sensation. A massive, suspended replica of the bottle—illuminated by lasers—hung from the ceiling, mesmerizing the enormous crowds that filled the store. According to Jacques Perusse, vice president of Prestilux, the Montreal firm representing Dior perfumes in Canada, Poison sold at the rate of one bottle every 50 seconds during this launch. For several days, it felt as though all of Paris had gathered simply to experience the fragrance.
The momentum quickly spread across Europe. At Harrods in London, the bottle became the star of the store’s Christmas catalog. In Singapore’s CK Tang, the fragrance dominated the entire retail environment: showcased in every boutique, featured in all display windows, replicated on floor-to-ceiling banners, and—most importantly—worn on the wrists of countless customers. Shoppers embraced Poison so enthusiastically that it sold at the rate of one bottle every 42 seconds. In Australia, Dior invested $500,000 in a promotional campaign that included a lavish launch event, a press luncheon, nationwide magazine and cinema advertisements, and extensive in-store presentations. Across the continent, Poison rose to the top of fragrance sales charts. It became the best-selling scent in France, Italy, Holland, Germany, Switzerland, Spain, and throughout the Middle East.
Its impact overseas was unforgettable. Industry veterans described Poison’s international promotion and initial sales as the most dramatic they had ever witnessed. The fragrance arrived in North America through Vancouver in July 1986, timed to coincide with Expo ’86, and immediately outperformed four established Dior scents. From August 18th–23rd, it was sold exclusively at Eaton’s stores in Canada before expanding to Bretton’s, The Bay, Holt Renfrew, and other major retailers across the country.Industry analysts understood exactly what was at stake. “They never really had a successful fragrance here,” observed cosmetics consultant Allan G. Mottus. “It’s tremendously important to them because it would give them credibility with American retailers.” The risks were equally clear: if Poison failed, Dior’s already fragile position in the American market would weaken further, making future launches even more challenging.
To succeed in the United States, Dior tailored Poison’s formulation and marketing to American tastes. U.S. consumers preferred scents with strong longevity—perfumes that continued to bloom throughout the day without the need for repeated application. Poison’s bold concentration met that expectation. Mottus also remarked that Americans had grown increasingly comfortable with stronger fragrances, especially as demographics shifted: one’s sense of smell diminishes with age, and the American consumer is growing older. The intensity of Poison, therefore, was not a liability but an advantage.Through spectacle, daring, and strategic insight, Poison achieved what Dior hoped for: it captured attention, commanded the market, and established itself as a defining fragrance of its era.
Dior poured extraordinary resources into Poison, convinced that this bold new fragrance could expand the house’s presence in the global perfume market. As company executive Slater explained, “In the U.S., we’re in the top 10 in fragrance and cosmetics, but we should be much, much stronger. We’re hoping Poison is a springboard…and will help project us into greater volume.” For Dior, subtlety was not an option. “You can’t tiptoe into this market,” Slater said. “You have to march.”
By early August, the strategy appeared to be working. Poison had already generated $500,000 in sales, the most successful launch in the company’s history at that point. Still, Slater cautioned that the true measure of success would lie not in the initial excitement but in sustained performance: “The main test is not the launch, but the release. And the resale in Europe is tremendous.” During its early rollout, Poison was test-marketed in the United States, France, England, and Japan, each showing strong early enthusiasm.
The in-store promotions matched Dior’s investment and ambition. Retail counters were transformed into theatrical stages: giant amethyst-colored factices towered over displays, surrounded by long, scented peacock feathers, complimentary samples, and brand ambassadors dressed in emerald-green jackets and black skirts who announced the fragrance’s arrival with confident flair. Advertising echoed the same drama—a heavily made-up model clutching a bottle of Poison, while a panther prowled in the shadows behind her, projecting danger, seduction, and a touch of the forbidden.
One of Poison’s most spectacular unveilings took place at Galeries Lafayette in Paris in October 1985. The event became a sensation. A massive, suspended replica of the bottle—illuminated by lasers—hung from the ceiling, mesmerizing the enormous crowds that filled the store. According to Jacques Perusse, vice president of Prestilux, the Montreal firm representing Dior perfumes in Canada, Poison sold at the rate of one bottle every 50 seconds during this launch. For several days, it felt as though all of Paris had gathered simply to experience the fragrance.
The momentum quickly spread across Europe. At Harrods in London, the bottle became the star of the store’s Christmas catalog. In Singapore’s CK Tang, the fragrance dominated the entire retail environment: showcased in every boutique, featured in all display windows, replicated on floor-to-ceiling banners, and—most importantly—worn on the wrists of countless customers. Shoppers embraced Poison so enthusiastically that it sold at the rate of one bottle every 42 seconds. In Australia, Dior invested $500,000 in a promotional campaign that included a lavish launch event, a press luncheon, nationwide magazine and cinema advertisements, and extensive in-store presentations. Across the continent, Poison rose to the top of fragrance sales charts. It became the best-selling scent in France, Italy, Holland, Germany, Switzerland, Spain, and throughout the Middle East.
Its impact overseas was unforgettable. Industry veterans described Poison’s international promotion and initial sales as the most dramatic they had ever witnessed. The fragrance arrived in North America through Vancouver in July 1986, timed to coincide with Expo ’86, and immediately outperformed four established Dior scents. From August 18th–23rd, it was sold exclusively at Eaton’s stores in Canada before expanding to Bretton’s, The Bay, Holt Renfrew, and other major retailers across the country.
Industry analysts understood exactly what was at stake. “They never really had a successful fragrance here,” observed cosmetics consultant Allan G. Mottus. “It’s tremendously important to them because it would give them credibility with American retailers.” The risks were equally clear: if Poison failed, Dior’s already fragile position in the American market would weaken further, making future launches even more challenging.
To succeed in the United States, Dior tailored Poison’s formulation and marketing to American tastes. U.S. consumers preferred scents with strong longevity—perfumes that continued to bloom throughout the day without the need for repeated application. Poison’s bold concentration met that expectation. Mottus also remarked that Americans had grown increasingly comfortable with stronger fragrances, especially as demographics shifted: one’s sense of smell diminishes with age, and the American consumer is growing older. The intensity of Poison, therefore, was not a liability but an advantage.
Through spectacle, daring, and strategic insight, Poison achieved what Dior hoped for: it captured attention, commanded the market, and established itself as a defining fragrance of its era.
Awards:
Poison’s meteoric rise was affirmed not only by its commercial success but also by two of the perfume industry’s most coveted honors. In 1986, just a year after its debut, the fragrance won the esteemed Catherine de Médici Award for Fragrance of the Year, an accolade named for the 16th-century French queen who is often credited with helping to establish France’s perfume tradition. This award recognizes exceptional creativity, craftsmanship, and innovation—qualities that reflect Catherine de Médici’s own role in introducing refined perfumery to the French court. For Poison to receive this honor signaled that Dior had created something more than a bestselling scent; it had produced a fragrance seen by experts as bold, original, and historically resonant.
Two years later, Poison captured another pinnacle distinction: the FiFi Award, often referred to within the industry as “the Oscars of perfumery.” Established by The Fragrance Foundation, the FiFis honor the year’s most outstanding achievements in fragrance creation, marketing, packaging, and overall artistic impact. Winning a FiFi places a perfume among the most influential scents of its era, recognized by leading perfumers, designers, retailers, and fragrance professionals.
For Poison, earning both awards—the Catherine de Médici in 1986 and the FiFi in 1988—confirmed its status as a cultural and olfactory force. These honors validated Dior’s ambition, creative risk, and extraordinary investment, marking the fragrance not only as a commercial triumph but also as a landmark artistic accomplishment in modern perfumery.
Ancillary Products:
Dior extended the world of Poison far beyond the perfume bottle by introducing an entire luxury bath line, each product designed to envelop the wearer in what the company described as its “new temptation, new seduction, new emotion.” These additions allowed customers not just to wear Poison, but to immerse themselves in it—layering the fragrance from bath to skin to final veil.
The line opened with Gel Opale Pour le Corps et la Douche, a perfumed bath and shower gel formulated to release aromatic clouds of the fragrance as warm water hit the skin. The gel offered a soft lather, tinting the bathing ritual with the scent’s signature spice, fruit, and honeyed resin. To lock in moisture and fragrance afterward, Dior presented Crème Somptueuse Pour le Corps, a perfumed body lotion described as sumptuous—its texture rich enough to anchor the scent while leaving the skin smooth and lightly luminous.
For those who favored softer, more traditionally feminine grooming products, Dior created Fleur de Talc, a perfumed talcum powder that laid down a silky finish, subtly diffusing the perfume’s sweeter tones. Complementing this was Poudre Sublime Pour le Corps, a perfumed dusting powder designed for an indulgent final step after bathing, imparting both fragrance and a whisper-light, velvety feel across the body.
Completing the range was Savon Précieux en Écrin, a perfumed soap presented in an elegant case. It carried the same deep, opulent scent but in a solid form, turning the most everyday act—washing one’s hands—into a refined encounter with Poison.
Together, these products formed a complete scented universe, allowing wearers to experience Poison not as a single moment of application but as an enveloping ritual. Through soaps, lotions, powders, and gels, Dior ensured that the fragrance became not just a perfume but a lifestyle of sensuality, luxury, and unmistakable presence.
Bangle Bottle:
Among the more imaginative extensions of the Poison universe was the Poison bangle bracelet, introduced in 1985—a striking fusion of fashion accessory and hidden perfume vessel. Designed to be worn as jewelry yet functioning as a portable fragrance container, it embodied the daring, theatrical spirit that defined the entire Poison launch.
The bracelet itself was crafted as a rigid bangle, finished in black and green enamel—the same deep, jewel-toned palette used for the iconic amethyst bottle and emerald presentation box. The enamel was set against brass detailing, giving the piece a luxurious weight and a subtle metallic warmth that contrasted beautifully with the cool, glossy enamel surface. At each end of the bangle, clear crystal caps added a refined sparkle, echoing the crystal stopper of the full-sized bottle.
One of these crystal ends was engineered to unscrew, revealing a hidden chamber inside the bracelet designed to hold a small amount of the Poison fragrance. The wearer could discreetly access the perfume for a quick touch-up, turning the bangle into both an adornment and a functional scent accessory—very much in keeping with the opulent, almost decadent aesthetic Dior cultivated for Poison.
The piece measured 11½ inches in outer circumference with a diameter of 4 inches, a substantial size that allowed it to sit prominently on the wrist. As with Dior’s other luxury objects, this bracelet was proudly marked, signed “Poison, Christian Dior, Paris,” confirming its authenticity and underscoring its role not simply as an accessory, but as a collectible item.
This perfume bangle captured the essence of Poison—bold, mysterious, and unapologetically dramatic—offering the wearer a way to carry the scent not in a bottle tucked inside a handbag, but as a visible, wearable statement of style and seduction.
Today, you can still purchase Poison on Dior's website (2025).