My Experience With Christian Dior’s Poison

Was back in the 90’s when I was just a preteen misfit. My babysitter at the time had brought a drunken friend over who passed out on the couch to sleep off a hangover while I was on the way to school. I walked over to her inebriated skanky person and noticed she had left her purse open. I looked in to make sure she didn’t have drugs because the LAST thing I wanted is to leave to school wondering if there were drugs in the house where my brother (who was still a child at the time) might get curious and accidently ingest some.

I looked around her bag…
condom
wallet
cigarettes
very nice zippo lighter
something which I think was a pregnancy test (could have been a spermicide applicator)
keys
loose change
ripped paper with an unknown number on it
and…

a most intriguing dark purple bottle.

poison

It was fairly new, for the bottle was mostly full and I can smell its magic faintly from the sprayer. I went ahead and spritzed some in the air and was immediately wrapped in a fog of seductive complexity. It was sweet but far from “girly”, it was the scent of mystery and ambiguity…sophisticated and distinctive. I turned the bottle to view its name and realized, ironically, I had been…Poisoned. After the smoke weakened and lingered…I looked over to the passed out woman and looked back at the bottle.

It was then when I knew, I had to save this perfume from the clutches of this unworthy bimbo. So it was then, where Poison became my potion. An untypical action of mine that I felt was a necessary evil.

On my skin (then and to this day) the scent seems to repel females but attract males (or those who are Two Spirited)…which I certainly felt was an advantage. I wore it mainly for myself, because it made me feel really good and whenever I spritz it on I remember our dirty past together. It seduced me into doing something I was told not to do. But how could I resist?

It was Eve…
the apple…
and the serpent.

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