Poison Girl Dior

The citrus attack is immediate and surprisingly tart, those Sicilian oranges creating genuine juice-like brightness rather than the typical creamy bergamot you'd expect from a designer fragrance. Within the first five minutes, a slight floral whisper appears beneath, but the acidic fruit maintains absolute dominance—you're not smelling roses yet, just their faint promise beneath the citric sting.

By the second hour, the rose and neroli have established themselves with quiet authority, their slightly green, peppery character creating a sophisticated tension against the lingering citrus. The tonka emerges gradually, introducing a burnt caramel and roasted hazelnut undertone that prevents the floral from becoming delicate or traditionally pretty; the entire composition now reads as composed rather than effusive.

The fragrance retreats considerably here—longevity and sillage are genuinely its weaknesses—but what remains is primarily the tonka-vanilla base with faint floral echoes. The oranges have vanished almost entirely, leaving behind a soft, slightly powdered sweetness with just enough savoury edge from the roasted tonka to prevent it from feeling like conventional vanillia gourmand.