Tom Ford: Black Orchid
Somebody crapped in my back garden last night.
Not a euphemism. Actually happened.
Day 26 of the Heapnose perfume diary. Today I am wearing Tom Ford’s Black Orchid.
There are some perfumes I wear because they make me feel pretty. Others I wear because they make me feel sexy. There are a few (a very select few), mostly reserved for job interviews and airplane travel that make me feel powerful. There is only one perfume that I wear, simply because I fancy the arse off the designer.
God Bless Tom Ford.
Is it the well groomed brows, or the expensive manicure? Perhaps it’s the uncompromising approach to tailoring in a world where flip flops at the office have become de rigeur. Or maybe it’s just the infinite and unparalleled success. Everything he touches turns to gold.
Tom Ford has his own Black Orchid, He’s (imaginatively) named it “Tom Ford’s Black Orchid.” Given that there exist only four in the world, that’s pretty impressive. Given that Tom Ford owns one quarter of the world’s total supply of Black Orchids, one would have hoped he could have come up with a better name for it. Like Stuart. Or Gomez.
So where are we so far? Someone crapped in my back garden last night. Tom Ford owns a Black Orchid. I fancy Tom Ford. The, perfume, of course, the perfume.
Suffice to say it’s exquisite. Absolutely exquisite. It oozes expense, sophistication and strength. It is unlike anything else currently available, effortlessly fusing the vintage credibility of the ancient French parfumeurie, with the glamour and sophistication of present day New York. The sensory equivalent of a really first rate dining experience: Dripping with guilt and wildly overpriced.
Somebody crapped in my back garden last night. Here is another picture of Tom Ford.