The word on the strasse is that crooner and pop video lounge lizard Bryan Ferry is an Ormonde Man man. If only I could disguise myself as one of his album cover glamazons and get close enough to smell him myself.
As it happens, I have been close enough to the Bryatollah to smell his cologne, but I was so excited, any breathing, much less smelling, was temporarily suspended. This was at a Philip Treacy fashion show in London years back. As thrilled as I was to witness Kate Moss walking the runway in Philip's fantasy hats, I was beyond a-fuzzed to see Byran Ferry sitting in the front row just across from me! How perfect a scenario was that? Bryan Ferry! At a fashion show! With models! Probably shopping for his next heartbreak!
I barely waited for the final model to horse-stomp off the catwalk before I barreled across it to force myself on my art-pop hero. A mutual friend kindly introduced us. Bryan fixed his intense gaze on the middle distance somewhere beyond the top of my head.
“Ah yes,” he murmured, “I’m a distant admirer....”
At first I was pleased - had he seen a TV show I’d hosted? But then - hey, WAIT a minute! What was with this “distant” jazz? As Bryan drifted off in the swarm of flashbulbs and fabulosity, I felt a creeping humiliation. Did Bryan Ferry just diss me? Then I relaxed. Ferry was just too smooth for me to take any real offense. Face it, even the guy’s back-handed compliments are classy. Just like Ormonde Man.