Even before I took my debut sniff of Tom Ford’s mainstream fragrance line, the retro-glam bottles captivated me. The opaque glass flasks are textured like needle-rib corduroy, with possible off-label use as a cellulite massager.
The elegant bottle is what drew me to Ford’s White Patchouli first. “Oooh...” I crooned as I fondled the bottle’s milky-white ridges. “Arghh!” I yelped as the eau de parfum seared my sinuses with synthetic-smelling florals the size and shape of a skyscraper. (And depleted a week's supply of words beginning with “s”.)
After sulking for a bit, I begrudgingly approached Black Orchid, which had already gotten the thumbs-up from men and women I knew who lived for loucheness and grand statements. You know, “theatre types”. And sure enough, Black Orchid is nothing if not theatrical: a little showy, a little contrived, but always entertaining. Encore!