My video review may be about the de-lovely Neroli Portofino by Tom Ford, but this bloggy blurb is concerned with swellegant Tom Ford himself. Specifically, with his declared four-bath-a-day habit.
The dapper neatnik manages a global empire of glamour, a long-term committed relationship, perfectly manicured stubble, and a rigorous schedule of executive-level bathing. Hats off (or everything off, if it's bathtime -- which is all the time for Tom Ford) to you, sir!
Non-stop splashy-splashy (or to quote TF, "meditative soaking") is on my mind, because I'm writing this in the 100-degree-plus heat of my un-air conditioned Los Angeles apartment. Externally, my skin is an arid expanse of roasted parchment. Internally, my organs are reconfiguring into stewed prune versions of themselves.
I'm coping by taking a page out of Tom's (deerskin leather-bound, limited edition of one) book and indulging in frequent bathing. I've had a bath and a shower so far today, and I foresee two more showers before the moon is high.
|Attractive nudists gamely smile through their somewhat slipshod aim.|
(In my desperation, I've also invented a portable cooling device: a gallon-sized baggie of frozen plastic ice cubes, nestled tenderly on my crotch. I'm going to invent an anatomical reason and say that a cool groin regulates the rest of the body's temperature. Feel free to try it out, Tom Ford and the rest of you non-Tom Fords. Note: this technique works only while sitting, unless you're keen to invent an unwieldy form of hacky sack.)
It turns out that Neroli Portofino body oil is the perfect addition to my urban desert survival tactics. It smells just like the namesake eau de parfum, but has added moisturizing benefits, returning my roasted parchment to suavely soft skin.
Until the next bath.