Beautynomics
Oh, how I didn’t need to sniff those tantalizinge little vessels of the Tom Ford Private Blend collection lined up at the fragrance counter, each housing its own über-glam, über-pricey juice. I suppose I have a love-hate relationship with Tom Ford, and, in light of our ever-escalating economic crisis, I’ve almost convinced myself that all things ultra-luxe and exclusive (oh what coveted words in the beauty industry) are just simply in bad taste in today’s climate. I declare myself immune to Mr. Ford’s siren song. I tell myself that I already own enough collectibles to represent his contribution to style: the bronze handbag festooned with his iconic gold panther, from his 1990’s revival of the Gucci brand; consignment store and EBay finds from his post at Yves Saint Laurent; those ubiquitous Whitney sunglasses from his own line.
And yet, I cannot bear to walk by that row of testers, the sleek apothecary bottles lined up like chessmen on a board. I take a whiff of each elixir, each one presumed to be a vision of everything that is sexy, womanly, sensuous and supremely chic, and I think to myself “Yes, I need to get me some of that.” But, somehow, none of them is speaking to me, nor moving my hand towards my wallet. At $180 a bottle, I was expecting to be swept away. I keep moving along down the row of thirteen scents, each time letting out a sigh of financial relief. On the whole, they are lovely, some weirdly hip and some even inspirational, all mostly single notes enveloped with complex secondary notes, and all with a faint warm, amber-y thread running through. Each one great for a sample vial, maybe something to tuck into my bronze handbag on a night out, but not bottle-worthy. And then, I reach the final bottle, Neroli Portofino.
Harmless enough, I think, as I already own an embarrassingly large number of orange-blossomy-Neroli scents, and surely this one is just a variation on the theme. Not so. This Neroli is unlike anything I’ve encountered, with a luminous floral quality that seems full and round, heady without being at all cloying. It’s got no place in the usual safe floral-citrus lineup, of that I am convinced. But, the $180 price tag? Seriously. Then I am reminded of the real power of perfumery: it has the ability to transport you out of your element and into another world entirely, whatever world emanates happiness for you at that time. I know that this year, with all things considered, my husband and I will not be going on an extravagant overseas vacation. We won’t be strolling on the Seine, we won’t be on a gourmand tour of Normandy, and we most definitely won’t be frollicking in the Neroli blossoms in Portofino. But, with the heavy decanter in my hand, it just doesn’t matter. I am allowed a little bit of fantasy as I carry my glossy Tom Ford Beauty bag out of the store, smelling my wrist every thirteen seconds to prolong the experience. I’m going to spray it with abandon, any time that I need to channel Italy.
I know that historically, economic downturns inspire people to look inward, take on more lofty, humanitarian, intellectual or spiritual pursuits. I’m not oblivious – I fully realize that there is nothing remotely lofty or cerebral about collecting fragrances. But…I put it not into the world’s “Big Picture “ per se, but in the big picture of my own life, and tell myself that this may not be the year for the eighteen-thousand-dollar jaunt across Europe, but, with some creative budgeting and leftovers for dinner, I can swing the bottle of perfume.
Tom Ford Beauty Neroli Portofino Eau de Parfum from the Private Blend Collection; $180 for 1.7 ounces, neimanmarcus.com.
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