Monday, 28 June 2010

Tom Ford, I think I love you even if you are a bit creepy...

Tom Ford is a bit creepy right, it's not just me? Don't get me wrong, I think he's brilliant and would be completely starstruck if I was ever lucky enough to meet him.
But he's just too smooth looking.
When a man is so focused on his veneer it's always a bit odd. I don't know why. It shouldn't be really. Especially for me, as JFK takes a lot of pride in the way he looks and is almost always dressed impeccably in a crisp white shirt, black jeans with turn ups, slicked back hair and shiny, shiny shoes. And he makes me go weak at the knees.
But Tom Ford takes it too far - he's too perfect, too glossy and too 'done'. Like those ladies who lunch who look amazing until they try to move their faces and you realise that they are physically incapable of movement above the neck and probably stay thin by eating baby food because they have no other choice as their jaw is too damaged by surgery to actually chew anything.
The difference is that when Tom Ford moves it doesn't look painful and we all follow instead of recoiling in disgust. This is possibly because he looks like sex and money, but that's not really enough otherwise we'd all be following oily men on yachts and frankly I can't be the only one who finds that idea a bit repulsive. No, I think it's actually because he appears to be as much of a perfectionist about everything he touches as he is about his own appearance, and we all want some of that perfection.
He's sort of like King Midas, but with style instead of gold.
His film, A Single Man, won over most audience members by being styled to perfection. When the characters emoted, moved (or ceased to), or just sat still, they did it so stylishly you cried.
His perfumes are equally well considered, although they are a bit heady for my taste and far too expensive to ever be within my reach unless I win the lottery, in which case I probably would still find better things to spend my millions on. Like a big country house I could fill with thousands of kittens. Or Alexander McQueen shoes.
They are also beautifully packaged. The only misstep is that the hyper-sexualised imagery he uses to sell them is beginning to feel a bit passe now. Gratuitous nudity is getting a bit dull. In fact at the moment every time I see a photo shoot or an exhibition with yet more pictures of private parts in it, I wince. We want to smell sexy, not have sex shoved in our faces on the tube when reading a magazine.
But the thing that has made me fall head over heels in love with this slightly creepy yet profoundly talented and oddly wonderful man is his lipsticks.
I know I'm a bit late to jump on this bandwagon, but even the thought of stepping inside Selfridges with my bank balance the way it was was just too depressing, let alone trying on a £35 lipstick. Yes, £35. Really. I'm not lying. I know, it is INSANE. But I was paid on Friday, and while I can't exactly afford any of the things I was hoping I would be able to, I did allow myself £40 to spend in Selfridges sale.
I managed to pick up an Alexander Wang racer back dress and vest for £20 each, so was feeling fairly pleased with myself. And then I went to the beauty hall, resolving to spend nothing, try as much as I could, and maybe scab some free samples of things. Instead I got to the bottom of the escalator and was immediately distracted by the Tom Ford lipstick stand where a woman was having the most perfect lipstick colour I have ever seen applied. I tried every single one of the Tom Ford lipsticks on the back of my hand, and he has not put even a hair on a toe wrong, let alone a whole foot. They look a bit bling and undeniably Tom Ford-ish - satisfyingly chunky rectangular cubes of white and gold with the legend TF imprinted into the lipstick inside. They are perfection in a lipstick.
I tried on True Coral, an intense orangey pink that would normally be terrifying. And it was, yes, perfect (are we bored of this word yet? I can't help using it here, sorry). It lasted through a shower and a private view at the Serpentine Gallery and even a bit of snogging.
Of course I didn't buy it - £35 is my food budget for an entire week and I'd just spent my fripperies allowance on Wang. But I think I probably will eventually. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to find a good match for the colour on every other beauty counter in Selfridges and in Boots, Liberty and Fenwicks. Nothing really comes close. I haven't tried any of the other colours on properly yet, I was too scared of what it might do to me. I don't think my brain can handle wanting that many lipsticks so intensley at one time.
I take it back, if I won the lottery I would buy all the Tom Ford lipsticks in multiples. I would give them to my closest friends. I would give them to my mum and all my cousins. Because you have to share this kind of love or else it will consume you.


  1. Agree on all points. I want the pinky nude one because I am a boring bastard, but cannot afford either. Tristesse.

  2. He is TOTALLY sex and money. I won a pair of his sunglasses in the office raffle and I swear every time I put them on I feel a bit like sex and money too...

  3. Argh, I want to win a pair of Tom Ford sunglasses in an office raffle! Sadly, the best thing I can hope for is yet another architecture book with lots of plans and elevations and serious interviews. Can we swap?