Tom Ford Black Orchid: moon, moon, flowers, flowers

The children of the sun, according to his description, prefer action to any contemplation. They possess an astonishing ability to lose themselves in life, diving headlong into its turbulent waters. Their movements are direct, confident, and strong. They withstand blows steadfastly, because they always have a clear goal before their eyes. Abstract questions about the meaning of life rarely trouble them, and this, it must be admitted, is not a flaw at all. The children of the sun sleep well after sunset. They fall asleep easily, their sleep deep and beneficial. But where the day ends for them, for the children of the moon, everything is just beginning.

A friend of mine asked me what scent I would choose for someone with a lunar personality. Surprisingly, the answer came almost immediately: Black Orchid by Tom Ford.

Why Black Orchid? Because it smells like night. It's like wandering beneath the moon's white, even glow, among flowers and fruit trees shimmering with a magical light. One moment, you smell a ripe nectarine—its firm, dark skin concealing its juicy flesh. A moment later, you smell osmanthus blossoms, plucked by a sharp gust of autumn wind, carrying the sweet scent of damp earth carpeted with golden foliage. And suddenly, autumn gives way to spring, and you're already inhaling the heady scent of indolic jasmine, suffused with the thick spring fog.

I long to capture the essence of the scent, but it constantly eludes me, compelling me to peer into its darkness again and again, mesmerized. Hypnotic, alluring, and... melancholy. I find it difficult to define it as feminine or masculine. One moment it flows with delicate flowers and musk, but then everything changes, and rough patchouli and brown leather dominate. Yes, mobility and changeability are its most constant traits.