Oh Dearest Tom Ford,
I don't know why you up and left Gucci all those many years ago right as your career with them hit legendary status, thusly turning the fashion world arse over teakettle.
But let me tell you something. If it leads you to produce a fragrance line that smells like a little slice of heaven and show up at my home-away-from-home (Harvey Nichols) to meet all of your London worshipers, then I finally accept your decision.
Yours truly, madly, deeply,
P.S. You're hot.
P.P.S. Are you quite sure you're not straight?
P.P.P.S. Because I'm certain you were flirting with me when you said how cute my Southern accent was.