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The Tender Trap at The Fumoir

Of all of the gin joints, in all of the world, The Fumoir is the one filled with the most sex-appeal. Even when relatively empty it’s so alluring that an atmosphere steadily fills the room like the curling blue-grey smoke of a burning cigarette pressed against lips of Ava Gardner. As the martini in your glass slowly disappears sip by sip, you start to smell the heady tobacco combined with the scent of Mitsouko from her neckline. Emboldened, you look up and gaze at her directly in the eye; she looks back unflinching, so elegant and haughty, and so far above caring about your opinion, that it’s attractive as hell. When crowded and fawned over by everyone in the room she looks even better.

 

Eventually you’ll leave alone. Looking back, as you close the glass door behind you, you’ll catch her eye once more and see a sparkle. You know right then, you’ll be back again. 

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