Tommy is an ordinary guy, living alone in his small apartment, working a regular job, has a normal girlfriend, and spends his money on normal things.
Tommy doesn't care about luxury, let alone perfume. But...Tommy listens to jazz.
He doesn't just listen to it, he lives it. He listens to it on his turntable, dances, sleeps, and listens to it whenever he has the time.
Tommy wears a gray flat cap, a white shirt, a gray vest, gray pants, and black patent shoes. And no, that's not Tommy's going-out outfit, nooo, that's how he always walks around.
His friends hear the word "jazz," and Tommy immediately comes to mind. If he had to be described in one word, it would probably be "jazz." So, at the end of the week, Tommy finds himself once again on his couch, the temperature in the living room far too high, as he has once again forgotten to turn off the heating. All his friends are busy, just like his girlfriend.
Tommy lights a few candles in his small cozy living room and gets his amaretto from the kitchen, places it on the small glass coffee table, and puts on his favorite record: "Jazz Noire."
He sits down on his old couch, opens a few buttons on his shirt, loosens his shoes, and pours himself a drink.
Tommy admires the golden-brown drop in the candlelight, swirls the glass around once or twice.
And takes a small sip while in the background Benny Golson plays the tenor saxophone...