'WHAT DAY IS your sock?' Tom Ford asks.

It is approaching late afternoon in Ford's high-ceilinged London office, and I am sitting across a sleek table from the 52-year-old designer who, as always, is immaculately dressed-Tom Ford suit, Tom Ford tie, a gold Tom Ford collar bar gleaming-his own flawless vision of masculine style.

What day is my sock? I'm confused by Ford's question.

'Is this the right day?' Ford asks.

Oh, dear. Not the socks. Great care-or at least my version of great care-has gone into my wardrobe today, given that I've come to see Tom Ford, a man who, through his creativity and energy at Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent and now his own eponymous label, helped originate and define a quarter-century of men's and women's style. Ford not only created a Tom Ford look but personified it, becoming a face in front of the label: rakish, confident, a celebrity of luxury, to the point that Jay-Z would release a track this summer entitled, simply, 'Tom Ford.' I wasn't about to get my schlumpy self into a fashion face-off with Ford, but I also didn't want to be a total shambles. A solid hour was spent primping-roughly 59 minutes longer than my usual primp-back at the hotel. A cotton navy suit, crumpled by a seven-hour flight, was rushed off for a last-minute press. I brought my best shirt. The good tie.

But the socks-I'd packed only one pair. They were a silly Christmas present, several years old: black socks sewn with the days of the week at the top-Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, etc. I pulled them on with a feeling of dread, hoping Ford wouldn't notice. Foolish. Details are what Ford does, perhaps as well as any fashion designer ever has-the way a dress caresses the curve of a woman's neck, the way a fine suit settles crisply on a man's shoulders, imbuing him with a sense of impenetrability, like armor. Of course Ford is going to notice the day of the week written on a goofy old sock.

The sock reads Thursday. It's Wednesday.

'You're in Tokyo,' he says helpfully. 'It's Thursday in Tokyo.'

Ford says this in a sly, observant way. Not a put-down. Condescending is not his style. One of the first things people notice about Ford in person is his politeness-what his friend, the actress Rita Wilson, calls his 'extremely good manners'; the way a simple act like a handshake or opening a door becomes a suave, elegant gesture, a throwback to another era. Little things, perhaps, but little things matter in the world of Tom Ford, a man of refinement and control, always dressed as if he's about to be photographed, even when he doesn't want to be photographed. Artist Lisa Eisner recalls picking Ford up to go to the movies in Los Angeles and finding him dressed in one of his suits. 'He is not going to wear cargo shorts,' Eisner says. 'He is always going to look impeccable, no matter where you catch him.'

NOW FORD IS BACK. Is 'back' even the right word? It sounds a bit ridiculous, because Ford never really went away, dropped out, grew a Lebowski beard-his biggest professional detour was making a film in Los Angeles, hardly a cabin in the woods-but there is the unmistakable sense that his second act in fashion, modestly relaunched in the mid-2000s, is only hitting full steam now. Domenico De Sole, Ford's business partner since their Gucci days, says the designer is fond of calling his line the 'first true luxury brand of the 21st century.' There are 81 stores globally-two new flagships just opened in Chicago and Dallas-with dozens more to come. Earlier this year, Ford debuted a womenswear collection with a major show at London Fashion Week, his first full-on runway show for women in nearly 10 years. That's a Tom Ford tuxedo on Justin Timberlake, above-the-knee Tom Ford boots on Rihanna, a streamlined Tom Ford suit on 007 himself, Daniel Craig. And this fall he's launching a line of men's grooming products. After removing himself from the game almost a decade ago, he has returned to the vortex, with its long hours and abundantcritical and commercial pressures. But now it is his name alone, in striking Gotham book font. His vision, no exceptions.

'I'm at a point in my life where I want to make the very best,' Ford says matter-of-factly. 'That's what interests me. If it's not the best, I don't want to make it.'

By now the basics of Ford's fashion biography are industry legend: the Texas-born, Santa Fe, New Mexico-raised former actor who willed himself into the trade in the '80s as an apprentice under designer Cathy Hardwick, then on to Perry Ellis, then to Gucci in 1990, where the young unknown Ford transformed a foundering brand into a global luxury powerhouse. Gucci under Ford was lavishly fun, expertly designed and marketed, just the right amount of edgy and dangerous-a perfect match for the go-go economy of its time.

Then, in 2004, amid a struggle for control with the company's new owners, Ford walked away. Suddenly. Completely. He decamped to L.A., bought golf clubs. 'I thought I was going to retire,' Ford says. 'Fantasy. It was just exhaustion and burnout.' A year later, Ford dipped into eyewear, fragrances and cosmetics (licensing his name to the Marcolin Group and Est