Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Looking dapper and sophisticated in the UK, Brian knots up a smoked ebony and blue striped cravat tonight. She tossed her purse off into some shrubbery at the side of the road once she was across the state line. She knew her wallet--along with all of her identification and credit cards--was in it, but she didn't plan on needing any of it. Ever again. The summer sky blazed above, but all she saw was the asphalt road ahead. In another hundred miles, she'd ditch the car, too. After that, it was...whatever. It didn't matter because nothing was clear. She couldn't see a tomorrow.
Brought to Life by Nance at 9:20 PM
Monday, July 30, 2012
On location in London for the Olympics (and working weekends as well!), Brian has unfortunately chosen a red and white striped tie for this evening's newscast. What else is there to say besides Popcorn Box, Candy Cane, and Christmas-In-General? True, the red is somewhat understated and the white is rather platinum-looking, but just as a baby searches for a human face in any symmetrical arrangement of dots, most of us will see this cravat as a Holiday Tie.
Brought to Life by Nance at 9:13 PM
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Brought to Life by Nance at 8:39 PM
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
We here at The Report have never seen this tie before, a very classic medallion print on a rich plum background. The shapes are large and vary between squares and lozenges of white with darkened centres. Portraying a confidence that she did not entirely feel, she swept into the boardroom. It was, of course, full of men. To their credit, they stood upon her entrance. She impatiently motioned for them to sit, but she remained standing. A few lounged insolently in their chairs as they waited for her to begin. Remembering Uncle's advice, she focused on the one who looked most self-assured, most impudent. Levelling her gaze, she met his eyes and coolly appraised him. It was only when he looked away that she finally began to speak.
Brought to Life by Nance at 10:00 PM
Thursday, July 19, 2012
It is the slim and textured stripes of smoky and stony blue, impeccably knotted. He gave up trying to go after her and instead watched as she strode angrily away, out into the fields. The tall grasses whipped at her bluejeans, but she never missed a step. At the rockpile, she started to climb, pushing the long sleeves of his fisherman's knit sweater high above her elbows, stopping only to twist her hair into a knot away from her face. Taming the untameable was a constant struggle for her, for him, for them, and he wondered how long it would be before it all broke apart completely like so much rubble.
Brought to Life by Nance at 10:51 PM
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Tonight's tie is a rich mahogany textured silk accented by closely-gathered gold pinstripes, each sheaf of six appearing as a stripe on its own. The last room Burke escorted him into was the library. "Many of these volumes are First Editions and very rare, sir," he intoned. "Your grandfather was a great lover of books, and he insisted upon the finest quality and workmanship. If you would like, I myself can--" but the younger gentleman waved him impatiently into silence as he took a volume from the shelf. Its cover was embossed, fine-grained leather, and the gilt-edged pages gleamed. Part of Grandfather's personal library, the book's binding had been custom-made, and the grandson could not help but note the irony in the title he had randomly selected: Fitzgerald's The Beautiful and the Damned. And even before he opened it to its frontispiece, he knew it would be signed and dedicated to Grandfather by the Jazz Age raconteur himself.
Brought to Life by Nance at 9:53 PM
Monday, July 16, 2012
Brian, still feeling the last remnants, perhaps, of his Independence Day festivities, knots up a cravat of zippy red and blue stripes. It's decorous but still jazzy, like the Cleveland Orchestra playing outdoors at Blossom Music Center. Patrons can indulge their love of sophisticated music and dining al fresco, but still picnic and hear tunes less stuffy than Wagner and Bach. They can sip chilled champagne and eat cool insalatas and fruit and cheese, but wear their shorts and sandals, lying back on a lawn blanket. And, once in a while, the crescendo of locusts punctuates a symphony.
Brought to Life by Nance at 10:22 PM
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
...and it's deja vu! Perhaps Monsieur Williams, in his innate courtesy to make my entree back to the Daily Grind Of Real Life less jarring, purposely wore les même cravates as he did following my previous vacance. For this evening, he again wore his necktie of smoky violet blue with wide bands of black patterned mesh alternated with slim pearl stripes, the latter embracing a line of lilac blush. (Sound familiar? It should--I wrote it on 25 June! And that next day he wore the SPT we saw yesterday.) Oh, mon cherie! C'est le temps pour quelque chose différent !
Brought to Life by Nance at 9:58 PM
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
SPT. The Report is back from its own vacation--again, I know!--and is greeted by this luminous horror. It's like eating broccoli ice cream. It's like taking your homework on Spring Break. It's like going camping for your honeymoon. Ugh.
Brought to Life by Nance at 10:28 PM