Commanding Presence

This evening's tie was an arresting one of a deep scarlet background lightly underwoven with black, giving it a dark cast in the folds and at the dimples. The pattern was one of small, fingertip-sized white windowpanes narrowly framed in black artfully staggered in a sparse array. The contrast was striking and commanding. This was a cravat of authority; it could establish pecking order the minute its wearer walked into the room. "Oh my no, it's not necessary to bow nor scrape before me," it says in suave Jeremy Irons-esque tones, "but naturally, the ring--it must be kissed."