Thursday, August 30, 2012


Looking dashing, Brian Williams wears a silk stripe of bootblack and porcelain white this evening.  When he finally found her, she was standing in a drift of books and papers, feeding documents into the scanner on the fourth floor of the university library.  Moving deftly and lightly, their white gloves gave her hands the appearance of doves flitting to and fro, as if she were a magician practicing her act.  He was afraid to startle her here in the reverent silence of the archives; his arrival was unexpected.  He felt for the box in his coat pocket and smiled.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012


For this evening's Florida broadcast, Brian knots up an old standby, the suitcoat navy cravat with slim stripes of blush pink.  His flight was delayed, then delayed again. No amount of frantic consultations of his watch could make time advance any faster.  By the time his plane touched down, he had imagined a hundred different transports as fail-safe strategies.  Grabbing his bag, he hailed the first cab in line and tersely gave the destination.  Once there, he flung the doors open, gracelessly gained information from staff, and finally found the room.  Too late.  She was already here.  A small rosy bundle was held out to him, and wordlessly, he took her in his arms. 

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

The Glint Of Gold

Reporting from Tampa and the site of the RNC, Brian Williams knots up a conservative striper of darkest navy and gleaming gold. There was nothing cheerful about her, this governess, the children decided.  Was her nightdress even corseted and dark?  Even in the heat of the summer, she wore close-fitting sleeves and terribly scratchy skirts and always, always the darkest of blues, violets, greys, and browns.  Only the occasional wink of her gold spectacles relieved the unrelenting severity of her mien.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012


For this evening Brian selects a cravat of darkest midnight striped with vivid lilac.  The melancholy, always deep, always so heavy, sometimes gave way to a terrifying paranoia.  She could see it like a synesthete; it was there, audacious and mocking, bright and glittering, and she knew it would slam into her, spread throughout her veins and twist into each cord of muscle like an electric eel.  She dared not reach for the telephone this time; she had promised.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012


Brian Williams knots up another tie from his Boy Scouts Commemorative Collection.  Prepare yourselves (get it?) for one more incarnation of navy blue with slim stripes of goldenrod.  Ho. Hum. Blah. This tie is the perennial "What I Did on My Summer Vacation" essay.  It's the "Have a nice day" said expressionlessly from the nameless clerk at the whatever store.  It's the kids' menu offerings at every restaurant in every town in the USA (say them with me, now:  macaroni and cheese, hamburger, pizza, chicken fingers).  So generic, so boring, so expected, and so...feh.

Monday, August 20, 2012


Carefully matching his ensemble this evening, Brian Williams selects the striped cravat of pumpkin and deep navy.  It was impossible now to tell how late it was, but the night was upon her and its chill intensified as the shadows lengthened.  She stirred the remaining fire into renewed vigor, added her last logs, and hoped it would endure through the long hours until daylight.  She pulled her bedroll close to its edge where she had carefully built a row of stones to bank some warmth and sat cross-legged for a while to think. 

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Give This One Its Gold Watch, Already, And A Nice Cake In The Breakroom

SPT. And what on Earth was going on with its dimple? At first, there was the Dreaded Double Dimple askew, which seemed at some point in the broadcast to be set to rights, but still, the whole thing is just suffering from Fabric Fatigue and the Stress Of Overtying.  Best to retire it, really.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Even A Bad Tie Would At Least Be Interesting

A very pedestrian and safe striped tie of deep navy and narrow Carolina blue diagonals.  It's smart and versatile in that Bri can wear it with a suit or dress it down with a jacket and denims, but there's no panache, no style, and it has that studied look of Garanimal Go-Togetherness that makes me feel bored and disengaged and longing for excitement.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Check Your Calendars

SPT.  Same as last Wednesday. That's a pretty rigid rotation sked there, Bri.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Anachronistic Beauty

This evening's cravat has become a Favourite of The Report's as it has been viewed in lighting both on and off the set of The Nightly.  On location in London, it takes on the hue of a dusky bittersweet, and its jacquard texture becomes more apparent.  The pattern of petite ash-coloured circlets lightly traced in black is tasteful and classy. True, it is more of an autumnal tie, evoking mulled cider, cinnamon sticks, the earthy and pungent smell of crisping leaves and fallow fields with pumpkins ready for harvest, but it is lovely nonetheless.

Sunday, August 5, 2012


My goodness!  Brian Williams works another weekend shift, this time sporting a tie of suitcoat navy with flame-coloured stripes.  The diplomatic motorcade purred down the avenue, windows deeply tinted, sedans polished and sleek.  These displays had ceased to impress him years ago, and now he simply waited, uniformed and wired behind his mirrored sunglasses.  One by one the cars pulled to the curb and stopped.  From the center car, a driver emerged; he pulled his cap on and self-consciously righted his cravat.  With a swift and military stride, he walked to the rear passenger door facing the Embassy, bent low, and with a modest flourish, opened it but part-way.  Slowly, almost serpentinely, a leg emerged wearing a red high-heeled shoe.  Behind the sunglasses, uncharacteristically, his eyebrows rose.

Friday, August 3, 2012

At The Manor

Brian closes out the work week in London with a sophisticated stripe of nightsky and silver.  From her seat in the hall, she watched as the servants set the table in the formal dining room.  It was like a sort of domestic ballet, with the men and women laying silver, placing water goblets, and adding the gilt-edged chargers all with deft, graceful movements and all in complete silence.  When it was done--in breathtaking speed--a white-haired man produced a small measuring stick and went about the task of making sure each item was impeccably placed while the rest waited anxiously, eyes never leaving the table.  In her own nervous state, she found that she, too, held her breath.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Perhaps Security Is Still An Issue At The Games

We here at The Report are disappointed that this cravat was permitted past Customs.  Its debut is permanently etched upon our memories.  We reprise it here for your edification:

November 10, 2008. Debut Tie. The Report is reeling from the Fashion Fiasco that is tonight's tie. Nothing--absolutely nothing--could have prepared The Nightly's viewers for the almost phosphorescent glow of garish orchid. And worse! Those Crayola blue stripes that seemed to run and blur at the right edge of this unholy cravat gave the whole broadcast a weird, Dali-esque vibe, and I kept watching and waiting for the rest of his tie to start melting and running off his shirt and onto the news desk into a puddle of purple and blue.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Is There No Shopping In London?

SPT. The deep plummy one with the burlap texture, but still woefully solid and purple. I'd be willing to award a gold medal to a good London haberdasher who takes BW round to his/her shop and shows this man some new, preferably paisley, ties straightaway.

(Thanks to guest poster StarB., originally from the UK!)