Friday, November 23, 2012

Huntsman's Secret

Someday the tie will be paisley or plaid, but that day is not today.  Today is yet another day of stripes, this time wide stripes of deep navy blue and tangerine.  It was still dark when the alarm roused her in the middle of the night.  She had the luxury of slipping back into the dark caverns of Sleep while he arose and tugged on woolen socks, sturdy warm coveralls, and grabbed his vest of hunter's orange.  This hobby of his was so at odds with the rest of his persona that, early on in their relationship, she had teased him and admonished him for chasing down Bambi.  His sudden and brusque reaction, his visible wounded feelings made it clear that this subject was a sore one.  From that incident forward, she simply kissed him goodbye and was grateful that he washed the bloody clothes himself.

Monday, November 19, 2012

Course Correction

For this evening's striped tie, BriWi has chosen one with a field colour of jewelled purple crossed by narrow bands of milk white.  He sat almost sullenly across the table from her this morning, watching as she assembled her breakfast.  She plopped grape jelly onto each half of her English muffin; then, using the tip of her butter knife, drew long curls of cream cheese from the slab and, with her fingers, placed them onto the jelly.  With a snort of disgust, he retreated behind his WSJ and wheat toast, dry.  Certainly the novelty of their May-December romance had already worn thin, and whatever light and sparkle she had brought into his life had served its purpose, whatever he had thought that to be when he had made such a terrible mistake.  The important thing now was to see Panghorn and set about making an end of it, and with as little trouble as possible.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012


Tonight's striped offering is one of ebony and palest lavender, the latter with whispery contrasting threads.  She sat back on her heels and tiredly pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.  The last truck of donations was almost unloaded, and she sat amid the remaining boxes of clothing to sort.  "Hey!  You'll want to look in this one for sure!" one of the volunteers yelled as he hefted a long glossy box from the truck.  He set it in front of her and she opened it to reveal yellowed tissue paper.  Pushing it carefully aside, she gasped.  It was gorgeous--all hand-beading and silk, and it looked to be from the 1920s.  The color was terribly faded, but she could tell that it had once been a vivid lilac.  Next to it was an aged rose, crumbling to dust, and under it, an envelope. 

Monday, November 12, 2012


SPT. Familiarity breeds contempt, They say.  So contemptible.

Friday, November 9, 2012


Stripes again, this time dress blues navy crossed with slim diagonals of bright flame.  Everyone marveled that the two of them were a couple.  They were the embodiment of the tired adage "Opposites attract." He was pragmatic and terse and favored restaurants with a clubby atmosphere and good beef.  She was chatty and tirelessly altruistic; she loved little out-of-the-way eateries with ethnic menus and impossible chefs.  Together they amassed a fortune in friends, purebred corgis, and big, chewy Napa reds.  Their love was seamless and fierce, and it was conventional wisdom that it was also forever.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

In Which We Posit The Fate Of Our Favourite Pink Tie And Reference Thrash Metal

Oh, Brian Williams, Brian Williams. How very dapper you look!  Your ensemble is flawless.  Your cravat is the very capstone of precision.  Would it were not, yet again, a striped tie of dark blue and gold!  We can only imagine l'intérieur de L'armoire des Cravates, thronged as it must be, by blue and gold striped cravats, the crush of which surely renders its mighty doors ajar.  This must be the reason we have not glimpsed the stylish and lovely Pink Tie Of Dreams in so very, very long.  It is, perhaps, flattened against the back, or crumpled and sad on the bottom, a tired or trampled dancer in the mosh pit of fashion.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Storm Search

This evening's striped cravat is of worsted grey and seascape.  Grabbing her father's old fisherman's sweater off the hook near the door, she walked down to the beach.  The clouds were gathering angrily at the horizon, and the wind was ready and brisk.  Further off, the pier was busy as boats were coming in and offloading their meagre catches; this storm had blown up suddenly.  Her eyes kept scanning the jetty even as a cold rain began pelting her face.  She pulled her hair back, twisting its length away from her face, and tried in vain to find his boat again in the distance. 

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

A Pot Of Tea, A Good Book, And Thou

For the long night ahead covering Election 2012, Brian Williams knots up a reliable and stylish stripe of midnight sky and pumpkin.  As she adjusted her uniform, she checked to make sure that everything was on the tray.  The old lady was so sweet, and she so looked forward to her nighttime tea and toast!  A chubby teapot brimmed with steaming Earl Grey, and the delicate china plate held two pieces of cinnamon toast, lightly buttered.  A small jar of house-made citrus marmalade and a copy of Jane Eyre completed the tray.  Tonight they were ready for the wedding chapter, and the Missus was sure to want parts read out again and again.  That was fine, just fine.  The night was not so lonely when it was shared.

Friday, November 2, 2012

It's A Don McLean Moment, So Drive Your Chevy To The Levee

Tonight there is no fashion.  Brian Williams wears a blue tie.  And that's it.  It is a tie, it is blue, and, to lapse into Millennial Jargon That We Despise, "It is what it is."  And that It is a Blue Tie.  How many more ways can I state it?  Blue Tie.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Quelle Dommage