Thursday, May 30, 2013

It's All Relative

As The Report tries to shake itself from l'ennui caused by Brian wearing the same ties over again, May is ending with no truly remarkable cravats.  Le sigh. Tonight, Bri slings on a cerulean and orchid stripe that is summery and vivid.  This is not the blurring and perplexing silk tie that irritates and nauseates us with its Dali-esque proclivities.  Instead, this one behaves neatly and nicely, like the British cousin who comes to stay for a month and says things like "tidy up" and "shall" and "luncheon."

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Happy Fathers Day, Nightly Viewers!

BriWi's tie tonight is deep blue with screaming yellow stripes.  Not quite Highlighter Yellow, but shockingly close.  It is the sort of Happy Sunshine Yellow that could make this tie the favourite of preschoolers everywhere.  One can imagine a Mommy taking Sweet Baby Precious in the Urban Assault Stroller to Kohl's, the suburban shopping mecca, for a Fathers Day present.  She says, "What tie do you like for Daddy?"  Captivated by its brazen and ostentatious yellowness, SBP says endearingly and stickily, "Lello lello lello!", and this tie is grabbed and smilingly purchased.  Sigh.  And we are the collateral recipients.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Quelle Dommage

Tonight, reporting from the ravages of Oklahoma, Brian is sans cravate.  Constant Readers of The Report know that this means he is avec une grande chemise bleu.  Why could he not take a cue from the very fit and extremely fitted Lester Holt, whose shirt was simply parfait?  Ah, well.  Le sigh. 

Wednesday, May 15, 2013


Solid dark blue tie!
You are a surrender, a
Shrug, Indifference.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Serious Business

Behind the desk tonight, Brian wears a tie of narrow stripes alternating textured worsted wool grey and stormy blue.  He dreaded these stuffy, awful meetings.  Once they were mercifully over, he never knew what, if anything was accomplished.  It was like a funeral for Time.  And Language.  Everyone sat there, wearing subdued, somber suits and talking in measured, serious tones about...what? Even the women wore suits.  Hell, even the water pitchers wore suits.  He longed to shake things up:  bring a squirt gun, wear teeshirt and Bermudas, say things like, "Yo!" and "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout!".  But, here it was, the second Tuesday of the month, and he had put on his grey suit and tasteful tie and his aura of funereal decorum and felt his footsteps dragging toward the double doors.

Monday, May 13, 2013

Before The Vows

This evening's cravat is like a tribute to Spring herself.  It is a stripe of milk white and lilac, with a sheen like morning dew.  Once the last of them had finally rustled and swished out of the small, cramped church dressing room, she stood in front of the mirror and looked at her reflection.  She appeared like a vision in a little girl's dream, emerging from a froth of white tulle and lace.  From the nearby dressing table she grasped her bouquet and arranged its long lavender ribbons so that they would cascade down the front of her gown.  The door opened and her father stepped in to get her for the ceremony.  As his image filled the space behind her in the mirror, she became slightly alarmed.  For the first time in her life, she saw tears in his eyes.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

...But I Digress

It may be this tie that causes me to re-evaluate my acceptance of all Solid Colour Ties.  This magenta linen-finish cravat with its bloom of varied dimples is just...there.  I don't dislike magenta.  As a matter of fact, I think the word itself would make a wonderful stripper name, especially paired with any other Old School Crayola 64 Crayon Box colour.  Think about it:  Magenta Aquamarine.  Magenta Cornflower.  Magenta Mahogany.  Magenta Midnight Blue.  How kickass would it be, even, to have a pet hamster named Magenta?

Monday, May 6, 2013

In Which We Inadvertently Reveal A Distaste For Brain-Teasers And Logic Puzzles

So, tonight Brian wears a bright blue tie with a lot of stripes.  There are white stripes, and inside those, two more skinny red stripes.  So, really, there's like...five stripes, at least.  It's like those tricky triangle puzzles that are one big triangle all cut up into little triangles.  The directions are deceptively simple:  How many triangles do you see?  So you count up all the little triangles.  "Sixteen!" you say happily.  Some other kid says derisively, "Duh. Seventeen. You forgot to count the big triangle."  Then some snotty genius kid starts tracing all the medium-sized triangles made up by the teeny triangles, the teacher nods knowingly and in that smug and pleased way, and pretty soon you want to smack everyone and go home to pudding and Oreos.

Friday, May 3, 2013

In Which We Invoke The Birthday Resolution, And Make A Not-So-Subtle Plea

...And it seems like we have a Friday Tie as well.  BriWi knots up the same tie as last Friday, the stripe of ebony with porcelain white grosgrain.  It's Brian's (and my) Birthday this week, so let's hope that he gets some new cravats to wow us here at The Report.  If not, perhaps he could make a Birthday Resolution and endeavour to wear some lovely, long-unseen ties rather than these Regulars.  (I'm thinking of the Glorious Pink Tie, dearest Brian.  It has been too long.)

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Being Neighborly

Brian is finally delving a little deeper into L'armoire des Cravates, for we haven't seen this particular tie in a while.  It's the textured violet silk with petite white dots in a grid pattern.  She was awakened by a hard rapping on the front door at seven AM.  Bleared with sleep, she shuffled out to the livingroom and opened the door without thinking.  A fistful of violets, their purple faces and white throats, was the first thing she saw.  Confused, she blinked and looked past them to their owner.  It was the old man next door.  "Violets, see?  Your yard is full of 'em," he accused.  "They're like weeds. They spread and take over everything. You gotta get on top of 'em and get rid of 'em. I don't want 'em in my yard.  So...just wanted to let you know.  They might look pretty to you, but they're death to lawn grass.  Tell your husband...if you've got one."