Thursday, November 14, 2013


This evening's neckwear choice is a cravat with wide stripes of smoky dress navy and bright lilac.  Muffled strains of jazz music lured passers-by in from the rain slicked street.  Now and then the door would swing open and a patron would slide out and so would the music, cool and warm at the same time, hot riffs of piano topped off by stone cold bass, chunking out the notes like a bullfrog.  A few neon signs made bright puddles as she put on her lipstick in the streetlight's glow, and it seemed like the music was purple, then blue, then red, white, purple, blue, and they went in to a saxophone's wail.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Despite The Debate, I Just Don't Like It

SPT.  The argument between Sam and me regarding this tie is ongoing.  He says it is a pindot pattern.  I say it looks horrifyingly like purple burlap.  Either way, it's terrible. And purple.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Roadside Stop

Tonight, Brian finds his way back to the distressed blue silk tie with charcoal polka dots.  Her GPS cord, frayed and spiky with bare wires, had finally given up.  Even though she'd never read a map in her life, she rummaged through the glove compartment of her car, praying one would magically there, like there always was in her dad's Fords.  Resigned, she stopped at the next gas station, which out here, looked like a cabin or a very small hunting lodge.  Inside, the men were covered in denim and grease.  Most of them had a cigarette hanging from one corner of their mouth, and all of them looked at her interestedly.

Thursday, November 7, 2013


It has been a while since we've seen this particular cravat of charcoal grey with barely discernible ash-coloured medallions, a classic foulard pattern.  Sometime in the depth of night, she awoke, freezing and aware of a dull pain in her back and legs.  Her mind felt furred and disconnected, like she was floating up from a drug-induced sleep.  A long glow of white light appeared suddenly, and she instinctively raised her hand to shield her eyes.  A massive bolt of pain rocketed up her spine; she gasped, and slipped away again, but not before she saw the frost.  It was frost, in beautiful patterns blooming against the dark window half-buried in the snow.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Frivolous Is Not In His Lexicon

For his offering this evening, Brian ties on a cravat of deep navy with widely spaced stripes of true red snugged by white on either side.  It would have been cliché to have worn this Patriotic Tie yesterday, on Election Day.  As is his habit, Brian Williams wears it the day after instead, so as not to be cutesy or flip.  The News is a Serious Business, and as the Trusted Voice Of Our Nation's Ever-Changing Scene, he cannot afford to be viewed as either.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Private Symphony

Brian Williams chooses the violet textured silk cravat sprinkled with small white dots.  She wakened every morning at exactly eight even though there really was no reason to.  No alarm urged her out of bed; no employment awaited her.  She didn't even have a dog or cat awaiting a rush of kibble into its dish.  But she liked to be part of a routine, a cog in a bustling movement of Life.  She pulled on her robe and slid her feet into slippers.  In the bathroom, once she accomplished her own few necessaries, she filled a small watering can.  She walked back out into her room and greeted her charges, a lush row of African violets, velvety and beautiful.  "Good Morning, lovelies," she crooned to each purple and white-throated bloom.  After a careful watering, she gently daubed away any beads of water from every solitary leaf on which they stood.  She pressed a button on the CD player, and out flowed Rachmaninoff, softly, as she conducted, perfectly.

Friday, November 1, 2013

Vive Le Difference

Tonight's tie is so similar to last night's that, if you only took a cursory glance at your television, you would be aghast, thinking Brian Williams had worn it two nights in a row.  This one, however, is suitcoat navy with light blue stripes.  Completely different!  It's like rotini instead of fusilli; Hagen Dasz instead of Ben & Jerry's; lilac instead of lavender.  Totally, entirely, thoroughly, and altogether different.  Like night and day.