Malevolence

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.

ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

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.

Nightwork

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. 

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.

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.

Check Your Calendars

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

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.

Unexpected

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.

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.

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.

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!)

Bright Darkness

Looking dapper and sophisticated in the UK, Brian knots up a smoked ebony and blue striped cravat tonight.  She tossed her purse off into some shrubbery at the side of the road once she was across the state line.  She knew her wallet--along with all of her identification and credit cards--was in it, but she didn't plan on needing any of it.  Ever again.  The summer sky blazed above, but all she saw was the asphalt road ahead.  In another hundred miles, she'd ditch the car, too.  After that, it was...whatever.  It didn't matter because nothing was clear.  She couldn't see a tomorrow.

Cheerio And Happy Christmas, What!

On location in London for the Olympics (and working weekends as well!), Brian has unfortunately chosen a red and white striped tie for this evening's newscast.  What else is there to say besides Popcorn Box, Candy Cane, and Christmas-In-General?  True, the red is somewhat understated and the white is rather platinum-looking, but just as a baby searches for a human face in any symmetrical arrangement of dots, most of us will see this cravat as a Holiday Tie.

In Which Our Own Unstinting Inflexibility Gives Us A Rare Bit Of Pause, But We Remain Resolute

SPT.  We do like this one, for its rich, baco noir colour, but you know the rules.

Boardroom Strategy

We here at The Report have never seen this tie before, a very classic medallion print on a rich plum background.  The shapes are large and vary between squares and lozenges of white with darkened centres. Portraying a confidence that she did not entirely feel, she swept into the boardroom.  It was, of course, full of men.  To their credit, they stood upon her entrance.  She impatiently motioned for them to sit, but she remained standing.  A few lounged insolently in their chairs as they waited for her to begin.  Remembering Uncle's advice, she focused on the one who looked most self-assured, most impudent.  Levelling her gaze, she met his eyes and coolly appraised him.  It was only when he looked away that she finally began to speak.  

Lovers' Quarrel

It is the slim and textured stripes of smoky and stony blue, impeccably knotted.  He gave up trying to go after her and instead watched as she strode angrily away, out into the fields.  The tall grasses whipped at her bluejeans, but she never missed a step.  At the rockpile, she started to climb, pushing the long sleeves of his fisherman's knit sweater high above her elbows, stopping only to twist her hair into a knot away from her face.  Taming the untameable was a constant struggle for her, for him, for them, and he wondered how long it would be before it all broke apart completely like so much rubble.

Rich Relation

Tonight's tie is a rich mahogany textured silk accented by closely-gathered gold pinstripes, each sheaf of six appearing as a stripe on its own.  The last room Burke escorted him into was the library.  "Many of these volumes are First Editions and very rare, sir," he intoned.  "Your grandfather was a great lover of books, and he insisted upon the finest quality and workmanship.  If you would like, I myself can--" but the younger gentleman waved him impatiently into silence as he took a volume from the shelf.  Its cover was embossed, fine-grained leather, and the gilt-edged pages gleamed.  Part of Grandfather's personal library, the book's binding had been custom-made, and the grandson could not help but note the irony in the title he had randomly selected:  Fitzgerald's The Beautiful and the Damned.  And even before he opened it to its frontispiece, he knew it would be signed and dedicated to Grandfather by the Jazz Age raconteur himself.

Pleasant Contrast

Brian, still feeling the last remnants, perhaps, of his Independence Day festivities, knots up a cravat of zippy red and blue stripes.  It's decorous but still jazzy, like the Cleveland Orchestra playing outdoors at Blossom Music Center.  Patrons can indulge their love of sophisticated music and dining al fresco, but still picnic and hear tunes less stuffy than Wagner and Bach.  They can sip chilled champagne and eat cool insalatas and fruit and cheese, but wear their shorts and sandals, lying back on a lawn blanket. And, once in a while, the crescendo of locusts punctuates a symphony.

I'd Like To Quote Newland Archer From The Age of Innocence When I Mutter, "Sameness, Sameness..."

...and it's deja vu!  Perhaps Monsieur Williams, in his innate courtesy to make my entree back to the Daily Grind Of Real Life less jarring, purposely wore les même cravates as he did following my previous vacance.  For this evening, he again wore his necktie of smoky violet blue with wide bands of black patterned mesh alternated with slim pearl stripes, the latter embracing a line of lilac blush.  (Sound familiar?  It should--I wrote it on 25 June! And that next day he wore the SPT we saw yesterday.)  Oh, mon cherie!  C'est le temps pour quelque chose différent !

This Cravat Makes Me Long For The Days Of The On-Location Oversized Shirts

SPT.  The Report is back from its own vacation--again, I know!--and is greeted by this luminous horror.  It's like eating broccoli ice cream.  It's like taking your homework on Spring Break.  It's like going camping for your honeymoon.  Ugh.