Workshop

Brian is saving the week by wearing excellent ties at the end of it.  This one is stellar.  Miniscule checks of paprika and ginger blend to make a lovely copper colour.  Sprinkled upon it are circlets of ash blue limned with black.  They had left Madison Avenue and Wall Street and come out to Nevada to learn how to live like people again.  It had not been easy, especially the first year, which they promised would be one of relaxation, rejuvenation, and exploration.  No work.  They found themselves strangers, even to each other.  But soon they found a shared interest, and by year two they had made it a business.  Every day in the workshop, as they hammered and wrought the copper into bracelets and cuffs, rings and earrings, they laughed about what their former associates would say if they saw their "desks" now.  She worked meticulously at mounting the natural turquoise stones onto the metal.  Everything was beautiful.

The Crazy Quilt

Even though this particular cravat is what my grandma Ethel would call "busy," I have grown to like it.  It is a lovely summersky blue field with bands of black meshwork further interspersed by stripes of silvery satin shot through with lilac.  It reminds me of sitting next to Grandma when she was piecing her quilts.  Sometimes she would be making two or three at once, and I would help her sort her scraps.  I felt surrounded by personalities, some of them luxurious, some homey and sweet, some plain.  I wanted a quilt made of all of them together, and Grandma laughed.  "They call that a Crazy Quilt," she said.  "Pieces that go every which way and all kinds of material junked up together."  My eyes widened, and I smiled at the name.  That only made me want one even more.

It Would Be A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood

After wearing the Elder Cousin of Monday's tie on Tuesday, Brian gets a little cray-cray and pairs the Usual Navy Stripe with a yowza red.  We've seen this cravat before, this navy and red striper from the Ward Cleaver Collection.  For some reason, it always makes me think of Mr. Rogers, and I want to see Brian wear it with a nice, slouchy cardigan.  How lovely would that be, to have Mr. Williams sit in a living room set, comfy cardigan on, delivering the news in a gentle and soothing voice with no cutaways to scenes of disaster or drama?  And Michael Douglas could intone at the top of the broadcast, "This...is NBC Neighborhood News with Brian Williams."

2014 Is Lackluster Thus Far

Ho, hum.  Bri has plopped on a suitcoat navy tie with slim white stripes.  As one of our small relatives would say, "Whoop De Do."  Not much to rattle our cages now, is it?  And it's not simply the fact that we've seen this cravat thousands of times.  It's a pedestrian tie even if it were new.  We get that It's All About The News for him, but how about something new(er) and more exciting?

In Which I Am Not Above A Little Clever Duplicity

It would seem that Brian Williams did not get any new cravats for Christmas this year.  Tonight he wears a deep navy blue tie with steep diagonals of forest green.  Why, Williams Family, why?  And what about all of you at NBC?  Couldn't you have pitched in and found a really nice tie in all of New York City?  Don't try to tell me that even a street vendor didn't have a decent tie.  Doubtless all of you camerapersons are becoming bored and weary, looking at the same old ties evening in and evening out.  Do everyone a favour and get that man a new necktie!  Make up some story about how your dog picked it out or it was from a NASCAR dog or it was bought from a fireman's charity for rescue dogs or something.  Anything with dogs.  The man is stuck on dogs.  How about this?  "Here, Mr. Williams.  I got this when I was at a Springsteen concert held to rebuild the Jersey Shore boardwalk.  The guy selling it said to tell you hello.  He met you when you did that story on rescuing dogs from Hurricane Katrina.  He still has three of them, he said to tell you."  There.  That should do it.  Now get on it!

Yikes

SPT.  After a long Holiday, Brian returns wearing the Purlap Tie.  A dire harbinger for 2014.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

Brian Williams knots up a tie of brilliant cardinal red with sky blue stripes for our viewing pleasure.  Cara was breathless as Father Christmas (really, Uncle Morris) pulled the largest box from under the tree.  Finally!  She would finally be able to discover who this huge gift was for!  Her heart pounded as he turned and gave it to her.  Could it really be hers?  Her fingers flew to unwrap it, remembering always Mamma's admonitions to be ladylike even though she wanted to tear into it like a beast.  She opened the lid, pushed aside the gossamer papers, and lifted out what seemed like miles and miles of plush red velvet.  It was a cape, a gorgeous, beautiful cape with a hood.  Suddenly, a glimpse of baby blue satin--the lining.  Cara could have wept.  "It is only for buggy riding and walking on fairer days," Mamma said.  "Velvet is not practical, for it is difficult to clean.  But every girl should have something lovely and a little impractical."

On Pink

This cravat is a classic for Brian.  He has been wearing it for years and years, and while I like it just fine, I am tired of seeing it worn to the exclusion of many other lovely ties he wears much less frequently.  The main colour is a deep midnight blue, and the slim stripes are pale pink--not a warm, baby pink--a blue-toned carnation pink, widely spaced.  I immediately applaud men in pink, no matter how scant its appearance.  More men ought to wear it, and more often.  Here we are, in a whole new millennium, and so many people still see pink as a "Girl's Colour."  How utterly ridiculous.  Women wear blue with impunity.  Shall we all just get over it?  Let's do, and quickly.

Too Soon

Have we seen this tie before, Readers?  I cannot recall it.  In any case, it's purple and white checkered presence was a little Springlike to me.  It looked more suited to a tablecloth in a vegan restaurant, or napkins in a winery bistro, or even, perhaps, lovely cushions for your white wicker porch furniture.  A dark suit cannot ground this tie; it is too buoyant and light.  December's cold and dim days make it seem terribly out of place.  Better to lay it safely away until at least April or May when the clouds are wispy and lacy, and the air is warming a few green things.

Christmas Schooner

Tonight's cravat is suitcoat navy with steep diagonals of forest green.  He looked in the rearview mirror and smiled.  The kids were leaned way over sideways, looking at the Christmas tree on top of the car, through the sunroof.  If they hadn't been firmly belted into their carseats, they'd be lying down, he knew.  The sky was quickly accumulating dark grey clouds, and the deep blue was fast turning dark.  Soon it would be snowing.  In the meantime, though, Jasper and Hannah could watch their evergreen sail through an ocean of sky, cutting the depths and speeding toward the horizon.

Villainous Tie

This tie gives me a headache.  Its purple dots are so minuscule and shiny, and its field colour is so changeable (is it grey? taupe? lavender? graupender?) and opalescent that at times it appears to be moving and buzzing.  The cleft of its dimple is unhelpful; it merely creates a shadowy ravine for the dancing pattern to encircle and descend into and up from.  Now look--it's made me end a sentence with two prepositions.  Horrific thing.

Maybe Bri Is Jet-Lagged, And He Grabbed The First Tie Off The Donation Box In The Hallway

SPT.  Purlap tie.  And wow; that big cavernous dimple is sorta freaking us out.

Blaze

Brian Williams is still in South Africa, reporting on the death of Nelson Mandela.  He wears a charcoal grey tie striped with bright yellow diagonals.  There had not been a car or truck or motorcycle or any sort of vehicle whatsoever down the road in hours.  He wasn't all that surprised; it was, after all, a tiny country with only a relative few vehicles anyhow.  Add to that the late hour, and he knew he had to find a spot to spend the night.  "Poor planning, poor execution," he said out loud to no one but himself, just to hear the sound of something in the darkness.  He veered away from the roadside into a cleared area where a beaten-down shack leaned.  It was useless to try to gather anything for a fire.  It was already warm, and there wasn't anything around to burn.  He chuckled when he thought of the three boxes of matches in his backpack. "What for?" he said aloud.  "What for?"  He took out a box, slid it open, and grabbed a match.  He struck it expertly on the side of the box and a flame jumped to life.  Holding the match, he watched it glow yellow and burn down to his fingers, fascinated.  He took out another and did the same thing, then another and another, watching them all burn bright in the deep dark night.

The Small Delight

Oh, we do love this striped tie of mahogany and gold shot through with tiny threads.  She was blind now, but it was impossible to tell.  She knew the interior of her home so well that she navigated it expertly, even without a cane.  Her appetite was scant, and there was little left of her but her brown skin stretched over old bones, taut and smooth.  Guests delighted but tired her, so he was careful to stay only a little while.  This time, he brought her a pound of her favourite chocolates in a box.  She was confused at first and, lifting it to her nose, suddenly smiled in recognition and joy.  Quickly lifting the lid, her fingers then prowled among the candies until they found one wrapped in golden foil.  It was swiftly unwrapped, popped in the mouth, and her face showed deep satisfaction.  After a profound sigh of contentment, she smiled.  "You," she told him pointedly, "can come anytime."

You'll Never Guess What I Saw

As usual there are stripes tonight, but this tie is a rarity for its mossy green diagonals partnered with navy.  Green is an uncommon sight in a Brian Williams cravat, like a peacock on the roadside, or a cheeseburger at a cocktail party.  Certainly it could happen, and perhaps once or twice it has, but it is still occasion enough to cause comment.

An Evening At The Embers

Impeccably knotted, tonight's cravat is a silky stripe of rich cream and smoky navy stripes.  He sat in the shadowy booth alone and watched her at the bar.  Her posture on the stool was somehow studied and casual at the same time.  She was drinking White Russians and her motion was balletic; the way she lifted the glass, tilted it to take a sip, moved the straw aside with one finger, and set it down without a sound.  Every so often she would pull her long, dark hair back and to one side with a quick, mystifying gesture involving her hand, only a couple of fingers, and a beautiful turn of her wrist ending with a brief moment in which she looked like she was going to beckon him to come to her.  But no; instead she would drop it to her bodice or her hip, smooth her blue silk sheath, and thoughtfully take another sip.

It's So Purple, So Very, Very Purple

SPT.

In Her Element

We're back from our petite vacance and ready again to report, this time on Bri's cravat of faded denim with smudgy polka dots of campfire ash.  She sighed when she saw the next stop on her list.  She didn't dread seeing Maggie, but it tugged at her in the most distressing way.  Maggie's tiny apartment was cramped and full of dust and junk.  It reeked viciously of the unfiltered cigarettes she smoked, and every surface had either burn marks, small logs of ash where a cigarette had been left to burn, or a grey smudge where she had ground one out.  She answered the door with a brilliant smile, always wearing the same enormous pair of Wrangler overalls and a sweatshirt with puffy painted cardinals underneath.  Taking the styrofoam container, she would say thank you effusively, add a few God Bless Yous, and disappear back into her disarray.

Jazz

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.

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.