Wednesday, April 16, 2014

And Another One Bites The Dust

Grey Amoeba Tie. I know, I know! It's a perfectly respectable tie, but Brian himself resigned this cravat to its Den Of Ubiquity. We had no choice.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Over It

Purple Purple Purple Yawn Yawn Yawn The End.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Spring Plans

Brian Williams selects a stripe of charcoal and lilac for this evening's newscast. It finally felt like Spring, and they grabbed the last of the bottle to take out on the deck.  It was far too early for either of them to have brought out the patio furniture proper, but there were two folding lounge chairs in the garage.  They set them side by side, poured the wine, and sat down to survey the back yard.  The purple crocuses had popped out overnight, and the place looked as if it had been carpeted by a magic gardener.  Dusk fell as they talked about their future plans for the house, for themselves, for everything.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

I Am Step Two...Or Step One-A...Whatever Gets It Done, I Am It

This is the Sixth Appearance since the end of February (literally, 28 February) for this cravat, the graphite silk patterned with small medallions of dark charcoal and white.  I am loathe to cast it into the Axis Of Evil; it is such a stylish tie compared to the other Denizens of Dismay, but truly, it deserves its emblem.  Why, Brian, why?  What is it about this particular tie that compels you to wear it, week after week?  Is it possessed, or are you possessed by it?  Did Tom Brokaw give it to you?  Did you lose a bet?  Did your Formerly Good Dog get into your L'Armoire Des Cravates and chew them all up but the chosen few we have seen, this being your favourite?  Please, Brian Williams, please allow me to come and set things in order, freshening up your Necktie Rotation, organizing them, winnowing out just a few, and I will leave and never tell anyone.  You may have staff keep me under watch the entire time.  Remember, Step One is Admitting You Need Help.  I am here for You.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

In Which I Brave Yet Another Disappointment

What is wrong in BriTieLand?  So many Repeat Cycles and so much sameness.  Where are all of the other ties that we could  be seeing?  Instead, it's a reprise of last Wednesday's tie, the shiny lilac with ropy stripes of raspberry.  I find it interesting, even pretty at times, but I want so much to see something different.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Strangers At Home

Brian has donned the navy blue tie crossed by slim white stripes for this evening's Nightly. He began to think of everything she did as an act of defiance.  He got up precisely at seven every morning, started a pot of coffee, walked down the driveway to get the paper, and sat in his chair at the table to read it, section by section, in order.  Much later, usually at ten or eleven, she awoke, came into the kitchen with her hair tousled, wearing one of his teeshirts and a pair of denim shorts (if he was lucky) or boxers, poured a cup of coffee, and plopped down in a chair.  He still watched, horrified, as she spooned sugar into her cup--endlessly, he thought--and gave it a huge dousing of cream.  Who was this? he often thought.  How on earth is this my daughter?  Is there nothing of me in her at all?

Monday, April 7, 2014

Saved By The Ping

For tonight's broadcast, BriWi wears the pulsating and hue-changing shiny tie of electric purple and silvery pattern which looks like houndstooth, but is, in factWE INTERRUPT THIS REPORT TO ANNOUNCE A GREG FEITH SIGHTING.  In a segment about the still-missing Malaysian passenger jet, Greg Feith appeared for Expert Comments.  He was wearing another of his breathtaking ties, this one reminiscent of those souped-up restored '57 Chevys with flames on them  Of course, he looked wonderful.  We now return you to your regular Report, already in progress.headache, and took them in a single swallow.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Intervention

"Hello, everyone.  In case any of you don't know why you're here, my name is Nance, and this is a Fashion Intervention.  Brian is on his way here now, and he should be here in about fifteen minutes.  All of you are here because you care about Brian, and you are worried about him.  I'm sure it hasn't escaped any of you that he has worn the same grey tie with little floaty things on it way too often in the past month or so, and my sense of it is that this is a cry for help.  I mean, it's a perfectly stylish tie; we all agree on that; I see you nodding, but how many times is he going to wear it?  Hey, hey, it's going to be okay!  Can someone pass that woman the tissues?  Thank you.  Anyway, as I was saying.  He seems to be sort of stuck, and stuck on this one tie.  It's not even a Solid Purple, so we need to find out what in the heck is going on.  Is there trouble at home?  Is this some residual angst about his solo show being canceled?  Hold on, sir, I really can't take questions at this point.  Is this some sort of empathetic response to Ann Curry?  No idea.  But, you all have your letters to read, and I am hoping that you were very, very painfully honest.  Take the remaining time to go over them, and please compose yourselves.  Remember, he is going to be wearing the grey tie with the little floaty things when he walks in.  Don't let it throw you."

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Playing To Win

Brian appears before us wearing the lilac silk striped with fuchsia cables.  Again.  She grew up in her mother's dressmaking shop, first playing among the bolts and swathes of fabric, the windings of braid and piping.  She dutifully sorted buttons for hours, happily finding the matches, loving the unusual ones, the colourful ones, the textured ones.  Now, years later, her skills were more in demand than her mother's.  She had an eye for style that was slightly ahead of le monde, but not too bold, not too avant garde.  It was her creations they wanted.  Always she was busy among the silks, the notions, the buttons, but not for play; there was no more hide-and-go-seek and the button matching was deathly serious.  Fashion was a game in Paris, but it was a blood sport, and one poor showing could kill you.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

T.S. Eliot Homage

We are thanking heaven for small favours tonight as BriWi knots up the relaxed denim blue tie with charcoal polka dots. It strikes just the right mood for April, a bit frivolous and flirtatious with the print, yet still a bit somber and stormy with the colouration.  Poets and newsmen alike know that April is the cruellest month, a month most changeable, a month of contradiction much like March, but with a promise of Spring always in waiting.

Monday, March 31, 2014

In Which We Make A Direct Appeal

Le Sigh.  Brian has stopped caring with regard to his neckwear, obviously.  Tonight he has slung on, for the eleventy thousandth time this March, the graphite grey/medallion print silk number.  I like this tie, but I am dangerously close to relegating it to the Axis Of Evil due to Overuse.

Brian, face it.  You are not, and can never be, Greg Feith.  And that is just feith--er, fine. You are a Man Of Style nonetheless.  Now quit pouting and reclaim your place in The Fashion World as a Sartorial Icon.  Where is the Pink Tie?  Where is the Salmon and Heather Grey Stripe?  Why not breeze through my Archives or root through your Tie Armoire and find some truly lovely (and neglected) cravats?  We are waiting.

Friday, March 28, 2014

Did All The Greg Feith Adoration Hurt Someone's Feelings?

SPT. Purlap Tie.  Why?

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Promise Keeper

Tonight, Brian is only a segment reporter on Lester Holt's Nightly.  He does have on a tie, however, so we shall report on it.  It is the dusky plum silk cravat with charcoal diagonals.  Exhausted, they lay among the rows and coughed, their eyes tearing and their chests heaving and burning.  Impossibly, the fire had not come into the vineyard at all, and only the winery tasting room and retail space was a loss.  They had managed to carry out only half the cases stored there, but it was a small dent in the inventory.  The worst thing was that the fire had happened at all.  She knew there had been ill feeling since she set up business here and let it be known that it was, for all intents and purposes, a women's winery.  That the blaze had been deliberately set she had no doubt.  She sat up and looked at the charred remains of her beautiful chateau-styled building and absentmindedly reached over to cup a luscious bunch of merlot grapes in her palm.  They were dusted with soot, but beautiful with the promise of a deep and fragrant wine.  A promise she intended to fulfill.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Le Sigh

SPT. Purlap Tie, again.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Sixties

This particular cravat has been long absent.  It is a heavily textured check of white and purple.  It's perfectly fine as a tie, but imagine seeing this fabric on the bolt.  So retro!  I could see Sixties designers making maxi skirts for party hostesses, to be worn with a wide belt and one of those white, stretchy, banlon shirts with collar and cuffs.  Or maybe a Twiggy-inspired coat with double-breasted A-line styling--very short--and high white go go boots.  Quite Mod.

Monday, March 24, 2014

On The Way

This evening Brian wears his cravat of cornflower blue striped by golden cables.  "You can drop me right here," she said to the driver.  "I can walk the rest of the way just fine."  The pickup truck ground to a stop on the dirt road and she grabbed her bag and hopped down.  Waving, she watched it disappear into the horizon.  In a few moments, there was silence.  She was surrounded by sun and sky and heavy, bobbing waves of wheat. She looked at it with a practiced eye; in about two weeks it would be in storage.  The dust from her ride had settled, and she wandered into the rows.  Setting her bag down, she drew out a flowered dress and some wet wipes.  Hurriedly, she took off her jeans and tee and shook off the travel.  She gave herself a quick bath among the wheat with the towelettes and put on the dress.  Pulling on her boots, then packing up her stuff, she looked around to make sure all was as before.  Emerging, she regained the path and walked on.