Word: claddings
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...images whisper, where fantasy and finery go together like hand in well-stitched glove. Watch polo matches in Palm Beach, trim in a crested blazer and trousers of crisp linen. Sip cognac by the fireplace of a Sun Valley, chalet, snug under a brightly colored Navajo blanket and clad in a Nordic apres-ski sweater and wool twill slacks. Go on safari in Kenya wearing a bush jacket and khaki shorts that would do justice to Robert Redford in Out of Africa. Sip tea at London's Connaught Hotel, draped to perfection in a chalk-stripe suit...
Above all, Lauren is the boss. He huddles for most of the day with fashion assistants and corporate colleagues, at one moment expostulating before a trio of dark-suited subordinates and the next pondering an advertising display among a group of young designers clad in a palette of pale blue variations on his own favorite garb. Lauren pays his employees well and rewards loyalty, but he can be a blunt taskmaster. "He is absolutely terrible about hiding his feelings," says Buffy Birrittella, Polo/Ralph Lauren's vice president for advertising and communications. In an industry notorious for its creative egos, Lauren...
...their long separation, the two Berlins have acquired markedly different personalities. West Berlin (pop. 2.1 million) is a city with insomnia. By day the streets hum as dark-suited businessmen brush impatiently past roller skaters clad in little more than G-strings, and camera-laden tourists gawk at punk couples in Dracula makeup and matching spiky hairdos. So fast is the tempo that when a quarrel erupted recently between two West Berliners, the story goes, one snapped at the other, "Slap yourself for me. I don't have time." At night the city grows more manic still, with revelers jamming...
...Vincent Beach last Sunday knows, lawyers are really the same thing as investment bankers. If you want to see them in person, catch PBA's 7:10 a.m. flight from Edgartown to Boston any Monday morning and you'll see them being driven to the airport by their madras-clad sons or Lilly Pulitzer-clad wives. If you merely want proof of their existence, venture into the most obscure newspaper shop on the Vineyard and you'll discover they are well-stocked with copies of Barrons and The New York Times. Most stores even post a schedule on the front...
...midday sun blazes over a yard at the Mississippi State Penitentiary in Parchman. Enter three new arrivals in clean jump suits, their possessions bundled in white sheets. The other inmates, skinheaded and clad in sweaty green jump suits, watch as prison officers in camouflage uniforms set upon the trio. "Can't you move any faster than that, son?" barks an officer, after ordering the new men to unpack and then repack their belongings. One panicked inmate starts to respond. Snarls the officer: "You don't ask me questions, son! Do you understand that?" "Yessir." "I can't hear you. Speak...