Word: cottoning
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...know about cotton. None of us had a clue what a dot-com was, but we all know what orange juice is. Before you go to work every morning, you use cotton and wool and silk and rubber and rice and wheat and corn and orange juice and coffee and sugar. Nobody can understand IBM. The chairman of the board of IBM can never understand IBM completely. It's got hundreds of thousands of employees. All you've got to do with cotton is figure out if there's too much or too little. That is not easy...
When he comes to the door, he's in his customary Wasp regalia, a button- down cotton shirt and white suede shoes. Quantities of nicotine and bourbon have produced his voice, a liquid Southern baritone that reminds you of his friend Shelby Foote. It's a voice he dispenses in small doses. What that means is that he can stretch a sentence into next week while he deliberates on his next syllable...
...space-age cocktail dress” in mind, she heads out with fellow competitor, Vicky D. Sung ’10, to a fabric store in Boston. Winmil Fabrics is a dingy, unassuming store overflowing with fabrics in every color and texture: from stretch cotton to light chiffon, patterned fleeces to psychedelic prints, faux fur to feather boas, oversized buttons, sturdy zippers, and spools of thread. This is square one for fashion design, a place where three dollars will buy you thirty inches of zipper. “Usually, I have an idea before I buy the fabric...
...until her design hits the runway. In fact, wearing a zebra print tank top, white blazer, and dark jeans tucked into her black knee high leather boots, Dang’s biggest hurdle came not from lack of time or experience. Instead, it came upon receiving her inspirational alum Cotton Mather, class of 1678. Dang says her initial reaction was an incredulous, “How am I going to do this?!” She started thinking of Mather house, puritans, and witches, in order to get ideas. At 10 a.m. the morning of the show, Dang left...
...Fitz, we live in an age bereft of precision: full up with fuzzy numbers and cotton-ball platitudes. There’s a reason I get a feeling of cold comfort just off a plane in Zurich, and it’s not that I once placed second in my high school’s telemark giant slalom at the Snow Bowl. No, it’s because the Swiss lay it all on the table so meticulously, whether the question is “what time is the train coming?,” “how much...