Word: tweed
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Breathy, blond Chloe; bitter, tweed-wearing Emily; and bland spinster Betty: that's a sample of the personas that former New York Times restaurant critic Reichl inhabited in her quest to remain anonymous to Manhattan's foodie establishment as she reviewed her way through highfalutin four-star eateries and dingy Japanese noodle shops. But this tasty (forgive me) chronicle of disguise--sentimental and hilarious--also conveys the sheer delight that people feel when sinking their teeth into a truly memorable meal...
...elegiac “Only Someone Running” was followed by a song from Oldham’s Joya called “Idea & Deed,” which is his own adaptation of a traditional song called “Both Sides the Tweed.” Bonnie then announced a new track, called “Four Screams,” proclaiming: “You’ve never heard this before.” This ended up being one of the group’s only real interactions with the crowd. It wasn?...
...besom (stitched folds) pockets, but he cares little for dogma. He does not fuss about which collar style may be appropriate to a man's face (most, he suggests, are good for all). He provides some lustrous little essays on royal dandies, polyester, loafers and the making of Harris Tweed, which is still turned out by hand, in the Outer Hebrides. The weavers have resisted most new technology, he reports, although they have given up their time-honored method of preparing the yarn for dyeing. Chemicals have replaced urine as the preparation of choice...
Harold M. Agnew's elbows make a pair of wings for his head, on top of which his hands fold in a clasp. The elbows are covered by suede patches sewn onto a brown tweed jacket. The collar of his brown polo shirt is worn over the jacket collar. There is a Western-style belt of silver and turquoise, and something of a belly: the paunch of a man of 64 who was an athlete 40 years ago. He looks like Spencer Tracy now. His desk looks like a pile of raked leaves. On walls and tables...
...there a solution? I thought for a while that if sections were organized by personality type, perhaps that would solve the problem (shy brilliant kids: Monday at 1; tweed-jacketed know-it-alls: Thursday at 3). Unfortunately, that’s not liable to happen; confrontational people aren’t going anywhere, and they’re hard to avoid. They’re cropping up in class, at work, and on public transportation. We can’t hide forever, but what we can do is refuse to tolerate their rudeness by being proactive. Imagine what would happen...