Sunday, September 21, 2008

Tie One On, Part II—sorta

The contents of this blog entry bears no resemblance to the contents of the previous blog entry. There is only the slightest tangential relationship…

When I saw this statistic the other day in a magazine, I was so startled that I could have spilled my proverbial soup on my tie. The Wall Street Journal reported that as of 2008 only 6% of men now wear ties to work every day (according to a Gallup poll). The ripple effect of casual Fridays, it seems, has taken its toll: in the United States, sales of ties plunged to $677 million last year, down from a high of $1.3 billion in 1995. (My information is courtesy of said Journal article.)

I admit this saddens me. I love ties. As a youth I purloined many a tie from my father’s collection (“they’re really our ties, aren’t they?” I said to my father) whenever necessary. There are few things more father-son bonding than that rite of passage of instructing a son in the tying of the Windsor knot. Okay, if you don’t know this about me, I will tell you when I really learned to tie a tie. My father had tried to settle me down to do the tie thing, around the time he tried to teach me how to change a tire. However, in those pubescent days I was just so busy (you know, putting on a show twice a day on the picnic table in the backyard! Jeez!) and never really learned either crucial skill. My father continued to tie my ties for me, and when I went to college, one of the requirements to be my roommate was to tie my ties. When I really learned how to do this step, independent of father or roomies, was when my father moved me into my first apartment as an adult, a young teacher in North Carolina. We had hauled in the books, the kitchen stuff, the clothes, whatever else one has at age 22, and I looked at my father, and said, “I think it’s time. It’s finally time I clinched this.” Right there in the Gastonia, NC apartment I learned—in all of about five minutes. As I read that story about ties in The Wall Street Journal, I can’t help feeling that something important is being lost. Somehow, the act of facing yourself in the mirror and wrapping a length of silk (if you’re lucky) around your throat signaled that you were a grown-up, ready to do battle in the world.

When I moved from New York last year I went through my collection of ties. I had maybe 300 ties 18 months ago. I ended up giving away to the Goodwill about 80 ties (none of which had any sentimental value). Then when I was packing and moving to Jordan I knew I couldn’t take all of them, so I chose the top 75. Seriously—I had separation anxiety. The rest are in storage in Cincinnati—except for a few my brother-in-law copped to wear to work. I call it our inter-tie-brary loan system. What wit.

Of course, the very fact that ties are now so infrequently seen makes them that much more special. Once in awhile if I have some time on my hands, I—dare I reveal this tidbit of obsessive-compulsiveness??—I color-code my ties just to make the job of matching easier in the morning. But I digress—when I read this story, it made me think how important my ties are to me. They are such marvelous souvenirs and reminders of people I have connected with over the years. Of all the things I brought to Jordan, there are two collections of things—pretty ordinary in many ways—that have given me the most comfort and provided me with links to friends and families: the dozens of magnets I brought for my refrigerator and the dozens of ties I brought. Each time I cruise by the fridge and see the magnets from trips, the photos turned into magnets of my niece and nephew, of former students, I am culling those rivulets of close comforts. As I choose my ties in the morning, it is more than just the matching involved—it is like paging through a wonderful scrapbook. There’s the slate blue and yellow tie my sister matched with a monogrammed pinstripe yellow shirt that always signals summer to me. There’s the tie from the Metropolitan Museum of Art that Christy gave me that looks like a sun-drenched medieval stained glass window—it brings back the memories of The Gates project in Central Park. There’s the striking blue variants tie from Mike Barry that reminds me of his wonderful family and the joy I had in knowing the guys in the class of 2006. And the bold mustard-khaki-silver tie I wore to my first prom at Hackley in 1998. There’s the tie with the purple and navy and black flecks from Jennie Nolon—how many plays and classes did we enjoy before she graduated in 1999? I have ties with the same design—both the Michelangelo work, The Creation of Adam—I brought them both so I would remember both Kieran Nulty and Steve DelMoro, the givers of these ties. There’s the spectacularly haute mode tie from Jen Lee (she loves her Chinese BBQ) and even with that bit of a stain on it now, I can’t imagine not wearing it with my Regis Philbin brand shirt. There’s the tie from the Metropolitan Museum of Art that Taraneh gave me of the doodlings of Leonardo’s Codex—that class of 2004 made my cup runneth over with blessings. There’s a tie—a little old now, from 1990, but Picasso-influenced purple and ivory squares and worn on the first day of school every year since 1991! There’s the tie from Florence, Italy that every time I wear it Anne says, “that tie is beautiful.” She forgets every time that she actually purchased the tie for me on our marvelous trip in 2001. Nearby are ties from other trips with Anne—one from Seville, one from Vietnam. And I can’t forget the tie influenced by a Paul Klee artwork that came from the Anne Myers family. I haven’t seen the Myers’ in some time, but every time that tie goes on I remember them fondly. There’s the tie I wore out to a birthday dinner in 2004 with Anne and Doris and the waiter dropped a tray of food on me—food from necktie to pants! Yeah, the restaurant wouldn’t even pay for the dry cleaning bill. I put a hex on them and they closed about six months later. There’s the shocking pink and blue tie I bought on a day I was a little depressed back in 2005 and thought a beacon of light-tie would change my mood. There’s a tie I got from Megan Winter—a dear Charlotte Latin student—the last time I saw her in 1996. Ha! There’s the pumpkin and crimson floral tie I used to wear in 1996 at Charlotte Latin simply because it matched a shirt that the headmaster told me once he hated! There’s the tie I bought last year in front of the Met for $2! And not far from that is my only fancy-schmancy designer tie—an Armani tie from the Ahmed family in New York. Armani suits me. There’s the sunny beach tie—I used to wear it whenever I needed to feel I should be escaping somewhere else. Funny, I don’t wear it much here. Then there are some new ties I have added since I moved to Jordan—the emerald tie I bought with my first proper Jordanian suit, dark and regal. There are the gifts of ties from students who traveled, Abdullah to France, Robert to Holland, and Adel to England. Leen gave me a smart lavender and black tie—interesting how her tie is like the one Jennie Nolon gave me 10 years earlier, and both have been friendly, beautiful types who have made great progress. There are the two ties from my friend Sameer, one of my favorite people in Jordan, a reminder of the friendships I have forged in the last year.

My tie rack is like a great charm bracelet—all these wonderful moments of dear ones who have added to whatever sartorial splendor I muster.

Does any of this blather about ties matter? You betcha! Tomorrow the King is coming for dinner! What tie am I going to wear?

2 comments:

powellsa74 said...

Well I am not surprised by your incredible memory John! I couldn't even remember the Country Club that I went this past weekend to, let alone to remember past gifts.
I really enjoy reading your blog...I have definitely missed it:)

Mary said...

Johnny,
I loved the stroll down memory lane about you and your ties. I hate that you had to leave any behind, but it was such a great picture of you and the things and people who are important to you. I can't wait to hear about the King's visit. Does he know he is in the presence of "King"? when he is with you? Keep writing because it's the closest I get to actually being with you. Sorry I missed your call the other night. I have news so I'll e-mail or call soon.
Love you to pieces!!
Mary