Bow Tie o’ the Day reminds me of hunting pheasants with my dad, which we sometimes did from as close as our own back yard. I ordered Bow Tie with Dad and hunts in mind. But when it showed up to live with me, I knew immediately it was sort of an oopsie. This is a bow tie whose idea was better than its execution. It is pretty enough, but it just doesn’t show itself off to spectators very well. Ya can’t see the pheasants! When I’m wearing Bow Tie, no one can decipher what’s on it unless they creep right up into my face. And “creep” is the right word because when people I’m not married to or who aren’t babies get that close to my face, it feels creepy. Seriously, that degree of up-close is what I refer to as I-can-count-your-nose-hairs-without-even-trying-you-creep close. Yeah, that kind of close.
I love Bow Tie anyway, despite how it sometimes creates awkward situations for me. It’s silk, too, which feels elegant. And it still reminds me of Dad.
When I was wee, every year after bagging our pheasants, he’d stick a couple of handsome pheasant tail feathers into an empty rifle shell, then crimp it closed. VOILA! I would throw that feather-and-shell toy as high and as far as I could for hours, watching its feathery trajectory plop it back to the dirt. Best. Childhood. Toy. Ever. Thanks, Dad.