Deb is wondering what we thought of Jack White’s performance at the Grammys.
Great. Compulsively over the top–if you’ve got two bands, you’re going to use them. But great.
I mostly spent my time thinking about Jack White’s amazing suit with rhinestone peacock feathers all over it. Paris may have Chanel, but here in Nashville the greatest couturier is Manuel, who has been outfitting musicians in handmade craziness for decades.
I cannot confirm who made that suit, but if it’s not Manuel, a) I would be shocked, and b) that suit owes its existence to Manuel and to Nudie Cohn, the grandaddy of rhinestone-suit design. Scroll through to see the Louvin Brothers in their Christmas Nudie suits. And much, much more. You can get a sense of what Manuel is up to here.
Maybe it’s the fact that it’s the first suit I’ve seen with eyes staring out from the hipbones.
Eileen Fisher, take note.
PS In knitting news, I am not saying that battle fatigue is starting to kick in on this Donegal Fair Isle sweater, but I am saying that the euphoria has morphed, as euphoria does, into something more . . . tempered.
More along the lines of What’s The Rush?
Or I Have All The Time In The World.
Or It’s Not Like It Has Feet And Can Run Away From Me.
So close, yet so far. By my calculation, I’m 54 rounds from glory. It’s a race to the bottom.