A while back, I had a fairly popular (in the sense that it got linked from a couple of big blogs) post on ties, in which I commented about the differences in quality between ties made in lower priced locales, and those made in Italy, or France, or England. But that was just based on things I had read in various books and online message boards. I bought another (used) tie tonight in my continued quest to upgrade my wardrobe, and took the opportunity to do a little dissection of one of my now displaced, lower quality ties. The results are pretty telling, I think.

First, look at this wide shot. Of course, no one expects a $30 tie to be a so-called "seven fold" - that is, a tie made only of silk folded on top of itself seven times to result in a thick, yet still supple tie. Like many perfectly good ties, rather, this tie consists of silk folded on top of a fabric base. But look at the paucity of the silk. The manufacturer has hardly used enough to cover the fabric pad. This isn't seven fold but a fold and a half.

More striking to me, however, is the next shot - a close up of the fabric pad that forms the tie's foundation. Again, one wouldn't expect the highest quality wool lining, or velvet, or anything of that sort. But I did expect something that looked and felt ok. As you can see, however, reality is a grimy, grainy, only marginally woolen imitation of sandpaper. Worse, it feels less appealing than it looks, like some sort of wearable scouring pad.

I wondered whether other relatively cheap ties might be equally bad, so I fished out the lining of a tie made by Michael Kos, representing a sort of middle quality American made product. As you can see, the base of that tie looked (and felt) completely different.

Cheap stuff, whether it's food, or clothes, means cutting corners. When I cook and eat, I try to avoid fakery - whether it's margarine filled "butter" croissants, or factory made cannolis. Men's clothing, unfortunately, is filled with fakes, and for the same reason. Making good things the old way is hard, and it takes a lot of time. People just don't want to deal with it anymore.

I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "we hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal." I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave-owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

It is a sad fact that my increasing education in jazz has corresponded to the passing away of a number of its great figures in the past few years (not least because I am most likely to be roused to listen to something new upon reading that its creator has died). In which vein, both Alice Coltrane and Michael Brecker have died. (Links at Orin Kerr's and Andrew Dilts's).

Johnny Cash made a children's album. I can't decidde whether this is slightly frightening, or actually kind of tempting.