I'm not sure what got into me the other night, but I decided I needed to wear one of my vintage ties to my new temp job (they already think I'm a bit of a weirdo, so why not). I work in a law office as an office assistant, floater, (the more popular name for the position, however gross it may sound) a Girl Friday (the name I prefer, but of course no one calls me this). Since few people call me by my name anyway, why not play with gender, identity, and fashion in one grand swoop?!! I thought I'd get a few nods-- a few "well dones" for tying one on. But. . .
It was like I had a third boob tucked neatly under my neck. Seriously. Come on-- a woman in a tie is not revolutionary-- Queen/King Hatshepsut was a hep cat-- I think she wore her tie way back in the ancient day. . . to compliment her beard. What about the tie worn by every student at Hogwarts? I just wanted to feel what is was like to hit the financial district of town in my pinstripe shirt and smart tie-- to make an adjustment when things got hot under the collar. I wanted to tie one on.
But I had to learn to tie a tie first. I tried hunting down a few sites but let me tell you, unless you remember studying Macramé in an after school program, or you happen to have spent some time on the sea, making knots and such, tying a tie is ever so foreign. It's no wonder that clip-ons were born. . .
No clip ons for me. No easy, cheap-ass knots. I mean I could have stopped at the average fold'em and hold'em it's a tie, what do you want? sort of thing. But, after finding out that when not sporting a bow tie, 007 prefers a Windsor knot, and I had to have it. It's a wider, square finish with the knot underneath-- perfect for wrangling a wide collar shirt. Okay, I'm not going to lie-- I was not ready for the full Windsor, named after Edward VII, the Duke of Windsor's grandpa (you know, the Ed.3 who abdicated the thrown for love). When folded correctly, the Windsor comes with a cute, elongated "dimple," which is really quite sexy, I must say.
Look at the rebuked Duke's fat, fat tie. . . okay, so I tried to learn to tie a tie using graphic images:
I pretty much fried my internal mother board, trying to follow graphic instructions. I decided to try a different route-- I wanted to follow along. I wanted a man to teach me. Is that so wrong? I just kind of thought that, having a man teach you how to tie an tie, even in the virtual world, is, to quote Paris Hilton. . . hot. So, I went straight to You Tube.
After wading through a few somewhat creepy dudes, tying their ties in not so clean, well-lighted places, I opted to study under the tutelage of an older gentleman with a lovely Scottish accent. I figured of all people, this man would have a Windsor knot down pat. And he did. But it took more than 7 minutes to make his knot. Meanwhile, I meandered, got lost, started to day dream about Robert Louis Stevenson, my great lost love, and sweet Jesus-- the stunning Mr. McAvoy. By the time the teacher was done with the lesson, it was me who found herself in a knot. HUZZAH! Check out these Windsors. . . and the resemblance. . .
Anyway. . . I found a coupla clever frat boys with their clever music, and their clever, stop-motion animation. But in the end their knots were conventional-- tied before you could say Beau Brummel.
I'd almost given up on my dandy-girl look when I found this:
Leave it to a lady to explain the technique, and in 1:17. I learned the half Windsor with her voice and male hands, tying the tie. I got it on the first try. Without looking at my own hands, I watched his-- it was kind of like crocheting without the needle.
Every woman should know how to tie a tie, whether you have a male sig/other or a son, or a lady friend. It's kind of a fun way of connecting with your "manly" side. Not to mention that a well-done knot could get you some. . . interesting attention. Depending on your preference. Forget those who respond with shock and confusion at your attire. I talked to THREE men in my tie who were intrigued by my knot. If she can tie an intricate knot, what else can she do?
Take that, Cosmo. . .