Menswear’s favorite cravateur—Alexander Olch was mainly responsible for kick-starting the bow tie renaissance with his eponymous line—has unveiled his plans for shirt-world domination. The shirts won’t be available till August, but we managed to get a sneak peek at the three inaugural styles.
Sure, the whole thing is about electing a president for the next four years, but there was plenty more going on yesterday during the quadrennial festivities known as Election Day 2012. Here’s what we saw.
If this ever-changing world in which we live in makes you give in and cry, just turn on NBC and sooner or later you’ll be greeted with a familiar face from a simpler time. We're referring, of course, to the curious case of Bob Costas's visage.
As we’ve attempted to illustrated in the above timeline, the man has indeed aged over the last thirty years—one might even say significantly so of late. But it's hard to put a finger on where and how this aging has occurred. There's surely been help along the way in the form of botulism injections, award-winning hair colorists and layers of various caked-on concealers. But nothing seems different, which we suppose is the point.
Loosen those ties and grab a Styrofoam cup of stale joe: The Newsroom premieres on HBO this Sunday. The fluorescent den of newscasters has been a tried and tested bastion of cinematic greatness for years: the ring around the (unbuttoned) collar, the insubordination, the leggy, ball-busting female executives and the narcissistic, damaged, maverick newsmen who love (to hate) them, the do-or-die stakes and corporate greed that envelops it all. Going live in five, four, three... whether you’re ready or not.
It’s high time someone dusted off the fictional newsroom. That it’s Sorkin who’s manning the duster is just gravy—chunky, delicious, “My name is Andrew Shepherd and I am the president” gravy, ladled atop generous portions of “You have part of my attention—you have the minimum amount” and “What I do want is for you to stand there in that faggoty white uniform and with your Harvard mouth extend me some fucking courtesy!” You have to ask him nicely, after all.