The Scarf

The scarf around my neck has very little meaning other than it’s made of some poly fiber. I’m allergic to wool.

Seville, Spain

Cotton, silk, cashmere? Fine. But no wool.

I bought this scarf for two reasons: first, Rebecca, Anneke and I – on a whim – decided to book a trip to Paris for Thanksgiving ’07. I’ve been fortunate to be in Europe in all sorts of weather. But late November in Paris is terribly brisk and chilly. You need a good scarf, gloves and hat (especially when you’re bald like me).

Second, the colours all work with clothes I normally bring for travel – black, blue, grey, khaki. And the scarf was maybe $5 at Ross stores. Deal.

Truth be told, this picture I use for personal and professional reasons is about the best I can furnish. I am not photogenic. I have a face for radio. 🙂 Better in person, I hope, than in a photo.

So this cropped picture taken on a cold, rainy day in Sevilla, Spain (Presidential Palace) around Dec. 30th, 2007 is the best this craggy sea dog can manage.

For now, it works. Until something else arrives where the light was perfect, the angle just right, the camera was out of focus and I didn’t blink or smirk during the shot.

Last add: had lunch recently with a new friend and colleague, Ray, at my favorite little Mexican joint in Culver City – La Ballona. Ray mentioned in passing that he loved this shot of me on my websites. I explained the scarf picture and personal reasons.

Still, Ray liked it. For wearing a scarf, to him, showed a certain artistic boldness.

OK. Love the affirmation. Artist? Where?

But, for me, it’s just a nice scarf to keep yours truly warm in chilly climes.

Move over, Cezanne.


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