There are only a couple of times in my whole life where I can remember seeing my dad wearing a tie. One of those times was at my wedding and the tie featured Mr Funny, a character from the Mr Men, which says everything you need to know about the man. But nestled under a starched collar and against the expanse of smooth cotton, a neatly knotted tie is the finishing touch to a gentleman’s outfit. And a cravat beats a tie hands down every time.
There are so many more possibilities. Between the Regency gentlemen’s stand-up collar and the inviting v of his silk waistcoat, there is sufficient space for a multitude of folds and knots; the mail coach tie, the oriental, even the mathematical should one have sufficient skill.
The following extract from Braving Madness, Betty is more concerned in the removal of Edward’s necktie.
His cravat loosened and she tugged at the fabric eagerly with both hands. Edward broke off the kiss, his hand to his throat.
“What, strangulation next?” he gasped. “Is there no end to the torture?” Now able to see what she was doing, Betty grasped the end of the black tie and with one sharp pull the fabric slithered from away from his collar. In triumphant glee she flung it over her shoulder.
“There was no cause to throw a perfectly good necktie into the bathtub,” Edward said, only inches away from her ears, his lips nuzzling her skin, stubble from beard scratching her skin only to be kissed better with the soft heat of his mouth.