Merry Kris

 Tuned in as I am to the excruciatingly subtle gestures that pass for individuality in the chestnut-sporting gender, i nearly missed Kris. Or maybe i was in a J Crew-induced coma. Anyhoo, by the time i got him in my sights, Vixens were prancing on my sugarplums and i had to stop, drop and roll to save my retinas (once i played retinas on a triple word score in scrabble -- dominating) from the hellfires of Pendleton.  Observe, he's already taken precautions. Based on the leather buttons, the put-your-pinecones-in-em patch pockets and the Stewart plaid that was clearly hijacked and infused with a mixture of plutonium and red dye no. 97 by their sotted scottish neighbors, i judged this to be a vintage Pendleton from their New Hampshire collection -- live loud or die. something like that. also Kris' savvy stylist/woman friend told me this very thing. i didn't just make this shit up. How much do i wish Kris was holding a long narrow tray of green olives stuffed with pimento -- that's all i want for krismas.  He bears full responsibility for the newsboy cap because, holy irony, he's the COO and MIC of a news site, http://woodbury.patch.com.  Whatdya know, a fellow journalist. The difference is, he has readers.