The 12 Days of Christmas
Last Chance Dept.
It’s Friday night at the Hog & Fool, a 200-year-old pub off O’Connell Street in Dublin. World headquarters for conversation.
Dark mahogany walls. Lean-faced men. Ruddy-faced women.
The bursts of laughter aren't polite, but real, approaching the edge of uncontrollability.
The stories being told are new, freshly minted, just for you, my dear. There is no higher honor.
The room roar is high (but still, not as bad as in certain New York restaurants where you can’t make out what it is you just said).
These Irishmen, in collarless Irish shirts, under dark herringbone vests and tweed caps, have managed to keep their mouths shut all week, saving up the good stuff for now, for Friday night, for this very place, for this very moment...
How could one single city possibly give birth to Yeats, Shaw, Joyce, Wilde, Beckett... and all those here tonight as well?
Working-Class Irish Pub Shirt (No. 1039), for men and women. Made of soft cotton sheeting, well-suited for both the intoxication of talk and the difficult art of listening. Not bad for just hanging out, either. Or, when necessary, for looking interesting.
Simple collar band. Seven-button placket. Stud at neck. No-nonsense. Rounded shirttails. Two-button cuff. No pocket. (You have to carry everything you have in your head.)
Sizes: S, M, L, XL, XXL.
Colors: Red, Green, and Blue.
All nicely faded; they appear to have had some experience of life.
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