Plaid Shirt Quotes & Sayings

A tall man in a plaid work shirt stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. "Can I buy you a drink, little lady?" I reached back and got Jason's hand. I raised it where it was visible. "Taken. Sorry." There was more than one reason I'd wanted to bring Jason with me to a bar on a Friday night. He stared down at Jason, way down, making a show of how very tall he was. "Don't you want something a little bigger?" "I like them small," I said, my face very serious. "It makes oral sex easier." We left him speechless. Jason was laughing so hard, he could barely keep his feet. I pulled him through the crowd by the hand. Holding his hand seemed to be hint enough for the rest of the cruising males. The — Laurell K. Hamilton

Tattered jeans, grimy size-twenty sneakers and a plaid flannel shirt with holes in it. He smelled like a New — Rick Riordan

That night, before bed, he goes first to Willem's side of the closet, which he has still not emptied. Here are Willem's shirts on their hangers, and his sweaters on their shelves, and his shoes lined up beneath. He takes down the shirt he needs, a burgundy plaid woven through with threads of yellow, which Willem used to wear around the house in the springtime, and shrugs it on over his head. But instead of putting his arms through its sleeves, he ties the sleeves in front of him, which makes the shirt look like a straitjacket, but which he can pretend - if he concentrates - are Willem's arms in an embrace around him. He climbs into bed. This ritual embarrasses and shames him, but he only does it when he really needs it, and tonight he really needs it. — Hanya Yanagihara

The shirt seemed heavy until he saw there was another shirt inside it, the sleeves carefully worked down inside Jack's sleeves. It was his own plaid shirt, lost, he'd thought, long ago in some damn laundry, his dirty shirt, the pocket ripped, buttons missing, stolen by Jack and hidden here inside Jack's own shirt, the pair like two skins, one inside the other, two in one. — Annie Proulx

By the time she yanked on her old jeans and a battered plaid flannel shirt, she felt almost normal. Calm, as she plugged in the coffee pot. But the nightmare was still very much on her mind, because it wasn't a dream ...
It was a memory. — Dani Harper

Nova Scotia is a box bass and a fiddle and German sourdough and scotch eggs. And the air, all heavy and bracing and wet. When you're driving, you wave to the old guy walking along the side of the road in the plaid flannel shirt and he waves back, because it's just what you do. This is an extraordinarily hospitable and musical place. You've got to haul wood in the winter and batten down hatches during hurricanes, and there are bagpipes and banjos and weathered old barns and whales offshore and abandoned fishing boats sleeping on the beach. — Kate Inglis

Hannah Storm in a horrifying, horrifying outfit today. She's got on red go-go boots and a catholic school plaid skirt ... way too short for somebody in her 40s or maybe early 50s by now ... She's got on her typically very, very tight shirt. She looks like she has sausage casing wrapping around her upper body ... I know she's very good, and I'm not supposed to be critical of ESPN people, so I won't ... but Hannah Storm ... come on now! Stop! What are you doing? ... She's what I would call a Holden Caulfield fantasy at this point. — Tony Kornheiser

A man was sitting on the float wearing a plaid shirt, jeans, and a worn Sox cap, working on a lobster trap. The place was classic Maine, like you'd see on a postcard. Tori — D.J. MacHale

You go to Brooklyn, everybody's got a beard and plaid shirt. They may be able to tell each other apart, but they all look alike to me. — Don Lemon

Jim Snow pretty much looked his age. Slouching in his swivel chair to the right of Alice's desk, his thinning brown hair was cut short and parted along the side. He wore dark blue slacks and a plaid shirt. At forty-seven and a couple inches over six feet, Snow's muscular frame overshadowed his body fat, but only when he made an effort to suck in his gut. Usually he didn't bother. — Rex Kusler

Crying into the sleeves of his plaid flannel shirt like the world's saddest lumberjack. — Rainbow Rowell

The streak of bleach in my hair is as obvious as ever. Am I really going out in public like this? I push my hair backward and forward a few times - but I can't hide it. Maybe I could walk along with my hand carelessly positioned at my head, as if I'm thinking hard. I attempt a few casual, pensive poses in the mirror.
"Is your head all right?"
I swivel round in shock to see Nathaniel at the open door, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans.
"Er ... fine," I say, my hand still glued to my head. "I was just ... "
Oh, there's no point. I bring my hand down from my hair and Nathaniel regards the streak for a moment.
"It looks nice," he says. "Like a badger."
"A badger?" I say, affronted. "I don't look like a badger."
"Badgers are beautiful creatures," says Nathaniel with a shrug. "I'd rather look like a badger than a stoat. — Sophie Kinsella

When I was a kid, I had THE biggest crush on Helen Reddy. I mean like for REAL crush - like 'spend some time in the bathroom thinking about her' crush. I blme Pete's Dragon. There she was - flushed, singing, clas in a tight wet plaid shirt. Judas Priest she was fabulous. — Corey Taylor

The clurichaun wasn't going to be winning any beauty contests. Not only was he short - four feet at best - but he was rather squat. Not brawny, but of a sturdy build with shorter-than-average legs and overly long arms. His face, which could best be described as having been sculpted by a young child, didn't improve upon his unusual proportions. His nose was bulbous and lumpy, his ears stuck out from his head, and his short hair shot out from his head in uneven spikes. His clothes were another matter entirely. The stained and ripped jeans were held up by a twine belt, and the faded plaid shirt was half-untucked, missing buttons, and one arm was holding on to the body of the shirt by a thread. "Oh, — N.E. Conneely

Stuffed myself into a white T-shirt, topped with a plaid flannel shirt and a pair of Levi's with a small hole in the crotch which I convinced myself no one could see. — Janet Evanovich

- I like my shirts.
- It's plaid.
- There are no rules for shirts. Plaid is good.
- Plaid is bad. Although, if you went with a Scottish plaid in wool, it might be okay.
- I'm not dressing like some damned highlander, Mercedes.
- And the lumberjack look is okay?
- You don't like my shirt? — Kathleen O'Reilly

At that moment, Ronin stepped back into the living room, clothed, thank God. Well, mostly. Kneeling on the floor before him, Devin watched him fascinated as he fastened the buttons of his plaid flannel shirt, thankfully covering that fucking beautiful chest. He left the top two buttons at his neck open. Frozen, she stared as his hands slipped down to tuck the shirt into his jeans before he fastened the fly and buckled his belt. Her fingers itched as she imagined the warmth and hardness of his hips, the deep contour of muscle low on his stomach.

Ooooohhhhh! — Sibylla Matilde

Wait here." I ran back up to my room to grab his blue-and-black plaid flannel shirt, still in my possession. Back on the porch, I handed it over.

"My shirt. I forgot you had it."

"It's 'my' shirt. You need to go home tonight and sleep in it. I made the mistake of washing it and now it doesn't smell like you anymore."

He turned the shirt over and over in his hand, laughing and shaking his head.

"And I want it back first thing in the morning. You read me? — Emma Scott

LEONARD WAS A THICK, dark-haired man, Lucas's height but heavier, both in the arms and the gut. He was wearing a plaid shirt, jeans, and yellow work boots. The scars around his pale, suspicious eyes and a withered nose made him into a brawler. — John Sandford

I went to bed wearing my oldest, most faded flannel shirt, the bra that had looked all right in the catalog but was obviously an escapee from a downmarket nursing home when it arrived, white cotton panties that had had pansies on them about seven hundred washings ago and were now a kind of mottled gray, and the jeans I usually wore for housecleaning or raking Yolande's garden because they were too shabby for work even if I never came out of the bakery. Food inspector arrest-on-sight jeans. Oh, and fuzzy green plaid socks. It was a cool night for summer. Relatively. I lay down on top of the bedspread. And slept through till the alarm at three-forty-five. He hadn't come. T — Robin McKinley

Elijah's wearing white shorts and a bright green shirt and plaid sneakers. People who dress like they're in a perfume ad shouldn't be trusted, in my opinion. They're disingenuous with floral overtones. — Deb Caletti

I was struck by the image of Daddy still dressed in that same plaid shirt and undershirt with the bloodstains below the neck, the one I had first seen him wearing in the jail the previous day. — Earl B. Russell

Who are you?" Violet asked. It is confusing to fall asleep in the daytime and wake up at night.
"what are you doing with Uncle Monty's reptiles?" Klaus asked. It is also confusing to realize you have been sleeping on stairs, rather than in a bed or sleeping bag.
"Dixnik?" Sunny asked. It is always confusing why anyone would choose to wear a plaid shirt. — Lemony Snicket

My favorite Hepburn moment is in 'Sabrina,' when she steps off a boat in white shorts and a plaid shirt. Chic, classic, and unfussy. — Emilia Clarke

This outfit makes me want to get my nose pierced and spend some time at the tattoo parlor," I said, frowning at the clothing.
"Hey, we can make that happen," Nessa, joked.
"That's very funny, Nessa," I said as I pulled out the knee high black combat boots and black fishnet stockings to match.
"It is better than the plaid cowboy shirt and Wranglers they got me," Noah said, as he held up the outfit complete with worn leather cowboy boots.
"Oh, Nessa, we will pay you back dearly for this," I said sarcastically. — Andrea Heltsley