It's usually dark blue with thin white stripes and tells an interesting story if you can read the language. It's not a language of words, it's more like graffiti created with food. More accurately, accidental food graffiti. But it tells a story nonetheless and there is no doubt who the author is. You might say a picture is worth a thousand words.
They're cool, calm and collected. Not much of a story to tell here. There have been no major events to speak of and the movement around the kitchen is graceful. Positive actions are taken. Thoughtful consideration of tasks is in full swing. No mistakes are present. Answers in abundance. Planning and preparation are obvious. Machine. No graffiti.
Here it's frantic. Dashing around and not sure where to go next. Chaotic. Not sure what to do next. A wipe here. The odd splash there. A mild dusting of flour. Well seasoned. Zig zagging around the kitchen like a gazelle escaping a cheetah. Constant questions. Slow and eventual build up. Jackson Pollock beams with pride. Graffiti masterpiece.
The differences are stark. Like oil and water. Similar in many ways but you wouldn't substitute one for the other. You can tell by the food. The plate mirrors the apron. The apron mirrors the mind. They occupy the same space, crossing paths and galvanizing the contrasts. The apron tells you what you need to know.