Instead, Hathaway opted for a minimal ivory Prada sheath with open back and slim criss-cross straps.
His music has become a staple in the candongueiros (shared taxis) that criss-cross the vast country.
Last year it launched a search-and-rescue unit, Borstar, to criss-cross the region looking for immigrants in trouble.
If any industry seems naturally global, it is surely the airline industry, with routes that criss-cross borders everywhere.
The song saw Caravel criss-cross London so she could film herself singing the words that corresponded with the street names.
The helicopters will criss-cross the island, distributing the bait pellets with mathematical precision to cover each and every square metre.
Trails criss-cross the table top offering views of the city, Table Bay and the peaks of Table Mountain National Park beyond.
To do it, the Ravens overload one side of the ball with four defenders who, after the ball is snapped, criss-cross like stunt pilots.
Sometimes it is necessary for the team to patrol on foot and sometimes they use speed boats on the rivers and canals which criss-cross the park.
The six-man Fifa delegation used helicopters and buses to criss-cross South Africa inspecting football stadia that would be used as venues to stage World Cup matches.
As these links criss-cross one another across a region, these simple measures can be mathematically picked apart to yield a map of the rainfall at a given moment.
Criss-cross tights by Wolford were a hit with several looks.
But the Albula steepens quickly, and the river disappears into a dramatic ravine, forcing the train to criss-cross the gorge, creaking like a sailing ship in a full-bellied wind.
Then I roll the dough into balls, roll the dough balls in sugar and smash them with a fork twice, creating a criss-cross pattern, and put them in the oven.
The town is peppered with basic houses painted in a kaleidoscope of colours, and the sandy dirt roads that criss-cross Punta del Diablo can still be traversed in about an hour on foot.
When, in mid-afternoon, the sun dips behind the mountain and my skis suddenly criss-cross ice-blue shadows, I am reminded of the more sinister snippets of local folklore my hosts have passed on: the wizard Fida, who lived in a cave above the valley and sold his soul to the devil, and the evil little spirits, parkeljni, who rattle their chains as they lie in wait for naughty children.
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