Having a lot of black clothing means that most everything goes together well enough when you throw it on in the morning. This outfit is one of those. I was warm and comfortable. Except for my face, which was frozen shut. As often happens in January.
|boiled wool hooded jacket: Linea Domani, Winners, early 2000s|
perfect length cruddy quality pencil skirt: Smart Set, last worn here
shorty cowboy boots: Rudy2, WalM*rt (men's, clearance, $15), last worn here
A dark palette also frees me somewhat from the spectacular klutziness to which I am prone - not only because spills and mishaps are less likely to show, but because "trying to be careful" actually makes it worse.
I find too that there is a de-cluttered spaciousness, a restfulness, allowing my focus to be elsewhere. Though I am increasingly drawn to adding colour to my wardrobe (and this day was bundled up in my bright blue scarf the whole time except for photos), the all-black remains an old friend.
|in which I surrender to the painful yet sculptural qualities of static cling |
and show you some darts and dingle-dangles
Speaking of friends, the big event of the week was a special gathering in honour of Megan's 23rd Birthday. It was enormous and awesome, there was mayhem, check it out!
Here's what I wore:
|... rubber boots to dancey-dance, rubber boots and party pants! (link nsfw)|
This was taken back in October. I tried to give some of my other hen pals opportunity to be in outfit photos, but it turns out that chickens aren't such fans of poufy tulle ballerina skirts. I spent a good part of the day chasing them around the yard while Beary laughed at us. Maryjane Frystack alone was as ever happy and content, minding neither giant fluttery layers nor the glint of madness around the edges of my expression.