In an instance of great minds thinking about clothes too much, I spent a conservatively estimated hour last night thinking of what to wear for various events this week, without even having read Ellen's entry on conferencewear. I probably can't match my outfit to my binder, but as the conference I'm going to doesn't require me to advance my career so much as to serve tea and dispense charm, I think I can get away with it.
For charm and tea duty, I'm going to wear: my full black skirt with a black and white polka-dot scarf as a belt, white Victorian-type shirt, grey blazer, black Victorian-type shoeboots, pearl earrings.
For post-management conference drinks and dinner, I'm going to wear: a black empire-line cocktail dress, pewter-coloured heels, grey blazer, pearl cluster earrings (nothing like the other ones).
For the completely unrelated Golden Age of Hollywood ball this weekend, I'm going to wear: a different black dress with the polka-dot scarf as a sash, a little grey cardigan, black patent-leather heels, all the pearls I can find.
(As this suggests, my work wardrobe is close to being perfectly monochrome; the main elements of colour are my Hello Kitty socks, and I only wear those around the house. I'm not sure whether to amend the situation or just go with it.)
So I'm self-indulgently listing outfits because staff shortages have landed me on Guarding the Children duty for hours and hours tonight, as well as Waking the Children duty tomorrow. My other sources of amusement are reading Emily Post online, wondering whether to eat some chocolate, and working up nerves about universities.
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