I, Armani

Every once in a while, I have a day where everything I put on comes together in a most pleasing way. Today is one of those days.

Normally I wear what’s clean and what matches. Mostly. Socks don’t count because I believe they should be viewed as a personal dressing statement and therefore do not need to match the outfit per se. But today everything matches in an all over theme way, even the socks.

Here we see boo, resplendent in matching black undies (for there is nothing that makes me feel as happy as wearing matching undies…even though most days I can’t be bothered to sort through both bras and panties to find a set that does) and black and grey paneled socks. The shirt is a 100% cotton (or perhaps a blend, I didn’t particularly look but it feels pretty cottony) long sleeved T in black to carry the theme. She is wearing a completely man made 100% polyester black and white Hawaiian shirt as an over jacket to complete the ensemb. She wishes that she had black pants to make the whole outfit come together but alas; she seems to have lost her one pair of black jeans. Again. Sometimes she wonders if they aren’t really Brigadoon jeans.

So yeah, the discovery of not having any black pants to wear with my black with grey and white accents theme made me a little bit sad but on the whole, I’m digging the theme dressing. I also really like the Hawaiian shirt in its non traditional black and whiteness. I have three of these oddball Hawaiian shirts: the black/white one, a black/black one, and a tan/white one. They make me giggle since they are very distinctly Hawaiian shirt patterned yet so very bland in color. Yeah, I’m a complete freak but today I’m a matching outfit freak.

Alas, I had a death in the sock family last night so my snazzy dressing is tinged with a touch of morose. I was wearing my favoritest of my favorite socks (the World’s Softest Socks in bright arrest me red) and while schoodging down the hall, I caught on a bit of floor that was peeling up. It ripped a giant stuttering hole in the bottom of my sock and almost sent me flying head over teakettle. When I turned around I discovered a huge fluff of bright red (*sniff*) wedged under a giant three inch long floor splinter. I like to think my sock sacrificed itself for me because three inches of floor rammed up my foot would be quite painful I imagine. Still, my poor socks. We will remember your bravery, noble candy apple red soft fuzzy socks. Of doom.

Last year at the booniverse: One should not witness such overt displays of personal cat box religion.

Last last year at the booniverse: JSFR: Ramune (kiwi)

The year before at the booniverse: In mourning for my socks, no update.

The year before that at the booniverse: Now I am going to have to find it again and buy it (again) so I will have it back in my collection. I am very vexed.

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