Outfit for a Wednesday: Bad Lieutenant

On Tuesday evening, when I returned home after a long weekend of lectures and more lectures at a medical conference up in Boston, the filmmaker and I decided to relax and watch the original version of Bad Lieutenant, featuring the ever emotionally dominating and complex Harvey Keitel.  A perfectly beautiful downward spiral in soul and spirit, I enjoyed the film immensely, though, would not recommend viewing while in a state of doldrums or anxiety. While riveting, it offers little solace, and left me feeling rather disturbed.

Woven into the dark narrative is the tensely competitive World Series between the New York Mets and the Los Angeles Dodgers, the seven games a constant in the background of the protagonist, who is also his own antagonist, as he places unsteady and wild bets on who will win, using most. Perhaps, subconsciously, the iconic red-orange and royal blue combination of the inconsistent Mets lodged itself deep into the recesses of my brain. Early on Wednesday morning, I was instantly drawn to this new bright sweater, and wanted to pair it with equally unsubtle royal blue melting into indigo tights.

Initially, I was uncertain about this shade of bloodied tangerine; generally, I am drawn to more teals, turquoises, blues,  purples, jewel tones, and, naturally, lots of black, navy, and cream. Occasionally, when feeling frisky, I feel inclined towards red, a color I always associate with a sanguine disposition, which, unfortunately, often does not reflect my own self-perception. Discovered in the dark crevices of the sale corner at Ann Taylor Loft, this sweater was extraordinarily reduced, and, to my surprise, made of a wonderfully soft cotton material, so I could not resist. Past experiences with Ann Taylor Loft, especially recently, have left me disappointed; every tag needs to be scrutinized because the producers have an unshakeable penchant for synthetic fabrics. Apparently, my plunge into a new chromatic realm paid off; my colleagues, in my now predominately female office, all swooned and insisted it complemented my skin tone well. This was my main concern, a sort of clash between fabric and my olive-tinted skin, so I was relieved the superficial risk was worth it.

With a color this bold and bright, it is important to balance the palette of the rest of the outfit; I did this by pairing with a demure wool camel skirt and the darker, slightly less vibrant blue. A color this impassioned and furious needs a neutral to ground it, otherwise, one teeters towards resembling an antiquated Rainbow Brite doll unearthed from a basement, or an exotic bird waiting to be discovered in the jungle brush. The second metaphor sounds rather glamorous, but, in practice, too many brights can be overwhelming and unflattering. Black would look great with this bright shade, but would leave it still a bit unfettered; camel tones everything down.

With golden curved lines, opalescent golden cream ovals, and a scattering of bright amber rhinestones, I found these earrings to be pleasantly sculptured, appearing as though they were designed by an architect. They were a treasure from a church sale I attended last year; church sales are my favorite places to scour for funky, inexpensive costume jewelry.

Muted camel in color, this softer hue dulls the sharper angles of the geometry, so that the original shape of this bangle is not immediately obvious. I found this beauty at a department store in Berkley, Jeremy's, when I visited California last November and spent time with my friend Katherine.

It was only a number of weeks after purchasing these slightly pointed indigo flats that I realized I had previously owned slight variations to the shoe for at least the last six years. The first permutation, also indigo, slightly pointed, nearly identical in shape, was a true leather; I adored these shoes, which I guess rationalizes why I essentially keep buying them, and foolishly mostly ruined them during a drunken parade home from a party one night at university. On some stretch of pavement, somewhere on my trek home, I skidded the toe, tearing the leather in a long, straight scar. I continued to wear them to death, despite the imperfection. The next permutation were more of a true purple and were textured with a snakeskin-like print; I believe these are still tucked in my closet somewhere. This patent leather pair, hopefully, now that I am older and mildly wiser, will not suffer the fate of their ancestors.


Cubicle morning soundtrack: Instrumental Tourist Tim Hecker and Daniel Lopatin