Just one day following my rather grandiose boast of donning spectacular gem-like colors, even in the face of chilled winter drudgery and of a vehemently ingrained monochrome black stereotype, I regressed, reverted back to my denim, my black sweater, my portrait in an absence of light. Since moving, I, still, have yet to establish my new professional circadian rhythm, certainly a product of many late-nights and more social stimulation. Often, I forgo my morning coffee, at home, while I dress, waiting to drink instead a cup brewed pathetically from a plastic pod, a waste. Maybe this deflux of caffeine has hindered the appropriate sartorial synapses.
Though I have been rather guilty of jeans lately, I have also sought to spice up the staple; this miniature polka dot patterned pair is a prime example. These vintage earrings, a contour of sterling silver encasing a smear of black stone, matched perfectly with my lazy gray and black look. I rather like the almost unvarnished look of the earrings, a bit of tarnished grime, some imperfection.
Like the earrings, this thick silver cuff, a kind of rippling metal water, often goes forgotten and unnoticed in my pile of jewelry. I blame the propensity to don gold, to don rhinestone, to infuse immediate and gratuitous artificial glamor to even the most boring of office garb.
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