lust for life

I own something like fourteen little black dresses. And yet, last night while fretting about what in the world I could possibly wear from 9 am to 10 pm ("casual Friday" at a volunteer work project, job interview in what I assumed was a fairly casual office but you don't want to go into an interview looking dressed down, gallery walk in Pilsen) that would require minimal transition between events, I could not find a single thing I wanted to wear.
Thank god I finally settled on this dress + scarf + cardigan for the office combo, as my alarms failed to go off this morning, so I hit the floor in a mad rush to the train and the office and such. Planning this outfit last night saved my ass today and ensured that I looked mildly presentable. "Mildly", that is, because this scarf has a fatal flaw. Apparently I spilled beer on it the last time I wore it out, because as the day went on and the scarf absorbed my body heat, a distinct smell of IPA began emanating from my neck.
Oops. At least the scarf didn't start to exude boozy fumes until the late afternoon, after my job interview was completed.

Linen-blend dress, Mango; long leather gloves, vintage; scarf, Forever 21;
brooch, vintage; pumps, Seychelles. I had a black cashmere cardigan over this for the office,
but it's now hanging with the scarf in a cloud of Febreeze, and it's not that exciting anyway.

Detail of my new obsession: brooches.

This past Sunday, I met up with The Amazon (who contributes hilarity to OKStoopid- a blog which I habitually misspell "OKStoppard", as my brain defaults to theatre mode) for some vintage shopping, dreaming of furniture I cannot afford, and much swilling of cava. Her train was delayed, so while I hovered around the El waiting for her, I stopped into a shady-looking secondhand store. Jackpot. I got six brooches for $13, and am mentally stalking some turquoise satin brocade pumps that I think I can talk down to $15.
Sigh. Get job first, buy satin brocade pumps later. Priorities.