party girl

A couple of days ago, the Mr. informed me that the dress code for the party tonight was revised down from the confusing men-must-wear-jackets-but-cocktail-dresses-are-too-dressy dictate to the slightly less confusing "nice casual." He happened to text me just as I was about to enter the mall, so I was able to revise my search somewhat, and ended up with this sequin top (which necessitated a new bra) and a new pair of jeans. I have never before paid full price for a pair of high-end jeans and I am doubtful that they will end up being worth it, although they look very nice on me. They are on the verge of being too short, though the salesgirl assured me that I can return them if they shrink. I don't actually believe her. I am wearing them as I type, and they have that delicious, musky indigo dye smell that almost guarantees that they're turning my legs blue. 

Since I've made such a big deal out of putting together this outfit, I might as well detail the rest: black suede wedge booties, a black hair calf clutch, and a black cashmere wrap because it's damn cold today. 

I'm fairly anxious about meeting people at this thing. I have always enjoyed meeting people from LJ because I can be fairly certain that anyone who knows me from LJ already understands that I'm spazzy and won't be put off by that. Unfortunately, if this party resembles any other event I've attended related to the Mr.'s work, there will be a lot of people looking askance at me and my cloud of nervous energy. I am also dreading trying to come up with things to say. I have no conversational topics to fall back on--chronic, crushing depression aside--so I can only hope to find someone extremely self-centered and talkative for whom I can be a good listener. 

At least my hair looks glorious. Wish me luck.