My underline-happy-husband just left the house for the first time in a number of days that I will not disclose. He’s a graduate student, and it is finals-season. Right now he lives in a little cave of books and his sweatpants.
This is his carry-on bag.
It is also sequin season. Every store, even ones like CVS that don’t really sell apparel, seems to be stocking sparkly clothes right now. Like a magpie, I find it very difficult to resist anything that shines. It would not surprise me if, in assessing my closet, you suspected me of moonlighting as a figure skater or drag queen.
Instead, I moonlight as a writer, working mainly from home. Since this summer, my day job also requires me to work from home. Even as someone who lived for nearly four years in Seattle, the hoodie-capital of America, I am slightly disturbed by my growing familiarity with that category of clothing called leisure wear.
Writing isn’t leisure. Most of the time it’s no cocktail party, either, and it affords precious few opportunities for sequin-wearing. But I love celebrating, and dressing up, and, entirely free from dress code restrictions as I am, there’s nothing stopping me from wearing head-to-toe sequins tomorrow.
via Design Crush
But I probably won’t. It’s not that the UPS delivery woman already thinks I’m batty, and it’s not even that sequins aren’t among the most comfortable options for long stretches of sitting. It’s that they thrive in the wild.
My neighbor has been adjusting the twinkly lights on the bushes in his front yard for the entire afternoon. He appears to be working towards some kind of precise, multi-colored grid of twinkle, and I applaud the effort. No matter how meager our shrubs, we all want them to glow sometimes, and we all want to walk into the party and, without using any words at all, reflect back light in every direction.