What happened when I tried NOT to wear black

Tonight our Bunco group has its annual Christmas party, and this year we are gathering at a restaurant where we will have a private room for dining, a gift exchange, and Bunco shenanigans.

Bunco shenanigans? What does that even mean? We are mature, intelligent, conversant, lovely people who behave properly.

ANYWAY, yesterday I was on a quest to find the perfect Bunco Christmas outfit. I wanted something festive and bright and (dare I say it?) sparkly. I wasn't totally against black, but since I get teased a lot about how much black I do wear, I decided that it had to be paired with something ... festive and bright and sparkly.

I shopped most of the morning and came home with FOUR dresses--a lavender/taupe shift, a grey and white sweater dress, a plum color A-line, and a dark purple swing dress. Not one had a smidgen of black. I planned to try them on, style them in a variety of ways, and then keep the one I liked and return the rest.

Well, I tried. I really did. But in the end I returned ALL of them.

I'm sorry but none of them were ME. One was too matronly, one had a weird neckline, one was just bleh, and the sweater dress (which I actually liked) was waaaay to short.

So I delved into my closet and styled a fitted long sleeve black shirt with an ankle length red skirt and black booties. Simple, clean lines. No fuss, no muss.

I was me again.

But I'll still do sparkly with some bangles and these ...