It is black. For mourning.
It’s made of wool and linen. Natural fibers that come from the earth, and probably won’t be available in ten years (a week) because someone doesn’t believe in global warming and wants us to not pass go and go straight to Mad Max land.
It’s got thumb holes for coziness, which is an excellent secret way to feel like one is wrapping oneself up in a blanket on the couch while still being out in the world.
In short, it’s the post-Hillary dress.
The post-Trump outfit OBVIOUSLY looked like this, in case you’re wondering:
Ok, off to drink myself into oblivion.
(Not really, but I have said that several times today. Out loud. And half meant it.)
(Yes, this whole thing was dramatic but not entirely kidding because WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED to a day I was so, so excited about? I can’t write about it, I don’t have anything to say that isn’t being said by wiser minds all over the internet.)