are created from this
and in its more normal draping below. My hair's styled differently -- it's long enough now that I can catch it up in bobby pins for a messy updo that I like, and I paired it with nude-coloured-but-shiny-sheer hose and my black Fluevogs (these shoes are as comfortable as they are fun and sexy -- Une Femme has them in orange, and I think she'll agree). The jewelry barely shows up here, but I'm wearing an animal-print cuff and long black-feather-and-jet-beads earrings.
It's entirely likely that my next-seat neighbours will not have registered these differences at all, but merely noted "Oh, she's wearing that dress again." On the other hand, I occasionally note other audience members repeating the same, obviously favourite outfits and I enjoy the familiarity I get from that recognition. My husband, of course, gives no thought to which suit and tie he wore to the last opera or the one before that, and I'm beginning to realize, as a woman of a certain age, that I might borrow a bit of that attitude -- if the dress is good enough to go to one bel canto opera, it's good enough to get out to another. Norma, Lucia, let's see how many operas-named-for-women this little black number can get to.