Well, apart from putting on my Accounts Receivable hat and doing some end-of-the-month trick-or-treating, anyway.
I did have the notion of looking for a black trenchcoat, so that if I had occasion to visit a defense contractor, I could rummage through my hat collection and become either Soviet Cultural Attache or Boris Badenov.
...Wait, isn't Badenov a little guy?
Badenov is shorter than moose, taller than squirrel. I am shorter than moose, taller than squirrel. Badenov is shorter than Natasha. If I borrow Natasha from National Instrument, I am shorter.
...Anyway, what with having already done more running around than I could really handle, on a weekend that I ought to have spent sleeping, this just didn't happen. Besides which, my metabolism seems to be getting back in gear this evening, so any extra layers of clothing are Right Out.
I'd also had the notion that, with a haircut (much overdue anyway), a dose of whisker bleach, and a top hat (and some other clothing to match, of course) I could be The One Percent.
Or, randomly, put on a zombie costume and go around singing "If I Only Had a Brain." (The other way around might work well, too: scarecrow seeking braaaaains.)
Ah, well. If the weather turns unexpectedly cool and I feel inspired (and have somewhere to go), I could always dig out the Harcourt Fenton Mudd outfit. Or the powdered metals, and go around with silver skin and bronze hair (very impressive, that one).
(One o' these years, I need to come up with a proper Stalin costume (and persona) - or at least Stalingrad. Mudd's fine for Mara's Bar, but the League of Evil Geniuses party calls for something more, well, evil.)
Update: costume of sorts. Standard weekday attire, only with a different shirt (khaki) and hat (old-timey pith helmet), and river shoes and dark socks, 'cause the Vibram foot gloves Just Don't Go. Gets some comments, e.g., "Dr. Livingstone, I presume?" and "Gee, you look exactly... like... yourself."