Not Easy Being Green

I know it's nowhere near St. Patrick's Day yet, but I'm feeling green.

This is Marie Wallin's "Brea", from Rowan, executed in the far less noble (and far less pricey) Berroco Comfort,  just to see if it could be done.  It can.  But no one here will be surprised to learn that I wish I had made it in wool.  While the yarn I chose is fine, and even interesting, in terms of its cabled construction, and drapey hand, it's just not going to last.  When a sweater threatens not to survive even its own making before starting to pick and pill, you do not have a winner on your hands.  I still love the pattern, though, which is good, because I'm thinking I'll have to make another version in really good yarn before the itch is scratched.

I like the way this weird peasant silhouette looks with jeans, but there was not a single item in my wardrobe other than that with which I could wear it.  Bother.  Had to dash out to the fabric store in search of something for a simple skirt to go with it.  Score!  The very first thing I saw was exactly the same (strange) color combination I had chosen for the yarn.  I actually thought it might match too closely, if there is such a thing.  Then there was this pretty piece of cotton voile from England, which politely requested to come home with me and become a scarf.  Who could resist?  Add hunter-green tights and shake well. (P.S. Hunted for Hunter-green tights lately?  1992 called - they said they were all fresh out).

All of which brings me to my question for you, Gentle Readers:  What do YOU do when, after the first flush of smug satisfaction at having finished a project, you realize there is nothing in your wardrobe to wear it with?  I realize that most clever knitters such as yourselves would ask themselves about what there is to wear with the thing you are considering knitting, sometime near the BEGINNING of the project.  But, just for my sake, let's pretend you hadn't been that proactive.  Suppose you fell so deeply in love with a project that you dove right into knitting it without so much as a By-Your-Leave from the rest of your closet?  And then there was nothing to go with it at the end? 

Would you go shopping at the mall/fabric/thrift store?
Wear it anyway with whatever else you happened to have on?
Freak out and give it away?

Just wondering what goes on with the rest of you when you realize you have knitted an item that was separated at birth from all your other clothing...