The Dress You Never Wore.

I've had this dress for almost a decade. My aunt bought it for me, I think to possible wear to a Freshman semi-formal dance, or maybe for 8th grade graduation. Since I was a skinny twig with all elbows and knees and head, it didn't fit. Finally, in the past few years it has been snug enough to look right--even if I have to admit this is because of snacking on sweets and not form some other magical garment-fitting-into ability. I should have gotten a proper shot of the back, since it's way low and has two bows affixed near the zipper.

It's a huge quandary of a dress. It's so obviously vintage, so obviously of it's time, that I've always had a hard time with it. I hate getting too costumy or too obviously 50s or 60s with it, and yet it doesn't seem like there is much option. No matter what I was never able to get rid of this dress, and tonight I finally wore it out. It's too dressy for most situations, but there was a work occasion to wear it, and so out it came (mostly because the gorgeous satin numero I wanted to wear fit me--ten pounds ago, and I had to adjust accordingly).

I figured I might as well be sort of carelessly literal about it. So poof went the hair, some red lips--which did not last, because of snacking--and my favorite pair of uncomfortable shoes. I'm still not sure about it--it makes me feel so sort of, aware of my body, in a strange way, which I guess is a good thing. I mean, I guess clothes should make one aware of something like their own body, yes? There is a line I think, between being self conscious in a bad way and aware that I think I'm thinking of. Because clearly clothes are no good if they obliterate that sense, and yet if it's too obvious, it's equally miserable.

In any case, velvet dresses are lovely.