Yesterday I had some time to waste waiting for Joe to take a test, so of course I took the chance to pop into a local consignment store I love. I didn't have extra money to spend, but since I had a few dollars of credit I tried a few things on. And just for fun, one of them was this ridiculous sequin-covered vintage dress. It was quite heavy, and had industrial-strength shoulder pads, but I ended up kind of loving it. I stood in the dressing room staring at it for the longest time, trying to make my brain able to justify such a purchase. But even though I am a staunch adherer to the ideas that clothes need no occasion, and wear way fancier things than most people for no reason whatsoever, I had to admit that this dress was an exception. I did manage to snap a couple of pictures with my dying camera.
What really drew me in with this piece was the incredible detail in every inch of its design. It was covered in intricate beaded flowers, and beaded fringe hung from every conceivable hem. I'm not sure how old this dress was, but nothing was fraying or tearing. The back was open with a hook and eye clasp at the neck, another detail I wish I'd had enough battery in my camera to document. I felt a bit like an ice skater and a lot like a lady wearing it. The delicacy of the design contrasted with the strength of the silhouette made it feel retro and modern all at once. I wanted to wear it barefoot in the woods, running through wheat fields with a wide-eyed innocent expression, glancing over my shoulder as a photographer captures my lithesome frolicking. Maybe I come upon a stream and sit down beside it, gazing into the distance as the burnished sun begins its descent. Hmmm, not sure how I got here. Back to reality, which is me sitting here in bed writing this to put off getting up, brushing teeth, taking a shower, eating things. Sometimes I wish life was more like an anthropologie catalog.