I haven’t really written anything in a while, and because today turned out to be an exceptionally good day, I feel inspired enough to write this little tidbit that only a handful of people will actually read.
So I’m going to talk a little about dresses. Dresses, for me, comprise about 65% of my wardrobe. Needless to say, I love my dresses. The ones I especially love are the ones to which I have significant memories tied, whether those memories are good, bad, or somewhere in between weird and absolutely ridiculous. I have my red anthro dress that I wore picnicking on Bastille Day in Paris; I have my yellow free people dress I wore on a particularly beautiful day on Landis green; I have my leopard print maxi in which I explored several gorgeous New Orleans cemeteries… The list goes on. Dresses are an extension of my being, more than any other article of clothing I own, and I suppose this is because I truly feel confident and beautiful when I throw one on. My dresses are like physical manifestations of my memories, and I love being able to be transported back to that last moment when ever I re-wear an old favorite. I think this is true of various pieces of clothing for all people, or, at least, semi-nostalgic people. I have a friend who has shirts for nearly every mood, each based off a previously established memory tying it with that mood. I love this about clothing. I love that our wardrobe reflects us so well, even if we’re the only ones to truly understand the meaning of that reflection.
I had the happy occasion today to make a new memory with an already favorite dress. I previously referred to it as the “amazing butt” dress, because, as you may have guessed, it made my butt look amazing. I did not realize this until the first time I wore it in public (about 4 years ago) and a friend pointed out this fact to me. It’s a white cotton-jersey blend dress with thin, navy stripes, and I look pretty rad in it, but it’d never been more to me than an “amazing butt” dress I wore for the occasional confidence boost. I wore it when I romped around San Francisco, but those memories didn’t really stick to it the way my “lunch by the Seine” memories stuck to a rose-colored shirt dress I own. I digress. Henceforth, the “amazing butt” dress will just be known as my striped dress, but with the added memory of having Rory McIlory (who I’m slightly obsessed with and in mourning for our nonexistent love because I just found out he’s engaged) check me out about 4 times as he was about to tee off in a golf tournament today. As an added bonus, I got to do my first real bit of prospecting as a new agent in this dress today, plus walk around an absolutely gorgeous golf course.
I don’t know that this is an incredibly interesting piece, but it felt important to jot down. I guess my point is that sometimes, it’s the little things that make everything so grand, and special memories tied to special dresses are important pieces in my puzzle of grandness.