You never welch on a promise or a bet, right? Well, I promised I’d wear this dress – a Christmas present – to a party today. I made this promise before I made the resolution so it has dibs. Thems the rules.
To whom did I make this promise, you ask? Well, to the dress, of course. And to my husband (who bought it at my request half knowing it might land in the worn-once pile) and, most importantly, I promised myself a little sparkle. And you won’t catch me welching.
Besides, it fits the criteria of the resolution….sort of. You see, although the bottom half was a perfect fit, the top had to be drastically altered: arms shortened, taken in around the ribs, neckline moved – not the most economical buy.
Now, I know I’m not the only woman who’s the human version of a cut-and-shut but when I was having it altered, pinned up like a voodoo doll, I was reminded of that dire film, Bride Wars – which, dire though it is, I actually quite enjoyed. I am, in fact, an almighty sucker for a chick flick. The more diabolical the better. You know the bit: “You don’t alter Vera Wang to fit you, you alter yourself to fit Vera.”
Tosh. Hack it up, I say! I get the inference. Some clothes are works of art, laboured over and perfected with inimitable skill but this theory holds zero currency with me and even though it’s a frivolous notion in a frivolous film, little seeds of wisdom like this tend to take root and grow. Before long, they’re embedded in the female conscience, quoted, validated and suffered under.
But it’s only us mere mortals who receive this wisdom. When Kylie (the original Minogue, not this new-fangled Jenner person), wears Dolce and Gabbana, do you think she wears stilts…or has her legs surgically stretched? I think not. Dolce and Gabbana jolly well adapt their clothes to her perfectly puny pins. And celebrate her petite frame, damn it. Not so the mere mortal. We’re taught the Bride Wars ethics of femininity. Not good enough. Must do better. And it’s not just a question of weight. We all know it extends much further than that.
Well, pshaw! I can hardly grow longer arms, or a wider rib cage…or a longer neck. I say, instead of glorifying designers, we glorify ourselves. Us. The mere mortals who pay for our clothes. It is we who are the works of art. I will not feel guilty for my ill-fitting clothes.
But I digress…back to the hacked-up dress du jour.
This is the kind of dress (once altered) that speaks for itself so I’ve let it do the talking. I chose winter grey tights though – I’d normally go for unimaginative black but I like this (ever-so tiny bit more imaginative) pairing.
And today, there’s a bun. I love a good bun: the sticky, iced kind, one in the oven, scruffy or groomed – every one’s a winner!
For good measure, I’ve added a few marcasite hair combs that I made (yes, I do things like that) but have never bothered wearing.The grey tones give this look a little less polished elegance, I think. Perfect when, actually, I’m merely off to play Guitar Hero with my niece and nephew.
And here’s another promise, I’ll absolutely stink…but at least I’ll look perfectly tailored doing it!