Dresses are tough.
No matter how elaborate or intricate one may be, no matter how wonderful it might make you feel, a dress always make a very singular point. And much like with a short sentence, a dress is not easy to re-punctuate. That’s a talent reserved mostly for separates. A pair of khaki shorts can be as plain as white bread one day and as feisty as Antoine Dodson the next given the proper accoutrements. So too can a blouse. Or a skirt, even pants. Because those are items that say nothing about their wearer and everything about diversity at once.
A dress, though. A dress is a commitment. To saying something and saying it over and over again.
Sure, it can be styled and restyled ad nauseam until your entire closet has been turned on its head, but at its essence will always remain the dress. The same short sentence that makes the same point no matter how hard you try to move its commas and its periods and its semicolons if they’re there.
Never has this felt as true and hit as close to home as last week when I tried to repurpose a white Christopher Kane shirt dress. When I wore it last fashion week, I wore it (as photographed above) with a pair of platform sandals, a gold choker and sunglasses. I wanted to wear it again without the choker, maybe a neck scarf, a pair of slides or sneakers; I would have felt comfortable with stilettos too, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake how…the same I felt. And see, that’s the fundamental issue, isn’t it? That you always turn out feeling the same.
Once you’ve put together an outfit and worn it and reaped all the intrinsic benefits of feeling great in it, can you ever actually re-approximate that feeling of greatness by wearing it again? Not unless you can actually, meaningfully wear it differently. I think.
So you know what I did? I wore it as a blouse. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought to do it earlier but by pairing it with my favorite $3 Levi’s jeans and an old anorak vest I once bought from Club Monaco after having seen it on Tibi’s Amy Smilovic and thinking it was Céline, it felt so dangnab new.
Like adding a new object to the subject of that anterior, concise sentence.
As for the reflective sunglasses by Spektre, the colorful Gucci neck scarf peeking out of my pocket, the green minaudiere by Reece Hudson and the nude mules (incidentally) by Tibi — those were just the dotted i’s and crossed t’s I’d forgot to include during the first edit.