Dresses can be difficult. I don’t mean because sometimes they’re restrictive, or too short, or too long, or don’t quite fit as well as they could, or even because they’re often fussy. I mean it paradoxically — as in, they’re hard because they’re so easy.
See, a dress is like a blender — it does all the legwork for you. It takes all of your ingredients, no matter how strategically you’ve placed them on a plate, combines them in an isolated setting and then with the mere press of a button, it has created a substance that is later displayed as new progeny. This progeny often does not show for the thoughtfulness that went into selecting the incipient materials — ingredients you spent time bringing together, deliberating on what would taste best and why, before resolving to have them irrevocably conjoined — liquidated if you will.
Think about it. When you put on a dress, you resolve to let someone else’s creative endeavor account for your stylistic decision. Where with a pair of pants, you maintain the priestly power of fashion marriage (will you wear them with a crop top or a button down? Will you place a skirt over them? Etc.), with a lone layer of sheath, there are no variables that visibly and often craftily speak to what brought you to the point of dress. It’s like no matter how hard you tried (and I mean that in a good way), you look, frankly speaking, like a mannequin.
Saying this makes me feel like I’m turning my back on some of the greatest pieces of clothing that I have come to know but I also realize that wearing a dress could be as interesting an experience as, say, any number of Lessons in Layering. Enter the jean jacket/floral short/polka dot dress confection (and the two looks that follow) staring at you while you presumably think: aren’t Mondays hard enough? These three outfits are how I’m bringing a little bit of a soul to a one-piece wonder.
The dress: Opening Ceremony