this little Nanette Lepore number. I think I about lost my mind, readers. You see, I went on a lunchtime expedition to Lord & Taylor with a coworker who needed to return some shoes there. Of course, I had to take a swing by the designer dresses and try a couple on "for research."
I get that this black ponte knit sheath probably doesn't look like anything to get too crazy about. I do get that. But I put it on, and it was like THE MAGIC DRESS. I was quite sure that I looked absolutely sensational in it—it framed my tattoos perfectly, my figure looked smashing. Don't even get me started on how great my butt looked.
I can't remember the last time I bought a dress, but I really talked myself into this one, even at the steep price. It's the kind of thing I'd wear to work all the time.
The only problem was that it had a tiny little flaw: the twist tie that goes around the waist had become un-tacked on one side and was flopping around. The easiest thing in the world to fix, right? But for $348, I wanted a flawless one.
I told my issue to the sales person. She didn't have another size 10, sorry. At that point my friend cheekily piped up that I might be offered a discount on the flawed one, which the sales girl declined to do. My only option was to pay full price for the one they had, apparently. Readers, I was NOT going to be making any repairs to a $348 dress before I even wore it. It was the principle of the thing. I'm sure you understand.
Well, I left it, thinking I would find it elsewhere online. But by the time I got back to the office, the magic of the MAGIC DRESS had worn off. Was I really about to pay that kind of money for a doubleknit sheath dress? Granted, it had incredible butt-flattering properties and a few special design features (pleated cap sleaves, a wide waistband, a surplice pleated sweetheart neckline, and the aforementioned waist wrap) . . . but nothing I absolutely couldn't try to replicate, I suppose. So instead of ordering the dress, I ordered three yards of black doubleknit. When I'm going to find time to sew with it, I'm not sure.
Damn, it's hard being principled sometimes.
Please tell me you understand, readers. That a certain magical item of clothing has you so entranced that $348 seems like an absolutely reasonable price for a simple work dress. Anyone?