This dress, named "Café au lait," was made by an artistic team in New Orleans.
Wish I'd had the pleasure of wearing this earlier in the season. I'll gladly wear it with bare legs next summer.
It's a dress I could picture myself reading a lot in, and handwriting letters in.
Sewing, drawing, kissing, hugging, taking photos, planting flowers, dirtying my knees in it, canoeing, admiring spiderwebs, etc.
(Lili, Adrienne, and my family all randomly mentioned spiders/spiderwebs this week. I have those conversations on my mind.)
I'm purposefully leaving painting off the list, because I don't want to get paint on this dress! When you're a painter, you start out with your normal clothes and your smaller set of painting clothes. Eventually your "painting clothes" are a bigger handful of pieces than you thought. You get paint on you and it aint coming off. That's one reason I've gotten into aprons.
The dress is pure cotton. Pretty simple, yet bedecked with lace, crochet, a doily or two, cap sleeves, and a touch of grey.
I told the girls who created it that the dress will be cherished in a good home for many moons--
Unless I get soaked in a bayou, and a gator tears the delicate frock while I'm swimmin and wrestlin out of it.
It was saturated then faded, to a wonderful effect. I bet their recipe was:
- dip in coffee at Café du Monde,
- pour on foamy steamed milk,
- add a drop of rose petal water to bring out a hint of pink.
- Drape over an iron balcony in the French Quarter,
- Tie it on the branch of a tree covered with Spanish moss
- Wash and dry in the sun.
After all the care they put into it, I've got a romantic soft dress full of character and charm.
I'm pretending those are the ingredients they used. Shhh...let me dream.
The dress is also a little the color of
or red clay earth.
There's certainly pressure at my job, maybe in "my field" as a whole, to dress as if you've gone to finishing school. I enjoy looking like a grown-up Nancy Drew whenever I can, and I feel comfortable in a pleated kilt, Peter-Pan-collared blouse, a trench, pea coat, or any number of choices. I wish I could manage to buy more Burberry, Paul Smith, or outfits resembling those collections, because I love that stuff. But I like to wear clothes that are nearly the opposite plenty of times...clothing that shows you can still be a lady while you honor the part of you that's down de bayou.
One day I'll show you photos of me actually wearing these things out of my closet, if you'd like? They look really pretty on their own, though. If you need to imagine them on a person, please picture a ghost girl inside them for now.
A ghost in my clothes! Sounds like a poem I could write, or a song one of my friends could play.
I'm brand new to blogging. I can't imagine modeling all of my clothes for the world wide web. I kind of want to some day. I fig I'll get there in due time, and I hope that suits you fine, lovely readers.
Do you ever feel confused by blogging because it seems too ego-centric? I'm not entirely comfy with it for various reasons. That's a whole worthwhile topic of its own, and I won't change this post to be about that. I will say that I guess you find your groove in a blog eventually.
I'm waxing poetic about something so small here-- a dress I own. Maybe that's what this site's purpose is right now, stopping to smell the roses.
I've always looked at the world as an artist, and I like sharing those eyes with you. It's more than swell having you along for the ride. Please keep commenting, emailing, and sharing your take on things. You inspire.
Currently listening to:
"I Wish I Was In New Orleans"
by Tom Waits, 1976