I Want Your Dress Stories
I’ve been thinking about a recent Poster Child musing a lot. I think it hits on a very feminine problem and I’d like to write a song about it. I suppose watching the Oscars last night, I was only more aware of its resonance. I watched the most beautiful women in the world wearing some of the most beautiful dresses. And I noticed that both Ellen Page (who is gorgeous) and Marketa Irglova (also very beautiful) looking somewhat out of place. They just didn’t have the perfect dresses as so many of us who don’t know Calvin Klein personally do not. Of course, there were more noticeable snafus on the red carpet including Tilda Swinton looking positively asymmetrical – but these are the errors of designers and fashion mavens. Even Bjork’s duck dress oh-so-many years ago was a statement.
The rest of us rummage through our and friends’ closets looking for something that will be fine and, like PosterChild, dream of perfectly perfect fabricated bliss. I’m not sure what this song will be but don’t you kind of wish for the days of tailor-made clothes with your choice of fabrics? Don’t you kind of wish for the “I Feel Pretty” days where you fought for the hem to be raised just a bit or the collar to be lowered just this much? Or did those days just exist in musical theater (by the way – one of the best-constructed scenes in musical theater) and my grandmother’s basement.
So, let’s talk perfect dresses. Or dress problems. Or dress musings. Prom dresses, Bridesmaid Dresses, the best dress you ever wore, your grandma’s dress, the beautiful orange dress you saw in the store window (oh no, that was me), the dress you wore to the Oscars or Emmys (reaching now, but perhaps Fresh X friend who wore a ridiculously gorgeous orange dress to the Emmys when she won) will chime in.
Then I’m going to write us a song.
ok. here goes.
i am an average sized girl with huge boobs. it’s an issue. i have to go to a special store to get bras that cost half a paycheck. dress shopping is a depressing time for me. last year for prom i went to every mall on the planet and nothing fit right. nothing. i left crying. so i said fuck it and had a dress made. it’s beautiful and simple, but still not what i want. but it works.
for my mom’s wedding, once again, no dress would fit me. so i bought a top that kind of fit and a skirt. it’s really depressing to only notice my boobs in wedding photos.
dresses are either too long or too short. if they are off just a little i look fat. the art of dress shopping eludes me. if i get a medium it fits everywhere but my boobs. if i get a large, it only fits there. sometimes my hips are too wide, sometimes i’m too short. personally i think i’m pretty average and don’t know why they don’t make more dresses for me. i see my friends flouncing around in cute little things, and all i feel is naked.
hopefully whatever this song becomes, will cheer me up. hopefully i’ll be able to sing it in my car loudly so the world can hear my pain.
I remember the first time a guy bought a dress for me. It was very pretty. Very feminine and sweet. It had sheer fabric (it was lined) with little flowers on it. There was some lace and ruffles on the front. I could tell how he felt about me because of the kind of dress he picked out for me.
I remember the first dress I bought. I used to be a wicked tomboy- wouldn’t wear skirts or dresses or anything- until I was about 15, which was, coincidentally (or not) when my figure stopped looking like that of a prepubescent boy or an anorexic ballerina.
So I was 15, and in this little clothing store in Maine, and I saw this really cute purple halter-style dress. So I decided to try it on. I grabbed a size small off the rack (I’m 4’11″ and 90 pounds, so it wasn’t vanity) and as I was putting it on, I thought to myself “hey, this is kind of tight and the material doesn’t stretch at all!” I got it on… but I just had a lot of trouble getting it off. I’m sure the dressing room attendant thought I was crazy, because I was in there for about 15 minutes, swearing under my breath.
Needless to say… I bought the medium (even though it was- and still is! too big in the chest region. alas).
I somehow found a really fantastic dress for my high school “grad formal” (i.e., prom). It was white with a sort of tasteful halter top and a huge knee-length skirt (a bit like the dresses in your illustration, Kait). I was remarkably pleased with the dress, and felt quite pretty in it, even though I was fairly shy and geeky. (I should mention that the dress was reasonably fashionable at the time, too.)
I liked the dress so much that I decided to wear it again to the big college formal the following January. I had a boyfriend at the time, who had many insecurities of his own. In the days leading up to the college formal, two things happened that seriously affected my enjoyment of the wonderful dress: (a) I wore a garment dyed green turtleneck that turned my skin bright green in a way that lasted days despite serious scrubbing and (b) the boyfriend had some sort of nightmare about my white dress and decided to tell our group of friends about it all together at breakfast in the dining hall. On the big night, I was very self-conscious about my greenness and about the boyfriend – and I don’t think I ever wore the dress again after that.
There isn’t much of a point to that story, I’m afraid, but thanks for letting me share!
(P.S. I could try to turn this into some sort of Wicked fan story, but no.)
My senior homecoming I begged my mom to take me shopping forever and then finally she agreed. Well, that particular Saturday I didn’t feel like trying on thousands of dresses to only end up disappointed and feeling like Miss Fatty Mc Fat Fat as my friends call it.
So I took my old reject dress from the closet (a blue strapless A-Line to the floor ball gown). It was very plain and was only bought at a discount price for my friend’s debutante ball.
Well I ended up spending 4 hours handstiching it to end up with the best dress I’ve ever had. I still wear it for every special occasion that calls for a dress of that magnitude. I even wore it to the Press Club Freedom Forum awards dinner in DC this past spring. I LOVE THAT DRESS.
The dress was so epic in fact that the newspaper I worked for at the time, The Florida Today, let me write an article about it with a before an after picture.
Here is the before and after pic from my old, abandoned Myspace account. 4 hours by hand. Who needs to try on stupid gowns and feel bad about yourself? I just altered one and I never feel more beautiful than when I’m in that garment! I am so proud of that dress!
http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&friendID=17623486&albumID=0&imageID=2764456
18th birthday, two of my friends show up to my house with a stunning purple dress. The problem: it was sleeveless, and I’m an Italian boy with hairy arms. It’s ok, though:
http://photos-163.ll.facebook.com/photos-ll-sf2p/v14/158/106/27100163/n27100163_30024508_2542.jpg
Don’t really do the drag thing too much anymore. But when I do, I’m gorgeous.
Oh my god, I’m loving all these stories! I’m very glad we have some drag happening. :)
I had a two-night cabaret engagement in downtown Philadelphia when I was a senior in high school – it was at the height of my wanting to be a performer – and I decided I wanted to make my own dress. My grandmother and I spent the better part of the summer making the simplest A-line black dress. She probably could have made it much better all by herself. She doesn’t make clothes anymore but was a master seamstress in her day. But that feeling of deciding what you want something to look like and then executing it is so wonderful. I probably could have bought a nicer dress. I’ve always been very very lucky in the dress department. But all evening, I felt so proud. I have pictures from the cabaret performances and I look so completely in my own skin – a really hard thing to be when you’re 17. I can’t imagine that there was any other dress in the world that would have made me feel that comfortable.