Buy The Damn Dress

Do you ever have those moments where you put on a dress and think to yourself, “Damn, self. You look great.” I do. Rarely. But when I do, I fall in love.

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I spent a year in college “fashion blogging”. I liked writing and creating, and it definitely scored me some internships, but it totally turned my love of fashion off. I wasn’t writing for myself, I was writing to gain popularity in a world of Insta-worthy bloggers. There was a strict formula to follow, and it never felt genuine to me. I still have the site URL active, but have all the posts hidden. This is better for the world, really, it turned to absolute shit toward the end. I also stopped loving getting dressed in the morning. My uniform of basic tanks and cutoff denim shorts has remained routine for the past two years.

But lets get back on track. Last summer, I was walking around Disney Springs, wasting time and scouting photo shoot locations. I wandered into Free People, as one does. I planned on buying nothing, as one does. Then I fell in love, as one does. Toward the front of the store, a rack of gauzy dresses pulled me in like a Venus flytrap. I’m a sucker for dresses I can twirl in.

I pulled two off the rack- a white tank dress that looked like it was made for a Coachella mummy, and a little periwinkle number that screamed fairy princess. “Just to try on” I assured myself. LOL Mads, good one.

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SURPRISE, BITCH! YOU LOOK FAB! The dresses were made for my thin frame, and made me feel like a summery mermaid. But could I justify spending upwards of $150 on a single dress just because I finally felt self-confident for the first time since getting back home from vacation?

I left the store with a handful of photos I’d taken in the dressing room, and booked my inspired ass to the fabric story in search of some airy cotton fabric. I was going to make my own little knockoff. $27 later, I was home, armed with five yards of fabric and some assorted lace trim. I started cutting, no pattern. I could calculate mentally, right? I had a vision. Two snips in, and I knew my imagination wasn’t gonna cut it. I could probably make my own dress eventually, but I had been texting photos of the FP dresses to my friends all night. It was like in every romantic comedy where the ingenue has her first encounter with the hottie of her dreams. Those dresses were all I could think about until I fell asleep, and they were the first thing I thought about when I woke up the next morning.

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You know what I did next? I went back. I got my periwinkle dream dress. Did seeing the number on the credit card authentication screen bum me out? A little. But I had just gotten a long-awaited paycheck, I was going to be fine.

I went to a bathroom, changed into the dream dress, and felt a wave of calm confidence wash over me. I felt like a queen again.

So what’s the moral of this story? #treatyoself

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