Fashion Stories & Dirty Laundry

There’s something about dresses that invite or maybe even ignite drama. We think of romance, dinner dates, weddings, proms, funerals, last dates, fights, holding hands with legs crossed, showing a knee, good parties, boring parties. But even a boring party can be an enchanting soiree with a great dress.

I love dresses. Dresses are great when thin, not so thin, even pregnant. You just always feel better in a dress.

All the dresses, all the memories.

I don’t know exactly what it is about dresses but I do know that they hold romance, passion, sadness, all up in their fabric and various accoutrements if any. It’s as if the hangers whisper their sweet and sometimes wistful memories.

There are the ‘what was, the could have been, or perhaps the should have been’ all contained in often several yards of fabric.

They often remind me of places, sometimes even the exact date, type of wine, or food. Often the faces at the table. It’s almost like dresses are a map of your life — designer ghosts.

They are the main character in the play of your life.

*Featured here is a vintage Chloe bustier and matching asymmetrical skirt. It’s approximately 25 years old now. A true iconic Chloe by Stella McCartney time period piece. I wore it about 3 times.

The last time I wore this ‘Mlle. Chloe’ was to Lucques, a fabulous restaurant in West Hollywood for a Valentine’s Day with my ex. To be honest, I remember this outfit more than our conversation; I chose pewter-like strappy Stuart Weitzman shoes, as well. It’s one of my most favorite epic date outfits and felt so feminine and modern in it.

I do remember seeing Andy Dick at the restaurant too (it was and still is a haven for celebs) he smiled and waved (not sure why). But at that time, he wasn’t his ‘last name’. Or at least yet. (smile)

I preserved this piece for years, even though I never wore it again. I moved with it about 4 times since 2001. Recently, I decided to sell it to a lady who seems a fashion professional and have a true interest in vintage Chloe. I’m happy it will have another life, another dinner, another party. It’s so beautiful, like a bird, that why should it be entrapped in the cage of my closet for mere memories? It needs to fly out there on the sidewalks, and bump fashionable elbows again. It needs to hear laughter, clinking glasses, kisses, and tears. It needs to live.

And I still have too much in my closet.

-C. Nor.