“hallo, rabbit,” he said, “is that you?”
“let’s pretend it isn’t,” said rabbit, “and see what happens.” // a.a. milne

truth be told, my version of dressing up for an occasion is rather lax. i clean up well, but let’s be clear – i’m not about the embellishment.

there was a time though, when i fell for the rhetoric that one had to don some frou, suffer the stiletto and make believe that the ruffle, adornment, or even that colour was, but of course, exactly what i was aiming for. and then, there was that time – when the balls of my feet sought their revenge and walking was rendered impossible; the seams of my boned bodice dug too deeply into my sides, and my hair went crunch when touched. and when, finally, i wincingly made my way to the ladies’ – i could hardly recognize myself at all.

and that was the last time – the last time i went anywhere not dressed as myself. a crisper version of myself mind you, but never again was i not wholly… me.

of course, one does daydream, and when the dream suits – and when beauty comes in the shape of a garment made for your body alone – even i wouldn’t say no.





➝ all images courtesy of style

/ dior / chanel / valentino / giambattista valli /


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