'Still Life with Apples and a Pot of Primroses', Paul Cézanne (ca. 1890)
-- at some point in my late teens/early 20s (speaking as if I left those years behind long ago and I'm not only about to turn 26 at the end of this year) my Catholic mother introduced my newly-awakened Catholic self to 'modest dressing'. The fad lasted about a year between us before we gave up on the pretence of everyday elegance we claimed the midi skirts afforded us - we soon returned to our old faithful jeans and t-shirts, and I to my shorter hemlines as I went through university. The minis I tend to gravitate towards now, while not impractically short, do allow me to show off my best assets. I'm still debating what the point is in dressing to 'show off' and whether it's morally 'okay' (does it lowkey/highkey fuel negative body image issues etc), but that's another faith-flavoured kettle of fish. . .
While I fight that inner battle, here are a few short shift dresses for a variety of occasions, which I think reflect an element of the elegance I once feverishly pursued. There really isn't much to say about them other than I will forever love fairly modest (eyyy) pops of colour and lines. Lots of lines.
'Navagunjara, a Universal Form of Krishna', India (ca. 1835)
—another thing I have come to know about myself in relation to my style: I’m really a person of extremes and contradictions. I like to half-jokingly call myself a ‘midaximalist’, one who is both in the middle and at either end of the scale all at once. It’s not that I don’t want or like my tastes to be pinned down to one overarching theme - believe me, I’ve tried to do the pinning myself but none of the labels stay put for long. I like everything and nothing at one moment or another, and it can be exciting but it can also be frustrating given I'm trying to keep my wardrobe relatively small. . . here are a few very different dresses that all nod to these very different & fluid versions of myself:
'Joséphine-Éléonore-Marie-Pauline de Galard de Brassac de Béarn (1825–1860), Princesse de Broglie', Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (1851–53)
––the problem with finding things that you love for the sole purpose of letting them go is that, you guessed it, it is incredibly hard to then let them go once found. Hark, a strange metaphor for my new blogging endeavour: let's consider this space a personal gym in which I can begin to exercise the muscles that are supposed to unclench my fists.
And so since I seem to be obsessed with dresses at the moment, and with Christmas fast approaching, here are some quirky Christmassy dresses I'm using as dumbbells & trying desperately to let go of:
'Irises', Vincent van Gogh (1890)
––winter is here. It's been here for a while now actually - too long if you ask me. I'm trying to bury my blues in my blankets & escape in all manner of ways. Turning up the thermostat when Sam isn't looking has become less of a thrilling outlet now that he's fiddled directly with the boiler settings (I have never known how to change it, consider this cold-blooded creature thwarted). I've now taken up my escapism in the form of floral dresses - a theme reminiscent of springtimes past, but you could definitely wear these ones on a bleak UK midwinter with a pair of tights and some thermals beneath, I think.
