A pounce upon a peak

When I was in high school I volunteered to be the costume director for a play, the title of which is long forgotten. Mainly because this allowed me infinite and unsupervised access to the elusive and wonderful costume cupboard. A filthy, musty little room full of tangled wigs and shoes without pairs, there were some wonderful gems to be found. I spent hours in there, going over every rack and wondering who on earth relegated their vintage gems for high school students to run around in being Desdemona and Daisy Buchanan. Disgusted with how some of the lovely dresses (and 1950s school satchels) were being treated, I stuffed a couple into my backpack in the dead of the night, or probably during one of my many lunchtimes there. Yes, I stole from the school. And I'd do it all again.

This is, perhaps, my favourite dress ever. And considering I own about 75 and would estimate at least double that have passed through my hands, that is not a title I use lightly. It fits like a dream, the print is wonderful (sheep and fences), everything about it is perfect. It deserved to be saved from more years of abuse, and I take good care of it.



However, I fear it is coming to the end of its days. It was in terrible condition when I got to it, and is covered in little holes I've lovingly patched up. I'm not searching for a dressmaker who can replicate it for me two or three times in different fabrics, so I can wear it over and over and not fear that one day it will simply disintegrate on my body. Wish me luck.

Photos by Logan, as usual. Haters to the left, cheesy couples photos rule.