This is what I wore for an extra special date night with my husband in Calgary. The “extra” we were celebrating that night was our 4th wedding anniversary. Can you handle a throwback on a Tuesday?
Photo credit, Strictly Photonic
I’d show you a photo of the both of us, but my husband is internet-shy. (Or so he claims; I think he just like to be mysterious.) Looking back over our wedding photos, reminiscing style, I was struck by how – before house renovations, and babies, and sleepless nights, and all the rest of the suburban dream come true – we looked like such kids. I still feel like we’re kids (playing house till the real parents show up), but we don’t look it anymore. So … yay?
So, yes, anniversary dinner. I went kinda all out. I get so few chances for even regular dressing up that I seized this opportunity with more gusto than a dinner at a steak joint would otherwise conjure up.
Grab a comfy chair and the beverage of your choice, dear reader, it’s story time.
Eight or nine years ago, I met my first real life style icon. I was a fashion noob, only recently graduated from the Suzy Shier/Forever 21 school of dressing. I had never heard of, much less read, a single fashion blog. My idea of fancy dressing was Banana Republic, and, yes, I would have called it “fancy dressing”. She was … the woman I wanted to grow up to be. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. Warm. Impeccably stylish. She was only a few years older than me, which kind of blew my mind because I couldn’t imagine ever getting to be so cool. (I’m still not.) We became friends, and she took me under her wing, style-wise. She introduced me to a ton of designer brands I’d never heard of, and taught me how to score the best deals. She took me to my first (and still my favourite) consignment store, which was a game-changer. She pushed my style horizons beyond polyester and bad denim.
She also gave me my first Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress. What? Yes. Yes, she did. My budget at the time did not stretch far enough to cover the sleeve off a DVF dress, much less the whole thing, but – oh, how I wanted one. And one day, without much fanfare, my friend gave me one of her finds. It was like Christmas, and my birthday, and winning the lottery, all in one lizard-print wrap dress.
Back in my size 4 days … before the invention of blush and lipstick, evidently.
Over the years, I haven’t worn it very often, usually just for special events (because I’m a weirdo who “saves” her favourite clothes, and then complains about having nothing nice to wear). I’ve since bought other DVF dresses, but this one retains its sentimental value. Still, I don’t wear it as much as I should, probably by force of habit. And that means that, in the scheme of things (being my major wardrobe overhaul), it’s probably time to let it go. Yet, for a while now, I simply couldn’t. It didn’t feel right. And then, recently, it hit me.
More recently, at my 5-months-pregnant size … still fits!
It might be time for me to pay it forward. Time for this dress to find its next owner, someone who will love and be inspired by it. Maybe someone who needs a little pick-me-up. Or a dress for a special occasion. If you think you, or someone you know, might be that person, drop me a line in the comments. The dress is a size 8, but can comfortably fit anyone from a size 4 to 10. I would be happy to mail it out anywhere in Canada and the U.S. Guys, the sisterhood of the magical wrap dress – let’s make this happen!
(I don’t know if anyone will be interested, but if there is more than one person, I will probably resort to my time-tested pull-a-name-out-of-a-hat routine. Unless y’all want to do a round of “rock, paper, scissors”, or arm wrestle for it, or something.)
[Edited to add: thank you for your responses so far. I really appreciate each one, truly! I will leave this post open for a week (until Saturday, April 26) and will draw a name thereafter. I’m toying with the idea of doing a little video, but god knows, I hate my speaking voice so this might be a cute idea in principle only. Stay tuned!!]
Admit it. You chuckled when you read that title because, let’s face it, “sporty” is not an adjective that you’d normally associate with me. But, I do like walking … and not just at the mall, smarty-pants. That counts as somewhat sporty, yes? A few weeks back, we took the kids for our first outdoor adventure of the season. One of our favourite spots is the Whitemud Crossing ravine; it’s a short drive from our house, and once you get going, it feels like you’re miles away from the city.
Luka said hello to the squirrels, and counted all the lakes. (Every body of water bigger than a puddle is a “lake” to him. That includes this creek, and the Pacific Ocean.) Teodora munched on her jacket, and then her daddy’s jacket, and then her fingers, which passes for high entertainment when you are 7 months old. That, and watching her big brother like a hawk, the better to imitate him later. Oh brother! Fun times for everyone.
Taking photos of my outfit earned me an eye roll or three, but these are the things I endure for you guys. I started off fairly composed (see above), but things went off the rails quickly (see below). To a chorus of hecklers telling me to cut it short, the squirrels are getting away … I did. I’ll have to tell you all about my outfit another time.
