When I was eighteen, doing my training in London, I bought a fabulous dress – it may have been from Richard shops (now defunct), they were a favourite chain of mine. It was, as per the time, extremely short, what my Dad used to call a pelmet. As was all the rage it was made from lined crinkle cotton, navy blue with tiny white spots, a slightly A-line shift with a small box pleat frill at the hem and at the edge of the short sleeves. I adored it and wore it with high fashion slingback brogue fronted, low heels. I felt like the bees knees with my hair pulled back into a small bun with a navy scrunchy (except that scrunchies hadn’t been invented and we did magical stuff with organza scarves). My best friend at the time, we’d met a year earlier on our first day, coveted The Dress, and being the fantastic best friend that I was she borrowed it if she was going on a date unless I was also going on a date. I had first call on it. Her boyfriend had no idea it wasn’t her own dress until on one date he commented that he had hoped she would be wearing The Dress. She said I was wearing it on a date and had to confess!
I thought very fondly about all this yesterday when I bought a brand new navy blue dress with slightly larger white spots. This one is a tad longer shirt dress, as befits my years. I doubt that I shall ever be as fond of it but I like it and it seemed appropriate and I hope to wear it in September when I meet up for a few days with my current best friend and we go out for a meal.
We shall be celebrating 50 years of dress sharing, problem sharing, holiday sharing, wine and other alcohol sharing, laughter sharing, dog walking, friendship – but no way is she borrowing my dress, she can get her own!
P.S. No picture – I don’t want her getting any covetous ideas!!
🙂 🙂 🙂