I like dresses.
That might be surprising coming from a person that only wears them maybe twice a school year. My everyday wardrobe includes a t-shirt, a pair of skinny jeans and sneakers. Nothing to stand out. Not much to comment on.
My mother’s voice, sharp as jagged glass, as she muttered a side misogynistic comment. The unmoving periscope of society’s comprehension that is obsessed with categorization and dictation. Questions and comments that left me with bashful cotton candy colored cheeks and a murmur of “no one”. Attention that is harsh and blinding like stage light that shrouds an expectant audience. These were the reasons why I hesitated to don a dress.
But the thing is, even when the cotton that covers me blends in with everyone else’s, I still manage to garner unwanted attention. When I was in eighth grade, I took a class trip and after an activity I drifted from the group to a nearby water fountain to get a drink. My friend later told me that something had happened. Apparently while I was at the water fountain a boy around our age took a picture of my butt then skittered off to the restroom. What was I wearing that day? Jeans and a t-shirt.
A dress is enough to coax out a different part of my personality that contrasts the timid persona I'm normally found in. An example includes the activities I partook in at annual conventions in my hometown. I ran around in a Japanese maid costume, bounded up to other people (who were also in costume) to take pictures with them, smiled at those who made eye contact, accepted and asked strangers for dances at balls. That was me. A bounce in my step and a dash of giggles.
Despite all of those things, at the end of the day before sunset, I changed back into normal clothing and tucked any remnants of the costume away. It wasn’t like other con-goers transformed into their regular selves once the sun disappeared. But true to its symbolism, the night drew out more possibilities of unwanted attention. I didn’t want to take a chance to be singled out.
But now I developed a lifestyle with less inhibitions.
Did I have a terrible tear stained day? Be right back, treating myself with good food. Did I think my writing was good enough to get published? Let me give it a try. Did someone seem attractive like a potential romantic interest? I will let them know.
I made enough personal discoveries and strides to instill a bit more confidence in myself. I know what I can and cannot do. I look and feel good in dresses. So fuck it.
I have three favorite dresses.
- A white a-line dress that echoes the look of a romanticized flower child.
- A black skater dress that sought and received melodies from musicians.
- A black peplum dress with a built in rhinestone necklace piece that twinkles ever so often.
