Styled Out: R.I.P. Betsey Johnson dress


I’m currently in mourning. No, my grandma didn’t die. At long last, I’m actually grieving the loss of my absolutely favorite dress. I’ve been acting somewhat over the top, clinging to my denial and shock in somewhat of an unhealthy fashion. I got on a wild retracing of the steps, a Nancy Drew kick that only convinced me that my former psychotic roommate had taken the dress along with my pink frying pan, which also magically disappeared in the time that I lived with her.

I had to stop, breathe and let my girlfriend convince me that it was time to release my clutch on my now gone forever favorite frock.

The thing is, this was no ordinary dress. It was a Betsey Johnson and a gift from one of my mentors and friends after she included it as part of an ensemble for me to wear in my very first fashion show. Worse, I have no idea where or how I could have possibly misplaced it. My biggest fear is that it was mixed in with a bag of clothes that I have since donated. Dear God.

Isn’t it odd how we hold such a candle to certain articles of clothing? It’s strange but think about how central what you wear is to almost everything you do. You may not like what you have to work with, but it sets a tone and an image and it’s important nonetheless. There has to have been a time in your life when you wouldn’t rest until you had the essential combination of threads for New Year’s Eve or your birthday. It might have even been prom, but regardless — the point is you get it.

You really understand me! Even if you replace my tears over my gorgeous dress being lost and gone forever with a hoodie, or the perfect jeans, you feel me. I know you do. That one thing looks so much better on you than anything else that you own. I know I’ve promised to let it go, and I think by doing this I’ll be almost there. I am accepting the fact that I need to move on and begin the quest to find the next most completely beautiful and perfectly versatile dress that can be worn with boots or flats; in summer or in winter. Sigh.

I’d like to take a moment and remember one of my fondest memories of said dress. I was wearing it the night Rachel and I went to Feist and finally got two and a half years of pent–up, unrequited love out on the table. On another occasion, I can be quoted saying, “If I died today, I would want to be wearing this dress.” This is not a joke, people. This was pretty much the most devastating mishap of 2008.

But I’m putting this all behind me. I’m going to look forward and stop acting like a mother searching for her abducted daughter on Dateline or something. My days with my beauty are gone and there is nothing I can do about it. I have no idea what the hell happened to my beloved but I’m burying it, here and now. I’ll dwell in the past and point fingers no more.

Have you yourself lost something so near and dear?

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