Bought at the Vintage Heaven pop-up* last weekend:
I keep thinking of this dress as the sort of thing that a really, really passive-aggressive mother-in-law would wear to a wedding. "But it's not white, dear! It's cream! I simply don't know why you are upset."
To take it from matronly territory into something less proper, I'm thinking of removing the sleeves. The neckline didn't photograph particularly well here (and yes, my head is all cut off- you're only missing my post-yoga sweaty face and ratty post-biking hair, I promise), but it's this gorgeous woven collar the entire way around. Should this happen? Or should I embrace the poofy sleeves?
*Although the Vintage Heaven pop-up yielded several treasures for me (and god bless sellers who take credit cards), there was a really super-unpleasant interaction I have to bitch about. I won't name the seller, because I am not quite that catty, but it went as such:
I picked up a really lovely floaty tunic top- well, ok, I'd probably wear it as a dress, too- from this seller's stand. It is a contemporary brand (so, not vintage at all, but I don't care, it's quite pretty), marked size M. In this particular brand, I happen to wear a M. However, I have some questions as to the sheerness of this piece, so I am going to try it on before dropping coin on it.
The seller scampers up to me and grabs the tunic: "Are you going to buy that? Because it's an XS." Me: "I'm going to try it on in the dressing room first. It's marked a size M." Her: "Well, it fits me, so it's an XS."
Me: "..." (thinking fuck off, you goddamn hag)
"I'm going to try it on."
I take that tunic into the dressing room with a half-dozen other things, and no, it doesn't fit perfectly. That doesn't bother me, or make me question my entire existence based on sizing- just means I won't buy it. No great loss- it was marked up quite a bit more than that particular brand should be, anyhow. I exit the dressing room with my pile of To Buy and the pile of Not Gonna Get, and what do you know, that seller is standing there ready to pounce: "It didn't fit you, did it."
Me: "No. I'm not getting it."
Her: "I told you it was an XS."
Seriously, lady, you can fuck right off. It's marked a size motherfucking Medium, and whether it fit or not is really none of your goddamn business. And by the way, don't mark up mall-brand clothes at 200%, you German-accented bitch.