One Black Dress With Pink Roses Looking For A Perfect Closet To Stay

I've very graciously surrendered the TV remote control over to M this evening - the Eurovision Song Contest is about as far away from my taste in music as one can come, and when I actually have to suffer being in the same room whenever such jawdropping drivel is on (believe me, that rarely happens) I'm dumbstruck. Every. Single. Time.

I just can't believe things can get any worse in this genre of music. But there's always room for yet another low water mark I suppose. Flabbergasted, that's me. And if not literally running screaming out of the room, with the hands covering my ears, someone please help, I very much do it in my head.

Oh, I'm just so very grateful it's an optional thing. And that I can usually master my own remote control over to something significantly more pleasing to both the ear as well as eyes. Not to mention the intellect and good taste - ok, diversity is in general quite a nice thing, even when it comes to music, I'm not one to say my taste in music should be shared by all (or at least I don't fully admit to it in open), but come on, one should at least be able to carry a tune when on stage trying to sing something that tries to resemble a song...

The only reason for me being so darn gracious and accommodating with the remote control this particular Saturday evening is that I felt it would be as good a time as any to have a bit of a rummaging through the closets. Seems like I've been doing quite a bit of that as lately, but now it's time to send all the Spring-Summer-not-in-use-and-won't-be-used-in-a-foreseeable-future garments off to a second hand shop, last time it was the winterish clothes. While rummaging though the closets I'm also ever so slowly working myself through parts of my past - some items are considerably easier to let go than others.

The perfect example of hard-to-let-go is a gorgeous black cotton garden-party-kind-of-dress brimming with small pink rosebuds, from Laura Ashley, bought about 100 years ago - only a slight exaggeration - but haven't been worn for about the last 50 of those years. Not worn for many reasons, like the back is quite intricate and requires a very specific bra, one I never found. I could wear it with a jacket or a cardigan on all the time, but that would be a pity on such a lovely dress. To wear it without a bra isn't an option, it would not only be uncomfortable, it would be the perfect example of bad taste Eurovision-Song-Contest-style, not to mention surely get one on a worst-dressed-anonymous-list in a second. If one cared about such matters.

I've tried to wear it with some weird Hollywood concoction of a strapless bra, which was a scary thing and instantly as if by a villainous miracle put Dolly Parton to shame shelfwise. It was a horrific day for all parties involved. Poor pretty dress with roses.

Today admittedly I don't think the bra-issue would be the major problem with the dress, there are two others overshadowing that, the fact that it's a black dress and that it's in cotton makes it a very obvious no-no in an other-than-black-cat-environment and besides, hrm, I don't think it fit as well as it once did. But it is such a flourishing dress, it's like a little dress-work of art, and I haven't been able to part with it for all this time. It doesn't demand much, no food, no drink, not very much room, I can have a glance at its pretty pattern now and then.

But the not-fitting-anylonger-fact apart, it actually very much isn't my personal style of a dress anymore. I think it's about time we parted, pink roses on black bottom dress and I. Time to finally say goodbye, to let this summer be a summer for someone else to look fab, dance, love and be happy in one wonderful black pink flowery dress with intricate back straps. Time to do what closet cleaning is all about, move on.