I want a new dress.

"Tell me the truth. Unvarnished, not sugar-coated. Can I wear this?"
That's what I say when what I mean is, "Does it make me look like: a. I have no ass, b. I'm a sphere with two sticks stuck in it for legs, or c. I'm five months pregnant?"


As a woman I want to look good. Not just presentable, good. I don't call it vanity really, but that may be just a rationalization as vanity has not historically been seen as a virtue, right Narcissus? Oh, all right. I take pride in my appearance and come by it honestly. My late mother role-modeled this in her care of herself, and of me as her only daughter. 


Does this mean that I won't be seen in anything but designer labels? Ha. Hardly. The pieces I do have, I didn't pay full price for, that you can depend on! Long have I extolled the virtues of Winners, TJ Maxx and shopping from catalogues and online. In my working days, when it seems I had need of more varied attire, finds from great labels like Ann Taylor, Jones New York and the like could be unearthed on a good rainy day dig at Frenchy's. (Did I tell you about the time I got a perfect London Fog trench and found a glorious pure silk Liberty scarf wadded up in the pocket? Bonus.)
In my closet is a mishmash of all sorts of apparel.


Still, things have to fit. They have to hang properly. And look good.


I am both cursed and blessed in having inherited my mother's body type. And the gene pool goes back several generations I can tell from looking at photographs of my great grandmother Mary Josephine Lawrence. We have large rib cages, full breasts, no actual waistline per se, narrow hips, and not fleshy posteriors. Our arms are average and our legs, slim and shapely, toned and tight.

I am an apple as opposed to a pear who carries her weight more in the hips, behind and thighs.


Ay, there's the rub. Women's clothing, and dresses in particular, seems to be designed in only two ways –– for the hourglass figure, with a defined bust, waist and hips, or for the slender boyish figure with none of the above. Big deal, you say. How often do you wear dresses, Cate? Rarely, but I'd wear them much more if I knew what looked good on me. 


Saleswomen lie, acquaintances are wishy-washy ("Well, maybe without the belt"), and friends don't want to hurt your feelings, but tact can come out sounding a lot like condescension. My wife, God love her, will be truthful, and I love her for it. ("Too poufy. Not long enough. Pulls across your boobs.")


I want a new dress to wear out to dinner when we're in Mexico next month. Anyone want to come shopping?