Someone made a dress for me.
It became apparent to me when this dress arrived that the design department at Matix had recently discovered that one of its members, we’ll call her Susie, had developed the remarkable ability to project her consciousness onto the astral plane, and that while she was practicing her newfound talent she got lost in a static storm and accidentally stumbled upon the place where I lay two weeks ago in between wakefulness and sleep.
Having found myself with an unexpected afternoon and night off work because I forgot I had switched my waitressing shift (being a very poorly organized person does have some perks, usually in the form of being pleasantly surprised by something you forgot), I made and ate a tomato and avocado sandwich,
smoked some weed…uhhh… smoked some weed, read a few pages of The Windup Bird Chronicle, and dozed off in a sunbeam with my cat satisfyingly curled up and snoozing just to my right. The complete and utter contentedness I found in those moments prompted me to recall a parallel experience in the memory of my preteen self sitting on my bed in the room I shared with my sister, waiting for my orange and yellow nail polish to dry while I paged through– wait for it– the very first dELiA*s catalog ever issued. It was uncommonly warm for the time of year and sun poured through my open bedroom window. There were no chores left to do, my sister was reading a book downstairs, my brothers were playing outside, my mother was doing something in the kitchen, and my father was at work. I was granted the brief but transcendent experience of having a pocket of time and space all to myself, with no discernible presence threatening to end it nor punish me for having taken it. The peacefulness of this earlier memory was just as rare in its time as the peacefulness of the afternoon I was experiencing two weeks ago in my sunbeam, and in both instances time paused for me, just for me, and I smiled and said, “Hey. Thanks.”
It was at this moment that Susie from Matix floated into my apartment and got sucked through the tunnel I had left open from the present to my 12 year-old self. She was transfixed by the occurrence and before she could collect herself my present self answered a ringing cell phone and the tunnel through time collapsed, leaving her stranded in the early 1990’s. She had to wait it out for nearly two decades until she could catch up to the time when she got lost and rejoin her physical aspect, and since she discovered she couldn’t go very far from my side (or I am very sure she would have done her best to warn about or prevent several world tragedies) she settled in and became my invisible shadow. It was less excruciating for her than you might think, because I’m actually pretty likable and not at all boring. She grew to like me very much and came to know me better than anyone ever could outside of her peculiar circumstance. And so when we finally reached that fateful afternoon in March of 2011, she went back to Matix and designed this dress for me as a parting gift. I think the past 20 years probably offered her more introspection than a person can really afford to have in our society, so after the dress was completed I’m sure she went off to India or the desert or somewhere to live a purified life. But she knew she was going to miss me, and she wanted me to have this dress. It is the dress that only someone in her position could have designed for me.
The layers. The layers that comprise the skirt on this dress are, in my eyes, impeccable. They follow an orderly chaos, falling in one direction and then the other, as organic as the petals of a wildflower but as disciplined and precise as an arabesque. The lines flow decisively outwards at just the right angle, allowing enough room to comfortably mount and ride a bicycle and disallowing the possibility that the wind will blow it up over my face.
The length. Is. Perfect. In the front and back, the hem falls *just* at the knee. Not an inch above the knee. Not below the knee. It hits right in the middle of the knee, which is a breathtaking length for a dress to be, and then it -aaahhhhh- takes a quick inhalation and goes ever so slightly up at each side. It shows some thigh, but only the very best part of the thigh. The basic silhouette of this dress is a very common one, but the few inches of extra length save it from the mundane and propel it to exquisiteness.
The material. 100% cotton with a weight just a few steps shy of denim. It’s not going to rip no matter how much you fall. It’s sturdy. It has presence. This dress looks straight ahead. Other dresses look at it and whisper, but this dress doesn’t even know they’re there. It’s got too much important stuff going on.
The badass details. Oh, it’s this pretty party dress.
With a sick zipper tearing up the back. Oh, and the product name? “Kill Shot”. BLAM!
The color. Rainforest. It was my favorite green that Crayola produced and it’s the exact shade of green that makes my eyes sparkle. It comes in grey, too:
Thank you, Susie.