Last weekend I was in Madrid with an afternoon set aside for vintage shopping and I didn't find a single thing and this weekend, I hungoverly crawled out my flat down Stoke Newington Church Street not on the lookout for anything other than a big plate of hash browns and came back with a pleated cream midi-dress, a 1970s blouse, an oversized cashmere Betty Jackson cardie, a handmade necklace, a second-hand brooch, an antique desk lamp and a lampshade. Sometimes life just doesn't make any sense. And when I'm next in Madrid, I'll do well to remember not to go shopping in siesta hours...
So this is the midi-dress, from Dirty Blonde, a welcome break from the norm (and unusually on trend for me!) as I live in sixties minis. The pleats are springy and perfect for dancing.
Last night I teamed it with bright green heels and a vintage green scarf tied around my waist as a belt. I used to try and avoid pale colours because of my skin tone (not to mention white hair) but I've never been big on rules, and I think neutral colours work really well when broken up with bright accessories.
The only problem - the bane of vintage shopping - is the dress's size. It didn't bother me when I was squeezing the buttons closed in the changing room, nor when I nearly hyperventilated trying to take the thing off. It didn't even bother me on the dance floor when I couldn't wave my hands in the air (not that that's ever a good look). The moment the niggle kicked in? When the guy I was sharing a smoke with turned to me and said, 'I'm not being funny but what bra size are you? Your dress looks kinda tight.'