What’s a 6″ stiletto when you’ve loved and lost
Is it possible to go into mourning for a dress you’ve never owned? It’s fitting that the one in question, an Alexander Wang Bustier dress, happens to be black, because that’s how I feel without it. I fell in love you see, and fashion is fraught with just as many disappointments as l’amour…
♥ First, there is the look-but-don’t touch. So divine, but alas out of bounds, unthinkable, even though you’d make the perfect couple. It’s too high a price to pay, even for love, so you walk.
♥ Second, there is the betrayal. You thought you were a match-made-in-heaven but then at a party you overhear your ex saying that you look like a fat mermaid. In that instant, the fact that it’s Hervé Léger counts for nothing; you may as well’ve gone to Primark and spent the rest on vodka shots.
♥ Third, there is the-one-that-got-away. Perhaps the most painful because there it is – you’re holding it! – but not in your size, damnit. It was sold out, oh ages ago, smiles the shop assistant. ‘Can you get another in?’ But it’s a dead-ender of ‘last season’s stock/maybe one left in Timbuktoo/here’s the number for the Shangri-La office.
Kiss goodbye to the new you. The more dazzling, effortless you that was only moments away from realisation. Which leads me to…
♥ Fourth, the re-bounder. Try as you might you can’t get over this dress, and you torture yourself with pictures of what might have been. There’s no high street alternative, no tawdry replica, no nothing to fill that sartorial void.
I ask you, what’s the pain of a 6inch stiletto when you’ve loved and lost?
(Credit: thanks to pinprick on flickr for image)
