So at the Goodwill today, I found a dress that I would have worn the hell out of in the late 80s and early 1990s.
It was long, nearly ankle-length, light brown with a small repeating vaguely floral pattern in dusty rose. The sleeves hit just short of the elbow. It had a gigantic, amusingly shaped collar, an empire waist, and three deliberately mismatched buttons. It was Quirky; sort of Funky Laura Ashley.
I pulled it off the hanger and thought, “I have to try this on.” I knew it in no way resembled anything I have worn successfully in over a decade, but it was so reminiscent of a particular version of femmey style that I used to try to pull off that I couldn’t not take it to the dressing room. (Did I mention the dress was handmade? Well-made, too.)
And swear to god, standing in front of the mirror with it on was like visiting an earlier version of myself.
I still didn’t buy it, but it was a weird little melancholy moment.