#84: A Fancy Dress Summer

+ new-to-me indie brands; letting shimmer spark joy.

Jul 10, 2025

∙ Paid

As straight men like to voice a preference for breasts or butts, people who like fashion typically identify as either shoe or bag folk. When Ivan’s mum recently asked what I consider myself, I realised that while I do buy more shoes (for many reasons: they are more explicitly seasonal; they take on more wear; they are generally cheaper, though I know the combination means they are also poorer investments), I enjoy my greatest luck with another category altogether: dresses.

In the awareness I sound, and am, ridiculous, being well endowed in the dress department is both a blessing and a curse. While my collection (largely vintage and second-hand) runs the gamut between errand-running cotton tents and floor-length gowns, my precious pieces—the ones that feel extra special, extra delicious—are the ones that hang in the closet for 90% of the year, waiting to see the light of day or a feel the caress of a British summer’s eve.

This summer, however, my investments are bearing fruit! I feel validated, and somewhat relieved, that my least practical purchases are getting their time in the sun. It’s not just the wedding (though I do have a yet-to-be-worn second-hand thing that I think will work nicely for my bachelorette); the stars have aligned such that we’ve had plenty of outings to dress up for. Is it simply the season? Is it indicative of our era of indulgence? Likely all of the above, but as someone who finds the social part of socialising primarily daunting, owning the perfect dress for the occasion is proving a more than adequate balm.

In the David Fielden dress and Manolos I bought off Vestiaire Collective for a bargain; a composed car selfie, after breakage 1..

This is the case even when the piece is truly impractical, even unwearable. For example: I took my David Fielden silk dress, which I bought in Rellik more than a year ago, to the Serpentine summer party for its first outing. I’d performed surgery on it that day, and shortened the straps, but the silk was so delicate that one of them broke anyway as I ducked into our Uber. The same strap, at that point safety-pinned to the nines, came undone again as we disembarked our taxi at Hyde Park (luckily I had extras in my bag, and could cover the pins with my hair). Nonetheless, I loved every other moment in the dress, which I had waited so long to wear, and now need to take for some (professional) R&R.

I often feel lethargic getting dressed day-to-day—blame a sedentary WFH lifestyle or devoting excess screen time to outfits that the daily act itself loses its sheen. But there’s something about dressing up that reminds you what a fun look can do for the spirit. It also reminded me that one doesn’t need permission in the form of an ‘event’ to don a prized item. No, I won’t be wearing my fire engine red Emilia Wickstead, which I took to the opera on my birthday, to the neighbourhood pub, but I must remember that saving special pieces for special occasions only does one a disservice.