/ literati:

“when i was your age, television was called books!”—Peter Faulk, The Princess Bride

Spring Dress?

Spring Dress

“Another Sunny Day” | Belle & Sebastian, The Life Pursuit, 2006

Is this dress too spring-y?
It is spring.
Is this dress too spring-y?

She emphasizes the specificity of her statement with playful sternness. Specificity is important to us. It suits our desire for people to listen to words with the respectful admiration they deserve. Like a film script. Every word carefully placed for a reason.

I am unsure what the criteria for too spring-y is.

This isn’t an April dress. More July, doncha think?
I think I know what she means.

Put it on. I like watching her ready herself in the morning

She slips on one of those stretchy form-fitting undershirts girls wear under things. (I think it alone is fine as a top, why don’t you wear that ?). She then slips the vintage dress over her head, waggling her hips to help settle it around her waist and legs. Knee length, three buttons at the bust, it’s white silk with a pervasive pattern of green vines, punctuated by large, pink tulips. Pink tulips? Maybe this is too spring-y. Too summery, too. Just too, um “too.” But two epaulet-type half-belt & button thingy’s flank either side of the dress, and when fastened, they cinch her small waistline nicely, giving it shape and grace. I’m beginning to overlook the pink.

Well, what do you think, inspecting herself in the mirror, her back to me.
Turn around

She turns, kicking her hip slightly to the right, tilting her head coquettishly to the left. With her blond hair and pale skin, she looks like a vanilla ice cream cone with sprinkles on top. I’m beginning to warm to the pink.

I like it. Wear that.

She proceeds with the required accessorizing, first debating cardigan color options. Green? Too much green. Pink? Wow, there’s that pink again, but then again, it does create a nice balance to the ivy. Without a word from me, it’s settled, pink it is. She then leans forward at her bureau, rummaging through a selection of earrings and necklaces latticed and tangled as the vines on her dress. She chooses emerald hoops encrusted with small diamond-like stones.

If you’re gonna be girly, you gotta be girly.
They look lovely.

Then come the shoes, vintage closed-toed pumps in a color that I believe is called “nude.” I have little doubt about those, seasons be damned. As she walks down the hallway, down the stairs and out into the brilliant spring morning sunshine, the silk shimmers against her skin, a tangential glimmer that catches the eye of a tall gentleman passing by us. His eyes shift in a subtle double-take (nicely done, man). The season matches her step, her walk itself a springy event. In any season, I love to watch her walk.

Another sunny day, I met you up in the garden
You were digging plants, I dug you, beg your pardon
I took a photograph of you in the herbaceous border
It broke the heart of men and flowers and girls and trees


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