my COVID dress

I’m back with news so important it inspired me to come back.

I’ve worn the same yellow dress 10 times in 20 days,

and it has changed all of our lives.

Not the dress itself, the concept of the dress. But in honor of what it’s done, I’ll now describe it in painstaking detail.

She is a Santa Fe sun yellow - no - Sunkist Lemon JellyBelly yellow - no - Crayola Dandelion (RIP) yellow with yellow highlighter on top yellow.

She is a maxi that hits below my mid-calf but above my ankle so a madi?

She has tiers as if she is a wedding cake or Stanley Cup but they are all the same height as if she is one of the expensive roman shades with the stitching every six inches.

She is sleeveless, but it’s a thick top strap. There is a ruffle around, but it’s a sensible width. At the back of her neck is a button, but it is very, very easy to close. Yesterday I did it one-handed.

And now, for her final bow, she has pockets AND she is from Target.

(Yes, take a moment to collect yourselves)

I bought this dress to wear on my birthday, August 7th. I like to have something new for my birthday because my Mom said so. I typically get that new item on my birthday at one of the vintage stores I visit during my special solo birthday neighborhood tour (working title). This year I had to forgo the solo tour, so I forewent the vintage shop too. My yellow dress purchase was done, like so much of life these past 167 days, online and in resignation.

Fine. Whatever. This will do.

When can I eat again?

I first put the black version in my cart but then remembered that people who wear bright colors do better on their SATs, so I switched it for the yellow.

I did not wear the dress until my birthday because I am superstitious about random and illogical things that involve my death. Such also as, never cross the day out in your day planner until the next day or you will die. This bears further exploration, but I really don’t have the energy.

Here is where things get good.

The dress felt like wearing bed sheets - no - like swimming in a cool lake of fabric - no - like being hugged by a lover that knows the best hug is a very, very loose hug.

And people fucking loved it. GREAT dress! they said. LOVE your dress! they said. WISH I was wearing that dress! they said. I think this is because my dress was not their sweatpants?

And so I wore it again.

It was two days later at a patio brunch with some bests. One gasped ask I walked in (maybe it’s more like just highlighter yellow yellow…). Another loved it so much that she immediately ceased talking to order her own online.

You see where this is going. Also I told you in the second sentence.

Do you know how many dresses I had/wore in the before? If so could you tell me because I can’t seem to total them up in my head.

I have always loved fashion. I have typically expressed that with quantity, diversity, and expression of all the latest styles. This approach served lovely purposes (joy, confidence, lipstick pairing games) but was not without challenges (wait, did they see me in this dress already? wait, is this dress worth wearing even though it’s wildly uncomfortable? wait, if I didn’t buy all these dresses could I summer in Europe?).

I have lately needed comfort and ease. I have typically denied myself that because it’s “lazy”, “boring”, and “people will talk about me.” This thinking serves no purposes. It is only adding challenges that I don’t have the energy to overcome.

So to anyone thinking, I feel like Jessie wears that dress too much… I say, tell that to Elaine Stritch, bitch. At least my ass is covered.

I think the point (finally) is that I’m starting to understand that oh-so-previously-elusive concept of surrender.

I used to think it meant giving up. Quitting. Walking away from who you always were. Now I think it means giving in. Settling. Walking toward who you need to be right now.

I need to be the kind of person that gets dressed with ease, feels comfortable all day and sees a pop of color when she accidentally looks in the mirror. And I need to be protected from the mean voice inside my head that says be more.

So in that case, I think my indescribably-yellow, Roman-Shade-tiered, madi-length, almost-every-single- day-dress turns out to be my very own form of PPE.

And I think the people at Target would be very wise to market it just like that.

P.S. apparently they did because it’s fully sold out. Please reach out directly if you need to borrow. I could spare it on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9AM to noon.