Oh, jeebus. Have you ever passed by a stray cat, missing one eye and bereft of most of its fur, and thought "Oh, you poor thing!" and taken it home? Or seen a perfectly run-of-the-mill jerk and thought "Gee, he seems interestingly broken, my love will HEAL HIM!" and done the same? Or decided that a total teardown is your "fixer-upper"? Well, that's the way I feel about this dress.

I can't even begin even a half-hearted apologia for the collar, so let's pass over it in silence. Nor for the sleeves, which seem to be fashioned expressly to let your upper-arm bingo wings run free and frolic. The skirt looks like they drew it up from a 1940s fabric-rationing guidebook–this much and not one inch more! But even if I took off the collar, narrowed the sleeves, and fattened up the skirt, it would still look like something that would get you mistaken for one of the housekeeping staff in a nicer hotel.

I'm sure my feelings for this dress are all about the pockets, with additional subliminal influence from the shoes in the illustration, which I covet fiercely. And a little bit because the women wearing these things look like they are just one sneering look from passers-by away from becoming a girl gang, on the model of Charlie's Angels. Obviously. I mean, they have the brainy brunette (ringleader and commandant, as she is central), the ditsy blonde (you can tell, because she's looking in the wrong direction AND wearing blue gingham) and the exotic and feisty person of color (who despite being EXOTIC! and OF COLOR! has unthreateningly Caucausian features). Notice how the brunette has to hold her back, lest she open up her can of whoop-ass prematurely.

Luckily, I very rarely give in to the "it's-broken-I-must-fix-it" impulse nowadays. If you want to offer this pattern comfort, click on the image and pay your $4 on eBay. I think I will just go watch some buttkicking women on TV (Buffy, Alias, old Doris Day movies–what? she does metaphorical buttkicking, and has better clothes!) and look for two-tone platform oxfords online.

A regular reader of A Dress A Day, who wishes to remain anonymous, sent me half-a-dozen vintage patterns she found when she was clearing out her garage. This is yet more evidence for pronoia, the idea that the world is constantly and secretly rearranging itself to make you (well, in this case, ME) happy.

Because wouldn't this dress make you happy? And all those around you? I especially like the binding/ribbons on the neckline of the polka-dot version. In fact, from personal experience I can say that wearing excessive polka dots can bring plenty of joy. (I have one short full skirt, white with multicolor polka dots five inches in diameter, that never fails to 1) make folks smile and 2) make me look like an honors graduate of Ringling Clown College.)

If what you're wearing today isn't making you happy, why the hell not? Life's too short for boring miserable stopgap clothing. Don't wait until you lose weight, or until you get married, or until you get that next job. Do it now. Grab every opportunity for joy that life affords you. A dress like this would be a good place to start.

But it is usually quite simple to tell the two staffs [of Vogue and Glamour, in the same office building] apart because the jeunes filles at Glamour, in addition to possessing a high quota of noses that Vogue might dismiss as "eager, retroussé," are also given to wearing shirtdresses, college-girl circle pins, smiling in the elevator, and saying, "Hi." A Vogue lady once described the Glamour staff as "those peppy, Hi people."
One day a few years ago a wide-eyed, newly hired Vogue secretary went bouncing into an editor's office with a package, and said "Hi"–at which the editor is supposed to have cringed, and finally snapped, "We don't say that around here!"
… Vogue has to be careful. The upcomer might use the word cute instead of panache; she might talk about giving a party instead of a dinner; or describe a suede coat 'for weekending with the station-wagon set' rather than 'for your country home.' Or talk of going to a jewelry store instead of a bijouterie. Most maladroit of all, she might talk in terms of a best buy rather than an investment, or a coup. Or refer to a ballgown as–one shudders to think of it–a formal.

From "Vogueland", by Gay Talese.

Yes, I'm still obsessed with the Duro dress. I was temporarily satisfied with the Hippie Chick pattern, but it wasn't quite right. I may fuss with it some more–take up some of the gapping in the neckline and make it in a stretch fabric, too, but I'm still seeking another candidate.

Trolling through the online catalogs of the big pattern companies didn't turn up anything but this (New Look 6515) which I might try to modify into a dress. Really, you can slap a skirt onto any top, without too much trouble. I figure I can just change the neck facings here into a band, and widen the band at the waist until it's as wide as the one on the Hippie Chick dress, or maybe even a touch wider, and then just match it up to the skirt from that dress. I'll probably feel like widening the neck band, too, although doing it without crashing into the shoulder seams and the underbust gathers might be a problem.

I'm thinking about doing it in this fabric, with red or turquoise banding. Or turquoise banding with red piping! We'll see.

Whew. I mean, Fashion Week (oh, I'm sorry, OLYMPUS Fashion Week) was fun, but have you ever gone on vacation and eaten nothing but fancy food, and come home craving steamed vegetables, plain salads, and brown rice? That's how I feel right now.

Not that this is exactly a brown rice dress, but you know what I mean. I am writhing with disappointment that this is nowhere near my size (if you are a B32, click on the picture to go to the eBay listing). It's Suzy Perette! It's got a midriff cummerbund! And it's got a crazy skirt that I would never make, much less wear, but that would give me enormous pleasure each time I looked at the pattern envelope.

Of course, the only problem with looking at this often is that eventually, like toxoplasma, this pattern would change my behavior to further its own survival and I WOULD end up making and wearing it, and going "What? What's so funny?" when people giggled as I went by. (For the full effect, imagine vertical two-inch-wide rainbow stripes!) My only hope is to infect all of you, so that eventually there's a critical mass of us and we end up here.

I was going to ask if anyone had a line on this in a B36, but maybe I shouldn't, now.

Okay, I didn't pick this dress just so I can begin and end my fashion week postings with Cynthia Rowley (OCD much?). I chose it because — well, look at it!

First of all, I can't really tell if the three pale stripes are appliqued ribbon, inset solid fabric, or inset sheer fabric. Any would be fine. I love the effect, full stop. I suppose, from a technical point of view, I'd prefer inset solid fabric as being the biggest challenge (and thus the most designer-y).

I love the clear bright red, too, and the high round neck, and the little sleeves. And, of course, the pockets. How happy am I with the emphasis on pockets this coming season? Let's just say the last time I was this pleased over something so essentially inconsequential it involved Denis Leary dressed as a fireman.

I would not follow the serving suggestion shown here and wear it with those boots (which someone obviously ganked from the set of POTC2) although I might keep the tights, to wear with the other current trend I smile on approvingly, wedge heels.

I love this shape so much I can see it a couple other ways. A soft gray flannel, with ivory or red inserts, maybe? Or a rich peacock teal with pale blue inserts, to wear with patterned tights and suede shoes? And of course you'd wear a trapeze-y soft coat with a round collar over it. I leave the selection of an appropriate bag as an exercise for the reader.

Isn't it lovely? I love the neckline, and the fabric, and the way it hangs, and the use of what looks like velvet piping. This is the kind of dress that feels great to wear — you won't be wondering what's hanging out that should be in. I hope we see this dress out and about a lot in party season — I hope she makes a tea or floor length version, too, although with the stiff fabric it would be a bit baroque.

I don't think I'd wear any jewelry (except old-gold and topaz dangly earrings). With a floor-length version I'd wear barbaric old-gold or brass cuffs set with large irregular (unfaceted) stones. Cabochons. Tiger-eye cabochons — what do you think? And certainly not with black tights and shoes — deep deep brown velvet shoes with old-gold bows.

In white brocade with white velvet piping this would be an exquisite winter wedding dress. In white eyelet with twill piping it would be a lovely summer party dress, although I bet you'd have to underline the eyelet with organza to get the right weight (I know, I know, eyelet should be limp, but I love stiff eyelet). In red floor-length velvet with satin piping it would be a costume for Deadwood. (It's always possible to pervert a great design with bad fabric …)

I think tomorrow will be the last Fashion Week post, and we'll be back to our regular schedule of dresses that at least make a pretense of being wearable and affordable …

Several people, including Betsy and Grant, sent me this link to design your own tartan!

Being a Scot, I already have a tartan (and someday I might actually figure out which one it is), but I heartily endorse this. The future is NOW!

I believe the tartan on the left is the Coburg tartan, which Queen Victoria designed for Prince Albert (he of the eternal can imprisonment) as a consolation for his not being Scots, I mean, as a celebration of his Germanity. Now you don't have to be a queen to make your sweetie a tartan! Click on the image to visit the site.

This is what Glinda, the Good Witch, wears as a hostess gown.

Actually, I find it strangely appealing, with an emphasis on the "strange". For instance, the collar is a little sporty for plunging bespangled gauze. And somehow this dress actually repels breasts. (Which always makes me think — why can't they put this technology into a goddamn sports bra, already?) And the sleeves, which were torn, birds-helping-Cinderella-style, from a *different* dress and tacked on at the last minute. I'm glad her evil stepsisters were temporarily distracted and she managed to get down the runway with them intact.

So I'm thinking this is the reverse of the famous Go Fug Yourself "scrolldown wtf?", in that I really like this dress from the ribbon down. It would be lovely with a sweetheart-neckline, cap-sleeve bodice. You know, with the edges of the lace extending beyond the bodice lining to frame the decolletage. You could even keep the embellishment if you wanted.

Oh, wait, now I know what this reminds me of! Did anyone else have those pink "Fashion Plates" that I had as a little girl, where you could mix and match tops and bottoms, do rubbings from them, and then color the rubbings? Totally 1970s — I think even the bathing suit had a cowl neck. Unsurprisingly, I spent hours playing with them. This is what you got when you mixed the tennis top with the ballgown skirt. It didn't work for me then, and it doesn't work here now …

Unlike Atoosa Rubenstein, who said "I feel like I want to start starving myself so I can wear those clothes now" I wouldn't give up so much as a Raisinette for this one.

For one thing, it's pretty much this pattern, isn't it? I mean, they're really similar. And I've already TRIED New Look 6348! Although, granted, not in black satin. In fact, there are a lot of things I haven't tried in black satin, but that doesn't mean they're making it on my life list.

I am deliberately not speculating whether Tuleh has started some interesting new padded clothing trend or whether the photographer just caught the model mid-wiggle.

The Getty images had some more pictures of Tuleh dresses, some with large same-fabric rose corsages, which were much less wearable but somehow more attractive. I'd link but their server has timed out on me. I know y'all can find 'em.