By my reckoning, there are 36 days of summer left. This eBay auction ends five days from now; allowing another five-six days for shipping leaves you 25 days to wear this dress before packing it away for next year. (Your summer may vary if you live further south than I do. Australians may, of course, anticipate.) No one will mind if you wear this dress half-a-dozen times in those last 25 days–I would, if I could!

B36/W27; right now it's at $37.99 with no bids. Somebody go grab it, okay? The last days of summer are waiting.

I'm not sure why this dress is calling to me. I bought the pattern on a whim at an estate sale a few weeks ago, and it's been floating in the back of my head ever since. I'm not really a plunging-neckline kind of gal, and this skirt makes even these ectomorphic illustration women look like toilet-paper cozies, so I find its constant presence in my head disturbing and a bit irritating.

It might be time for a switch, though, and that would explain why this dress is pinging me. You know how you know, one day, just from something undefinable in the air, that summer is over? And how it's different every year, and not very closely tied to the calendar? That's how it is with styles, too. All of a sudden the very dress you loved, that you couldn't wear often enough, that was somehow the perfect shape and line — looks wrong. Its summer is over.

So. The short version, in gray challis with red banding. Or cream challis banded with chocolate brown. With the neckline, um, adjusted a bit upwards (to obviate the need for double-sided tape) and perhaps the skirt narrowed. Whaddaya think?

Also, Blogger tells me this is the 100th Dress a Day post! Thanks for reading!

I wanted to post a wedding dress today, but I just couldn't find one that sang to me. And then (since if you can't praise beauty you can always resort to mockery) I wanted to find one that was risible, but I couldn't find one that rose to the height of risibility that I was looking for. This is the problem with wedding dresses, in my opinion — they serve no purpose other than to make one person (POSSIBLY two, but usually just one) happy on one day, and for that reason they are not really subject to criticism in the same way as ordinary dresses are.

If wedding dresses are just, at their ideal, crystalline distillations of personality … I want to meet the woman who chooses this one. For some reason, even though this wouldn't be MY choice, I think I'd really like her.

Click on the image to go to the web page offering this dress. If you buy it, drop me an email! We'll have coffee.

Ignore the model's glassy stare and think for a minute what this dress would do for YOU. First of all, although I am a fan of the little black dress, this dress is not a LBD. It's a BBD, actually: dramatic, flattering, graceful. That neckline would, at the same time, make your neck look swanlike and feature your embonpoint charmingly. The embellished bodice is just understated enough to be tasteful, just sparkly enough to be festive. The Grecian twining at the waist will set that part of you off discreetly, and the soft flowing pleats of the skirt will flutter around you enticingly. This is the dress to wear when you want to look effortlessly elegant.

This dress is a siren's call to rival all siren's calls, but doesn't look like it. Gorgeous. From Narciso Rodriguez's Fall 2005 collection (by way of Serenada — who would look like a goddess herself in this gown! — thank you, Serenada!). Click on the image to visit the Style.com slideshow.

Yes, it's a flocked dress! There's not a lot of flocking on adult clothes lately — it seems only kids get the satisfaction of having raised fuzzy patterns on their clothing. But I'm all in favor of fuzzy party dresses — why NOT give people an excuse to touch you? (Okay, introverts, you can all say "eeeewwwww!" now, but I didn't mean it THAT way.) So, where were we? Yes. This dress — a tad expensive at $225, but in great condition, and it's not only flocked, it's flocked taffeta! — is just the perfect combo of color and pattern, and it's at The Cats Pajamas (I don't know where the apostrophe went either and without it I think that perhaps the pajamas are MADE of cats, and that is not a good mental image AT ALL) so click on the link if you must have it. B36/W28.

I may have to go troll Ebay for some flocked fabric now. Preferably a nice abstract like this one, and not flaming skulls or Hello Kitty, as much as I like both those motifs. Hmmm, flaming Hello Kitty skulls? Oh well.

I like this dress — it looks Modern without looking as if you were trying too hard to be modern. It's a nice shape, a nice length, and no matter how clever and manipulative your personal body-image demons are, they probably haven't gotten around to talking you into hating the very tips of your shoulders yet. So show 'em off! This dress also requires Important (or at least Very Dangly) Earrings, or perhaps even a Striking Cuff Bracelet, so keep that in mind. (Neither of which accoutrements could I wear for more then ten minutes before slipping them off to be lost forever in the bottom of my handbag, so I would be drastically underaccessorized in this dress.)

And by "try something new," I mean if you're a size 0/2 and have $119 to spare — this is on sale at Neiman's and 0/2 is the only size left. Ah, end-of-season sales, where the two ends of the bell curve make out like bandits, and the rest of us in the hump just LOOK.

This dress is NOT — and I can't stress how important this is — NOT made of that hideous stretch polyester that so many knit dresses are molded of these days. No, this one is very nice combed cotton.

Why the model was told to have no two planes of her body facing the same way, I have no idea. But she's doing a really good job of following instructions, isn't she?

I don't know about YOU, but when I click on an Ebay listing for an "Exotic Evil Black Fairy Mini Dress W/ Mesh Fringes L" I damn well expect the wings to be included! But they're not! What's up with that? I have to buy the wings separately? The wings are what make it "fairy"! Otherwise, it's just exotic, evil, and black. And definitely mini. Don't forget mini.

This is what happens every time I think I should venture out of the happy little roses and kittens world that is vintage on Ebay into the modern clothing listings. Which is not roses and kittens, as you can see, but, well, exotic, evil, and fairy. If you buy the wings separately.

The listing runs until August 11, so there's plenty of time to track down your own set of evil fairy wings, if you're so inclined. Also, the lister promises that "This tacy and racy outfit … will have all the male predators slavering and panting over you." Personally, I try to keep the male predators (as well as the female ones) far, far away from me, but hey, I'm not going to judge your lifestyle. Especially not if it involves wings. I'm not quite sure what "tacy" means here — I'm assuming it's a typo for "tasty." I'm pretty sure it doesn't have anything to do with this.

I know it's a while until St. Patrick's Day, but if you have a spare $185 and a complexion that can take it, this dress is really worth your while. For one thing, it has both the original slip AND the original belt, which is rare for these chiffon shirtwaists. And — chiffon! Do you know what a pain chiffon is to sew (at least for me)? This is not a dress you could knock off in a couple of hours, nosirree. This is two full days of swearing and dripping sweat down the bridge of your nose, seam ripper clenched in one hand, fabric bunched in the other. Believe me, I've been there, and it isn't pretty. Which this dress most certainly is. B38/W26. Click on the image to check out Vintage Virtuosa, which has a lot of other lovely things, as well. (Note that the description of this dress has another description, of a different dress, mixed up with it. It's not too hard to sort out, though.)

And look, I didn't mention the Peter Pan collar once! Oh, damn.

Well, do you? I can tell you. The reason this dress looks so absolutely, mindbogglingly, astoundingly beautiful is because the waist is twenty-four goddamn inches. It's enough to make a girl take up tightlacing. I'm gonna buy a four-poster bed to hang on to while an obliging person pulls mightily on my whalebone undergarments. Sheesh. Who needs functioning internal organs, anyway? Highly overrated. I already give blood; it's not quite such a big jump to a kidney or something.

Anyway, if you already HAVE a 24-inch waist (and are older than 12, because this dress is labeled GROWNUPS ONLY) don't tell me (I might cry). Instead, click on the link and buy this beaut for only $78! The very conscientious Vintage Martini site states that there's some strain on the back seams — but that's what you should expect. When you have a dress this pretty with a 24 inch waist, there will be people trying it on too enthusiastically and too hopefully. (This is why I carry a tape measure, folks. Measure something before you try it on; it saves your ego and — more important — the dress.)

I get the feeling that the illustrator for this pattern envelope had just eaten breakfast, don't you? Look at that design!

I love this dress, and the fact that about half of the patterns I already own are just slight variations on this theme doesn't make me love it any less.

Click on the link to go to a HUGE list of vintage dress patterns at Grandma's House. Seriously, you'll be scrolling all day. Pack a lunch. If you have time, check out the wedding patterns, too. Grandma is unusual in that she often has two or more copies of a single pattern, increasing the chances she'll have what you want, in your size.

I am assuming that there is an actual Grandma, and not just a team of slick marketeers who think by throwing up a charmingly eccentric website and larding it with phrases like "We prefer not to do business by telephone. We save that for the kids & grandkids!" they'll get my money. Which they probably will, anyway. But I want to think about Grandma spending it on ice cream for the kids and scratch-off lottery tickets …