Monday, August 1, 2011

A Week in the Wardrobe of Story Bought Dress

by Andrea Quinlan 

Today I'm wearing a 1920's red velvet cape from little red riding hood. It has deep pockets for my lipstick and credit card. The series of bite marks around the base of the hood are from the big bad wolf. I think it's just the thing for a walk in the forest alone.

Since it's a sunny day, I have dressed up in my 1950's blue cotton dress from Alice in Wonderland. It's ideal for the tea party I am attending. You're probably wondering about the marks on my white stockings? Well those are what you get when you fall down rabbit holes.

Today I have accessorized my checked picnic outfit with a C.1900 poisonous red apple from Snow White. It's so luscious, but so deadly. Never fear - I won't be eating it. I'll be far too busy posing for photos and frolicking to do such a thing.

I don't actually have a ball to go to tonight, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from wearing this 1940's pink satin ballgown from Cinderella. At least I won't turn into a pumpkin at midnight or get cuts on my feet from wearing glass slippers.

This 1930's silk dressing gown from Sleeping Beauty is the most glamourous thing to lounge around reading Harper's Bazaar in. If Princess Aurora had found such reading material, I wonder if her life would have turned out differently?

I'm wearing a Victorian crushed crimson crinoline from Wuthering Heights today. The damp air of the moors clings to the fabric, even though the sun is shining. The sleeves still bear the tears of broken hearts and anguished love, even after hundreds of years have passed.

I'm not actually wearing this wedding dress from Great Expectations today - I'm just posing for a photo in it. I guess that still means I'm wearing it, though. I love the cobweb necklace and beetle brooches Miss Havisham accessorized with, but I don't feel that waiting around in an attic is part of my story.

1 comment:

  1. It is amazing how much history and magic can be carried into an outfit. And how we can incorporate someone else's story into our own, just through a piece of cloth that has lived long enough. Beautifully told.