32 Saucy Vintage Sundresses to Keep Your Friends Close and Your Enemies Gawking
All the keywords I use to find them & a dispatch from the library desktop
Hello from the Jefferson Market Library basement. I met a friend for lunch with the intention of posting up at coffee shop afterward, but my laptop is dead, and there’s a greater chance of winning the lottery than finding an outlet at a New York City cafe, so I’m here. In exchange for my library card number, I receive computer access for 48 minutes. Sweet deal.
It’s cool and dry and I’m seated at a rectangular wooden table facing the magazine shelves. Shakira and Jimmy Kimmel and that OpenAI guy are staring me down from covers across the room.
The bathroom hand dryer makes itself known every few minutes like a guy you met once at a party who always likes your Instagram stories. Just reminding you I’m here! Chairs squeak and thud and screech against the cracked concrete floors, shoes shuffle across in a soft white noise, the security guard promptly pushes in chairs left askew by people whose computer time is up. Wired earbuds outnumber wireless in the room.
I never write in public not on a laptop of my own — with its safety blanket brightness dimmer and screen-angling abilities — and I’m acutely aware of the fact that my document is visible to anyone passing by. This feels like an autopsy. Worse, like an autopsy that I’m also narrating. Like I’ve projected slides of my organs onto a wall and given the crowd 3D glasses.
I’ve shrunk my window down to the smallest possible size that isn’t completely insane and hope no one cares enough to peep. But of course they don’t. It’s New York. My tiny, ridiculous window and I digress.
Today’s dispatch is a love letter-style edit of 32 vintage dresses, an homage to the highlighter yellow ‘60s number that’s been the unequivocal star of my warm weather wardrobe so far. I’ve already mentioned it in a couple previous letters, but there’s still so much to say! The more I wear it, the more I come to understand it…
The dress feels kind of magic, actually.
It’s an outfit in one piece: a full color story with an interesting silhouette that removes the need to thoughtfully pair a top and bottom.
It’s humidity-friendly, made of breezy loose cotton that doesn’t suction itself to sticky skin.
It’s inviting, for better or worse (mostly better lol). I have received a few disgusted glares from random men in public who might be offended by how loud the dress is or maybe just think it’s ugly (I’m not dressing for them so who cares!), but mostly I get compliments from friends and waitresses and women passing by me on the street. The latter outweighs the weirdness of the former by a lot.
It’s so bright and so loud that it might even circle back around to being… a neutral? I’ve sort of been treating it as such, just throwing on whatever bag and shoes feel good in the moment. Maroon? Sure. Turquoise? Why not. Black? Pink? Loafers and navy socks? Who’s gonna stop me! If I decide I hate it mid-day, there’s always tomorrow.
Mostly the dress is just fun. Humidity’s a sticky devil on my shoulder, pushing me to settle on something meh that prioritizes comfort over feeling at home in my outfit. This dress refuses to let me settle. And now I won’t let you either!
For paid readers: 32 vintage sundresses, loud enough to get a scowl and a “great dress, girl!” in the same afternoon (and the keywords I use to find them) ★