This is a fetish dress. I can tell primarily because when I put it on, all of my internal organs squooze downwards and try to herniate out of my belly button.
Too bad, because it was marketed as a normal dress, in a chic boutique in Rome. I've worn it only once: to an outdoor festival on the UNC campus in the spring of 2007. I was going to see my friend Russell Johnson do a 15-minute stand-up act. I chose this dress specifically because I knew I wouldn't be there long, so I could go straight back home and disrobe, and no one would have to get out their smelling salts. As I was walking quickly home, I was really self-conscious - it's a beautiful dress, but the skirt really does arc in every direction, like a bell; like a grotesque costume. Some college students nearby laughed in my direction, and I thought, they must be laughing at me. Such is my memory of this dress.
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