Tulle is a Weighty Passion

Fabric is a strange animal. It can crease in all the wrong places, feel like pissed-on cardboard, and smell like mothballs, or it can drape and cinch and seduce your skin with textures and patterns you never knew you loved. Sometimes, I hate tulle. That wispy, good-for-nothing fairytale of a fabric, embodying my best memories of dressing up as Glinda the Good Witch when I was seven years old.

Lately, and by lately I mean in the past two years, I’ve had a strange fascination with this one dress, tea-length, with a full tulle skirt flaring out from a satiny dropped waist. I wanted it for my graduation dress, but I would have had to order it from overseas and that’s just a little too much of a gamble for a cynic like me.

I have a shortcut to this dress in my bookmarks bar. When I feel stressed out, unhappy, or just fed up with the world, I click on the link and take in all the soft, sweet curves of this dress. Everything about it, the suggested shoes included, make me sigh with the perfection of some things on this earth.

So here. Have a little taste of tulle perfection. (click on the picture to see the rest of it)

Look at this. Ignore the petulant look on the model's face and just drink in the quiet, understated beauty of this garment.

Look at this. Ignore the petulant look on the model’s face and just drink in the quiet, understated beauty of this garment.

I think it’s like cars for some people.

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