I think I might have permanent diamond cross hatches in my legs, which means either I’ve spent too much time in the hammock or my cellulite has gotten REALLY organized and is currently practicing drill maneuvers. Were my thighs so angry at that stupid ten dimpliest cities thing they’re forming an uprising? On one hand, I’m glad to have politically active appendages, on the other, that’s not exactly the sort of uprising in my thighs one generally hopes for on a beach vacation.
Speaking of the beach, I’ve discovered that, however romantic it might be in a Virginia Woolf sense (the Jayne Mansfield of aquatic references), an ankle-length linen dress and a Persian lamb capelet does not ideal beach-wear make. The linen dress fared fine but the capelet, while fierce beyond all endurance, did not respond well to the sea air and has made the house smell like angry lamb shank for the better part of a day.
Anyhoodle, it’s going to be 75 and gorgeous so I’m off to comb the beach and take the waters (though probably not on purpose) and basically have a better time than you, but before I do, let me link you to my linen dress, which I love immeasurably.
I’ve had the white one for ages which I’ve worn to everything from Gatsby parties to the Austin Pride Parade. When it went on super sale the other week, I bought the eggplant one too, which reads more as plummy Dutched cocoa than aubergine. It may be the wash, but it doesn’t hold wrinkles the way other all-linen garments do. Not that I care about wrinkles when I’m wearing linen, but if you do, don’t let it stop you from picking this up. Sizes are limited but do check out Spiegel’s other linen offerings. I particularly like some of the summer black dresses. Now I’m off to hammock it up. Someone fetch me something boozy in a coconut.