Sample sales can be fun — there's the secret superiority of being in the know, the thrill of picking up brand names way below retail (I once bought four J. Crew cashmere sweaters for $60 each), the adrenaline rush of knowing that if you don't snatch it up, someone else will, and you'll never get another chance.
Lily Pads, cute as it is, mostly cured me of the sample sale habit. I just realized I was spending more money on clothes than I really wanted or needed to, just because I was caught up in the rush of the experience.
A dear friend of mine was visiting from California, and I settled on the Mara Hoffman sample sale as a fun, New York-y thing to do, and maybe I was secretly feeding my own habit?
Diana bought a dress as well. Instead of the lily pad look,
she went for a coral and tan sand dollar/starfish print. (I asked for a photo but she said she's never found the right occasion to wear it. Doesn't she know about the New Formality?)
To be honest, I don't love Lily Pads d'amour, but it clicked pretty strongly into that irrational reptilian part of the shopper's brain that says, "Yes, it's $175. But look at that part of the tag that say 50% off! You are actually saving $175 by buying this dress." To which your rational brain replies, "Yes, but seeing as I would never spend $350 on a dress to begin with—" and the reptile starts tapdancing and waving a sign that says "FIFTY PERCENT OFF YOU SHOULD BUY TWO GET THE STARFISH DRESS AS WELL."
I almost bought two, but I didn't, which counts as a sample sale triumph. After that I started deleting the emails.
But those J. Crew sweaters were a ridiculous deal and sample sales have their place in a well-balanced shopping routine, if you keep your head on straight.
What is stopping me from loving Lily Pads d'amour?
Obviously the print is darling.
And the cut does a few things that I like.
There's a round panel on the side, edged in piping (how I love piping!) that gathers up the rest of the material from around the garment, creating a nice silhouette that emphasizes the waist.
Lily Pads also features what I believe is the only tulip hem in my collection.
It's the top that gets a little hinky. First of all, I hate spaghetti straps. I mean, I don't hate them, but I just thought about it and yes, I do hate them. So there's that.
Then, it's like the whole idea of Lily Pads is that it's like the fabric is being wrapped around you and gathered at the panel.
But the top is so uneven! Was there no way to make the bosom-covering bits at least a little symmetrical with each other?
I can deal with an unsatisfactory skirt way better than an unsatisfactory bodice. My theory is, the closer something is to my face, the better it should look. That is why I have absolutely no problem splurging on eyeglasses. And maybe why I can't bring myself to buy expensive shoes.
All photos by Claire Loeb!
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