Peony Cache-Cache

My memory of this one isn't super-precise, either... I think I bought it in Buenos Aires?

My grandmother, who has been immortalized in these pages before, never talked about her clothes. I find this rule impossible to follow in my own life — obviously — but I do enjoy the aura of mystery in conveys, or rather would convey if I didn't treat every dress like an encapsulation of my own life story, complete with insecurities and indiscretions.

Scene 1
Someone: I like your dress!

Me: Thanks! I got it for $15 at a yard sale, I think it was the same yard sale where I got a leather purse and a Warren Zevon CD for $1. It's got this weird thing on the skirt here, but fortunately that time I was [redacted] and I [redacted] on that bouncer before [redacted] and [redacted] in my friend's car... well those stains came out, but I don't see why that guy at the dry cleaners had to be so [redacted] about it. Do you think it makes me look [redacted]?

Scene 2
Someone: I like your dress!

My grandma: Thank you.

See? Aura of mystery. Of course, she was from the Midwest and has this in common with Don Draper: they were taught it's impolite to talk about themselves. I am from the Internet, where it's impolite to hold anything back.

Back to Peony Cache-Cache. I love the strong, vertically-oriented print. It's simple, but the flowers lend it a weird touch of whimsy.

It's like they are cartoon villains vainly trying to hide behind a large plant.

The fit is simple but flattering.

High neckline, no tricks, no belt needed to complete the look — Peony Cache-Cache is a workhorse for me.

The only problem is with the zipper, which likes to make a run for it when I'm not paying attention. I'll be minding my own business, when a stranger taps me on the shoulder and says, "Excuse me."

"Your zipper." As wardrobe malfunctions go, it's not tragic. But I'm procrastinating about sewing in a little hook and eye (shudder), so this minor problem is left without its simple solution.


All photos by Claire Loeb!