Dots, Interrupted

What says “spring” to you?

Navy and white, of course. But I am also partial to fresh greens at this time of year.
To the right — just flick your eyes over — a green dress.
OK: Technically, it’s a black dress, but so much of the surface is green, yellow and white that it doesn’t read black. I think it reads spring.
dress full length
Black dress is green

side view -- body skimming
Dress does not fit the form; it skims the body
This dress is a crisp silk-cotton blend and stands away from the body. I think it looks a little slimmer in person than it looks in these photos, but I may be wrong. These photos may be 100% faithful and reliable . . . in which case, perhaps I should not have bought this dress.
But I love these dots.

Are they dots? Or eclipses of a green sun?
Tell me what you see. I know you are seeing something.*
dots up close
Dots open to interpretation

full length legs crossed
Tell me what you see: first thing that pops into your mind!
The Photographer puzzled over the misalignment of the polka dots at the seams and asked what it was all about.
A fair question! Often a failure to align stripes or large patterns is a sign of cheap construction. Here, however, the answer is: Marni. The dress is Marni and the failure to align is representative of whimsy, insouciance, or some other privilege of immutable awesomeness originating in Milan. As seen earlier this year, Marni is capable of pattern matching in the texture of a matelasse.
Have a fantastic weekend!

Dress: Marni from YOOX (still available, does not actually run large, runs true to size — mine is a 4); Shoes: Tory Burch; Bag; Coach Gramercy Satchel; Watch: Michele CSX
* You, Dear Readers, have seen Trojan Cupcakes, reproductive organs and pinecones in previous posts.

24 thoughts on “Dots, Interrupted”

  1. This outfit for me is the essence of “Directrice style”. Classical silhouette but whimsical execution.
    And the persistent battle cry: Shorter! Two centimetres, please. For objections I refer to exhibit A: The definitive sideways photo in your last post. We now have visual evidence that the Directrice’s legs are marvellous all the way, including the knees!

  2. I, too, see sun spots — or maybe sundogs? Atmospheric phenomena aside, it’s the perfect March-into-April dress — though in Ottawa, dressy black boots would still be required (sigh)…

  3. I see flower-less water lilies! And on a second pass, I see hard-boiled eggs sliced open, some apparently Seussical in origin.

    I also just figured out accidentally that I can access the body of your post by clicking on the picture! I am apparently trained not to click there (so many other blogs immediately and greedily launch you to the product page when you do that). Much easier than scrolling back up to the post title to expand the contents, but perhaps a small “read more” link at the end of your intro would be helpful to others like me?

  4. My poor beleaguered mind sees spring because my desperation is near madness. The look is inspirational and lovely despite hail/snow here today. Take a sweater…Kate

  5. Coconuts. Love the dress and I also associate navy with spring. I just wore a navy and white polka dot blouse from Le Tote. I still remember the dresses my mom sewed for me the spring I was in third grade: navy, white and either yellow or red. And she made a fantastic navy cape lined in red to wear with them.

  6. I see lemons and limes – organic shapes. Somehow, the misalignment works. I can’t explain it but it’s almost whimsical.

  7. The spots kind of look like Turkish delight?(milky white in the edges, muted but almost vibrant colors on the inside) or the candided fruit you find in fruitcake.

  8. It’s a cross section of a chocolate malted milk ball. Only in colors not used by candy makers. I know, because I dissected one as a kid.

    Great dress!

  9. I like the dress. It could be the result of a recipe which called for watermelon,egg yolks,and my favorite marshmallows. The length of the dress is perfect.

  10. I love this dress, which I also agree is green.

    As a former hobby sewist (I guess we’re not supposed to call ourselves sewers), pattern matching can bite me. Whimsy all day, every day.


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