Breeze

Spring is in the air, and to celebrate I have been shopping for sundresses. Winter clothes are nice, and god knows it’s a relief to have them when the kitchen is filled with cookies, but if I could choose a style of clothing and wear it year-round, I would have a closet full of dresses. They make me happy. The sun-warmed shoulders, the delicate fabric, the way the skirt tickles the back of my knees when I walk. I like the spirit of feminine derring-do, because let’s face it, something awful could happen at any moment. You could be visited by an unexpected breeze, or a curious child. You could fall off your heels, snag your hem on a thorn-bush or get it caught in the car door. You might go dancing with your lover and he gives you one too many twirls in a row, and there you are, flashing a roomful of party guests. But you might also find yourself with that same lover in a moment of fleeting seclusion, when he discovers the warm bare inside of your thigh and very little else to get in his way.

You have to be on your game in a sundress, and you’ve got to wear your best knickers. Anything could happen.

Also, if you know me at all you’ll realize I’m not a snappy dresser. I don’t wear jewelry and can barely accessorize beyond a pair of sunglasses. A dress does all the work for me. Throw it on, choose a pair of sandals, maybe a little cardigan, and off I go, shaking that ruffle at you like I know what I’m doing.

Look out, summertime. I’ve got chiffon.

What’s in your closet? (Take that any which way you want.)

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