By Lynsey Eaton | Photography by SUKILYNN
Last summer, I fell in love with this Kal Rieman swing dress. I wore it everywhere. It was comfortable, chic and airy (priority number one in the summer heat).
If you would have told me then that I should buy two of the same dress, I would have told you, “I don’t do multiples.” I’ve never been one of those girls that buys her favorite garments in every color, and I’ve never understood the appeal.
In fact, the only garment I have ever bought in bulk (if bulk equals three) are the true definition of basics: T by Alexander Wang t-shirts.
But as the weather started to cool off my go-to dress made its way to the back of my closet with the other garments that would cause hypothermia should I break them out sometime over the course of the next three months. And my heart started to develop a swing dress shaped hole.
As I pushed my way through the hangers on the racks over the course of a month for my next go-to – something as equally adaptable and easy to wear – my gaze inevitably made it’s way back to the Kal Rieman dress with longing. All I wanted was that exact dress, only one made of wool and more fitting for the season present. Was that too much to ask?
As it turns out, no. Kal Rieman made such a dress.
It was the kind of situation most women would wish upon when searching for a garment: Not wondering what the fit will look like or trying to think of a time in which you would wear it. Just an easy buy. A purchase you know you will wear over and over again, such that it justifies the cost.
And yet all I could think of was this idea of having two of the same dress. The valuable real estate in my closet I was giving away to a dress I already had.
Then it occurred to me, “Why is that a problem?”
Who cares. I love that thing.
I’ve never been one of those girls that buys her favorite garments in every color, and I’ve never understood the appeal.