Most women know what an LBD is. Of course, it the mystical, alluring ‘Little Black Dress’. Every woman needs one.
In the quest for the perfect LBD, a helpful sales assistant with quickly point out – ‘It looks nothing on the hanger’ (except the price, of course). ‘It needs to be worn to be appreciated’. Try it, dear – you know you’re worth it. And then paid for, of course, with the gold storecard, before you can take it out for a spin. Women are suckers for anything that hints at a bit of glamour and will pay an even higher price if they think it makes them look sexy and slimmer. This is achieved nowadays by the use of something resembling an elastic bandage cleverly concealed within a fabric sheath that looks like something from a medical catalogue. Sounds really sexy… Chanel will no doubt be turning in her grave, but many women are (secretly) held in shape by this technology. Just think of all the potential energy stored in the elastic… Beware!
I have procured a new LBD. OK, mine is not so little, but it is black and forgivingly stretchy. I bought it for choir concerts; it is a garment of opaque concealment and stretchy practicality. My Aves will have renewed bounce and vigour.
Black dresses have mystique and glamour, but I have a place in my wardrobe for a little red dress. This is the naughty younger sister of the LBD. I post a poem about her.
Update – 27 August 2013 – this poem can be found in Word Bohemia – http://wordbohemia.co.uk/poetry/the-undoing-by-elisabeth-stott/
The girl wears a red dress
that has the texture of coiled wire.
It has a colour between
Her eyes say, beware…
She shows me the palm of her hand.
I see the lines of her fate,
her headline, heart
and a scar that runs through them all like a knife cut.
That’s love for you boy…
Her laugh is like a bark.
She spins for me to admire.
Her teeth are sharp.
I see how she is caged in that dress,
how the red thread loops and knots.
It’s just one strand, I know.
One tug and it will spring apart.