Mr. Dress*, above, is currently winging his way to me from a Nordstrom outpost in Davenport, IA. In the meantime, I’m in a sweat of apprehension about whether I’ll actually wear “him.”

The thing is, I don’t usually wear stuff like this. I’m the Queen of the Un-Embellished. In fact, I earlier this month reaffirmed my official motto, “If you’ve got a floofy body, stay away from floofy clothes,” in a comment over at Duchesse’s place. But the other day, I was noodling around “window shopping” on the Nordie’s website, and the dress called to me, its toothy little soutache curves wriggling seductively. Before I even knew what I was doing, I’d bought it.

It’s a bit dressy for my work wardrobe, and I don’t have An Event in the near future to which I need to wear it, but I’ve got a lovely minimalist knit jacket in a darker charcoal to toss over it, and I’m thinking that it’s going to be the sort of dress I’m glad I’ve got on hand if an occasion arises. As long as it covers my knees.

(*See here for more on the gender of inanimate objects.)