I’m having a moment with button-down dresses.
Okay, it’s been more than a moment. For more than a year, I’ve been kind of obsessed with them.
It’s the polish. The effortless put-togetherness. You put one on, and it doesn’t matter that you’re battling a wicked case of brain fog, forgot where you put your wallet, and have temporarily lost access to basic vocabulary. Never mind the truth. You look like you have it together.
I’ve leaned more bohemian most of my life, but right now, I’m all about the tailoring.
And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my quest for the perfect button-down dress has arrived during my plus-size phase. I want what I can’t have. Or, rather, what is exceptionally hard to find in this post-Ozempic world, where the designers seem to have forgotten fat people still exist.
I should protest these designers, the ones who refuse to make anything above a size 12, 14, or 16, but dammit, I want pretty things too.
The suckiest part about being fat is not being able to shop like a normal girl.
For the most part, I can no longer just walk into any boutique or department store and find something to wear. Seriously. I went into St. Bernard last week, the first time I’ve ever been in that place in my life, and there wasn’t even one XL on the massive sales racks. L was as high as it went. I found one measly size 14 among the new arrivals, and that was that.
Anytime I want to wear something designer, I have to stalk it across multiple sites, desperately hoping to snag a size 16 or XXL, which, let’s face it, almost never happens. And even if I do find it in my size, that’s no guarantee it will fit. The RealReal has become my new bestie for finding designer duds in my size, though the selection is still pretty limited.
But back to my button-down obsession.
It started with Cara Cara New York. I discovered the brand through Rent the Runway, my body confidence hack when I first transitioned to intuitive eating, and became completely obsessed with the Octana dress. It came in this gorgeous black wisteria print. It was never in stock.
I stalked the dress for a good six months, and by stalked, I mean I set up notifications and then repeatedly failed to act fast enough when it became available to rent. It was always snatched up before I could get it.
Finally, I tried a different tactic and snagged it for a four-day special occasion rental.
I could not have been more excited about a dress.
It didn’t fit.
Not even “suck it in and don’t breathe” didn’t fit. It wasn’t even remotely close.
Cara Cara notoriously runs small in a lot of its pieces, and the 16, the very largest size this dress (or any of its dresses) comes in, was way too small.
I was devastated. Truth be told, I’m still not over it, but my obsession with Cara Cara continues.
This summer, I snagged a Cara Cara Hutton dress on Poshmark in an XL, blessedly with a drawstring waist. It went into heavy rotation on vacation, although it’s currently too hot for it here in Texas. The pattern is amazing, and every time I wear it, I get tons of compliments.
Still, the button-down dress obsession is not over.
I have an event coming up: a gala for a nonprofit whose board I sit on. I want to wear a button-down dress. Preferably silk, but I’ll accept another natural fabric.
I’ve had a few dresses hearted on the RealReal forever, two Alemais dresses and one Camilla.
I love Camilla. I’ve owned two of their short silk dresses, both bought secondhand on Poshmark, and if you’ve been tracking this brand, you know the prices have gone way, way up over the past few years. Some of these dresses are now retailing for more than $1,000. Um, no thanks.
Even on The RealReal, they can still be ridiculously expensive.
So I’ve been obsessively tracking Poshmark, The RealReal and sales for months. Hearting things. Waiting for another markdown. Or a promo code. Telling myself I’ll buy when the price dropped just a little more.
And then I had a weird little detour.
I bought a Camilla dress in a print I’ve loved for years on Poshmark. The price was right, and I negotiated it lower.
But then it arrived, and something was off.
It didn’t feel like my other Camillas. The fit was funky. The print wasn’t as vibrant. I kept looking at it, trying to put my finger on what was wrong. Could it be … counterfeit?
A little Googling later, I learned that it very well could be.
I went back to the listing and inspected the photos more closely. Sure enough: fake.
I am not a dupe girl. I’ve never been interested in buying something pretending to be something else. Even if no one else would know, I would know. And now I had this dress that I didn’t know what to do with. I couldn’t resell it. I didn’t even like the idea of taking it to the thrift store.
Thankfully, I didn’t actually pay for it. The package had been lost in the mail, so I got refunded the full purchase price. And I reported it to Camilla, which apparently is a thing you can do.
But the whole experience reinforced something for me. Maybe I need to stop dillydallying about the things I really want.
Waiting for another five percent off a dress I’ve been stalking for a year isn’t actually saving me from anything, except the heartache of watching someone else snatch it up. Maybe if I’ve been wanting it for this long, that’s a pretty clear sign.
So I pulled the trigger on the RealReal dresses, knowing I could return them.
Here are the dresses.
Oh, apparently I’m also in my green era.
The first to arrive was one of the Alemais dresses, a collarless cotton button-down in a funky atlas print. I loved it instantly. Despite being a size 12 US, it fit. But that’s Alemais apparently. Some of its pieces, especially the button-downs, are intentionally oversized.
The only problem was that it wasn’t quite as dressy as what I’d had in mind for the gala. Maybe, with the right accessories, I could get it there.
Then the other Alemais arrived.
This one was a stiff flax number, and apparently all that generous sizing had left the building. It was so small, I didn’t even attempt to squeeze myself in. Back it went.
And then there was the Camilla.
The one I had been thinking about for months. The ridiculously expensive one. The one I was pretty sure was going to be the one.
And honestly? It was gorgeous.
The print was amazing. It was incredibly flattering. It had exactly the drama I wanted.
But it was also sheer. As in I’d-need-a-bodysuit-under-it sheer.
I know I’m fussy, but I hate having to wear undergarments under a dress. Especially an expensive dress. In Texas. In September, when it’s still hot as blazes. And at that price, I just couldn’t justify buying something that required me to purchase an entire second outfit underneath it.
So I sent it back.
Which left the cotton Alemais.
I do love it. And though it’s not as dressy as the others, I know I’ll get way more wear out of it.
While I’m still planning to wear it to the gala, I couldn’t resist taking it out for a spin for my mom’s birthday dinner.
Now I just need to work on the accessories.
Okay, let’s hear them. Give me all your shopping woes, especially your nothing-fits woes. I know I’m not alone here.
Everything was stunning on you. Green is definitely your color!
Agreed you look gorgeous! And I also agree about the bummer of see-through dresses, what is the point of buying a dress especially an expensive one if you have to literally buy a complete undergarment? No thanks. Also I always appreciate your honesty about shopping for sizes and the frustration and upset that comes with it.