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    Hit Repeat: The Vogue View On Re-Wearing Your Party Dress

    • Author:zita
    • Source:www.seaartrhinestone.com/
    • Release on :2016-11-28

    Confession: My name is Julia Hobbs, and I’m a Vogue editor that wears the same party dress again… and again… and again.

    Of course, the urge to shop often befalls me. I repeat-buy glossy vinyl trousers, and nipped-in bomber jackets; I collect rare skate shirts, ballet slippers, and platform booties (I’m currently on the hunt for yet more Eighties-style suiting on nocturnal wanderings around Net-A-Porter during bouts of insomnia) – but, rarely do I spree on a brand new party dress. Daywear is one thing, but I often regard evening dresses with a cautious have-we-met-before eye. The challenge of tracking down the perfect new dress for a specific occasion is usually just too much like hard work for me. Getting really dressed up is a means to being able to let go – to dance all night, or snuggle into a sofa at a house party and forget the hours passing, which is the opposite of worrying about what I’m wearing.


    Some of the oldest pieces in my wardrobe are my party dresses, which hang in their own dedicated zone of my wardrobe; each one like old friend willing me to go out on the evenings when I think I’m too tired. (Note: you are never too tired). Together they read like a diary of brightly mischievous times. Wearing one for the third, fourth, fifth time is to invoke fondest memories – and there is no better party fuel than that. My shoes, make-up, haircuts and hair colour are a constantly revolving ensemble cast, but the dress? I’m quite likely to be ‘shopping at home’ for something I might already have instead.


    In the weeks before Vogue’s 100th birthday celebrations at Tramp, office conversations reeled to and from only one subject – what would each one of us be wearing to the after party? Large, ribbon-tied packages came and went. There were the back-up options, and the back-ups to the back-up options. But I had only one dress in mind - a black sequinned mini I bought when I was 19. This time around I wore it back-to-front and piled on my usual stack of Céline bangles, but ploughed extra time into perfecting cat-eye make-up. The dress had shed its fair share of sequins over the years – rolled in and out of suitcases for trips to Art Basel Miami Beach, and shoved carelessly into hand luggage for last-minute trips to Ibiza, but with the aid of a few concealed safety pins (I own pots of pins in most colours) and sturdy Saint Laurent sandals, it survived the night. As did I, kind of…


    For last year’s British Fashion Awards I wore a long, silk ivory gown that I had found at a vintage warehouse in a seedy area of downtown LA. I knew the cut of that dress off by heart (and what underwear would fit seamlessly beneath). I also knew the height of heel (a huge pair of Prada wedges) I could conceal beneath it to fake a pair of long legs, which I don’t own. That clinched the deal when I also wore it to Vogue editor-in-chief Alexandra Shulman's book launch during London Fashion Week.