Say Yes to The Ruined Dress

Coming to appreciate that nothing in life is permanent, except maybe that ink stain

- Jenny Allen

I WAS FLYING ON AN AIRPLANE the other day when my new pen splattered black ink all over the front of my new dress. The pen was my favorite kind of pen—or was, until then: a Bic Z4 Roller. The real ink was what had made me love Z4 Rollers. It was thinner than what comes out of, say, a regular Bic pen, which meant you barely had to touch the paper to get the pen to move across it. Z4s are like fountain pens, only without the messy qualities of a fountain pen. I loved them deeply.

I loved my new dress even more, though. It was from Banana Republic, and I had paid full price for it, which I never do. But the dress was worth it. It was casual and a little dressy at the same time: sleeveless, with a scoop neckline, a tailored waist, and a slightly puffy skirt. It had flattering, thin, vertical blue and white stripes, and the fabric was a blend of cotton and something human-made that nevertheless felt soft and not fake and yet required no maintenance—no dry cleaning, no ironing. The dress practically sprang itself out of the dryer and stood up on its own, wrinkle-free and ready to go. Also, it had my favorite feature in a dress, which is pockets. They were hidden pockets, sewn into the seam, which I like even more.