One of the biggest issues that I have with blogging is that, with a review-based publication, you produce a lot of waste. Even if you’re only reviewing eco-friendly goods, or asking to be sent items on request rather than every season, you still end up rinsing through exponentially more product than your average person. Though I donate the lion’s share of the products that I receive (they go to a local shelter 1-2 years after being featured), with each one comes a new box, packing material, and shipping fuel. So the question in the reduce section of the classic 3 Rs becomes: Can You Thrift That? Or, more specifically, can you thrift a fall wedding guest dress?
(You can. I know it’s a spoiler that I haven’t disclaimed in any way, but you totally can. If you can think of it, chances are you can probably thrift it. Cast iron? Thrift it. Cat carrier? Thrift it. Awesome dress? Thrift it! You get the gist.)
I’m not thrifting enough to support a blog fully on talking about reducing your purchasing waste—it would kind of defeat the point—but I’m oddly passionate about the entire ordeal. Hope you enjoy one of my favourite recent forays into the world of secondhand!
The perfect fall wedding guest dress
What makes for the perfect fall wedding guest dress? The answer seems to be a lot of polka dots, and a lot of subdued colours. (Burgundy and mustard yellow stand out.) And I know, I know; you’re not supposed to wear black to a wedding because it’s the colour of funerals…
But what if it’s covered in polka dots? There’s no way that this dress is funeral-appropriate. Not unless everyone gets real cool about a bunch of stuff really quickly.
Gold sheaf of wheat pin! (Also borrowed/second-hand).
Funnily enough, this is a dress that I remember trying on at Dynamite a few years back. I think it might have been in a different print, and it was definitely in a different size—I thrifted the size small, which gapes so broadly in the front that I borrowed a wheat pin from my mother to keep it shut. (This is apparently the kind of stuff that you have in your dresser if you grew up in Regina.)
It’s the Dynamite Wrap Maxi Dress, with a split flutter sleeve. It retails for $59.95 CAD, but I bought this one from Goodwill for $8.50. At the risk of divulging all of my thrifting secrets, the Goodwill in Edmonton on Gateway Boulevard is awesome—I find the best stuff there. Think vintage Pyrex, 70s holographic sequin dresses, and the CUTEST miniature yellow school chair that I left behind.
So, how’d it do?
Well, I felt fluttery and stunning all night, so it can’t have been that bad of a fall wedding guest dress. Most importantly, I totally blended into the crowd—which is just about the best way to be at someone else’s wedding. (Don’t even get me started on people who wear bridal-style ivory and champagne dresses to someone else’s wedding. Showing up like that is somewhere behind “you’re trapped in a dystopian mall” and “ARMY OF SPIDERS” in my nightmares.)
That being said, I was a little (needlessly) self-conscious about showing up in black all the same. But I was far from the only one in black, so perhaps the trend is over; dying with the baby boomers alongside our hopes of affordable home ownership. Or there’s always option two, which I prefer:
Option two is that the bride’s extended family simply contains too many feminist witches to abide by a no-black-dresses rule. Sometimes you just gotta wear black to a wedding, rage against the current conservative government cuts, and fuck this “let’s buy a new dress for every special occasion” bullshit.
This dress is just a little bratty, despite the sensible heels. ;)
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Disclaimer: Nothing to disclaim here! Except for the fact that I spent less than $10 on a fall wedding guest dress, which is a crime in some southern states. Oh, and I don’t think my mom is ever getting this cool pin back, but that seems fair considering that she hasn’t worn it even once in the two-verging-on-three decades since I was born.
Additional teaser: This gorgeous chair is second hand, too! It’s getting its own post soon.