Dear Black Dress,
I’m so glad you’re leaving my closet and therefore my life.
I bought you at a different time, at a different weight, at a completely different identity.
I loved how you could pass as fancy and yet be so comfortable.
I wore you with heels at first, you were THE black dress.
Then you became so casual I started wearing you with sneakers.
What is it about repetition that brings clothes off their pedestals?
I let you rest for a while, then brought you back to life, wearing you for two more years.
You were too good to let go of.
Nobody remembered you anyway, you were too black, too low-key… but still valuable to me.
I prided on the fact that I got you on a discount, coming from the brand that made you.
I loved how long you were and how I felt covered and a little hidden in you, I felt like a ninja of the night. I could have fun without attracting too much attention.
I spent some of my best nights with you, for those last minute plans, you were the quickest and safest bet.
Easy to put on, easy to take off.
You are charged with stories about who I used to be and where I used to go.
Those stories are great but I’m on to a new chapter.
I wore you for the last time yesterday. Although comfortable as ever, I did not feel like myself inside you.
I outgrew you, even if you’re loose on me.
I will not bring you on my next nights, or those lazy days where I want to look ‘‘decent’’.
I will never have another you because I do not need it.
Thank you for being the uniform for that part of my personality.
But as I shed it, I need to let go of you too.
May you rest assured that you served your time and your purpose.
I hope you had fun too. You’re now off my hangers forever.
-María Andrea G