Dress defence

My wardrobe has around 48 dresses currently. Most uncovered in op-shops, quite a few hand-me-downs from my fashionable older sister, and a few bought new. But for most of my life, I couldn’t stand dresses.

When I was a kid dresses were a chore. Something your mum forced you into for special occasions. They were impractical: no good for crawling or climbing or sitting with your legs crossed. And usually dresses were something you had to care for, you weren’t supposed to rip them or get them dirty. On the whole I thought they were a rubbish garment, give me a solid pair of jeans any day.

As a teenager dresses were bittersweet. They were compulsory uniform at school (yuck, lame) but also had some strange alluring sexual power. Dresses drew attention, and you didn't get to decide whether it was wanted or unwanted. Some of my dresses were coveted. My Catholic school uniform got stolen from our washing line twice in as many years. Mum once said she’d seen a transvestite sex worker wearing one.

I started associating dresses with archaic female roles, with constriction, with the oppression of Catholicism, with the unwanted sexualisation we had to endure as Catholic schoolgirls. Whenever I was out of school it was straight back into the jeans for me.

It was my mid-20s in Byron Bay that I finally found my love of the dress. Every morning started with a splash in the pool, then work, then beach, more work, dinner, another dip in the pool...changing clothes so many times each day was exhausting. But then the dress. This garment I’d mostly treated with disgust, derision, distrust...it was so simple and you could slip it on and off over your bathers all day. Perfect.

Without intent I started collecting dresses.

In my 30s I was back in Melbourne with a white-collar job and feeling the imposter syndrome. I’d often spend more time thinking about my outfit than the talk I was about to give or the day's agenda.

Enter the dress: now a heroine. Its simplicity means I only have to choose one piece of clothing instead of matching tops and bottoms. Its femininity means I’m smashing stereotypes about women in power. Its pockets are a fucking revolution. So yes, I love the dress.