Late '50s, possibly early '60s, and how could you go wrong with this turtle print? I love how the design on the shells veers off into into Rorschach test abstraction.
The turtles keep their dignity and are not rendered cartoony. I love how the brushstrokes are used to evoke water and the weeds, oh, the weeds are just marvelous. The square neck and the details on the dress are stunning too. Please someone, buy this dress and give it lots of love. It's a medium and currently on ebay via a seller in the UK, who goes by the handle venus-in-furs-vintage (I just love a von Sader Masoch reference).

I always forget about the drought. As usual, October is upon me and I find myself in the midst of a party dress dilemma. That is, an event where an old workhorse simply will not do.

Plowing through the racks, I find ho-hum frocks with high price tags. I wonder what natural catastrophe has effected the vintage stock. Could it be the gas prices? After all, it comes in on trucks from elsewhere. No doubt Manhattan has already depleted most of its vintage reserves and must strip mine elsewhere and haul it in. Then I notice that my usual vintage haunts are suddenly crowded, filled with people who are not wearing vintage clothing. These people are loud, and often roam in packs. They hold up shirts on hangers and laugh. Stores are open later, and though I am a regular, I barely get a hello. And then I hear the word that explains it all: Halloween. That is, the drought.

Yes, it has been my experience that vintage sellers raise their prices during October. They put out their shlock too. And I don't blame them. A good Halloween can be a big money-maker for a small business.

Maybe I'll just go to Cher's garage sale.