Clockstoppers. Just look at these timeless beauties. Both have lovely necklines, and are medium sized. Both are fetching.

The navy 40s rayon dress is classic novelty. That is: the novelty elements are small, you've gotta lean in to see those cuckoo clocks. From afar the pattern appears mostly floral. This is a beautifully made dress. Do click on the link to look at the details on the bodice and skirt. They don't make them like this anymore, goslings.

I usually prefer the souped up novelty that began in the late 50s. Anyone from half a block away can see those are pocket watches on that dress. The shawl collar and buttoned flap grab me, and it's got the original belt. Ach, have I gotta pair of lavender loafers that would love to meet this dress for drinks somewhere.

Long ago I had a white silk blouse with red clocks on it. Currently I have no time-oriented novelty prints alas. Punctuality, as the French saying goes, is the politeness of kings. Or as Oscar Wilde said: Punctuality is a waste of time. And so it goes, as Kurt Vonnegut would say, may he rest in peace.

This weekend's fleamarket haul was minimal. I bought another dirndl for $10. Because you can never have too many dirndls. A dirndl is equal parts German engineering and physics experiment. A dirndl can actually give me a trim waistline, which is a miracle in and of itself. And you just never know when you'll be invited to Sound of Music screening with audience participation, or a mountaineer-themed party at the Swiss Institute.

This weekend's tragedy involved an Alfred Shaheen frock. It was a 60's orange sleeveless wiggle dress with a border print of arabesques and Arabic writing in white. My heart leapt. Wrinkled, in need of a good pressing indeed, but there inside was the Alfred Shaheen "The Master Printer" label. It was a mere $15. My hands shook as I tried it on. This is one of my holy grails. Every pre-70's Shaheen I've come across was at least $100, if not $400. I imagined romantic evenings together, this frock and I, expensive cocktails and long stem roses. But it wouldn't go over my hips. It wouldn't go over my hips at all.

There is a reason I am a devotee of the full skirt, the empire waistline, the A-line, and the well-placed ruffle. Even my tailor, an avuncular and infinitely patient man has told me: "For you, my dear, only A-line." You can't get a more professional opinion than that. I long ago said so long and farewell to the pencil skirt, the cigarette pants, the tube dress. Auf weidersehen, good night.

Ah, tempus fugit. I wrote this post weeks ago but didn't have time to add the links. I am actually posting on 5/8/07.