Photo by Monasuevintage








This exquisite silk dress by Scaasi, boasts a three-tired ruffled peplum, shoulder pads and all-round 80's goodness. I love the irregularity of the polka dots, their organic shape and three dimensional illusion. These dots have a trompe l'oeil effect of depth and shine. And I adore the abundance of flounces. Polka dots always resist propriety with their abundance.

This dress is quite spendy, alas, though it would probably fit me. But perhaps you are feeling flush. And perhaps you are going to Seville and intend to wear it with matching polka-dotted heels and white flowers in your hair, so trot on over to Mona Sue Vintage. ¡Olé!

Dots were never my thing, I always opted for stripes. A whiff of the prison colony about a stripe, no doubt about it. Whereas the polka dot was reserved for the court jester. Or so I thought. But over the past year, polka-dots have won me over. Flamenco is definitely to blame. My style is usually influenced by whatever dance form I'm compulsively chasing. (When I was doing Bharata Natyam and Odissi, I seemed to find many occasions to wear salwar kameez or saris and accumulated some very beautiful shawls and bangles. The sarongs and Hawaiian prints come from the Hula and Tahitian dance obsessions, etc. ) Now I'm all about the flower in the hair, the full skirt, and polka dots (lunares). One of my current style icons is the great Lola Flores.














Here is an impressionist offering by Joaquin Sorolla, a detail from the painting El Baile (1914-15). This image was found at Mi Espacio Flamenco which has lots of beautiful paintings of flamencos, gitanos, dance and vistas of Spain. The site has audio as well,and I hope to spend more time there soon.
















I couldn't resist this one either, also from Mi Espacio Flamenco:


















This painting, Pastora Imperio (1922) is by Julio Romero de Torres. Here polka dots meet a patterned shawl. I love her severe glance and the arm band. If I could substitute a ukulele for that guitar, I could do this one.

For more flamenco inspiration, you can see some great images from old vinyl flamenco records sleeves here at Flamenco y Copla en Discos de Vinilo.

Some other lovely vintage flamenco images can be seen here at Dos Lunares, which promotes Roma and flamenco music and cultural events in Los Angeles.

Lunares literally means little moons, and the same word is used for beauty mark. Apparently, gypsies are known as the people of the moon, though how polka-dots became associated with dancing, especially Sevillanas, I don't know. Perhaps you do? Clearly there is some mysticism involved.

And finally, for your polka-dotting joy, here is a slide show on the history of polka dot fabric from a Northern-European and US perspective. In Medieval Europe, evidently, spots were originally associated with disease, and outcasts of all sorts. And this slide show notes that it was impossible to make fabric with a consistently spotted pattern until machine printing. Thankfully it concludes with the polka dot's greatest proponent, artist Yayoi Kusama.



Ms. Kusama, for whom the polka dot is a graphic representation of the vastness of the cosmos and the disintegration the artist feels (among other things) is truly the High Priestess of the Polka Dot. She's been covering every known surface with them since the mid-60s.

I became a big fan of Ms. Kusama a few years ago. Her total commitment to the dot as a portal of mystical or perhaps schizophrenic experiences. Ms. Kusama, who has had experiences of going into trances from an early age, currently lives in a mental hospital in Tokyo, but is still able to create her amazing works of art. I would also like to check out her novels.

Ah, goslings, again I've gotten behind on everything: periodicals, scandals, health care reform, correspondence of all kinds. I haven't even been shopping with my usual elan. Akhenaten, my young Egyptian lover, fears for my health, considering this current lassitude. If I had my druthers I'd curl up in a silken cocoon that was edible (tasting like rose-infused Turkish Delight, or mashed potatoes, depending on my mood) and there I'd snooze like a pupa, occasionally awakening to nibble, until spring. Or at this until that holiday is over. The one that starts with an X. I can never remember what it's called. I can summon sufficient enthusiasm only to practice the banjolele and watch silent Greta Garbo flicks. And of course my favorite winter sport which is drinking hot cocoa. Maude help me, I've already got the winter blahs already.

And my over stuffed closet has been put on a starvation diet, so I haven't been eyeing the racks much. I'm keeping myself off ebay, and staying away from my usual haunts. But as I am always on the lookout for Egyptian kitsch, and couldn't resist this Cleopatra Play Suit. It's an original uncut sack dress on sale by Etsy seller Stellaranae. And it is a rare one indeed. I positively salivated when I saw it. The text alone is priceless, and the muted colors create an ancient Egyptian tableaux. The truncated limerick absolutely slays me. I want it engraved in gold on my closet doors. Too often I face my enormous wardrobe and see nothing to wear and would like a queenly response such as this. One could say the text goes too far, that there is no need to proclaim that this is a Cleopatra PlaySuit, but it is precisely that self-reflexivity that makes it so charming. Now the mask and asps are genius. I imagine coming up with some way to turn the asps into a hand bag and the mask into sunglasses (magically, of course). I love that it is printed with a trompe l'oeil faïence collar, and that the pyramids appear to be sporting TV antennae. Come in closer to see that the sphinx on the bottom is having her coiffure tended to with an enormous can of hairspray. And just when I think I couldn't love it any more, it declares itself a play suit. Putty, I tell you, I am putty in the hands of this sack dress.

I would be sorely tempted to wear this. Not just on those "Nothing To Wear"/Comb Down My Hair days, but everyday and all the time. I'd like an army of these dresses, some lined so they could be worn with tights and a turtleneck underneath for winter. An extra few for pajamas, even. But in this case, truly, I think the best use of this uncut sack dress is to be framed. To be contemplated upon getting dressed every morning.

But wait, there's more: Stellaranae has another, just as charming.








I'd be an old bag in a sack in this one for sure. Go check this one out. More unabashedly Pop Art, I love the proscription: Trim with Ermine for Formal Wear. I would love to have a sack that could be dressed up for evening and down for day and even has instructions for doing so. I like how the text here is repetitive and slightly off, as if poorly translated. I like the broadsheet style, evocative of the printing of advertisements in the early 1900s. And I do think there are days when I should be wearing a frock that says: Handle With Care.

Again, I'd be tempted to cut and wear this one, but agree that it would be best preserved uncut and unworn.

I feel like there must have been others in a series. Cotton sack dresses for all moods and means. What could they have been? Other historical figures (Catherine de Medici? Boadicea? Lady Godiva? Judith beheading Holofernes? Are those too obvious? What would a Joan of Arc Play Suit look like? Would Catherine de Medici come with poison?) What other feelings could be channeled? Was there a Fight the Power dress?

I love the idea of a personal uniform. As with the work of artist Andrea Zittel. But I don't have one myself and often have to re-invent the wheel each morning. With the cold snap I've taken to wearing Whiplash Sweaters, you know, the sort of light colored turtle necks that look like neck braces, with loud shirts and boots.

What are you wearing these days? Is it your ideal uniform? What would your equivalent of the Cleopatra Play Suit be?