The one that got away

 

For fishermen, it's that elusive catch - the one that will always nag at their mind, the one that got away. For lovers, it's that perfect girl they almost had. That same sting is felt by vintage lovers the world over upon seeing one little 4-letter word: "sold."

In case you couldn't tell, I recently experienced such a feeling. I've been on the search for the perfect vintage red dress - preferably velvet, possibly with some kind of sleeve, nipped-in waist and full skirt, but not so formal that I couldn't use it for everyday wear. It's a lot to ask, of course, but I did find this mythical dream dress on Etsy and naturally I quickly fell absolutely head over heels. It was my measurements exactly and the price was right - it was everything I had hoped and more. However, I did have a question, so on my break at work, I messaged the seller. She got back to me quickly, and (as I had used up my breaks already) I resolved to buy it as soon as I got home.

Alas, fate had other plans. Some lucky girl snatched it up in that hour, and this lovely frock and I are never to meet.

In the wake of this, I have spent an embarrassing amount of time searching for a similar dress. I've found several and filled my Etsy favorite list with dresses that, truthfully, are beautiful. But I can't resist comparing them to the dress: "Oh, it would be perfect if I just shortened the sleeves...or if the waist were lower..." And I'm hesitant to rush into a purchase, especially if I know I'll want to "fix" it. (Isn't it funny how much this sounds like love? As if I'm afraid of a rebound...)

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I'm sure I'll settle on one eventually...but I think this dress might be the one I remember - the one whose virtues I exaggerate - the one I brag about, like an old, grizzled fisherman or an unrequited lover.

Have you had a similar experience? What was your "one that got away," and what did you do?

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