Ode to a Crotch Bow.

Holla, how freaking awesome is my new masthead? HOW. FREAKING. AWESOME. I have my friend Suzanne to thank - she is a brilliant master of the Photoshop. She makes things pretty for me.

That crotch bow photo was taken at my friend Noah's prom-themed party a few years back. Here's the original picture:


Now I'm sure you're wondering, "Damn, girl, where DID you buy a dress so awesome?" and my answer would be, "no where" because you can't just buy a dress like that. You just can't. No, in order to get a dress that fantastically ruchy, faded and crotchy-bowed, you have to know people. In this case, I knew Kate's husband Justin who, at the time, was a key-holder to the University's costume shop. Oh, glory day.

The costume shop is housed in what used to be a swimming pool, so it's basically a graduated pit filled with costumes and donations and hideousness the likes of which I'd never seen. It was glorious. Kate and I spent an hour looking for THE DRESS, the one to rule them all. It was work, people. We squeezed in and out of any number of weird and unflattering ensembles, but finally we settled on the cream of the crop. Kate's was black velvet with giant panels of red satiny goodness on either side, complete with hip poofs, and mine was, of course, the green explosion seen above. People still talk about it, I have to tell you. Someone mentioned it at Noah's Halloween party last month, "Hey, you are the girl who wore THAT DRESS." Yes, yes, I am that girl. Please, no autographs.

Sadly, stupidly, I only had the dress on loan and I gave it back. Why did I do that? I can promise you that dress will never be worn again by anyone because who would want to? It was only me who could make a crotch bow shine like that. Au revoir, my shiny green sweetness. I think of you fondly.