Remember when I asked for help picking out a new Dress (or two)? I forgot to let you know how that worked out.

There were only three left to chose from by the time I ordered. Luckily, the "Downton Abbey" one worked.

And it's even prettier in person.

Some of our other favorites were failures, but not for the obvious reasons (such as that the built-in belt might look awkward, or that short sleeves tend to emphasize the bust.) You can't tell from looking at the pictures (damn you, internet shopping!) but some of them, like this one


had surprisingly thin straps holding up the underdress. My bra straps would have shown on either side of the spaghetti straps.



So here I am in our nation's capital with two evening dresses—I also packed this black knit one because it was so ridiculously expensive. Eventually, say, in 30 years, someone will compliment me on it. "Love your dress--is that St. John? I used to love them," and I'll realize that St. John Knits had gone out of business decades ago. I will blush in shame, and due to its inherent discreet good taste, my dress, ladylike to the last, will tactfully vaporize itself.

Meanwhile, I feel constrained to wear it every chance I get.