Early one September not long ago, a rural woman with a secret grief traveled to New York City in pursuit of a dream to buy the most beautiful and correct dress she’s ever seen. The dress wasn’t at all what you might expect. It wasn’t a riot of feathers and chiffon. It wasn’t designed to catch a man or reawaken her youth. It had nothing to do with a paparazzi-lined red carpet or the glories of shopping, “It” bags, “It” designers, or must-haves. The dress – and the lady’s use for it – was something else.
This is the opening from the novel My Mrs. Brown (Simon & Schuster).
Come back to ODFL tomorrow and read my review of this charming book by fashion insider William Norwich.
… as luxury became available to the mass market, the more luxury became devalued. It was a sign of status not to have an expensive bag, but a new expensive bag every season. The notion that luxury items endure was abolished. Status came from being able to discard luxury goods as if they were high street. What was left of real worth was either the difficult to obtain (the Hermes waiting list) or the ostentatiously, obtrusively flashy, such as Cate Blanchett’s $100,000 stolen bag with the black pave diamonds. 
These days who knows. Maybe it was a gift. Or she saved up. Or she bought it second hand. Or maybe she’s loaded and enjoys bargains like the rest of us, so she’s willing to shop at the Dollar Store.
OverDressed for Life 