
There's a prettiness to the shape of this, and the way the ruffles fall, but the longer I look at it... it has a distinct aura of your grandmother's aging lace Honeymoon dress that's become the breeding ground for a fly colony.

And then you get up close and the back is wedding-flavored chicken wire.

Meanwhile I just need to gaze upon Amy's hair and weep softly. For this is what I think my hair looks like when it's long, and it is NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE AT ALL, and also my hair is taking forever to grow out and I'm having yearnings to borrow hers.

Unfortunately the dress looks like someone tried to paint on an apron with decorative tar.
