The disgrace of the blue dress

‘Your look is not really successful if other people just don't get it.’Wise model number so many of my dearest Harriet Calo. I remember her weekly.

When people call my hand-painted (okay, it's a bit Jackson Pollockian but so be it) jeans from Ralph Lauren a ‘work pants’. Or when I accidentally turned my Irie top inside out. The latter happened during my final interview round for the editor-in-chief position at Marie Claire in Paris. I got the job, so Calo's attitude must have helped.

This week I bought a freshly caught creation from Sofie D’Hoore that I found at Pauw. A dark blue wrap dress with a large pocket on the right side. She won the contest to join us at an event we organized for Philips. I doubted whether it resembled a luxury bathrobe too much, but no. Definitely not when I combined it with my red two-strap heels from Aquazurra and sturdy earrings from Bodes & Bode. My Amayzine girls immediately understood her and welcomed her warmly into our community. What a beauty of a dress Sofie was. And they were right.

Then I was home. I moved between peanut butter and Colgate and of course those two aimed to never be forgotten via an eternal stain. The toothpaste really had a tendency to eternalize and left a ten-centimeter trail. On that nice right pocket. ‘Honey, you have a stain.’ If my dad sees it, that stain is really big. ‘Oh, but it doesn't matter, you still have your apron on.’

I breathed life into my Sofie D’Hoore for ten minutes and patted her on the shoulder. Then it was fine again and we headed to the dry cleaner. I immediately took three suits of my beloved with me. The steam guy perked up. The suits were taken in. Then it was Sofie's turn. He inspected the stain path. Toothpaste. ‘Odd stain.’ I looked at him. Not understanding. ‘Well, toothpaste,’ he explained. ‘On a raincoat.’

Poor Sofie. Luckily we still have Harriet.