Not this dress in particular, but this type of dress. I don't know what the style is called.
I'm going to imagine wearing it. For the white color, I'm on a sail boat for two, skimming over the calm sea waves. I've just come up from below deck and have been greeted by a healthy sea spray from the wave that just slapped up the side of the boat. For the teal color, or a darker color, it is a cloudy day, has been all day, and it's slightly cold, but the dress keeps me warm enough, especially if I'm wearing the dress in the forthcoming photo. The dress lifts away from me in another gust of wind, and I feel the slightly stiff, starchy feeling of the fabric.
This next one I can picture myself tucked up in a lovely sunny corner of a fairly large, get-lost-in-the-stacks-amid-heavy-bound-volumes-with-gilded-titles library, tracing with my eyes the swirls of the grain of the mahogany chess table, which seems to be lit from within where the sunlight hits, contrasting deeply with the dark spots in the shade. The warm air smells like binding glue, book pages, and leather; and the hot scent of the tea in the hand of the cute, freckled and bespectacled boy follows him and settles around my table as he sits and asks for a game of chess.
And with this one:
We're in an apple orchard, at that magic hour where the sunlight is tinted to an orange-red color. We've been picking apples since early morning, and are thoroughly sleepy from all the work, and also from the little apple fight we had earlier. Almost everyone in our small group has retired to the grassy ground and is in various stages of napping. The only sounds are the soft, deep sounds of contented breathing, faint strains of music coming from the wedding in the house down the road, and the click and whir of crepuscular bugs, whose wings glow with sunlight. One of our party has leaned against one of the trees, and he reaches up and pulls an apple from a low-hanging branch. The branch swings back up into the treetop, swishing its leaves and dropping dirt and bits of vegetation onto our sleepy faces. The snap of the apple stem breaking momentarily cuts through the lethargy, and we realize how late it's gotten, and pack our baskets of apples into the back of the rusty old pick-up and climb in. The old car starts with a lurch and soon we are headed down the road, sending clouds of dust up behind us. Later in the week, we will head back to the same orchard to have a picnic; our dessert will be apple pie, made from the ones we picked.
See, I could go anywhere with these dresses! I need at least one. They're fantastic.
Most of these dresses are from this website: http://www.artfire.com/ext/shop/studio/StylishLife#/ext/shop/studio/StylishLife/9/7/0//ajax
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