How many of you over here are mystery books and movies fans?
If you are, please grab yourself a cup of tea because today I am bringing you an inexplicable story that could be out of the pages of a Sherlock Holmes case. It takes place in foggy London and involves an old Pinterest photo, a sceptical girl, and a little yellow Valentino dress.
Our enigma starts in a little apartment four years ago, when a then much younger (and probably much more rested) fashion blogger aspirant was browsing through her Pinterest feed on a cold Saturday morning. (In case you didn’t guess yet, that girl is me and I know for a fact it was a Saturday morning because back in the day Pinterest and coffee was my weekend morning ritual before getting ready for whatever plans I had. But I am disgressing here…)
So where was I? Oh, yes, Pinterest. So, I was browsing through my feed and saving some outfit ideas when the first event happened. The suggestions page refreshed and showed me this pin. I held my breath—There it was, the most perfect marigold yellow dress I had ever seen. I stopped scrolling and looked at it in wonder for a few minutes.
It was a little tie-neck dress, made of lovely silk, with a flared-bib design. It had the cutest buttons in the front part and looked perfect to me.
So I did what anyone would: I clicked on the link to shop for the dress. I was already taking my credit card out when I froze. Because guys, that unique and perfect dress, the one I was already planning to hang in my closet, was a brand new Valentino. And let me tell you that, back in the day, there was no way I was buying a two thousand pounds clothing item. ‘When Hell freezes over‘,I said with a lump in my throat. And I am not going to lie: I almost cried when I felt like a five years old who is not allowed to have nice things because she will break them (which is a fair point anyway, because with me being me, there is always a chance).
And this should be the end of it, really, but it would be a mediocre mystery story if it finished here, right? The interesting fact is I saved the pin. Then, once in a while, I would open my outfits folder and look at it, sighing. As weeks went by, I showed it to my husband, my sister, a colleague, and the dairyman, for the matter. It was my favourite dress, only… it wasn’t mine, really. That made me feel rather miserable. After a month or so, I started giving hope away and stopped looking at the Pinterest photo. Eventually, I even forgot about it.
Four years after, and already living in London, the second chapter of this conundrum was presented to me.
One cold evening last November, Sebastian and I went out for coffee and some shopping. We were walking down Oxford Circus when it suddenly started raining and we looked for a place to buy us some time. We were about to enter Zara (because I´m still shopping for pretty pants) when I felt this strange urge to go inside the outlet next door. First, we had a look at the homeware section, where they have some nice staff, and then I decided to have a look at the women’s floor. I started browsing through the clothes racks when I glimpsed a marigold piece hanging there. Attracted by the colour, I pulled the hanger and lost my voice. I stood there in disbelief, looking at the dress with stunned bewilderment. I had to ask Sebastian to hold it while I grabbed the phone and opened my Pinterest app. After a minute or two, I found the pin I had saved four years before. It was the same freaking dress.
‘How in the name of God?‘, I asked Sebastian in wonder. Then, I checked the price tag and couldn’t believe it. As I remembered, the original price was more than two thousand pounds but it was now reduced to three hundred and fifty pounds. I started checking the dress, looking for suspicious stains, flimsy seams, lost buttons, or any other defect. And you know what I found? Nothing. The dress was perfect in every possible sense. And also, my exact size. What are the chances?
Guys, I don’t know what happened then but I lost my senses. I looked at the dress and the very attractive price and instead of running to the cashier, I put it back in the rack. Yes, you can totally kill me now. That day I had just made another big purchase and wasn’t feeling that generous with myself. My husband, on the other hand, took the dress and headed for the cashier. I reasoned with him and decided to give it a thought for a couple of days. Sebastian, poor thing, was perplexed. He spent the whole day trying to make me buy it. But guys, let me tell you I can be quite irrational. At a certain point, I replied to him that if it was meant to be, it would be. I mean, slap me. But I went home, worked for the rest of the week, and got trapped in my daily routine forgetting about the dress again.
The last episode of this charade developed on Christmas Day. After lunch, we were opening presents and Sebastian gave me this big present wrapped in sparkly red. When I opened it, the well-known marigold yellow popped merrily and I opened my mouth in surprise. I looked at him, he shook his shoulders and simply said: ‘I guess it was meant to be‘.
And this ends the strange case of the little yellow Valentino. To this day, I don’t even know how that even happened but I can only guess some universal forces acted here. And you know? That’s part of the beauty of it. Not knowing how it happened.
Has something like this ever happened to you? Let me know in the comments!
– OUTFIT –
Dress (Valentino) | Bag (Strathberry) | Beret (United Colours of Benetton)