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Eliza dresses new york1/12/2024 I never looked familiar-or at least, I never looked as I felt. Whatever glowing, rustic ideal I’d (optimistically) constructed was always off-kilter: There were twigs caught in the velcro of my jacket, stains on my shirt, grape remnants smeared across my chin, whole chunks of hair left free from my bun. Naturally, when I did clock my own image-in a rearview mirror, or perhaps in the black of my phone screen-it was never as I’d imagined. Like sitting down for dinner, outdoors, at a table set for twelve. Tasted like Riesling, freckles, French verbs. It felt like getting taller, or aging backwards. It should come as no surprise, then, when I tell you that I’d never felt more beautiful - or perhaps, that beauty, as a noun, took on a wholly different texture. And all the while, the tenderness amongst our particular clan of volunteers, no longer strangers, was always calcifying into something more poetic, more substantial. The vineyard labor grew less taxing by the hour, through sheer repetition. My French was growing more fluid by the day I could hear the ways I was settling into the oral gymnastics of the language-the easy rapport, the improving lilt in my speech-even in the face of my ever-mounting frustration. In lieu of buttons, I agonized over missed conjugations. Instead, those details were evidence of passing time, finished labor-souvenirs of what we were making here. What was the point? Inevitably, I unraveled, in small and messy increments, as the day went on-and what made that undoing so distasteful? Watching these other bodies inch through vines, volleying French dialogue back and forth, clipping fruit with fingernails crowned in soil, I never found myself keeping score of stains, lopsided buns, sweatshirts shrugged on inside-out. I stopped wondering what had shifted, whether or not all of my hair had made it, successfully, into my braid, or my sunscreen had rubbed in properly. They each did, indeed, play their most essential role: remedying nakedness.īy week two, my compulsion to make adjustments throughout the day began to wane, too. I developed a newfound trust in my garments: The ribbed tanks, vintage T-shirts, crew socks, that I’d selected with such intention. My options were increasingly limited by what was least offensively dirty. The dress features monochrome silvery plumage of feathers and floral cutouts along its bottom hem, and pointy silver stilettos and sparkly earrings completed Eliza’s look.By the end of my first week, however, the mathematics of getting dressed had become palpably easier. Eliza wore a knee-length version of the design, topped with a sheer white poncho with a bedazzled rhinestone collar. Amelia wore a floor-length strapless ballgown with a sweetheart neckline on its corset-inspired bodice, paired with a Boodles necklace and earrings with pops of red gems. The twins’ dresses were different, but complementary to one another. Perhaps taking a page from Beyoncé’s suggested silver-spangled dress code featured in her new concert movie, Renaissance: A Film by Beyoncé, the awards show’s red carpet at the Royal Albert Hall shimmered with silver.Īmelia and Eliza both wore silvery designs by Gyunel Couture in a glossy holographic silver laminate fabric. The 31-year-old sisters are identical twins but each chose their own distinctive looks for the event. Judging by the looks Lady Amelia Spencer and Lady Eliza Spencer donned for Monday evening’s 2023 British Fashion Awards ceremony in London, the twins inherited some of their late aunt Princess Diana’s fashion sense. Maybe making waves with wow-worthy ensembles runs in the family.
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