Nightshirts are the new minidresses, it seems. But they have sleeves and look foxy so that’s a-ok by us
Every time I’ve been into Topshop recently, I have touched this dress and gone, “ooh!”. Sometimes I pick it up. Once I even made it as far as the changing room, before the sight of my gleaming red face in the mirror told me I was already far too sweaty for a ridiculous full-scale exertion like lifting my arms over my head then bringing them down again.
(As a side note here, will Topshop ever learn that proper air conditioning in their changing rooms would drive up profits by about 500%? I’m no Alan Sugar, but even I have clocked that customers are more likely to buy a garment if they don’t have to wring it out for underboob sweat at 30 second intervals. I bet that’s on page one of the Business Studies textbooks: ‘Don’t make your customers perspire against will’)
But glands aside, I love this dress. It looks vaguely like a man’s nightshirt from the turn of the century, in kickin’ fluoro animal print – if Tommy Steele had been in Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, this is what he might have worn. It’s also a far more accessible version of that mens-shirt-bare-legs thing that has only ever been successful for post-coital women in films, and it’s plenty flimsy and bright enough to look summer-appropriate but with sleeves that will see you right through the autumn.
