It's a new year, it's Bibliotheca Time, and the bosses at the Content Factory (where I have been imprisoned for skipping a month of blogging) have given me the admirable task of writing about Wishin' and Dreamin'. And for what do lolitas wish, and of what do they dream, if not Wishlist Items and their Dream Dress?
The fixation on a single dress, and the "dream dress" term itself, precedes lolitas' use of the phrase by some time: Vick's Illustrated Monthly Magazine describes a ball-gown from Worth as such in 1888. The use of a dream dress specifically relating to a wedding gown seems to date to 1922 or before, as in "Mother Fingers", a short story by Margaret E. Sangster appearing in Good Housekeeping 78. By the 1990s, a dream dress was usually a wedding dress. The dream wedding dress is all about the potential bride and how the dress looks worn: the specific dress, the designer, and the price are all secondary to visual and emotional effect.
The lolita dream dress is distinctly different. Although the look of the dress is still central, lolita brands have a significant following, with some lolitas accumulating hundreds of items from a single brand. The simple reality is that weddings and their dresses are rare, usually only happening once, while lolita can be worn every single day. That's not to say that dream dresses aren't ornate, just that they're something that can be worn for more than a single occasion.
Lolitas love our brands and designers because we get the opportunity to build relationships with them. Atelier Pierrot is the best example of a Japanese lolita brand with a good relationship to its international customers: through the tireless efforts of its English-speaking staff, they consistently publicize releases, take public opinion, offer one-on-one shopping, and make fabulous memes.
A STONKS meme from the Atelier Pierrot English Instagram |
Lolita dream dresses are also effected by rarity: while a dress with a lot of rereleases (such as Baby the Stars Shine Bright's Shirring Princess) might be sought after and make it onto someone's wishlist, they probably won't be classified as a dream dress. That's because a dream dress is, by some metrics, marked by how difficult it is to obtain, and might even be unattainable: a realistic goal is achievable, but a true dream might never be. Some people have several dream dresses, while others say you can only have one, with excess just forming a regular wishlist: who am I to determine the shapes of others' dreams?
I actually did a whole Shirring Princess post |
When I started, there were a few common dream dresses: gothic lolitas wanted Moi-même-Moitié's Iron Gate, sweet lolitas were usually after Milky Chan or Milky Planet, and classic lolitas sought Mary Magdalene's Ekaterina OP. Lolita has diversified a lot, though, and rereleases mean that many of these dresses are a lot more accessible (and cheaper) than they were just a few years ago. Besides, most people no longer question the legitimacy of any brand just because it isn't Japanese Burando from the Gothic and Lolita Bible, so people are just as likely to have dream dresses from non-Japanese brands like Haenuli. All dreams for any reason are valid dreams, even if I can't personally see the appeal.
Milky Chan is cute, but $2,222 is a little steep |
I've been wearing lolita fashion for almost a decade, so my dreams have been mostly achieved. My wishlist folder is down to its dress dregs and my clothing rack is threateningly full.
Now, as part of wardrobe season, a lot of lolitas show their wishlists to turn the lone search into a collaborative hunt. My few remaining items are nice, but not essential, so I really don't need the help. Besides, there's one final factor to the lolita dream dress: the thrill of the chase. Secondhand window-shopping can be its own hobby alongside lolita. While the item itself might fit wrong, smell strange, or just not look as good as it does in daydreams, the process of search and discovery and the feeling of accomplishment will never lose their luster.
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