Sheath dresses, like pencil skirts, restrict movement, demand heels, sometimes encourage people to strap themselves down in underwear like they’re planning on riding a roller coaster for eight hours… and yet wearing one feels freaking powerful.

My first sheath dress was a magenta number I wore to my senior concert in high school. While I trotted out in that pink dress looking tall and beautiful, like that year’s weight gain just made me stronger, the girl that went out of her way to make my life living hell stood beside me in her black pants and white blouse looking (and probably feeling) like the dumpy, mean-spirited chipmunk that she was.

I only think of her from time to time, but I do remember that sheath dress fondly. It got some interesting reactions from my boyfriend among other people. Looking back, I see it as a symbol of who I would eventually become as an adult, and I have to say, I’m pretty happy with that.

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