The collection
For a good long while, I’ve wanted to do a newsletter rating and discussing all my neighbour Elizabeth dresses. The nine pictured and pored over below are not the entirety of my wardrobe, but probably most of my dresses. I included only vintage, floral, cotton or likely-cotton if unlabeled. Blouses in a similar spirit (I have one or three, depending how you classify them) are omitted. All the dresses I’m referring to were purchased sometime in the last three years. (Almost a dressaversary!) The inspiration itself came earlier, circa 2020, no wait, I checked my email and saw I pitched it (unsuccessfully lol) in 2019, which means the idea probably dates to the days home with a newborn, when I would watch Keeping Up Appearances on loop.
I saw a dress extremely not my then style hanging on a rack in front of a not particularly upscale used clothing store in Toronto’s Kensington Market, almost certainly from the window of a Japanese pancake café that no longer exists (wait, this puts it in 2018, because I would have been pregnant at the time) and something clicked: this is what I should be wearing.
This epiphany was yes at around the same time as cottagecore, and as the Batsheva dresses that a cool girl from my extremely un-cottagecore high school (probably the least cottagecore of any high school on the planet now that I think of it) designs, but something different. They really are neighbour Elizabeth dresses—not cottagecore, not prairie, not secretary, just 1990 Britcom. There is no keyword to search. I know them when I see them.
And I now have uh quite a collection. Each of the neighbour Elizabeth dresses cost somewhere between $30 and $80 CAD, unless I’m forgetting one being $20 or $90. The indicated sizes on the labels run the gamut. Countries of origin include the UK, USA, China, and Canada, but about half are unlabeled, seemingly handmade.
Why the compulsion to collect these dresses, but more to the point, why am I blogging them? Is the aim of this cataloguing to remind myself, Phoebe, you have enough of these dresses? To stop putting “Laura Ashley” as a search term, or being drawn to more of these on vintage-shop racks?
Or is it more of an appreciation, in which I defend the existence of each by telling its story? As collecting hobbies go, this one—which doubles as, these are my clothes, and public nudity is frowned upon—seems fairly defensible, if a bit embarrassing as all fixations are. The clothes are used, not bank-breaking, and they’re not even leeching microplastics. My defensiveness is maybe not warranted here.
Or! Is it more boringly my attempt at being slightly rational about this least rational of pursuits, so as to make sure that whenever I get another one (and I will, at some point, do this) it will at least be filling a wardrobe gap, color- and style-wise, and not replicating what I’ve already got. (No more white background!) That, and I will know which styles do and don’t work.
Or: it’s a way of looking at how these look on, at more of a distance than the mirror, and assessing whether they are just odd and I should dress in clothes from my own times.
Where from: Siberia Vintage
The good: the only one that fits properly. I chose it for this—tried on a bunch, in person, in an intentional non-Poshmark irl. The torso part could have been made to measure.
The less-good: sort of a meh color scheme (too curtains-ish even for me), and the bottom hemline is uneven. But one of these things that looks better on than on the rack or in a photo (even a photo of it on).
Where from: Siberia Vintage
The good: 1980s color scheme, fit is correct (disregard creases). It’s the first of these I got, and it launched the obsession.
The less-good: I’m getting too old for above-the-knee, at least in this girly of a style. It’s a handmade one, I think, and while the material itself is very nice, the stitching is not the greatest.
Where from: Hippie Market at what had been called the Dundas West street fair, a few years ago. (Which reminds me, it’s about to be that again! Will my weekend allow for seeing it for more than a few chaotic seconds?)
The good: a kind of miracle purchase—not only inexpensive (uncharacteristically so for this chic vendor) but bought without trying it on and it works.
The less-good: a bit snug waistband-wise. A hole or two, likely from my wearing it so much.
Where from: Siberia Vintage
The good: fits right, comfortable, correct proportions.
The less-good: maybe a bit dreary? Sleeves are too long, not for the dress but for my preferences. Even though I like the length for this, it has the look of, it was meant to be long but someone hemmed it.
Where from: Siberia Vintage
The good: nice, cheery pattern, very English country garden, even if the brand is apparently Austrian.
The less-good: basically a size too large, which is particularly an issue around the shoulders.
Where from: Siberia Vintage yet again, but purchased via their Instagram.
The good: Something Alexa Chung about the Peter Pan collar. Very classic.
The less-good: It does me no favors. It is Mama’s dress from every Berenstain Bears.
Where from: Poshmark
The good: a high-quality, nice-material, no-corners-cut dress.
The less-good: I think I want this as upholstery or wallpaper, not a dress. It’s involved to get on (buttons plus zipper), too long to wear on stairs.
Where from: Poshmark
The good: by far the most comfortable and easy to get on of the gang. I like the purple. Neat that it was made in Canada, if irrelevant to Buy Canadian.
The less-good: despite being the only one of these with an “XS” on the label (others go up to a US 12), it’s way too big. It’ll be nice for when it’s hot out, if that’s a thing that happens in Toronto.
Where from: Poshmark
The good: prettiest dress of the lot. A better look than the others, maybe. Pucci not cottagecore if we’re hashtag-vibes-ing it for Gen Z decipherability. I wasn’t even sure whether to include it in this roundup, though, as I’m thinking it’s slightly more Hyacinth than Elizabeth? Or even Margo Ledbetter from The Good Life? Anyway I visited this dress online for MONTHS, knowing what its issue would be, and oh, it be.
The disastrous: it’s the one that doesn’t close in the waist, as barely disguised by the belt. I can pretend this is because I’d eaten fries right before doing this post but there’s no lunch where this would be otherwise. Too big is still wearable. Too small is…
What did I learn from this exercise?
-The dresses are Good, Actually. They look less costumey than I feared. I should wear them when the season allows, or with tights under a parka when it does not.
-Irl purchases are more successful than online ones, though at this point I think I know the parameters better (thanks in part to this exercise!) and could figure it out a bit from photos and measurements. Where I think online throws me off is, I see what would make nice drapery fabric and buy it for myself as a dress. I just need to look at the shape of the dress as well.
-Button-up-to-neck is not great, not comfortable and looks weird buttoned to the top or not. I am not a tradwife, I am not worried about scandalizing anyone with my elbows.
-Along the same lines, sleeves can be short or 3/4 but to-the-wrist, button-involving is less practical. Do these tradwives not have to cook meals? Do they not bathe their children? I don’t get it.
-One zipper in the back is preferable to a side zip plus buttons. Conversely, no closures plus no stretch is unavoidably potato-sack.
-I cannot become a personal style blogger as this is, alas, it.
It does sometimes seem to me that millenials have embraced Bearenstain bear core! Your insights are, as usual, insightful.
These are gorgeous and I am impressed by how well you're able to pull them off. A thought re: the too-small final dress (my favorite!): perhaps the buttons can be moved over to gain a little room?