Day sixteen - the DVF saves lives!

I bought the DVF two years ago on my birthday - a gift to myself, if you will. It was without a doubt the wisest gift I have ever given anyone. Until today, when I joined the bone marrow registry.

I knew that joining the registry would be simple - five minutes of paperwork and a quick cheek swab. But I was expecting the process would involve kindly nurses and private cubicles. Instead, I walked in to find that the bone marrow registry drive was being run by the Harvard University football team. Not a medical professional in sight.


I was so flummoxed at the sight of all these young men, that instead of saying that I was "here to become a bone marrow donor," I announced that I was here to "become a boner." I said to a room full of 20-year-old men that I was there to become a boner. We all had a good laugh. Then one of them called me "ma'am." The DVF is amazing, but it cannot make you fifteen years younger.

I still managed to go through with it - including the even more embarrassing task of asking one of the young men to take a photo of me swabbing my own mouth:


I can't believe he didn't just say "ah, get outta here ya old cougar." He was a good sport. I hope he calls me.

Day fifteen - ICA, meet DVF

The DVF is nothing if not a piece of art. It deserves to mix and mingle with its own kind once in a while!

The Institute of Contemporary Art boasts two things: incredibly inaccessible art; and the world's most terrifying security guards. (And a bar. But that's neither here nor there.) But even the security guards couldn't keep the art from responding to the DVF. Jeez, ICA, keep it in your pants!


I am going to establish the the Diane von Fursternberg Institute of Art. This will be its cornerstone piece:

Day fourteen - gettin funky

Not to brag or anything, but I'd rank my personal hygiene practices somewhere between average and above average. But no dress is a match for 13 consecutive days of wear. Something had to be done. So I took the DVF to a same-day dry cleaner today.

I was a little nervous, but then I met Ana from Dependable Cleaners! I told her about my project. She looked a little skeptical:



But within about 45 seconds she was completely on board!



Ana promised to take good care of the dress (to which, in case it's not obvious, I've become quite attached) but I was a little out of sorts at work today, what with each of my two legs encased in their own individual pant legs. But Ana and Dependable Cleaners really delivered.

The DVF will live to fight another day.

Day thirteen - civic duty

If you can't figure out what to wear to your next citizens' advisory committee meeting, might I suggest a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress? Pair it with a necklace you bought at an outdoor market in South America, and these Cambridge types will eat it UP.



Or more likely, they will not notice your amazing wrap dress or your handcrafted, oversized, Ecuadorean jewelry, as they will be totally focused on a powerpoint presentation about the types of trees the city is considering planting on your street. Whatever. The point is that the DVF is never not appropriate.

Day twelve - takeout

The life of a jetsetter such as myself can be exhausting. Between the roller skating and the hanging out with babies and the twenty hour a week job...sometimes I just want to put on my DVF and be a regular woman. Not an internet sensation.

So tonight I went across the street to Basta Pasta for about the 5th time since last Friday. This is either Altin or Reno, and this is how he always greets me, even when the paparazzi (my roommate) is not following me.



Reno and Altin are brothers, and I introduced myself to them when they opened this restaurant six years ago. Since then they have allowed me to have UPS packages delivered there, had beers with me on my front porch, and fed me approximately 1 million hamburgers. Yet I still do not know which of them is which. You'd be shocked how easy it is to work around, actually.

Tonight I ate a meatball parm sub and lied on my living room floor and did a puzzle. Then I watched Jeopardy! True story.

Day eleven - my living room

Since I spent most of the weekend feeling like this:


I spent most of the weekend doing this:



All this time on the couch with Bowser (at right, with squirrel toy) revealed yet another amazing feature of the DVF - it repels dog hair! Bowser is particularly sheddy this time of year, and my couch looks like a muppet. Even though much of Bowser's hair landed on the DVF, I discovered that you can just brush it off with your hands - you don't need one of those rolls of sticky tape. (I have many articles of clothing that I can't wear near my dog or anything that my dog has come in contact with because his hair gets everywhere, and then it gets absolutely embedded in the fibers of my clothes.) Amazing!

The other thing I learned this weekend is that my stupid roommate doesn't want to see Hot Tub Time Machine. She is LAME.

Day ten - the DVF on wheels

I took the DVF where no DVF had ever gone before:



I thought this outing was really going to push the limits of the dress's appropriateness, but then I realized that adults who visit a roller rink every week are probably fairly forgiving when it comes to others' fashion choices. And I was right! In fact, the regulars were extra helpful towards my wobbly self (I think they might have thought I was someone's visiting Amish cousin) and were gracious when I nearly caused a six-person pile up. It was all so civilized! Like the DVF itself.



Not only did I get to go roller skating - I found all the men who wink at me on match.com! They spend their time at Skateland in Bradford, MA. Here are some of them, skating in a line:

Day nine - happy hour

Day nine's post is a little late. Here's why.



On day nine I learned yet again that I cannot drink the way I used to. I also learned that the DVF is self-cleaning! It was sort of inevitable that on a night where I looked like this (see above), I would drop a huge nacho glob on my lap. I've already extolled many of the virtues of the viscose/polyamide blend (wrinkles fall out easily, it doesn't slip once you've wrapped it) but it turns out that if you let a food stain dry, you can just sort of pick it off with your fingernails! It looked like this for a few hours:



But today the stain is totally gone! Unfortunately, the dress is not impervious to b.o. I've been wearing the DVF for nine days now, and I'm not sure I can go another 21 without getting it cleaned. Febreze can take me only so far.

Day eight - the DVF gets well

When you tell your shrink you're planning to wear the same dress for thirty days in a row, rest assured, she will begin to ask you some very pointed questions. She will not, however, take pictures of you for your blog. (Apparently, that would be "inappropriate.") But she'll let you snap a picture of yourself on her couch before you settle into the hard work of healing.



This very brief blog post was brought to you by Blue Cross Blue/Blue Shield of Massachusetts, plus a $45 copay.

Day seven - babies love the DFV

Prior to our afternoon together, my niece (through friendship) had barely spoken a word. But one look at the dress, and BAM - she's a total chatterbox. This photograph was snapped at the exact moment of her very first full sentence, which, I am proud to say, was: "That Diane von Fursternberg wrap dress makes your muffin top nearly imperceptible, while also adding shape to your otherwise completely square body. Is it a viscose blend?"


Wait - did that baby just call me fat?

Day six - Workin' Girl

Ladies! If you're wondering whether or not a DVF is appropriate for the office, note how incredibly un-sexy one can make this dress when necessary. Tie it a little tighter so that it doesn't show any cleavage, and pair it with flats. Surround yourself with boxes labeled "Tax Returns, 2000-2005," stand next to your favorite copy machine, and hold a cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee. Add a pair of $10 reading glasses from Target. You're a pro!



Unfortunately, the DVF doesn't guarantee good posture. I asked a colleague to take pictures of me "when I'm least expecting it." Well done, Bill from Communications!

Day five - Boston Marathon!

I think I've discovered the one way you CAN'T wear the DVF:



The bright orange hat was so that my friend Kerry could spot me as she ran by. The sneakers were just to be marathon-y. Despite the fact that this is an incredibly unflattering look, you can't keep a good dress down. Just look at how that material bounces!

AND, even with the sneakers, the dress is pretty powerful - these nice men asked me to join them for a(nother) drink. Gentlemen, please! Do I look like the kind of woman who would be drinking in the middle of the day?



Another good day for the dress - an even better day for Kerry.

Day four - carbo loading

My good friend Kerry is running the marathon tomorrow! She and some friends came over to eat a big pasta dinner (which was actually Thai takeout) which gave me the opportunity to see how the DVF fares when I'm acting as hostess:



Even with slippers and an apron, the DVF did not disappoint. When the DVF came up in discussion, however, and Kerry's fiance asked who "manufactures" the dress, I almost lost it. Does he live under a rock? This dress is not "manufactured" - it's created. And it's created by the genius known as Diane von Furstenburg.



Although I am not running the marathon tomorrow, I decided to carbo load with Kerry as an act of solidarity, and the bulk of my carb intake tonight was in the form of booze. In case you haven't guessed.

Day three - around town

Talk about a versatile dress! This morning I discovered that with very little effort, it is possible to look like a homeless librarian in the DVF. (A special thanks to my roommate Dufour for making this astute observation. For the record, she is the one who knitted the hat, and let's face it, the hat is definitely responsible for the homeless vibe. The cardigan can take credit for the librarian-ness.)



I was in no way looking forward to wearing a dress out in the rain to do my Saturday morning errands, and for a split second I thought about just throwing on a pair of jeans. But how could I disappoint all eleven (that's right, ELEVEN!) of my loyal blog followers? (They are, in no particular order: Amy, Sylvia, Trish, Anne, Stephanie, Oliver, Heather, Mandy, Tammy, Adam, and Jeff. Hi guys!) At least the fact that it was raining meant I could wear my rain boots, which meant I DIDN'T have to shave my legs yet again. Plus, the DVF is really comfortable. I always forget that until I put it on.

Here I am in Target, explaining to my friend (and amazing photog and loyal DVF blog follower) Amy why this faux wrap dress does not measure up to the original. There was a great deal of lecturing on the material and draping, as well as the science of "wrapping." The short version - this knock-off DVF is totally busted.



Someone actually stopped me in Target to compliment me on my...rain boots! It was so disappointing! But then I realized that's actually SO typical of the DVF. The dress itself never gets noticed - it just acts as the stage. It stays in the background, letting you (or your rain boots, or your necklace, or your scarf) be the star.



Tomorrow - the DVF makes a big pre-Marathon pasta dinner for my good friend Kerry, who is attempting to beat Valerie Bertanelli in Monday's race!

Day two - in concert

The DVF went to see a band! You'd think that a dress that looks completely normal alongside men in top hats would look out of place at a show full of hipsters. But you'd be so very wrong.

When you pair the DVF with tall black boots, the bongo player will let you come on stage and check out his bongos. IF you know what I mean. (I was informed that the instrument I am "playing" is actually NOT a bongo, thank you very much. It's called a djembe. And don't you forget it.)



And when paired with a jaunty hat, the DVF will make you want to dance like this:



Tomorrow - the DVF does some low-budget shopping.

Day one – the Tea Party Express on Boston Common (as a protestor, obviously. Duh.)

Sarah Palin and the Tea Party Express came to Boston yesterday, so I went to protest – peacefully and civilly, of course, out of reverence for the dress more so than any sort of respect for other people’s opinions. The fact that the one of the more organized protests was an ACTUAL fancy tea party (complete with period dress, linen napkins and bone china) was a good omen. The DVF, with pearls and heels, was, of course, perfect for the occasion.



The tea party (not to be confused with the Tea Party) was great fun, but I really wanted to take the DVF into the belly of the beast – ideally, close enough to see Sarah Palin’s weave. I was curious to see if I would be identified as an interloper and promptly smoked out, or if the dress is so subtle as to protect me from detection as either friend OR foe. The signs were so confusing and overly ironic that I couldn’t figure out who was on which side.



Since the signs weren't always a dead giveaway, people were definitely using demographics to infer teams. I don’t think anyone could figure me out, including this guy, who wouldn’t let me hold his sign, but would let me stand near it to have my picture taken.



Stay tuned for daily updates on the DVF experiment. Tomorrow - the DVF in concert!