At a late-summer dinner party in New York City, I’m wearing my Electric Feathers sleeveless dress, rough brown linen with a modest bateau neckline and a back that dips almost as low as the skirt is high. Both men and women tend to comment — women express their appreciation verbally; men with their eyes and a brief, distracted pause in conversation.

“I love it,” enthuses a friend. “It’s so earthy.”

She means it as praise. But still, my heart does its old, familiar sag.

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