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A dress that fitted the occasion.

That's what Cecil called it: the off-shoulder vintage rose gold medieval ball dress that covered my feet, pushed my bust out, and swept the floor.

A dress fitted for the occasion.

Nope, I looked horrible. The color was dull, it was too tight, and too heavy. I was positive I wouldn't be able to move. I stared at myself in the mirror, feeling like a stuffed sausage. I turned from side to side, trying to find an angle that made me look less... ridiculous.

“Are you sure about this, Cecil?” I called out, my voice laced with doubt.

Cecil looked at me, her eyes lighting up as she saw me in the dress. “You look stunning, It's the perfect dress for the ball.”

I gave her a skeptical look. “Perfect? I feel like I can barely breathe. And look at this color! It makes me look like a walking antique.”

She sighed and walked over to me, adjusting the dress a little. "It's supposed to be vintage. That's the charm of it. And the fit will loosen up a bit as you wear it.