This looks like the mini-skirt version of what I’m wearing in my fantasies where I am forced by dramatic/romantic circumstances to enter a sanitarium.

Like, an old-fashioned, movie sanitarium — a beautiful old estate in Upstate Somewhere, where genteel ladies would choose to recover from their delicate constitutions/possible consumption/hysteria-brought-on-by-annoying-relatives by taking long walks with parasols and then painting china or working on watercolor still lifes before being visited by whichever hot but unsuitable dude basically drove them around the bend, the aggravation of which will cause them to take to their beds after tea time and ask for restorative silence with a cool cloth on a fevered brow. Not the OTHER kind of movie sanitarium, where They just want to silence you and so They lock you in a pit and you have to eventually bash your nursemaid over the head with your bedpan to escape (which, of course, you do, because it’s your sassy, steely strength that got you committed in the first place). THAT is a whole different outfit, and it’s hideous.

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[Photo: Getty]