Welcome to another one of those dresses where things could’ve been so right, if only every decision had been made differently. Fabric? Workable. Potholder sleeves? Surprisingly okay. Dark lipstick? Sold. But then they all got tossed together in some kind of demon recipe and were crowned with a hell ribbon. It’s like if you took breaded chicken and marinara and cheese, and turned it into tuna tartare. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO A PERFECTLY GOOD CHICKEN PARM? WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU.