A letter from a reader

At 67, everyone assumed this dress had cost me a fortune. It had not.

I have never written anything like this before, and I nearly did not. But I have said it to enough people now that it seemed easier to write it down properly.

For years my summers came down to the same miserable choice. There were the cool, sensible things that kept me comfortable in the heat but made me feel like I had stopped bothering. And there were the smart things that looked like an effort but were too warm, or too tight, or needed ironing the moment I sat down. I had also quietly decided that anything which looked genuinely expensive would cost a fortune, and anything I could afford would look like it.

Cheap and cool, or dear and uncomfortable. That seemed to be the whole of it.

So on the hot days I gave up and reached for the same shapeless things, and felt a little invisible in every one of them.

Then I saw it on a friend at a garden party

She came across the lawn in a soft white maxi that looked, honestly, like something from an expensive boutique in town. The embroidery was worked in the same shade as the fabric, so it caught the light rather than shouting, and the whole thing drifted as she walked. I assumed it had cost her a great deal. When I asked, she laughed and told me what she had paid, and I very nearly did not believe her.

It is from Manchester Boutique, a small British boutique that has been quietly dressing women our age for a few years now. They do a whole collection of these summer dresses and matching sets. I ordered mine that evening.

What happened at the garden party

I wore it to a garden party a fortnight later, with flat sandals and my good earrings.

Four women asked me where it was from. Two of them assumed out loud that it had cost a small fortune, and I confess I did not correct them straight away. One was my friend Ann, who I have known since our children were at primary school and who has never once commented on anything I have worn. She said I looked like I had made an effort for once. I have decided to take that as a compliment.

What stayed with me, though, was how it felt. The cotton-linen is light and it breathes, and the cut skims rather than clings, so I did not spend the afternoon tugging at anything or wishing I could sit down properly. I have barely taken it off since, to a terrace lunch, to the shops, out with the dog first thing.

Three things I have learned since

One. Tonal beats loud. The embroidery in the same shade as the fabric is what makes it look expensive. It reads as considered rather than busy, so it does all the work while you do none.

Two. Good linen drapes. The proper cotton-linen falls and moves instead of hanging off you like a sack, which is the whole difference between looking dressed and looking done.

Three. Cool can look costly. I no longer believe comfortable summer clothes have to look like you have given up, and I feel a little silly for ever thinking they did.

About the price

I will be honest, the price was the thing that made me suspicious.

The Odalys is £34.95. It was £70.00.

My first thought, given how it looks, was that there had to be a catch, because you can walk into any shop in town and pay a great deal more for a linen dress that will be a creased rag by lunchtime.

There is no catch that I have found. They are a small boutique selling directly, so there is no department store taking a cut in the middle, and they run a summer sale to shift the season's stock before it turns. I read the reviews before I ordered a second colour, the way I imagine you are doing now. Just over three hundred of them, sitting at 4.2 stars. Not the suspiciously perfect five you see on some websites, which if I am honest made me trust it rather more. The same things kept coming up. One woman had written, “Everyone assumes it cost three times what I paid. So cool and comfortable I have worn it half the summer.” That was the one that decided it for me.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sat in the garden with a cup of tea and you asked me, this is what I would say.

If you have spent this summer hot and fed up in the same shapeless things, not because you like them but because nothing you could afford felt special, then it is worth ten minutes of your evening to go and look.

Not because a dress will change your life. It will not. But getting dressed on a warm morning and feeling like yourself, without spending a fortune to do it, is a small thing I had quietly given up on, and I would rather you did not give up on it too.

The sale is on now, they do it in white, blues and a lovely yellow from a UK 8 to an 18, and the middle sizes are the ones that go first.

I have not felt invisible in the heat since.

Maggie