A letter from a reader

At 67, I had a wedding to go to and nothing in the wardrobe that felt like me

I have never written one of these before, and I nearly did not. But I have said this to enough friends now that it seemed easier to write it down.

My niece's wedding invitation had been sitting on the mantelpiece for a month, and every time I walked past it I felt the same small sinking feeling. Not about the wedding. About having nothing to wear to it.

I did the usual. An afternoon round the shops. I came home with nothing, and very nearly in tears, which is a ridiculous thing to admit at sixty-seven.

Everything was either made for a woman half my age, or the sort of stiff matronly thing that makes you look like you have given up.

There does not seem to be anything in between. Something that says you have made an effort, that you are still here, without pretending to be thirty or resigning yourself to beige crepe and a matching jacket.

Then my sister sent me a photograph

She had found a dress for the same wedding and sent me a picture of it hanging on her wardrobe door. A navy chiffon midi covered in a soft polka-dot print. I ordered it that evening, before I could talk myself out of it.

It is called the Ivy, from a small British boutique called Manchester Boutique. The chiffon floats when you move, there is a little belt that gives you back a waist, and the sleeves are soft flutter ones that cover the tops of your arms. Navy, so it feels proper for an occasion, but the print keeps it from being dreary.

What happened at the wedding

I wore it with nude heels and my good earrings.

Four women asked me where it was from before the speeches had even started. One of them was 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 surprised me most came afterwards. I have worn it since to a christening and to a lunch in town, dressed down with flat sandals. It turns out it is not only a wedding dress. It has quietly become the thing I reach for whenever I want to feel properly dressed.

Three things I have learned since

One. The flutter sleeves matter. They are soft and short but they cover the tops of the arms, which for a lot of us is the whole difference between wearing a dress to an occasion and not.

Two. It floats rather than clings. The little belt gives you a waist and the chiffon skirt does the rest, skimming over everything below it. You feel dressed up without feeling held in.

Three. It is not just for weddings. Heels for the occasion, flat sandals for a lunch. I did not expect to get this much wear out of one dress.

About the price

I will be honest, the price made me suspicious more than anything.

The Ivy is £37.95. It was £76.00.

My first thought was that there had to be a catch, because a proper occasion dress usually costs three or four times that, and half of those hang like a sack anyway.

There is no catch that I have found. It is a small boutique selling directly, and they run a summer sale to move the season's stock. I read the reviews before I ordered, 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 sites, which if anything made me trust it more. The same things kept coming up. One woman had written, “Wore it to my son’s wedding and felt wonderful all day. It floats when you walk and I have had compliments every time since.” That was the one that decided it for me.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were having a cup of tea and you asked me, this is what I would say.

If you have a wedding or a christening coming up, and you are already dreading the shopping because it never turns up anything that feels like you, it is worth ten minutes of an evening to have a look.

Not because a dress changes anything. It does not. But turning up to something that matters and feeling like yourself, rather than like you are in fancy dress or hiding, is a small thing I had stopped expecting, and I would rather you did not stop expecting it either.

The sale is on now, and the middle sizes go first. It goes up to a UK 22, which more places should manage.

The invitation does not sit on the mantelpiece like a threat any more. Now I rather look forward to them.

Maggie