At 41, I finally own a dress I can enjoy a whole dinner in.

Emma on the black dress from an Australian label that she forgot she was wearing somewhere between the prawns and the pavlova.

5 min read

The Eloise on the wardrobe door, an hour before my sister's fortieth.

For years, getting dressed was the worst part of going out. Not the evening itself. The forty-five minutes before it, standing in my slip with half the wardrobe on the bed.

You probably know how it goes. The pretty dress that pinches when you sit. The comfy one that looks like a nightie. So in the end, with the taxi on its way, I would put on my plain black shift again, because it was the one decision I didn't have to make.

And all night I would babysit it. Up out of the chair, smooth it down. Back in the chair, perch on the edge. Pass on the pavlova, purely for the sake of the zip.

Then at book club three weeks ago, Tash came in wearing a black dress I had never seen, and before she'd even sat down I was asking her where it was from.

So, the dress

It is the Eloise, from Eleanor & Co Australia. A short black dress. I know. That is the very thing I just finished moaning about.

But it turns out black was never what bothered me. What bothered me was flat. My black dresses were smooth, dull and silent, and you had to rescue them with a necklace.

The Eloise is busy in the nicest way. Around the V-neck runs a band of fine gathering with rows of little frills. Each sleeve is long, generous and see-through, with a strip of lace near the shoulder and a lace-trimmed frill at the wrist. At the bottom, layer upon layer of ruffles finish in a lace edge, and they swing when you walk. The whole thing weighs about as much as a silk scarf.

The clever bit is the shape. It's an A-line, so it sits on your shoulders and then flares gently all the way down. It brushes past the bust and keeps going, which means it never settles on your middle, standing or seated. No smoothing, no holding in.

Black, yes. Plain, never.

The neckline up close. With all that going on, I leave the necklace in the drawer.

The night I wore it

Mel's fortieth was a long table by the harbour: half past six till nearly midnight, forty of us, a warm evening and an air conditioner that had given up early.

Prawns, snapper, half of Mel's tiramisu. For the record. And I never once got up and smoothed, or sat on the edge, or held my breath.

I'd worried about the sleeves. Full-length sleeves on a sticky night sound mad. But they're sheer and roomy, not tight, so every bit of breeze gets in. My old shift would have had me sweltering by the speeches.

Over coffee, Mel said, “I haven't seen you fuss with your dress once tonight.” My sister doesn't hand out compliments, so I'm counting that.

The sleeve, laid on the bed. Sheer enough to see through, with the lace frill at the wrist.

→ See the Eloise

Three weeks on

I didn't want to reinvent myself. I just wanted something that goes on without a fight. Three things stood out.

It's made in XS to 2XL. It's roomy, so I bought my normal size and it was right.

From the back. One little button at the neck, and you can see how it flares from the shoulders.

The price

It's $89.99, and I still dithered. So I grabbed an envelope and tallied what each dress in my wardrobe has really cost me every time it left the house.

• The pretty one I can't sit in: $220, out twice. $110 a go.
• The one that needs shapewear: $160, out four times. $40 a go.
• The safe black shift: $130, out ten times, resented every time.
• My Eloise: $89.99, out four times already. About $22 a go, and falling.

Underneath, I wrote: so it was the dresses all along?

Buy more than one thing and they take twenty percent off two, twenty-five off three and thirty off four, right in the cart.

Laid out on the dining table before Mel's party, with the earrings I ended up wearing.

What I'd say if you rang me about it

I'd say if a dress only works with something tight underneath, blame the dress. A shape that flares from the shoulders does the same job with none of the misery.

I'd say short is kinder than you'd expect when it's A-line with long sleeves. Mine goes on with sheer black tights and low heels, and it looks completely intentional.

I'd say don't scroll past just because it's black. This black has frills, lace and ruffles. It's a party, not a funeral.

I'd say wear it to whatever's next on the calendar. Save it for a big night and it will just join the others on the rail.

And I'd say delivery's free and there's a month to return it, so trying it on at home is a no-lose deal.

Got an invitation stuck to the fridge and that old sinking feeling? Have a look tonight.

Last Saturday I said yes to the pavlova. First time in years.

— Emma

This is a personal account from a customer of Eleanor & Co Australia. Emma was not paid to write it. She did receive the dress she ordered.