My father has never been expressive when it comes to affection. Often it takes quite some interpretation to realise he cares. For example, his method of showing concern for me when I grabbed my bike and dashed out to join the kids pedalling furiously around the neighbourhood was to roar "Go! If you get killed, don't come crying!" growing up a gangly, scrawny kid and teen, is nicknames for me were "Bones", "Giraffe", "Chopsticks" (during a particularly leggy phase) and "Insect".
But there was a brief period in my life, from ages 0-6 when dad had no reservations about doting on me. For 6 years, I was his princess. He used to love buying me pretty dresses and watching me prance around happily in them.
For some reason, this 50's inspired dress just screams "princess" to me, with its champagne tones and royal-looking brocade emblems. It also depresses my floating ribs, so if I'm not careful, like princesses of yore I might just pass out everytime I get excited. Kidding! Well... mostly.
And of course princessy dresses need a good twirl to welcome them in.
Dress: Amcorp Mall Flea Market (RM15)
Shoes: The Kooky Thing (RM60)