Hi there CC! This week I’m again bringing you a little fashion storytime—via YARNS, an occasional series where I give you an honest account of an item in my closet in which I have invested a lot of time to get (or keep) right. Learn from my mistakes! Steal the tricks that worked! The appearance of ease in personal style is sometimes the result of an effortful journey! Let’s normalize that. Today’s topic? The Tony Awards!
I teared up when I got the email from our producers, inviting me to the Tonys. I had not expected to go! Like in years past, I had envisioned getting dressed up to watch at someone’s apartment before heading out to an afterparty toast. Which was still a very fun plan! So the waterworks surprised me. I didn’t know I felt any kind of way about it. And in that sense, when it came to THEE practical question—what to wear—I was slightly underprepared.
I ordered the dress in the middle of May, three and a half weeks before I would need to wear it. Online shopping isn’t a chore to me—it’s almost meditative. I scroll online stores for fun, often without ever clicking “purchase” (I do add things to The List, though.) But if I am shopping for real, particularly for a specific event, I like to order early, leaving plenty of time for a trip to the tailor if the situation calls for it. While three and half weeks may have seemed like plenty of time to some, it was enough time in my book only if the dress was a yes.
The Search
The Tonys are mandatory black tie. I combed the internet—searching for something that looked expensive, but wasn’t. By that I mean: something of good quality, with a good fit, clean in its design, but of ambiguous origin, and at a reasonable price. (In fashion, well-designed clothing often comes at a premium.) Though extremely specific, and, I’ll give you, subjective, I like to think this category is a specialty of mine.
My rules:
Good fabric always, or at least a blend (no 100% polyester garments, and nothing that looks extremely flammable. Lol.).
Almost without exception, nothing super shiny—but sparkles can be fun on a case-by-case basis.
Nothing overworked or fussy, but one interesting detail is good—ideal even!
No visible branding.
Solid colors are best, but if it’s a print, it should be something I would describe as either fun or lovely. Also, it can be nice to stick to shades I know work well with my skin tone (aka colors that have looked nice in the past).
Form-fitting is okay, but anything too sexy is risky, IMO. Skin-tight from head-to-toe can easily slip into club territory. [Lol, the club.]
It’s never the dress your algorithm has been pushing on social media, but the one right next to it might be a winner. For better or worse, the algorithm is built to serve up brands you might like.
I like to look for something that can hold its own with minimal jewelry.
A lot of people were in the room when they shot the dress on the fit model. So, in most cases, if it looks weird in the photo, it will look even worse out of the box. And the key to looking-expensive-but-not-being-expensive? The fit must be excellent.
To demonstrate: here are some screenshots of dresses that I think would fall into the “risky online order” category. I will purposely leave the brands out of this because I am not trying to put anybody on blast. (I also want to say again that this is subjective and you can ignore me if it’s unhelpful to you/BUT HERE’S MY TWO CENTS.)
The shell of this dress is 95% polyester and 5% elastane. And it’s looking a little shiny in this photo. It might be fine! Or it might look like it’s made of plastic wrap when you take it out of the box.
Listen, I think pink can be really flattering! But this dress has A LOT OF DETAILS. She is giving you one shoulder, she is giving you cut-outs, she is giving you sheer paneling, she is giving you strappy ties! It could be great? Or it could be chaos. Anything begging for a try-on before purchase = risky online order.
Someone out there will look fab in this dress. But for me, it’s asking for underboob, it looks very tight, that color, WOW, that presents a challenge, and it looks like it would burst into flames if the wind blew the wrong way. That’s a no for me!
The First Dress
Taking this all into account, I narrowed down to two or three choices before texting a friend—my crucial last step. I always want to text two people: one who is practical and will keep you from doing anything stupid, and one who loves fashion and will talk you into things that are FUN. [If they strongly disagree, go for a compromise or go with your gut, sister.]
And then. In a moment of true hubris, high off the success of my one-and-done dress order (following the above method) for my first Broadway opening night, and feeling confident in my size guesstimates, I ordered Just One Dress In Just One Size. Three and one half weeks from the big day. For the Tony Awards, for crying out loud.

The dress came while we were away for a weekend wedding. When I finally took it out of the box, the color was very, very good. So was the neckline, though it needed a major alteration. But the dress was wrong. The fabric was thick (good), but there was so much spandex in it that the dress was skin-tight (bad). Like so skin-tight you could see into my soul! I wanted it to fit like a slim column, a la 90s minimalism. Instead, it fit like a compression sock. I sent it back.
The Second Dress
I now had two weeks before the Tonys. I was on a budget. And, crucially, on what I knew would be a meaningful night, I refused to spend even a moment of the event thinking about sucking it in, which, like it or not, is what I think about while wearing body-con. Don’t blame me, blame the beauty industrial complex!
I wanted something chic and easy to wear (a foundational element of being chic, IMO). And, even in a time crunch, I refused to buy something I wouldn’t wear again—it was love or it was nothing! (P.S. I don’t rent for formal events; I have PTSD after a bad experience with Rent the Runway.)
Another day, another internet deep dive. That led me to here:

Different for me! Was it major, or just trying to be major? I liked the contrast of a cheeky high split with a skirt that would hopefully do a lot of wooshing? Like a perfume commercial? I ordered it for in-store pickup. But hours later, I got an email—the order had been canceled—out of stock. It wasn’t meant to be! Or the Universe was sensing my doubt. 12 days to go.
The Third Dress!
And then I found her. She was high risk! Final sale! But, not for nothing, also on sale, from a brand I’d purchased from in the past. I debated ordering a size up and then doing some emergency tailoring, but I decided I was being over-cautious. I ordered my usual size, and mentally lit a candle for the fashion gods to bless me with their fashion benevolence.

Third time’s the charm—it was love. Ticked all the boxes: good fabric, one great interesting detail, solid color, fitted-but-not-too, [a little] sexy-but-not-too. She would look chic with minimal jewelry, and I could think of a million other times I’d wear her. (Slip dresses, IMO, are especially great this way.) And, most importantly, I felt so good! In a formal setting, clothes are like armor, and feeling like myself, and EASY-BREEZY, with no pulling or tugging—it’s rule number one.

Okay okeeeee that’s the journey. I hope, the next time you shop online, you feel armed with some new helpful tips—or at least feel less angst about not getting it right on the first (or second!) go. AND, as a reward for making it to the end of my dress saga, here’s a few of me on the big day:

Okay, bye!
Costume Change is a styling newsletter (vs. a shopping newsletter). There’s no spon-con in the above recs/links/references. Thanks for reading, and reminder to keep those comments kind!
Okay thank you for taking us along on this journey. I was very invested the whole time even though I figured it worked out based on your gorgeous Tony's pics. This was an adventure and I was smiling the whole time.
Nina weanie woo! 🥹