PeaceBang just spent a few happy moments spinning around the Dress Shop at the Nordstrom’s web site and she thinks that the dresses this year are totally creative, beautiful, fabulous and perfect for 22- year olds with great bodies who live a constant round of cocktail parties and engagement parties and just generally showing up in swanky places looking adorable in frocks with big bows on the front, holding a martini and a clutch bag and chatting up a hunky stockbroker.
That, however, is not our lives, mon sweet potatoes, so PeaceBang just has a few she’d like to highlight as Possibly Cute Dresses and then some that she’s confused about:
This is just comfortable, cute and fun.
The old Diane Von Furstenburg wrap is back with a vengeance, and don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. The jersey fabric is amazingly forgiving and this cut looks good on a surprising number of figure types.
(The print makes my brain hurt, but the cut is in fashion and is great on slim gals for the summer)
Then, just to share with you her perplexity, PeaceBang would like to ask of these models in these dresses, “WHERE’S YA PANTS?”
Cute summer dress, but WHERE’s YA PANTS?
I LOVE this frock, but unless you’re in a very casual setting, say, vacationing on the Isle of Capri, WHERE’S YA PANTS?
And finally, 
… not only WHERE’s YA PANTS, but WHERE’S YA SHIRT? Are we running around in peignoirs nowadays, girls? Heavens!!
Try taking teen daughters shopping for age-appropriate dresses for a funeral. THAT was fun.
Those last few dresses must be for the Paris Hilton/South Beach crowd.
Not the minister.
I’m 22, but that’s the only way I resemble the people who could wear those dresses. As a future pastor, I would get no use out of those dresses. They are nice, though (well, except for that last one).
I was just using the catch phrase “Where’s ya pants?” at the Folk Life Festival and making my hunka husband crack up. It got to the point where he would see someone with a super-short dress and say it. The question that baffles me – it’s the same thing I want to ask the woman at the reception desk with the super-scooped-up cleavage: “How do you wear that and concentrate on anything besides a) people staring at your boobs/butt or b) the effect of any sudden movement, stiff breeze, or the need to reach for something?” In short, Where’s ya brain?