I remember where I was standing when I saw it. I was in line at my favorite coffee shop in Williamsburg mindlessly scrolling Instagram and trying to ignore work emails from my editor reminding me that I was going to be late for a deadline when suddenly: there it was. On my feed.
THE Caserta dress from Reformation casually waiting to be clicked on like it didn’t just completely derail my entire life up until this point. I nearly spilled my oat milk latte all over the unsuspecting person in front of me. “That. Is.
It,” I muttered under my breath to no one in particular. “I’m buying that dress.” What I didn’t realize at the time was that I was probably one of approximately 15,000 people saying the same thing. Ok, so admittedly I’ve been covering fashion long enough to know when something is going to be the next big thing that’ll strike that perfect balance of being trendy enough that everyone wants one but exclusive enough that it feels like yours alone.
But even I didn’t foresee the hysteria that would ensue upon clicking that button.
Within 48 hours of its release the Caserta—Reformation’s slip dress with the expertly woven cowl neck, thin spaghetti straps, and barely-there slit up the side that gives you impossibly long legs—sold out. Then people started piling onto the waitlist. First it was hundreds.
Then thousands. Last time I checked there were about 15k people waiting for it and it’s only climbing. To put that in perspective, that’s how many people live in Williamsburg.
And this waitlist has them all. We could live in our own neighborhood. Call it Williamsburg 2.0.
We’d have movie nights and parking problems and judge everyone who moved there after 2010. I’m talking about the waitlist for this dress, y’all. So now that we’re all adequately obsessed, the question remains: what is it about this specific dress?
Is it worth joining that waitlist that Reformations lovingly refers to as “inventory alerts?” Well, I have spent significant time thinking and scrolling about this question, so goddamnit, I’m going to tell you. The short answer: Yes. Yes, it’s worth it.
And no, there is not anything as magical as that coming. It’s just a really great dress. The kind of great where everyone looks in your direction when you walk into a room wearing it and they don’t realize what it is about you, they just think you look good.
Don’t believe me? Here’s the proof. Behold: the type of woman who can wear the Caserta dress and still look cool.
That is Elena Siagrims, one of the reigning queens of cool, rocking that Cas at Le Vent Repas rooftop in Paris. When I first met Elena, she was kind enough to let me pick her brain about everything from how to live in France on a journalist salary to where to find the best vintage Chanel. (Pro-tip: flea markets. Always go to flea markets.) We exchanged numbers with the vague promise of drinks someday, and thenlife happened.
In the meantime, Elena stayed solidly cooler than me, including this perfect showcase of how to rock the Cas. Then there’s me. Yes, it actually looks like I’m wearing the same dress.
Newsflash: it’s the same dress. Sure, I bought it in a different color (I can’t help it, I have seasonal depression and need something bright to get me through these drizzly spring days), but we are talking about a dress that flatters everyone. Tall people, short people, big boobs, small boobs, it doesn’t discriminate.
And please note how I opted for a similarly chill shoe rather than try and compete with that dress. When you have the Cas on, you already look like you’re wearing heels and an evening jacket. Lean into it.
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But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. My beauties living in waitlist limbo, wondering how to get your Cas-filled fashion fix until the fates deem you worthy of purchasing your own.
I did some digging. Here’s what I found: Pretty great, right? Not quite the Caseta, sure, but some worthy alternatives while you wait.
Now. Repeat after me: IT’S NOT THE DRESS, IT’S THE LADY. Hopefully, when your number comes up you’ve tried a few of these on in the meantime and you’re ready to commit to what will work best for you.
And when you do finally decide, here are some of my favorite ways to wear the mythical Cas. For day: I’ve been wearing mine with a lightly oversized blazer (currently loving this vintage ‘80s men’s Armani jacket I picked up from a cute vintage shop in the East Village), minimalist gold jewelry, and either a pair of white sneakers or those chunky fisherman sandals everyone is loving right now. Add a pop of color with your bag or a bold accessory like a statement pair of sunglasses or, like me, the vintage men’s watch my grandpa left me when he knew he couldn’t actually wear it himself but it still looks too cool not to wear every chance I get.
Night and day, I think the Cas looks best with minimal fuss. Throw on a sexy strappy heel, maybe a thin necklace or pair of earrings, and you’re done. Dresses this nice are a crime to belt or overload with bracelets.
Let it shine. For when it’s not seventy degrees and sunny (because surely we’ve all learned our lesson by now and won’t be rocking ONLY this dress for the next three months): throw it over a thin turtleneck for a cool-girl 90’s vibes or layer a cozy sweater on top with the dress peeking out underneath. It’s gotten so cold out this spring that I’ve even worn mine over a light sweater and leggings for weekend grocery runs and it worked. miracles.
Ok, now let’s see this bad boy in action at my high school reunion. Bet you can’t guess who asked me if I “used to model.” I walked into the crowd wearing my dress with basic gold hoops and my black strappy sandals. And you know what happened?
THREE DIFFERENT PEOPLE ASKED ME IF I WAS STILL MODELING. Listen. I’ve never modeled.
Not even once. The closest I’ve come to the industry is being asked to “stand pretty for a few hours” during my internship at another fashion magazine when one of their models didn’t show up for a shoot. When I told her that story my former boss literally gasped and said, “Bri, you worked with MODELS? !” News flash: junior designers kinda “stand pretty” all day at fashion magazines because we’re holding up clothes.
It’s not the same. But do you know what’ll make people think you fool around with Karl Lagerfeld and Cara Delevingne on the weekends? THIS DRESS.
So yeah. Worth getting on that waitlist.
Or if you’reanything like me and can’t quite commit to spending three months wanting something you already will love as it sits in someone else’s closet, pick up one of my alternatives.
Or do what I did leading up to finally getting my (extremely unethical) Cas: take a screenshot of the damn dress and march into your local seamstress to see if they can recreate it for you. Mine couldn’t. “Ma’am, I can alter clothes. I cannot create couture based off of Pinterest photos,” she said.
Pretty sure that’s verbatim. Still reached for mine hundreds of times while waiting for “Mine” to arrive. Here’s hoping you have better luck.
Or don’t get it at all. Stop living for clothes, amirite? You do you, boo.
I’m just telling y’all what I know will make you the most flattering versions of yourselves. K?<|end_of_document|>
