I had sworn off all scratchy, synthetic materials. I had declared I would stop buying high street anything unless it was (nearly) 100% cotton, linen or silk. Yep, I said that — and then I found this lemon print dress in H&M. For months, I had been searching high and low for a floaty, romantic dress to wear for our Marrakech trip. And it was found in lemons — material-snobbery be damned.

What actually this post should be called is “Eire Spends 5 Months Looking for a Bloody Dress and Finds SQUAT.” Yep, this post is actually a tragic tale of how I discovered how bloody difficult finding a dress is. One that is quality, feminine, not too revealing, modern, and at a not-ridiculous price point. With summer on the imminent horizon, I thought this quest would have been less, well, arduous, more ASOS-slam-dunk. What I ended up confronting was something far more frustrating.

Here’s how it all began.

If you’ve has the misfortune of reading all my previous fashion posts, you’ll be sick of hearing me whine about my tomboyish style. Which trust me, I secretly do love.

But — and I’m curious if any of you do this too — sometimes, I build up a vision in my head. A vision of what I want to look like for a specific event, or trip. Usually, it involves me looking simply fabulous, but more often than not, a certain outfit takes shape in my head, and I must have it brought to life or I will die.

For our Marrakech trip, this vision was me in a beautiful, romantic summer maxi or midi dress, boho-style, wafting around my silhouette as Stag and I traversed the hot Marrakech streets. I just wanted to feel beautiful: not cool, not street-style, not ‘Scandi chic’ or whatever else I normally cling to. But beautiful.

Stag — being Unofficial Husband Of The Year — comforted me many times. “You look beautiful, always.” And, more than once as I dragged him out to Oxford Street on a Saturday: “You really don’t need a dress to be beautiful.” I think that last one was more to get me to give up The Quest.

You can tell where this is going…

5 months I looked. FIVE! Okay, I’ll admit I did, you know, see people and do hobbies and work and things during those five months. But still. Five months of finding nothing but over-priced polyester garbage, all geared towards fast-fashion buys to be thrown away once summer fades. And, of course, anything I remotely liked cost £300+ — something I just can’t afford on a blogger’s (nonexistent) salary.

Two days before we left for Marrakech — when I had at last given up all hope, concluding that I’d just wear one outfit for the duration of our trip — I stepped into H&M. Not to look for a dress, actually, but because the bus was taking ages and I was bored. I have mostly reigned in my high-street shopping habit in favour of more lasting, quality pieces, so I wasn’t planning on buying anything really.

And there it was.

Floaty, romantic and soft, reminiscent of a 1950’s style icon. But with lemons. A few weeks prior, I had seen the forever-feminine Julia Engel of Gal Meets Glam wear a lemon print dress, and surprising myself, I didn’t hate it. I normally shun all kitschy and summery prints in favour of plain classics. But something about that lemon print dress just looked — beautiful.

And here was my own version of it. I tried it on and — as I knew it would — it fit, like so many dresses before had not. Although it felt like my Dress Quest had come to an end, I left the shop dismayed by the £40 price tag and the nearly 100% scratchy, synthetic material.

Maybe I’m just too picky when it comes to clothing — like the grandpa lamenting about the days when a house only cost $1. But I genuinely feel as though clothing prices are coming up in line with quality going down.

That’s a rant for another time and another day. For now, enjoy these Alice-in-Wonderland-esque pictures of me frolicking around Hotel Capaldi in a lemon print dress. One that filled my vision and made me feel that elusive feeling: beautiful.