I finished it with the drivers door wide open, a warm breeze blowing through the car.  Not enough to tussle my navy sundress, yet it managed to blow the few wisps free of my pony tail and tickle my face.  I didn't want to go inside the house, afraid it would bring delays and put off finishing the book 'til bed.  So instead, when my mom pulled up into the drive, she discovered me still in my car with my head bowed in a book. She just laughed, said "dinner's ready" and walked inside. As I read the last line and folded away The Secret Lives of Dresses, I realized how aware I had been of all the details while reading it.  Sometimes a great book makes you lost to your own world, unaware of strangers watching your face that's overcome with pain or joy or worry. And other times, it enchants you in such a way that you're aware of the fabric of your dress, the soft cotton touching your knee, the breeze moving your hair, the smell of over-blossomed flowers in the garden and the grass in the next neighborhood being cut.  Sometimes a book wakes you up, and makes you pick out a dress you've owned three months and never worn.  I love how a book can affect and change you, even a small piece of delightful fiction. If you're looking for a light-hearted read this summer, please feel free to borrow my copy of The Secret Lives of Dresses. If you love vintage and the craft and power of a story, if you believe that people and even objects always have more to tell than you can read, than you'll enjoy this book. It's a delightful tale about growing up. It's refreshing from time to time to read a tale that doesn't strive to be boundary-pushing, dark or thrilling.  Instead, there's hurt, but there's also hope.  Your heart wont race you through the pages, but instead you'll keep turning the pages with a subtle little smile.