Is that title too provocative? I’m wearing a Nasty Gal dress, and I’m a girl who likes their stuff, so I guess that makes me a Nasty girl? And the wall is pink. All sounds pretty straight forward to me! Let’s move on. This dress lacks hanger appeal. Or, otherwise put, when you see it hanging, it looks like nothing you’d ever want to wear, unless you were feeling particularly bad about yourself, were following through on a dare, or you’re Tilda Swinton. Or, if you’re like me, you love a misfit and a little risk-taking. I looked past the dress’s frumpy exterior and saw the neoprene-y potential that lay beneath. Plus, there’s almost nothing that a belt can’t fix. I tried it on and fell in love with the bell skirt, streamlined seams, and structured body. When I wear this dress I feel at once terrifically “fashion” and decidedly smarter. I won’t begin to try and parse out why. I’ll leave the psycho-analytics to my beleaguered therapist and just rejoice in another stellar addition to my sartorial family.