The Spaniard

{Cardigan: Gap, Dress: thrifted}

It isn't often {or, let's be honest, ever} that people outright ask me if I'm of Spanish decent without hearing my last name. No, no, my skin is much too pale for that - we're talking borderline transparent here. I can't even speak the language anymore. Nor do I have an accent in any way, shape, or form. In fact, I have about as much of an accent as Donald Trump has a full head of hair.

So, since I'm not often reminded of the vibrant heritage my father has gifted me, it also isn't often that I feel very Spanish.

Except when I'm wearing this dress. This dress makes me feel very Spanish. This dress makes me want to break out into some spontaneous Flamenco while stuffing my face with paella and over-enthusiastically yelling something incomprehensible at someone across the room {typically I am only ever doing the latter}. Was that scenario stereotypical enough to get my point across? What I'm trying to say is that this dress makes me feel like my father's daughter, and for that, I am very happy and proud.