Every time I receive an invitation, a little switch in my brain ticks over and I am desperate for a new outfit to wear to that event. There might be things in my wardrobe that haven’t seen the light of day, dresses with tags on and tops that deserve a night on the town, but still the notion to buy something new takes over. I want that feeling of trying something on and imagining the accessories to go with it. Of standing in the change rooms of a store believing that this outfit will make me the belle of the ball. Hearing the shop assistant tell you how amazing you look, and would you like some shoes or a jacket to try on with that?

I realise that this switch in my brain should in theory be operated by me. That I should be able to turn it on and off as I please and understand the difference between needing a new outfit and wanting one. I just prefer to ignore the little voices saying ‘You don’t need it!’, and embrace the ones telling me ‘oooh, pretty dress’ or ‘wow, knockout shoes!’

The event I am agonising over at the moment is Melbourne Spring Fashion Week. I am attending a number of events this week, both as a ticket holding fashion lover and as a uniform wearing volunteer. It’s because of the uniform wearing events that I feel the need to put extra effort into the ones I am attending as a paying customer. The big event of the week for me? Miss Greens Garden Party on Sunday, at the Willows in St Kilda. I contemplated the outfits in my wardrobe but nothing seemed to quite make the cut. A garden party says pastels and flowing fabrics – and though I have things that might make the grade on one or the other – nothing I own seems fitting for the event.

And so, girlfriend in tow, I hit the shops. I tried on dress after dress, nothing fitting the image I had in my mind of the perfect garden party dress – until there it was.

Lilac. Flowing. Perfect.

My friend took mobile phone pictures – I turned this way and that in the store mirrors. My brain turned over the accessories – champagne in colour – that would work best with this shade of purple. I imagined what the other girls at the party would be wearing – was this my Cinderella frock? The dress made the shortlist and I set about justifying my want over need for the rest of the weekend.

While contemplating my dilemma, I did recall an Arthur Galan pale pink silk dress I had bought some time ago that still had its tags on and probably deserved to be bought out at least once. I rescued the dress from storage at mum and dads, and started the accessories thought pattern – what shoes, which bag, whose coat?

I seemed to have won the need vs. want debate – the Arthur Galan dress emerged victorious. I left mum and dads happy with my decision and was halfway home before I realised my pink silk number was still hanging on the door frame 30km away. A sign of forgetfulness? Or a sign that the little lilac number is destined to be mine?

You’ll just have to wait til Sunday to see.