Forty Years Married, Five Days Round The East Cape, And The Dress With The Pockets

For our fortieth, Graeme wanted to see the sun come up at the lighthouse. Seven hundred and something steps, a rail on one side, a phone I would need at the top, and no handbag. This is what I packed, and why.

I am 64, and in November Graeme and I had been married forty years. He did not want a party. He wanted to drive round the East Cape, the way we did the year Anna was born, and stand at the lighthouse for the first sun in the country. So we did.

Graeme took this about halfway up the lighthouse steps. One hand on the rail, the other in the pocket with the phone in it. He says I was puffing. I was not.

I packed the night before, which is not like me. One small bag each, Graeme's rule, because the car is small and the roads are long. And for the first time in my life I packed around pockets. Not shoes, not a cardigan for every weather. Pockets.

The reason is a handbag. On every trip we have ever taken, I have carried a handbag that slides off my shoulder at exactly the wrong moment. On a wharf. On a ferry ramp. On a set of steps with a rail I want to hold. Forty years of it. This time I wanted both hands, and somewhere for the phone, the glasses and the motel key that was not a bag.

A few weeks before, I had found a page at The Mount Coastal Boutique called Dresses With Pockets. Twelve dresses, and every one of them has real pockets on both sides. I wrote and asked, because I always ask. A woman called Susan wrote back the same day and said yes, real ones, in the side seams. I already owned two from that page. I bought the Skyler in ocean blue for the trip.

Day one, Tolaga Bay

We stopped at the long wharf at Tolaga Bay. It goes out over the water for what feels like forever, and the wind comes straight off the sea. Hat in one hand, the other on the rail when the boards got gappy, phone in my pocket. Graeme wanted a photo of me at the end. I took it out, handed it to him and put my hand straight back in the pocket where the hat could not get at it.

Day two, the motel at Hicks Bay

A motel key on a big plastic tag, my reading glasses, a lip balm and the phone. All four in the two pockets of one dress, walking down to look at the bay before tea. I did not carry a thing. Graeme noticed. He said, where is your bag? I said, I am wearing it.

Day three, the lighthouse steps

We left the motel in the dark. The road out to the lighthouse is gravel and it goes on, and then there are the steps. Seven hundred and something. Graeme counted, and we disagree about the number.

This was the reason I had packed the way I did. A rail on one side that I wanted to hold the whole way, and a phone I needed at the top for the photo of the sun. On every other holiday that phone would have been in a bag banging against my hip, or in Graeme's pocket, which means in Graeme's pocket when I want it. This time it was in mine, upright, and I did not think about it once until the sky went orange.

At the top there were eleven of us, all in jackets, all with our phones out. I had my cardigan tied round my shoulders and my hands back in my pockets, and I stood there a while. Forty years. The sun came up out of the sea, and I took the photo with my own phone, out of my own pocket.

Day four, Te Araroa

An ice cream, a walk along the beach, and the dress went over my togs because it is loose enough to. The pockets held the car keys and my sunglasses while Graeme had a paddle. When I sat down on the sand the glasses stayed where they were.

Day five, home

Five days, one dress worn on three of them, and I never once went looking for a bag. Back home in Otumoetai I unpacked it, and it went in the machine with everything else.

Side by side, honestly

Forty years of trips	This one
A handbag sliding off my shoulder on every wharf	Both hands free, the phone in a pocket
The phone in Graeme's pocket when I wanted it	The phone in mine, upright
A bag to guard on the beach	Keys and sunglasses in the side seam
Pockets that held a tissue and nothing else	Real pockets, both sides, on every dress on the page
A dress for every day of the trip	One dress, three days, and I would do it again

The dresses, and where I would start

The Skyler is the one that came round the Cape. A soft V neck with a little lace along it, sleeves to just above the elbow with lace at the cuff, and a loose skirt that finishes below the knee. The print is a scatter of small spots that reads much softer than it sounds. It comes in five colours, scarlet red, ocean blue, blush pink, lavender and sandy beige, and every one feels like a different dress. Mine is the ocean blue, which is the colour of the sea at Tolaga Bay on a good day. Medium to 3XL, $83.95.

All five Skyler colours side by side. The pink is brighter than it sounds, the lavender is the quiet one.

The Kwani is the everyday one, in 100% cotton that breathes on a muggy afternoon, in beige, black, orange and green. S to 5XL, $96.95.

The Charmaine goes all the way to a 24, in orange, blue or green. $101.95.

The Sunniva is the easy one at $73.95, in six colours including a yellow I keep looking at.

There are eight more on the page, in stripes, florals and plain colours, and every one has the pockets.

About the price

The twelve run from $73.95 to $111.95 at the moment. Delivery is free with NZ Post, and if you take two dresses the stack discount comes off in the cart, 15% for two and up to 30% when you take more.

The honest bit

Delivery is usually seven to ten working days with NZ Post tracking, so if you have a trip coming up, give it time. The sizes are not the same on every dress. The Kwani and the Charmaine go up to a 24, and the Skyler starts at a medium, so check the size before you order. If it is wrong, you have thirty days to change your mind, and if you write before it is sent, Susan will swap the size or the colour, no fuss.

What I would tell you if we were friends

Pack around the pockets. Then leave the handbag at home and see how long it takes you to miss it. I am still waiting.

Every one of the twelve has them. Start with a colour you have not worn in years. Graeme says the next trip is the West Coast. I have already chosen the dress.

— Wendy