So I have this dress that’s basically become my accidental conversation starter, and honestly, I’m still processing how a random £35 purchase from M&S has turned into the most complimented piece in my wardrobe. Like, this wasn’t supposed to happen – it was supposed to be one of those impulse buys that hangs in my closet with the tags on until I eventually donate it, feeling guilty about the wasted money.
But here we are, three months later, and I’ve lost count of how many times someone’s asked if it’s Reformation. Which is… flattering? Confusing? A little bit hilarious? All of the above, really.
Let me back up. A few months ago, I was having one of those days where everything went wrong – missed my alarm, spilled coffee on my favorite shirt, client meeting ran long, you know the drill. Had plans to meet friends for drinks in Southeast Portland, and I literally had about ten minutes to get home, change, and look like a functioning human being instead of someone who’d been wrestling with logo concepts all day.
I grabbed the first clean dress I could find, which happened to be this black midi with tiny floral print that I’d bought during a lunch break shopping trip to M&S. It’s Nobody’s Child – you know, that sustainable-ish brand that has the concession there? I’d walked past it a million times but never really paid attention until this particular dress caught my eye. Something about the sleeves, these subtle little puff situations that weren’t too precious but still feminine.
Anyway, I throw it on, add some jewelry, and rush out the door still putting on mascara in the Uber (don’t judge me, we’ve all been there). Get to the bar, order a drink, and within like twenty minutes, this woman comes up to me and goes, “I love your dress! Is that the Reformation one I keep seeing on Instagram?”
I nearly spit out my wine. “Oh, no – it’s Nobody’s Child, actually. From M&S.” She looked genuinely shocked, which made me feel weird about it initially. Like, was I supposed to be embarrassed that it wasn’t actually expensive? But then she kept gushing about how good it looked, how perfect the fit was, and I started thinking… maybe this little £35 dress is onto something.
That was just the beginning, though. Since then, it’s happened four more times. Four! Different occasions, different people, same question. “Is that Reformation?” It’s gotten to the point where my friends joke about it. Sarah calls it my “fancy dress,” even though she was literally there when I told her it cost less than our usual brunch bill.
I mean, I get why people make the connection. Nobody’s Child has clearly studied the Reformation playbook pretty carefully. Both brands do that vintage-inspired-but-modern thing, both lean heavy into sustainability messaging, both specialize in dresses that photograph well for Instagram. The silhouettes are similar – fitted bodices, interesting sleeves, midi lengths that hit at that perfect spot.
But here’s the thing that really gets me: the price difference is insane. Like, we’re talking £35 versus £180-plus for something remarkably similar. I know because I went down a rabbit hole comparing them after the third time someone asked about Reformation. Spent an embarrassing amount of time on both websites, analyzing seam details and fabric compositions like I was writing a dissertation.
The Nobody’s Child dress – it’s called the Florence Midi, if you’re taking notes – is made from this viscose blend that I was initially skeptical about. Viscose usually means “will look terrible after one wash” in my experience. But whatever they’ve done with this particular fabric, it’s held up incredibly well. I’ve worn it to work meetings with a blazer, weekend farmers market runs with sneakers, dinner dates with heels. Each time it comes out of the wash looking exactly the same.
And can we talk about the fit for a second? Because this is where a lot of cheaper brands fall down – they design for one very specific body type and everyone else just has to make do. But this dress works on me (size 8, basically no chest, all the curves in my hips), and it also works on my friend Emma (size 12, completely different proportions). The shirring in the back and the way they’ve cut the bodice makes it weirdly forgiving.
I got curious about whether this was a fluke or if Nobody’s Child consistently hits above their price point, so I… may have ordered a few more pieces. For research purposes, obviously. The linen shirt dress I got is genuinely beautiful – reminds me of stuff I’ve coveted from more expensive brands but never wanted to spend the money on. There’s this terracotta one that’s become my weekend uniform, and a green wrap style that I’m wearing to my cousin’s wedding next month.
None of them cost more than £45. My usual clothing budget gets me like two pieces from Zara, but suddenly I have this little collection of dresses that look way more expensive than they are. It’s trippy.
The sustainability angle is interesting too. Obviously Reformation has built their whole brand around being eco-friendly – they’re super transparent about their environmental impact, use deadstock fabrics, all that good stuff. Nobody’s Child is trying to play in that space too, but at a much lower price point. They claim 90% of their collection uses sustainable materials, and they’re pretty upfront about not being perfect but trying to improve.
I don’t know enough about supply chains and fabric production to say definitively which approach is “better,” but I do think there’s something to be said for making sustainable fashion accessible to people who can’t drop $200 on a dress. Like, I care about environmental impact, but I also have student loans and rent and a very not-impressive graphic designer salary. If I can get something that’s made responsibly and looks great for under £40, that feels like a win?
The real test is going to be longevity, obviously. The most sustainable garment is the one you wear for years, regardless of what it cost originally. But so far, my little collection is holding up beautifully. No weird pulling, no color fading, no mysterious holes appearing after a few wears.
Last weekend I wore the black floral dress to a gallery opening (Portland, you know how it is – everyone’s always opening some kind of art thing), and this girl came up to me and said, “That dress is gorgeous, where’s it from?” When I told her Nobody’s Child, she was like, “Wait, the M&S brand? Seriously?” Then she immediately pulled out her phone to look them up.
And that’s when it hit me – I’m not embarrassed about the price anymore. If anything, I’m kind of proud of it. There’s something satisfying about finding really good design at an accessible price point. It feels like discovering a secret, you know?
I think what Nobody’s Child has figured out is that most people don’t actually care about labels – they care about looking good and feeling confident in their clothes. If you can nail the fit, choose flattering silhouettes, and pay attention to details like how sleeves sit or where a waistline hits, you can create something that competes with much more expensive pieces.
Plus, let’s be honest – half the time when people compliment an outfit, they’re not actually reading labels or calculating how much you spent. They’re responding to the overall vibe, the way something fits, how it makes you look. My £35 dress makes me feel put-together and feminine without trying too hard, which is pretty much all I want from any piece of clothing, regardless of price.
The other day, Emma borrowed the green wrap dress for a date and texted me afterward: “Got three compliments on this dress and I felt amazing in it. What’s the brand again?” When I reminded her it was Nobody’s Child, she was like, “I need to start shopping there.”
Which honestly might be the best endorsement possible – not just looking good, but feeling good in something. And if that something happens to cost less than dinner for two, well, that’s just a bonus.
