The Jessica McClintock dress

She was that girl

If you lived in the Philadelphia-area in the mid-aughts, there was only one place to go during formal or prom season. That place was the King of Prussia Mall’s Jessica McClintock store.

In this hallowed place, one (one being your 2006 high school self) would scour the store for well over an hour, possibly elbowing a girl from a neighboring high school as you both reached for the same dress. Walking into the store, I can remember the colors gold and white, bright lighting and carpeted floor. It was like the gates of heaven opening.

I may have been in college when, while paying a visit to the KOP Mall after several years, I realized that the once popular and sought-after store was no longer there and was replaced. A sign of the times.

If you’re feeling particularly nostalgic, you can peruse the Jessica McClintok graveyard that is Poshmark

A Jessica McClintock dress was the ultimate statement of glamor and elegance; it was a status symbol. It was the Versace of middle-class America, a brand that anyone would clamor to wear for a school dance. Because the dresses’ designs were so recognizable, wearing one was akin to the Abercrombie & Fitch moose symbol stitched onto a hoodie. You wanted people to know that you were wearing a JM garment. And while not as a strong symbol of the early-to-mid-2000s as a Juicy velour tracksuit, they were held in a similar regard.

Simply put, you couldn’t tell us nothing while wearing a McClintok dress.

Dresses came in sage green satin with an embellishment at the décolletage. Taffeta in shades of blue. Light pink silk with a dainty black bow. Deep purple chiffon with rhinestones. Looking back, they had no business mixing brown with blue and pink so much.

And then there was this dress.

The polka-dotted, tulle underskirt-ed, formal dress completed with a black ribbon around the waist. A moment of silence.

Image found on Poshmark

As there was with any formal type dance, rituals were held. We would confirm amongst each other, sometimes via Facebook groups, that no one else purchased the same dress - God forbid. The evening of the dance, we would gather at a friend’s home, Canon digital cameras in hand for photos. Our hair would be sprayed and formed into stiff banana curls, or up-dos with two tendrils placed just so. We posed and giggled as our parents snapped away.

I can’t quite recall how the brand allure came to be. Perhaps it was seen on Laguna Beach? The high school seniors wore Jessica McClintok gowns to prom, which then trickled down to us lowly lowerclassmen? It had already been a well-established, prom dress label in the 80s and 90s. It’s very possible that by the time I reached high school, both myself and the brand experienced a re-birth.

My then-boyfriend Greg and I at my Soph dance. I felt beautiful in this dress. And Greg’s tie matched perfectly ❤️

It’s been well over a decade since the heyday of the brand, and it has since gone through a rebrand, now offering perfumes, eyewear, and home decor. But as I looked through old Facebook albums, the memories of the dress I wore to that Soph dance still linger. Despite what the style of dress may look like in 2022, we were stars of the red carpet in 2006.

The actual Jessica McClinktok, who passed away in 2021

So, if you still have a Jessica McClintok dress, I hope you preserve it as you would a wedding gown. Hold onto her tightly, and never let her go.

I leave you with an honorable mention.

While not a Jessica McClintok dress, it belongs to the sister brand Gunne Sax. This dress belongs in the Smithsonian.