The slip-onstyle eliminates pinchy zippers or buttons, and the cotton-blend fabr

Tag : Fabric Bleach
Maxi dress: Retro bohemian style comfy and pretty Source: AP Posted: 07/28/08 4:07PM Filed Under: Fashion
Beautiful, gorgeous and fabulous are words no one has ever used todescribe my usual weekend outfit, which consists of ableach-stained tank top and shorts. But those were some of thecomments I got wearing a maxi dress on a recent Saturday.
That's right, a maxi dress, gown of choice for the likes of StevieNicks and Queen Guinevere. The $34.50 dress from Old Navy, with capsleeves, an empire waistline and a swirly floral print of navy blueon white, was much more feminine than my typical attire and seemeda tad too festive to wear to run errands. I longed for a tea partyinvitation, or a '70s band to sing for.
But the longer I wore the dress, the more normal it seemed. Andeven though temperatures were in the 90s, I didn't feel hot. Thedress is flatteringly silhouetted without being tight. The flowingskirt creates a breeze as it swings around your legs. The slip-onstyle eliminates pinchy zippers or buttons, and the cotton-blendfabric is light and comfortable. My usual Lycra top andtight-waisted shorts would have felt much stickier in the heat.
The day started with a comment from my fashion-blind husband, whocan always be counted on to crash my Cinderella fantasies. As hebeheld me at 8 a.m., resplendent in my maxi dress, he said,"New nightgown?"
Ignoring the illogic of donning a new nightgown first thing in themorning, I informed him that I was doing a trend test for my officeby wearing a maxi dress. He regarded me with pity, as if I haddrawn the short straw in an office pool to clean the coffeepot."Looks like a housedress," he said.
Just for that, I made him take my picture. In the course of thephoto session on our residential Brooklyn street, a neighborpronounced the dress "beautiful." I told her about thetrend test and asked if she would wear one. She said she was nottall enough at 5 feet. My height was in fact why I got nominatedfor the test-run. At nearly 5 foot 10, I wouldn't trip on the hem.
Next I headed to breakfast at a diner on Staten Island with acouple of old friends, who made up for my husband's lack ofenthusiasm. "Fabulous!" one gushed. "Gorgeous!"declared the other.
But would they wear it? "For sure," said the 5-foot-6suburban mother of three who works as a style editor. The other, anolder woman, demurred, saying she found the neckline problematic. Isuddenly felt a draft and tugged the round neckline up a few incheswhile finishing my eggs and coffee.
From there I took the ferry across New York Harbor to LowerManhattan, scanning the boat and connecting subway for other maxidresses. Alas, I was a lonely fashionista. Amid hundreds, only afew had hems as long as mine: Two South Asian women in saris and aplus-size tourist in an unfortunate tight pink sundress down to herankles.
I bought some snacks and toys to send to my 10-year-old son atsleep-away camp, then headed to a post office near Penn Station,where I spotted an elegant woman in a strapless black floor-lengthsummer dress chatting on a cell phone, matching luggage by herside.
Back in my neighborhood, though, I was the only begowned shopper atKey Food as I picked up some fruit and cheese. Home again, I walkedthe dog, changed cat litter and did laundry. The dress wassurprisingly comfy for chores, bending and carrying. Perhaps myhusband's "housedress" label wasn't wrong.
My teenage son breezed in to shower en route to a party. He noticedthe dress and said, "Good for the beach."
I imagined the skirt dragging through the sand and shook my head.
He took another stab. "Looks like something your sister wouldwear."
My sister is a yoga teacher. "What do you mean?" I said.
"Uh, Buddhist?" he said. "Naturistic?" I shookmy head again and he headed into the bathroom.
Then I heard the ding-ding of a bell rung by an old-fashionedknife-grinder, whose truck ambles down our block every few months.I grabbed a half-dozen knives and flagged him down. Bob the KnifeGrinder had no comment on my dress, but told me the dishwasher wasruining my cutlery.
As Bob drove off, a neighbor exclaimed, "I've never seenthat!"
"Really?" I replied, thinking she was referring to therare sighting of a maxi dress.
"Yeah, that knife-grinder guy. Does he come aroundoften?"
We chatted about Bob and I realized that what started out feelinglike an overly feminine, attention-getting gown had become acompletely unremarkable outfit.
On the other hand, context is everything. At a backyard summerwedding or upscale cafe, I would have felt appropriately dressedup. The genius of this particular dress is that it's comfy enoughto run errands in on a hot day, and pretty enough for a party.