Ode to Maxi Dress

In the Northeast United States, Summer has a way of creeping up on you.  The year begins frigid. We are pelted with ice and snow. If we are lucky, some bone-chilling winds kick in, too. They don’t call it a Nor’easter for nothing.

Spring is timid, dipping its toe in sun-soaked days… occasionally.  Otherwise rainy and quite cool. Still jacket weather. Not quite time for open-toed shoes. Not yet.

Then one day it hits you faster than a bus on Queens Boulevard. And you feel funny carrying a black leather bag or wearing anything jewel-toned. It must be Summer in New York.

I used to dread the wardrobe choices this time of year.  Most fashionable shorts are tiny, and made for girls to whom cellulite is not yet in their vocabulary.  Anything longer has you looking like an overly-zealous scout leader fixed to lead her troop on a camping expedition.  And the pleats! Don’t get me started on those.

When maxi dresses first debuted I thought that they would only suit the hipless, wiry types. Curves would ruin the lines and have a stuffed-sausage effect. Turns out, I was wrong. By far, maxi dresses are some of the most flattering garments I own. If you haven’t purchased one, you must. Not matter your body type, there is a silhouette for you.  The fabric is so light and airy, cottony. Feminine. Gone are the days of forcing myself into a pair of jeans on the warmest of days. (“Swamp butt,” be gone.)

Accessorize the hell out of them, or don’t. Maxi dress doesn’t care either way. Thank you, maxi dress. I do believe you’ve saved summer.

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