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Granted, you don't get out much, but in the past month you've seen precisely two women in Maxi-dresses (in person, mind you; they've been cluttering the media for quite some time now), and you've already seen two too many.

One only has to check out that maxed-out plucky crew of Sex and the City fame to see why this look should be avoided at all costs. Besides the fact that Cynthia Nixon, left, has finally revealed her true identity: she's Annie--you know, the one with saucer eyes and dog named Sandy--all grown up and hagged out from sexually pleasuring Daddy Warbucks (sort of against her will; she coulda stopped, but then she'd have to forgo the Manolo Blahniks...) and now abandoning her sexuality, mid-life, so that she may join the Betty Friedan types in the fight to reclaim the rights she so frivolously urged her and her sisters to dump for shallow materialism. 

You think they look stupid. Simply because they demonstrate, once again, that the fashion creating and fashion consuming public have little to no imagination. The '70s hippie-ish looks have been rearing their awfully ugly heads in the past few years, and the only difference between these godawful frocks that make even the scrawniest of us look like we're about ready to give birth and their dowdy forebears is that these newfangled halfway infantilizing/halfway baggy, bedraggled, blowsy, and dowdy housecoats are, rather than being made with gauzy cotton, now have a poly-blend stretch that gives them a creepy, filmy quality. 


However, the real issue with reviving these looks, you think, is that, in general, they're missing one crucial element: the drugs. And you're talkin' the original drugs. Now any yuppie with a closet and a grow lamp can turn out primo weed and dispense it at top dollar to his cohorts in accounting. Those don't count. They can practically be claimed as tax write-offs...and probably are in states where it's legal.

You're completely serious! C'mon! People need to work with you on this one. Back then, the folks were dressed that way because they were demonstrating their allegiance to the counter-culture movement. Billowy sleeves and empire bodices sure wouldn't've worked in the office with a pack of squares!


Paisley. Tie-dye. Billowy, floor-length halter gowns that said, I am free to express myself in the face of an oppressive culture! abounded. Now it's just I am free to wear this funky costume today, and tomorrow I'm going to go for the Little Asian Schoolgirl look, and Zippee! Won't I look hot? Is this not a riot?

Seriously. The drugs--or the equivalent of the drugs--should re-enter the equation. 

You realize, though, that making arguments of these kinds are simply going to label you as the immovable curmudgeon you undoubtedly are. There is, however, a very practical reason why this stupid look should stay on the pages of W , and off the streets...


This is Houston. It's fucking hot. And humid. Idiots can squawk all they want about the breeziness and freedom of movement they have with their new Maxis, but the truth of the matter is that it's just a whole lot more of something nobody needs in this city: extra fabric to cart around on their sweaty bods. 


And now that the fabrics are predominantly natural fibers combined with synthetic blends, that breathability of cotton and linen is much more limited than it was way back when. Not as practical or cool than their bearers assume it will be. 

That is, indeed, Tommy Smothers with your mother in June of 1972, Chicago, Illinois.  His look might be saying everything you need to know about fashion, the era itself, obligatory fundraisers, drugs and/or alcohol, and your general upbringing.


But really, the Earth Mother look never was your style, and it reminds you, rather uncomfortably, of your '70's upbringing. You distinctly remember a moment when a rather free-thinking woman milling about a Co-op Farmers' Market outside of Chicago, Illinois, turned herself just enough to the sunlight to display more an ample silhouette view of her frighteningly droopy breasts. Wouldn't it be a lot cooler--both physically and conceptually--if these new faux-hippies simply stuck out the summer heat in nice, tailored mini-skirts with far less cumbersome fabric to chafe their delicate hides? Unless they really, truly, want to look like Jo Ann Worley from Laugh-In?