Everyone Needs a Summer Sack, Stat

Don’t call it a muumuu. It’s a Summer Sack and you’re going to be begging for one come August

Normally, I don’t fall hard for fashion trends, but this summer’s proliferation of maxis influenced by low-key California Cool has produced a slew of beachy, shapeless dresses I’m ready to share my life with. Some might call them muumuus. I have chosen to lovingly refer to them as Summer Sacks.

I encountered my first Summer Sack at a Parisian store near my office. Prior attempts to shop at this store had left me depressed. Practically every skirt and dress they sell has a dropped waist — a silhouette that bunches around my thighs, making my torso look like an unrolled condom. My interest was piqued again though when I noticed the lithe mannequins in their window, all artfully draped in très chic, billowy outfits. I decided to stop in and try a few of these dresses on and lo and behold, THEY ALL LOOKED GREAT! I twirled around the dressing room, admiring the way the amorphous, non-existent tailoring skimmed my body like forgiving tablecloth. I stayed in there so long, the sales lady thought I had left and pulled back the curtain, catching me gazing longing at my sack-clad backside in the mirror.

I was still moony when the Summer Sacks were rung up. As I handed over my credit card for the hefty bill, I didn’t bat an eye. These were worthwhile investment pieces, I reasoned. Sensible, timeless sacks that would carry me through the entire summer. Hell, I could even layer them with a turtleneck if I wanted to sail their gauzy folds into the autumn sunset. Back on the sidewalk, I gave the window mannequins a conspiratorial wink and lurched towards the subway, my bags heavy with bag dresses.

Getting ready for work the next day, I stepped into my first Summer Sack — a spaghetti strap, striped number with a bow in the back. As I walked around the city, I could definitely sense people admiring it. A guy in a garbage truck catcalled me as I crossed the street and I didn’t even feel sexually harassed! I knew he couldn’t ogle any part of my body aside from my shoulders and arms. Bet you haven’t had to use your imagination in a long time, buddy!

As I continue to cycle through my collection of Summer Sacks, I’ve discovered perks too numerous to name. I will try my best to highlight the most important ones. First, an obvious benefit: optimal ventilation. When the weather heats up in New York, your butt cheeks begin sweating the moment they come in contact with plastic subway seats, park benches, stoops or any type of non-porous surface. Summer Sacks flap around in even the thinnest of breezes, aerating regions normally suffocated by tight shorts. Wearing them is akin to straddling a Dyson Airblade.

Secondly, Summer Sacks are the perfect BBQ or picnic attire. Typically, if I go in for seconds on food, my waistband morphs into a rock polisher, buffing my distended belly button into a semi-precious gemstone. But not when I’m wearing a sack. Sacks hide all manner of gluttony, allowing you to freely partake in a grilled meat bacchanalia. Best of all, if an impromptu potato sack race breaks out, you are totally prepared. Simply pull the hem over your feet, tie a knot and you’re ready to hop to it.

Summer Sacks are also the stuff of inspiration. I recently wore a tie-dyed one to work and my whole team immediately started tossing around ideas about who I was channeling. Jesus at Coachella. A grandma from Boca Raton. Jesus after he moves to San Francisco, buys a MacBook and starts taking courses at Apple’s Genius Bar. Grace from Netflix’s Grace and Frankie. Okay, there was a bit of a Venn Diagram effect happening, but the overall synergy my sack produced has yet to be topped.

Perhaps the most surprising benefit is the elegance Summer Sacks afford. Because of their length, you always have to lift your hem when walking up stairs. Each time I do it, I subconsciously channel a VIP exiting a limo. I step across the threshold of a deli and immediately stand a little straighter, bracing myself for the nonexistent paparazzi waiting for me inside. I’m usually not one to curtsy, but how else are you supposed to say goodbye when you’ve got yards of material at your disposal?

Another significant point to note is that while wearing Summer Sacks, there’s a chance you might get asked if you are pregnant. It’s not an issue of the material clinging to your food baby (we already went over this.) Rather, some misinformed people might mistake it for maternity wear. I don’t know if it’s a benefit, per se. I guess it’s how you play it. If someone is being extra nice to you because they think you’re with child, yes. Or, if you’re planning on repurposing the sack when you are expecting, absolutely.

The Summer Sack is the gift that keeps on giving. If I was a millionaire, I’d buy one for every man, woman, child and dog. Sure, people might think we have joined a cult, but who cares? We’ll be too busy enjoying ourselves to notice.

Essayist. Storyteller for brands. Ride or die Brooklynite. addiestuber.com

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