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 twirled around the dressing room, admiring the way the amorphous, non-existent tailoring skimmed my body like forgiving tablecloth.
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…