Today, I’ve chosen to focus on a few items that are regarded as atrocious by men*, but appealing to me. First up: I know that guys deplore caftans, and that many women as well find them impossibly shleppy, but my esteem for them is so great that it’s hard for me to believe that anybody objects to them on any level. Yes, they are shapeless; true, they add bulk. But I feel so pretty and feminine when I’m swanning about in one (because that is one does in a caftan; swans) that I wish they were more widely regarded as appropriate streetwear. I already splurged on a rather divine confection from Two New York, so I can’t quite justify going for this one, but that can’t stop me from dreaming.
It came as something as a surprise to me to learn that gentlemen object to platforms, and I didn’t quite believe it when my young cousin John informed me of this several years ago. But after having this double and then triple confirmed, I went on to decide I did not care: the ease with which they add a few inches to my height adds hugely to my self-esteem in a way that at least makes me feel more attractive, and if the opposite sex does not see things that way, then that’s a reality I’m willing to live with. The flatform—which is something of a red-haired stepchild of the platform—is not always a personal favorite, but Teva’s quite jolie laide (and surely deeply comfortable) iteration appeals.
Now here is one that is viewed with almost universal disdain: the drop-crotch trouser. But for those of us who are deeply committed to a slouchy look—and if you know nothing of me, I feel certain you know that—they can’t be beat. For some women, there will always be too many MC Hammer associations ever to give them a shot; I get that. I’ll never get past cowboy boots reminding me of Rodeo Day back in middle school in Texas. So I won’t push too hard on you to give them a rethink. I will add, though, that they are tops for (real or imagined) fat days.
*And here I realize that I am of course generalizing.