Maxi Skirt and the London Connection

Last weekend, while hosting my good friends Danya and Peter, each relaxing and letting loose in a responsible adult sort of way for their respective spring breaks, I rekindled a certain fascination and appreciation for some of the strange secret nooks, haunting buildings, and bizarre characters of my quiet town. During a strolling tour, indulging in both luxurious sunlight and even more decadently luxurious ice cream, we passed a shadowed, tunneling staircase; tucked away between my apartment building and the main drag of town, it appears to lead nowhere, trails off to some concrete and weed unknown. A sign references the grand and old city of London; all of us nerds at heart, immediately we alluded to fabricated fantasy realms, this narrowing passage serving as a portal to a new ordinance in the plane of space and time.




Unlike this past weekend, which was a brutal and cruel return to chilled winds and rain, the typical and often admonished, loathed, carriers of spring, last weekend was a delight; I actually found myself a bit warm in this fuchsia pink maxi skirt, worn with tall heeled boots. Despite, in moments that could be characterized as desperate instant gratification, owning a few maxi skirts, I still feel a bit ambivalent about the trend. Perhaps, my propensity to photographing quite poorly, paralleled with the poor photographic rendering of the skirt, are accentuating this ambivalence. Nonetheless, the vibrant color is undeniably beautiful, whether manifesting in a minute swatch on a scarf of, in this case, bountiful flows of fabric. Pairing such a powerful pink with the basic and classic black and white stripes allowed the maxi skirt, rightfully so, to dominate and yet be a bit subdued and tamed.