She was inspired by vintage Moroccan caftans. In an era of plastic, of mass consumption, of strip malls, of chain stores, of Big Gulps, of Chinese manufacturing, of “it bags”, of identical outfits at identical parties ….they were a gentle reminder of another possibility. Of things made by hand, stitch after stitch. The embroidery : exquisite. The finishing : perfection. The drape : flattering . Inspiration to pick with care, to wear with care, to store with care. To buy fewer but better. Why they were the very antidote to disposability. In a time of Spanx, of control tops, of shapers, of slimmers, and of liposuction, the caftan evoked an ideal self merely through suggestion. No exposed décolleté, no slit to the hip, no parading of the thighs. But discretion, beauty, elegance.
And so if you wondered where the blogging girl in Marrakech
might be, perhaps you would find her somewhere deep in the heart of the medina souks,
looking…… for yet another vintage Moroccan caftan.
