On the Maxi

It’s one of life’s big questions, on par with grappling with the existence of God and the understanding of evil. How does one look stylish in winter, without strapping on as many clothes as possible that results in an effortless hobo-Arctic climber chic?

Suffice to say, I have not found the answer to this life altering query. When I wake in the morning, to thick blackness, my duvet wrapped around my body like a caterpillar in a cocoon, the wind whistling through the bare branches, I have no desire to pull on those open toed wedges, shave my legs to go bare as Americans do and trust that only my coat will protect me from the blistering English weather. 

I admire anyone who does not revert to a pair of jeans, jumper and boots, wrapped in scarves, hats, gloves and maybe, if it’s that cold, tights under jeans.

It is with envy that I flick through the glossy pages of magazines, to see A-listers navigating the winter with long skirts and maxi dresses. This is the silhouette that I crave, and while it seems simple enough, I cannot bring myself to don the ideal.

For starters, the impracticality of such an outfit convinces me otherwise – who wants to arrive to work with the bottom of your maxi drenched in rain water and mud? I have epic fantasies of dawdling to work, kicking scattered autumn leaves with the toe of my Nicholas Kirkwood for Erdem boot, twirling in the street as the wind picks up and fallen leaves circle me, all the while as my maxi skirt fans out, Disney princess like.

In reality, if I was to kick the leaves with the toes of my Broke Graduate (re: unemployed) for New Look shoes I would most likely cut myself with shards of broken beer bottles – such is the glamour down my ends.

"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it, not doing its office."

"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley; "but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."

Secondly, there is no allure involved in rushing in a full length, or even mid-length skirt. The idea of running to catch the train, knees bow-legged like a penguin as you attempt to navigate stairs in a long skirt, is enough to put you in jeans for life. And yes, while celebrities seem to manage fine, do recall that unlike you or me, they have drivers to get them from point A to B and will spend a total of five minutes in the biting cold each day.

The only way my dreams of living a maxi-skirted reality is through hiring a chauffeur, a personal red carpet, umbrella holder and a street cleaner to help me navigate the perilous and fashion hating streets of winter in London. In terms of the Big Question, this stylish wannabee is resigned to her jeans, wool socks and knitted jumper.