Caftan or Bikini?

Summer’s almost here and it’s decision time. Is your bod bikini ready. . . or is it time to talk about caftans? Oh, you didn’t know that was a thing? Well, neither did I until I was in the checkout line at Ross watching a shopper dump armloads of them onto the check stand. Catching my eye she held one up for me to see. “It’s a caftan,” she said in a hushed voice, as if letting me in on some big secret. “I send these to my mother down in Florida by the dozen.”

I gasped, positively gobsmacked. When had the caftan made a comeback? I didn’t know hell had frozen over.

I’d assumed the last caftan was buried with Liz Taylor, but I was wrong. Recently celebs like J-Lo, the Olson twins, and even Angelina Jolie have been spotted in them.

Like it or not, caftans are lurking, once again, on our fashion horizon and frankly we should have seen it coming. Long skirts have gained popularity in the past few seasons and with hemlines falling faster than Trump’s approval ratings, could the caftan be far behind?

If you’re unfamiliar with the caftan or its tropical counterpart, the Hawaiian muumuu, they are loosely structured, ankle-length tunics, originally worn by 14th-century Turkish sultans. Always the trendsetters, those wacky 14th-century sultans.

The caftan enjoyed a brief run in the U.S. during the late 1960’s and early 1970’s when designers like Dior and Yves St. Laurent popularized them. With their loose-flowing, one-size-fits-all versatility, it’s easy to understand why the caftan slid so effortlessly into the American culture.

It was the 1960’s and folks were probably too high to deal with complicated shirts and pants. All those confusing buttons and buckles? No thanks! After a big doobie of Maui Wowie, slapping on king size bedsheet probably seemed like a super groovy idea.

After Gerald Ford took over the White House in 1974, everyone sobered up and put their pants back on. The caftan had seen its moment of glory and was cast aside by the boomers. It would eventually find its place as a fashion staple of the “mature buxom” women.

Hey, don’t get me wrong. I understand the allure of the caftan for the middle-aged women. If you’re prone to hot flashes that erupt in your body like searing hot lava, you need clothing you can strip off fast. If you’ve ever had your hormones launch into overdrive turning you into a human sprinkler, then you’d understand the function and versatility of the caftan. Just a few flaps of those giant bat-wing sleeves and you’ve got built-in air conditioning. Score one point for the caftan!

On the downside, I wonder what kind of message the caftan sends to the world. Does it say “I’ve given up”? Does it grease the wheels on the fast train to Chub Town? Because honestly, who knows what’s going on beneath that giant bed sheet?

In a caftan there’s no need to worry about a diet. And ladies you can toss those razors, no need to shave your legs, either. You can let it grow as long as you’d like. Heck, braid it if you want! And no need to wax anything off of your lady business. You can grow a forest under your caftan and no one will ever know. And I do mean EVER!

There’s a reason Marlon Brando wore caftans in his twilight years; the man never met a pork chop he didn’t like. Caftans were comfy and expansive enough to accommodate his ever-growing girth. I imagine there are lots of men who’d like to cover up with a comfy caftan.

Ivanka’s nw line of caftans rock my world

If I ever decide to trade the gym for a steady diet of fried chicken and JoJo’s, trust me, I’m gonna fill my closets with nothing but freaking caftans!

Confession: I’ve actually worn one. Only once and under extreme duress. It was 1989, I was planning my first trip to Hawaii and my boss insisted I borrow her 1960’s era muumuus, claiming they were “all the rage on the islands.” What do you say when the boss offers you her thirty-year-old muumuus? You paste a smile on your kisser and say “Thank you!”

Thrilled that her muumuus would once again frolic the shores of Waikiki, my boss insisted on an impromptu fashion show.

My coworkers, relieved that the target was on someone else’s back, eagerly piled into the break room to witness my humiliation. I had no choice but to sashay through the crowd, grinning like a demented idiot. From that day forward I was known as “Muumuu Girl.”

Good times.

The caftan incident at Ross brought my post-muumuu stress disorder rushing back to me. But instead of disdain, I felt a pang of nostalgia and even sympathy for this much-maligned frock.

Sure they’re garish, gaudy and reminiscent of a circus tent, but much like go-go boots and Nehru jackets, the caftan is an icon of our 60’s youth.

Mrs. Howell, Endora, and Mrs. Roper all rocked them as did Zsa Zsa, Liz, and Liza, too! If you’re old enough to recognize those names, then the caftan might make you wax nostalgic, too. A colorful reminder of simpler times.

My swimsuit-ready body is still a major work in progress. I’ve got a long way to go before I publicly bare my pasty white flesh. But if I do fall short of my goal it’s comforting to know that the caftan is there for me. Let’s face it, with tastemakers like Oprah and the Kardashians sporting them, we might ALL be in caftans by summer.

Despite (or perhaps because of) its obscenely bright colors, confusing jumble of patterns and general audacity, the caftan has once again found itself nestled in the bosom of our cultural embrace. Perhaps it’s a reflection of the confusing and chaotic times we live in. Or maybe it’s a nostalgic connection to our past. Or is the caftan merely a functional way to cover a mutitude of sins? We may never solve the mystery of its allure, but like it or not, the caftan is here to stay.