The Magic Dress: A Moroccan Mix of Style with Versatility and Comfort

I traveled down to Big Sur to recuperate from my daughter's wedding. Having spent a small fortune on her, I wanted to treat myself to a special getaway. That morning I had walked at the crack of dawn to both ends of the Carmel beach, its white expanse dotted with only a few devoted dog owners. Then I was off to Point Lobos and a hike out to Seal Point--noisy little creatures that they are. After all that exercise, I was ready for a good meal and just sitting and staring at the scenery. What better place than the Nepenthe restaurant at Big Sur, where their famous hamburgers are served up with a view of the rugged California coast to die for.

Since the restaurant wasn't open yet, I wandered through their Phoenix shop located just below the restaurant and cafe. The Phoenix is one of those boutiques filled with gorgeous fabrics, handcrafted ornaments, scents, even a porch with wind chimes and, of course, that stunning view. Being a slightly larger lady with a modest budget, I rarely find clothing that fits my body or my pocketbook in such exclusive little spots.

But there it was. THE dress. The color caught my eye. A bright, deep coral...perhaps persimmon. Then my hand touched the fabric, a blend of 65% cotton and 35% rayon made in Morocco. The weight of the fabric, falling in two layers to a flared ankle-length hem, erased any wrinkles. I walked passed it several times fearing that the "one size" indication in the label wasn't made for my body. But after perusing a dozen other items in the shop, I returned, took it off the rack and headed to a Kasbah style dressing room. On it went, slipping over my body like silk.

To my great surprise it didn't look, like many draped dresses do on me, like my grandfather's sleeveless undershirt. I hadn't even bothered to remove my jeans and tennis shoes (no sense doing that if it isn't going to fit anyway, I told myself) and still the dress looked sophisticated and slimming, the coral color bringing out the green of my eyes.

I even risked walking outside the dressing room and went back to the rack, grabbing a black and a white version to try. No, the coral was definitely my color.

But one nagging concern lingered--those sixty-three-year-old upper arms with a little puff of flabby back peaking through the deeply cut underarms. Jane, the knowledgable and, thank God my age, salesperson tending the shop came over and complimented me on my choice. But sadly I said that I couldn't deal with the sleeveless look. I had even given a try to the sleeved version in black but that had the look of mourning garb.

"Oh no, dear, you have fabulous arms" she said, and the way she said it, I knew she wasn't just shining me on. "But here," she went on, "if you'd prefer, see what the Magic Dress can do." Grabbing the upper layer of the dress which was slashed down the sides from waist to mid-calf, she whipped one side and then the other up over those offending upper arms and...voila! perfection. Then, with the skill of a queen's professional dresser, she tossed one side down, threw the other across sarong style. In another blink of the eye the sarong became a Roman toga, then a sexy tied creation, a cape, a cloak, a belted hippie dream. Each version was more flattering than the one before. Then she handed me a handdrawn chart illustrating a dozen different versions. Think now, have you ever bought a dress with an instruction manual?

Just over a hundred dollars for a magic dress that changed shapes like a chameleon changes colors...sold. I was already thinking, Morrocan sandals, chunky oversized necklaces and earrings that I rarely wear, a low slung belt of hammered silver.

When I returned home I couldn't wait to show off my Magic Moroccan dress. That's what it's actually called, by the way, or simply the Magic Dress. Opportunity arose two days later at a brunch thrown for the ladies of our church at a beautiful hilltop setting overlooking the northern California valley where I live. I suppose the ladies were happy to see me, but they could only gush over the dress. I'd chosen to drape the top layer over both shoulders but was easily persuaded to demonstrate other versions. I'd found some wild and wacky coral and stone jewelry to wear with it. I felt fabulous. Maybe even better than when I'd walked down the aisle as the mother of the bride the week before. And now there was nothing to be nervous about.

I wore it again last night. This time to a famous jazz and dinner club in Oakland, a place where style rules. I felt every bit as gorgeous all those young things in their spiky heels and lowcut slinky outfits. And got a quite a few complimentary looks to boot.

I'm a fan. Although I'm not sure I want to drive the three hours to Big Sur if I want another Magic Moroccan dress. But guess what? Google Magic Morrocan dress or magic dress and there are many sources, including eBay, to buy this incredible dress.

My favorite site was that of Zahra Starr who has a walk-in retail store in Willits, California and a retail and wholesale outlet on-line at www.themagicdress.com. On her website she informs us that the clothing line is made in Marrakesh, Morocco and that the Magic Dress is cut on the bias to fit all shapes and sizes from size 2 to the plus sizes. The material is authentic "sousdi cloth" which combines fine cotton (65%) and rayon (35%). I agree that it is the softest material you may ever find-similar in feeling to cashmere.

Zahra goes on to say that this sensual material transforms every woman who wears it. I'll second that.