Rock A Hula Baby

There's nothing like a vintage tropical print maxi to rock the summer. From vibrant hues to kicky details to bold, jaw-dropping prints~ Fast Eddie's Retro Rags does Hawaii. (Oh yeah. of course I went there.) As you probably figured out by now, I'm usually not a fan of the 1970s or the fashions of the era. But sometimes, once in a blue moon and depending if I'm drunk enough, something about 70's vintage knocks my socks off, and these maxi dresses do just that. I am now sockless.

I should clarify, I loathe 70's hippie fashion. I adore eccentric fashionista 70's fashion. Picture this: Miami. 1970's. Bleach blonde hostess named Dixie in her mid 40's throwing a cocaine-and-booze-soaked party, mambo on the hifi, leathery tanned skin, gold jewelry dripping off of her, teetering around in suede platforms, martini in one hand, cigarette in the other, flirting with the waiters and cabana boys. Like Magda on "There's Something About Mary". That's the 70's style I love. Is that clear now? I thought not.

Anyway. Each picture and link is clickable to the listing, should you also weirdly covet maxi dresses in a way you never though possible.



RED HOT HIBISCUS Long & Lean Cotton Maxi Dress




BELL SLEEVE Vintage STAN HICKS Empire Ribbon Hawaiian Maxi Dress




PAKE MUU Vintage CUTOUT SLEEVES Hawaiian Maxi Dress




TOMATO PRINT Vintage FLOOR-LENGTH SLEEVES Maxi Goddess Dress

This one especially murders me. It's silk chiffon, has a tomato and flower novelty print (zuh?) and these incredible, floor-length sheer split sleeves that you can wear down as in the picture, or tied to the back, so your arms are exposed. Sigh. So dreamy. Pass me a rum and coke.

Bohemian Rhapsody

Let it be known that I generally am highly allergic to most things 70's. I may not like it, but I can appreciate the kitsch factor of most crap from the era: the not-seen-in-nature yellow and orange Brady wallpaper, the worst-designed cars in auto history (the Gremlin?! the Pacer?! Didn't anybody just say no to drugs in this decade?) And let it be known that even I can get down with my bad self to the likes of funk and disco, if the spirit moves me or most often is the case, am particularly hammered on my roofie daiquiris and accidentally played "Love Rollercoaster" on the bar's jukebox instead of "Sweet Child O' Mine". (But if we're talking about, say, the Sugarhill Gang or Grandmaster Flash, then I will rock your face off in a robot throwdown. Don't. Push. Me. 'Cuz. I'm. Close. To. The. Edge.)

While I may be prone to fits of violent seizures when dealing with 70's, sometimes something spectacular comes along and you know it's special, no matter how fug it is. Something you ordinarily would love to see your worst enemy wearing, so you can tell them how smashing they look in it, but then rip 'em a new one after they walk away for making poor fashion choices. It's like I always never say: "Passive aggression is a dish best served at room temperature."

Enter Don Luis de Espana. A cheeky designer who made some of the best and so totally 70's prints of the era (along the lines of Paganne), and judging by some of these prints, apparently he too was on crack with the rest of the world. The usual voice in my head said "DUDE. Don't you DARE take this home with you" but once I saw the label, and the over-the-top print, and the crazy neckline, I knew this wasn't just another retarded maxi dress. Turns out one of the voices in my head was right for once. AND nobody died this time, so that's always a plus.

Don Luis' designs were not for average suburban middle class housewives. They couldn't afford it, not even if they pooled their weekly Parliament Lights and bingo money. Women like Mrs. Roper had to settle for the knockoff, Kmart version. Don Luis was higher end, upscale...Don Luis de Espana was money.

Picture this: Miami. 1974. Uber-swanky pool party thrown by the hostess in this dress, probably named Dixie. Dripping with gold, over-tanned, Samsonite leather suitcase skin, overprocessed bleached hair, frosted lipstick, copping a feel of the greased-up, Brazilian poolboy named Carlos, when her husband wasn't looking. The party go-ers are sleazy Hollywood film types and coked-up actresses tottering around on mile-high suede platforms, spilling their champagne as they walk. Bossa nova in the background, the smell of chardonnay, pot and Chanel Nº19 was in the air. 1970's money.

My love/hate mental issues force me to be repulsed by this dress, yet I really want to be Dixie. You can be a Dixie too, and live out your 70's rich pool party fantasies. You will dig this vintage 70's Don Luis de Espana maxi dress, with the cool, criss-cross cutout neck detail and wild "peacock feather" flower and dragon tail print. It's so wrong, yet somehow it works.