I am struggling to fathom the new found love of the British woman – the Maxi dress. Why on earth would any woman with an ounce of style be attracted to the next worst thing since the Croc?

Admittedly, even I can see the benefits of wearing such an abundance of material. For one, it’s not restricting and this is always welcomed in any wardrobe. It also serves the purpose to cover one’s modesty, avoiding the embarrassing situation one can find themselves in when their outfit acts-up like a child – in constant need of attention, it must be yanked and pulled in multiple directions to maintain your ever decreasing dignity. However, there are many more reasons why the Maxi is nothing short of a bad investment.

It seems to me that walking around with reams of material in your wake could cause many an accident. It is a trip hazard for the wearer and it risks the embarrassing scenario when the person behind you steps on the hem of your dress catapulting your body, rather unflatteringly, backwards. But practicalities aside (and who gives a damn about these anyway?) the Maxi dress is an eyesore.

Every time I see some poor misguided sole wearing this ‘trend’, I have to admit that such a large expanse of unflattering print approaching me does send me into panic mode. I begin to see red and feel consumed by an urge to throw white paint all over it in the hope that, like after-sun, it will calm it down.

However scathing I may come across, even I cannot deny that there does exist a rare breed that can pull off this look. I have no doubt in my mind that it was on viewing the picture of a track-stopping certain Miss Alba that ‘inspired’ every Pat, Pam and Pauline into rushing into this purchase far more hastily than I would ever recommend.

Pondering over how such an item ever came into being, I am certain that the creator of the Maxi got carried away with themselves somewhere between a Valentino and a Pucci show and, rather mistakenly, thought they could pull it off. These you are not my friend and you most definitely must go back to the drawing board.

In the meantime, I can only hope for this summer romance to fizzle out. Bring on the fall and long live the body con.