I spent about three weeks this spring in a low grade argument with myself about hem length, the mini versus the midi, the kind of argument where I’d change my mind twice before I even got dressed. The mini felt right for a Tuesday. The midi felt right for a Wednesday where I had to bend over and pick something up off the floor without giving a client a full anatomy lesson. Neither side won. Chicago hit ninety four degrees for four straight days in June and the argument just evaporated, because at that point I was wearing whatever denim skirt let air near my knees and I stopped pretending it was a considered choice.
That’s actually the whole story of why I’m back on these after two summers of swearing them off.
I owned a denim skirt in 2019 that I called my “work skirt” and it was, and I say this with love, a denim tube. No shape, no give, a button fly that fought me every single morning like it had somewhere else to be. I donated it and told myself I was done with the category, the same way I tell myself I’m done with white jeans every August.
What brought me back was one skirt that actually softened. Not marketing softened, actually softened, the kind of denim that felt stiff and a little unfriendly the first two wears and then, by wash number six, moved with me instead of against me. That’s the whole appeal on a hot day, honestly, cotton that’s given up fighting you. A new pair of raw denim jeans on a ninety degree day is a punishment. A worn in denim skirt on the same day is nothing, you forget you’re wearing anything structured at all, which is the highest compliment I have for a piece of clothing in July.
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I will say the length that won the office argument, the midi, is not a safe pick for everyone and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. On me it reads sharp with a plain top. On my downstairs neighbor, who tried mine on out of curiosity in my hallway of all places, it read like she’d borrowed her mother’s gardening skirt, her words, not mine, and she’s right, some bodies need the mini to look intentional instead of accidental.
What I actually don’t love, and this is a real complaint, not a bit, is the number of “vintage inspired” denim skirts charging sixty five dollars for a wash that looks like it happened in a factory last Tuesday. Actual worn in denim earns its softness. Fake worn in denim just charges you extra for a look a real skirt gives you for free after a summer of wearing it. I’ll pay for the real thing. I won’t pay for the impression of it.
