Back in my neighborhood, though, I was the only begowned shopper at Key Food as I picked up some fruit and cheese. Home again, I walked the dog, changed cat litter and did laundry. The dress was surprisingly comfy for chores, bending and carrying. Perhaps my husband's "housedress" label wasn't wrong.

My teenage son breezed in to shower en route to a party. He noticed the dress and said, "Good for the beach."

I imagined the skirt dragging through the sand and shook my head.

He took another stab. "Looks like something your sister would wear."

My sister is a yoga teacher. "What do you mean?" I said.

"Uh, Buddhist?" he said. "Naturistic?" I shook my head again and he headed into the bathroom.

Then I heard the ding-ding of a bell rung by an old-fashioned knife-grinder, whose truck ambles down our block every few months. I grabbed a half-dozen knives and flagged him down. Bob the Knife Grinder had no comment on my dress, but told me the dishwasher was ruining my cutlery.

As Bob drove off, a neighbor exclaimed, "I've never seen that!"

"Really?" I replied, thinking she was referring to the rare sighting of a maxi dress.

"Yeah, that knife-grinder guy. Does he come around often?"

We chatted about Bob and I realized that what started out feeling like an overly feminine, attention-getting gown had become a completely unremarkable outfit.

On the other hand, context is everything. At a backyard summer wedding or upscale cafe, I would have felt appropriately dressed up. The genius of this particular dress is that it's comfy enough to run errands in on a hot day, and pretty enough for a party.

Photos courtesy of the Fashion Spot forums.