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I'm anti-crotch.

I do not own any crotches, other than to do yoga in.

My fashion advice to every single woman (and many men, too; don't judge me) is simple. Stop with the crotches already.

You can instantly and easily transform any woman from bleh into something remarkable by simply removing the uncomfortable, unnecessary and hideous piece of fabric sewn down the middle of a dress, thereby transforming it into the inferior object that you call "pants." I just call them what they are: "crotches." Dumb crotches.

From left to right, Mandy Greenlee, Elizabeth Winheld and Maggie Evans model a few of the stunning wedding gowns Evans has designed.
From left to right, Mandy Greenlee, Elizabeth Winheld and Maggie Evans model a few of the stunning wedding gowns Evans has designed. (Jonathan Castner/For the Camera)

I don't know how or why crotches became a wardrobe staple, and I also don't know a single pair that can take on even the most average dress in a fashion wrestling match.

Much less against the heavyweight pro gowns of Maggie Evans.

They're undefeated.

Evans' dresses are so beautiful they make me tremble and weep. So beautiful that the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art recently gave her wedding dresses the inside front wing and organized a fashion show party in their honor.

Pants don't get parties thrown by reputable art galleries.

Evans, of Boulder, is my new favorite artist. Her custom dresses (which run around $3,500 each) are like nothing you have ever seen before, with hand-stitching, raw edges and surprising earthy influences. She dyed one corset using rose petals. She stitched a bride's self-written poem down the length of another. She reworks "vintage castaways," or can alter your grandma's dress to also express your unique personality.

Evans made her own wedding gown, with a ruffle bottom she could detach to turn the dress into a short reception party dress.

A window at BMoCA seemingly serves as a frame for Elizabeth Winheld and the Maggie Evans gown she is wearing.
A window at BMoCA seemingly serves as a frame for Elizabeth Winheld and the Maggie Evans gown she is wearing. (Jonathan Castner/For the Camera)

"I created my own dream dress. But I do it all the time. If I got married the year before, I would probably create something totally different," Evans says.

Although her exhibit featured a picture of her at age 3 playing on her grandma's sewing machine, and she has dreamed about her own wedding since she was a little girl, Evans did not attend fashion design school. Her background is in graphic design, textiles and psychology. She got a master's degree in art therapy in 2010. Like her dresses, Maggie Evans is nontraditional. And like her dresses, that's what makes her so darn good.

At her exhibit, she asked passersby to jot down their feelings about love, commitment and marriage on pieces of white fabric, which she later turned into a wedding dress for the fashion show -- a piece of wearable art comprised of wishes, hopes, fears and advice.

That's the art therapy side speaking.

"I wanted to have more of a deeper relationship with these brides and ask these big questions," Evans says. "I don't expect them to come to my studio and be happy and giddy all the time. It's a big deal. It can be messy and scary and emotional and doubtful and exhilarating. In my work, I try to embody that."

And she does.

I bet your jeans can't.


Maggie Evans, center, enjoys a lighthearted moment with the models who wore her custom wedding dresses at a showcase event at the Boulder Museum of
Maggie Evans, center, enjoys a lighthearted moment with the models who wore her custom wedding dresses at a showcase event at the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art. (Jonathan Castner/For the Camera)