See, we told you so. The Telegraph has an investigative piece about the return of the caftan. Only they spell it with a "k" (either a "c" or a "k "is correct) and have broadened the definition of caftan to include shirts, beach cover-ups and dresses that have a caftan-feel about them.
Ten years ago, you wouldn't have wished a kaftan on your worst enemy, let alone yourself. We were living in the age of the sarong, and short, sexy, sequinned numbers covered every bikini and one-piece from Benidorm to St Barts.
The kaftan, with its roomy drapes of fabric, was the epitome of uncool. It was a Seventies throwback, a hoary relic of the Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young era. No one with a sense of style wanted anything so long and all-encompassing, so irredeemably polyester and oh so horribly reminiscent of Abigail's Party. It was so far off the fashion radar that it hardly even qualified as vintage.
But three decades later, on the 30th anniversary of Mike Leigh's middle-class satire, so memorably and unfashionably epitomised by Alison Steadman, the kaftan has come back to life.
Slowly, quietly, the floaty cover-up has staged an uprising: it has swamped the sarong and overpowered the pareo to become the mainstay of the holiday wardrobe. It is now a fashion classic.
This summer, designers such as Roberto Cavalli, Zandra Rhodes and Helen David of English Eccentrics are using the kaftan as a blank canvas for animal patterns, beaded silk florals and psychedelic screenprints.
On the high street, Principles and River Island have versions in tropical prints and sequin-trim chiffon, while the flame-haired British model Lily Cole wears a black and multicoloured floral one, to dramatic effect, in Monsoon's latest campaign.
Even Kate Moss has included a pale peach kaftan with multicoloured, Guatemalan-inspired embroidery in her first collection for Topshop.
Juliet Dunn, the British designer who is known in New Delhi as the "kaftan queen", is, more than any other, responsible for its remarkable recovery.
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It was not an easy comeback, however. "It was still seen as a bit of a Seventies leftover in England back then," Dunn says. It was only when chic shops in St Tropez began stocking the collection, in 2001, that the kaftan craze took off.
These days, Julia Roberts, Beyonce and Penelope Cruz are all fans, and there are now several dozen variations to choose from.
"I've varied the length and I've changed the shape," says Dunn. "They used to be much more billowy; now they're more slimmed-down, but they're still a very forgiving silhouette."
We usually think of caftans as something you wear over a swimsuit so you can go out to lunch or something you wear to a costume party when you're feeling the Moroccan vibe, but that apparently is changing. Does it mean a full return to the style (or lack thereof) of the 70s is imminent? Will we be forced to take up mind-altering drugs, wear heavy eyeliner and a turban? And -- most importantly -- does it mean we get to lounge around more than usual? Because, trust us, no one gets any work done while wearing a caftan, whether it's shirt-length, dress-length or all the way to the floor.
