What is idiocy?

It's a difficult question, sometimes. I'm fairly sure I found it in Mahattan resident Kim Matulova. NY Times:

JANIS JOPLIN looms large in Kim Matulova’s consciousness — not least Ms. Joplin’s free-form hair, flounced frocks and fingers choked with rings. “My style is, like, gypsy,” Ms. Matulova said last week, “something like a ghetto hippie.”

Ms. Matulova, an actress and musician who says she is into “into folk and hip-hop,” gives expression to her passions, wearing a breezy flowered dress, porkpie hat and boots stamped with the image of a prairie rose. It is a streetwise amalgam she describes as “an urban hippie thing — sort of Bob Dylan, but, you know, today.”

She is one in a trickle of style setters embarking on a latter-day magical mystery tour, revisiting the hippie aesthetic of their mothers or grandmothers and giving it a brash new spin.

In pockets of downtown Manhattan and in cities as far-flung as Miami and Los Angeles, young women in the vanguard are setting aside their trapeze and baby-doll dresses — and as often as not, their drainpipe jeans — in favor of a breezier, more audaciously colorful interpretation of boho chic. Their pavement-grazing frocks, bells and feathers, flares and cascading hair, recall the freedom that once was a hippie rallying cry, an invitation, quite literally, to go with the flow.

Yep, idiocy. The writer is an idiot, too.