OOTD: Girly tough

I’m really not sure about this jacket. I love how it looks on me, but…it’s not soft. And I am really particular about the comfortableness of my clothing (which is why I’m always stealing Steve’s ridiculously comfy Rainbow Dash hoodie).  I’ve been thinking about selling it for a while, but I can never make up my mind.

Pleather jacket and round stud wristband: Macy’s, shirt: Old Navy, jeans and rhinestone necklace: Target, fascinator: WhichGoose, spike necklace: eBay, earrings and rose ring: Claire’s, pyramid stud wristband: PacSun, bangles: Torrid and Deb, heart ring: The Toy Chest

Twitter takes on fatshion blogging, capitalism, and revolution

I’ve been doing all sorts of thinking and reading about Natalie’s post, which I wrote about yesterday. This shit’s complex.

The most interesting analyses I’ve read have all been on Twitter. Contrary to the stereotype that Twitter’s all about what people ate for lunch, there are important discussions happening there.

Marianne Kirby‘s written some especially good stuff (read from bottom to top):

I really like this tweet from Natalie herself:

OOTD: Argyle and tulle

Cooler weather means I get to break out my short tutus! Ironically enough, I only wear them in the winter with leggings, because they’re too short to cover the athletic shorts I wear in the summer.

Shirt: Marshall’s, vest: Old Navy, skirt: Target, leggings: American Apparel, shoes: Naot, wristband: Macy’s, hair flower: H&M, earrings: Artifaktori

And the ethics of fatshion get even more complicated…

Natalie Perkins—fatshionista, writer, and creator of the iconic fat necklace–has a very interesting piece up on XoJane.

Titled “When activism gave way to advertising: how fat girl blogging ate itself,” it argues…well, exactly what the title says.

Fatshion blogs have largely evolved to be in step with large clothing brands, and I fear that the joining of oppressed and oppressor in brand relationships is not furthering fat activism. I don’t begrudge authors of blogs deriving an income from advertising, but I’m concerned with the increasing hand that brands have in blog content.

My feelings about all of this are complicated, but first of all, I admire Natalie for speaking up. She’s an amazing writer, and it takes guts to criticize a such a popular model of blogging.

When I have many conflicted thoughts about something (as I often do–ever heard the saying that between two Jews, there are three opinions?), I find it helps to number them. So, here goes.

Wednesday Fa(t)shion Inspirations, 11/28/12

These jeans. LOVE. I remember when huge flares were a thing in the late ’90s, and I really hope they come back so that plus size stores will start making them. I want a pair so badly.

Zarna’s Runway

Fatshion: not inclusive enough

Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in all the excitement of fatshion and forget that it’s still nowhere near being truly inclusive.

There are far too many plus size lines that stop at a size 22 or 24. A few, like ASOS Curve, run really big. But most of them don’t, so they end up leaving out a lot of people.

And it’s even worse for people who wear above a size 30 or so.

Ragen at Dances With Fat recently posted about a new runway-inspired collection from Lane Bryant, which only goes up to a size 24–even though the store’s regular items go up to 32.  She called for commenters to suggest alternatives to LB, and many (including me) did.

But one commenter, Amanda E, pointed out that even a thread full of plus size shopping suggestions leaves her out:

This whole subject – of clothing, much less any sort of fashion/fatshion – makes me so damn sad, depressed, self-loathing, etc. I would love, love, love to wear clothes that flatter me and make me feel good. I had to skim the comments just like i would normally do on an anti-fat article (or even a pro-fat article on a mainstream website, where the comments are so often anti-fat). Not that this is anywhere as bad as that, but I was getting that same sick to my tummy feeling that I usually get… You see, I wear, like, an 8X. I can’t say for sure, since so few brands carry my size. I can wear the occasional 6X dress from onestopplus.com – if and only if it is a frumpy style; they seem to cut those larger. There is one – count ‘em, ONE – style of blouse (glorified tee-shirt) in which I feel comfortable. I have one of every color. And I wear the Same. Damn. Pants. every day – boring knit black ones from Making It Big, which barely fit and for which I pay like $70 apiece (including shipping). I am so far from having ANY FATSHION CHOICES AT ALL that it makes me sad and sick inside to read all these suggestions… that are supposedly inclusive.

It is SO MANY kinds of wrong that anyone should have so few options, especially in a world where millions upon millions of clothing items are produced every year.

It is so many kinds of wrong that with all the independent plus size designers out there, not one of them caters to sizes 30+.  (She does mention eShakti, which does custom sizing–but their shit is expensive, and their customer service sucks. No one should have to depend on them as their only option for nice clothing.)

It is so many kinds of wrong that fatshion, which is liberating for so many people, leaves so many others out.

We need a new, truly inclusive fatshion movement. One that demands affordable options for people of all sizes, not just the ones that start with a 2.

Fatties demand froofy Fifties frocks!

There are a lot of things that I wish came in my size. But near the top of the list are poofy vintage ’50s dresses, like this:

I’ve always drooled over dresses like these when I come across them, but I know they there’s no chance of finding one in my size unless a plus-size manufacturer starts making reproductions. Which was driven home to me by a post called Why Can’t I Find a ’50s Dress That Fits?, which I found through another one of Sal‘s link roundups.

Some of it just…made me laugh.

That’s the#1 question I get in my inbox. Other versions are, “Why are the waist sizes on all your 50s dresses so tiny?” or “My measurements are 36-30-37 (or 42-37-44, or 39-33-38). Do you have a 50s dress that will fit me?” In fact, I get this question so often, I am going to address it here for all of you who have been frustrated in your search for an authentic vintage dress.

36-30-37? Ha, try 51-44-48.  I gave up on finding authentic ’50s dresses in my size a long time ago.  Not because there weren’t fatties in the Fifties, but because pretty poofy dresses weren’t made for them either.

Most of the suggestions that the blogger gives seem equally ludicrous to me. Buy separates instead of a dress? Wear a corset? Have a vintage dress altered to fit me? Buy a dress from the ’60s instead of the ’50s?  Yeah, none of those are going to help me.

I’m sure the suggestions are useful for many women, so I’m not denigrating them. But they’re just more evidence of how thoroughly fat women are, and have been for a long time, marginalized in the world of fashion.

So, plus-size clothing makers, listen up. You already make a decent amount of flapper, rockabilly, and Old Hollywood-style glam lacy dresses. Why not start making some gorgeous pastel frippery as well? For inspiration, I present the following vintage dresses from Etsy:

The concept of “flaws” is flawed

I’ve been re-reading Linda Grant’s book The Thoughtful Dresser: The Art of Adornment, the Pleasures of Shopping, and Why Clothes Matter. I remember liking it well enough the first time I read it, but now…not so much.

Grant has some interesting things to say about the history of fashion, and the meaning that clothing can have, even–or perhaps especially–in dire circumstances.

But there’s so much about the book that rubs me the wrong way. I have another post coming about my alienation from the type of fashion that Grant focuses on, but for now, I want to talk about one concept that keeps popping up throughout the book: that of “flaws.”

“Flaws,” as in body parts belonging to those who are older or fatter (or both) than the average. Body parts that must be disguised, hidden, cloaked in both fabric and shame.

All I have to say is, fuck that noise.

If one body has a larger stomach, or ankles, or thighs, than another body, that doesn’t make those parts “flawed.” It just makes them different. There’s no reason that a 60-year old woman shouldn’t wear a mini-skirt if she feels like it, or a 400-pound woman a tank top. Hell, there’s no reason a 60-year old, 400-pound man can’t wear both a tank top and a mini-skirt if it suits his style.

Yes, we’re all human. We all have flaws.

But those flaws are not our hips, or our stretch marks, or the fat rolls on our back. They’re not our cellulite, or our frizzy hair, or our eyes that crinkle unevenly when we smile.

There is no perfect body from which all others deviate–no matter how many multi-billion dollar industries try to sell you that idea.

We’re all human.

We can all be beautiful in our own ways, if we want to be. Or we can reject the idea of beauty altogether.

None of us are flawed simply for existing in our bodies.

My #1 Fa(t)shion rule: Don’t assume

Toto does not make assumptions about what clothing means to you.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from both life and the internet, it’s that different people are different. And that making assumptions about others based on your own experiences can be a really, really bad idea.

Just a few days ago, I happened to read about two very different experiences with fashion, and that clarified a point I was trying to make a while back in the comments on Allison’s post about why fashion matters.

Fashion does matter! I am pro-fashion! I hate when people think it’s frivolous just because it’s enjoyed mainly by women.

But I had a problem with this:

[Clothing] matters because we have a choice. You can buy a stiff cotton tee shirt with Las Vegas written on the front, buy a plain white men’s undershirt, or a soft jersey tee that flatters your figure and is in the perfect shade. You can purchase a hooded sweatshirt three sizes larger than your frame or for the same money purchase a tailored wool sweater that will keep you just as warm. Yes, people are dying on this planet, but we all need clothes and if you are reading this blog, this means you have at least a touch of privilege and have choices.

So why not make a choice that flatters your figure, showcases your personality, and provides the world with an accurate depiction of your soul?

 You have to wear clothing, might as well make it clothing that makes you look and feel good.

The problem is the assumption that the same type of clothing–i.e. tailored, relatively form-fitting, feminine–makes everyone feel good.

It doesn’t.

Some women feel their best in men’s undershirts or baggy hoodies.

Take, for example, the letter writer of Captain Awkward’s question #397:

Fa(t)shion inspirations, special tutu edition

I know it’s not Wednesday, but I couldn’t wait to share these awesome outfits starring tutus that I’ve come across recently.

Sian shows of her ASOS Curve tutu dress (the same one I mentioned in my tutu news post):

Forever Fabulous in Bows

I absolutely love the romantic vibe of Sal’s dusty pink tutu. If I had one like it, I’d be all about mixing it with florals, or with spikes and leather. Or a t-shirt and sneakers. Or a shit-ton of lace and pearls… *falls headfirst into fatshion-fantasy-land*

Already Pretty