Do
clothes make the woman? These days, the catwalk has become
a podium for size acceptance. But will big, beautiful women
find real power there? BY OPHIRA EDUT
I'M
CHILLING ON THE COUCH WITH A BAG OF CHEETOS, watching
a beauty pageant on the tube.
Women
parade across the stage, draped in gowns, after-five wear,
casual attire. A mustached emcee introduces contestants,
pauses to belt out a patriotic hymn. The judges smile tightly.
It's your standard glamfest.
Only...it's
not. See, the contestants tonight aren't the binge-and-purge
Barbies of pageantry past. The average contender sports
a size 20 dress. The smallest woman in the running is no
less than a 14-16. And the emcee intersperses his show tunes
with some eye-opening stats: Forty percent of women wear
a size 14 or above...Sales of plus-size clothes in 1996
were more than $20 billion...In 1990, there were only 200
vendors in the plus-size market; now there are 2,000. Hold
on a minute--what is this?
It's
the thirteenth annual Plus USA Woman beauty pageant and
convention, that's what. And I'm watching it on videotape,
because network America ain't ready to televise full-figured
women feeling good about their bodies. When a young woman
named Michele Drumm, who is indeed stunning, tearfully accepts
the crown, I cheer. "About time us thick chicks got
our proper respect!" I declare through a mouthful of
Cheetos.
Yet,
the whole scene leaves me a little confused. I've
spent half a decade recovering from warped body image, foisted
on my ample-bootied consciousness by couturiers and media
alike. I've depleted the ozone layer talking endlessly about
an epiphany I had in the Contempo Casuals dressing room,
circa '92: There's nothing wrong with me or my body because
I can't fit into these clothes--it's the people who design
for unrealistic bodies who have the problem.
And
now, those same people want to sell me back my revolution
at a 20 percent retail markup. It's eerie, I tell you. Liz
Claiborne has a plus line called Elisabeth, Anne Klein now
offers Anne Klein II, and even Bloomingdales is touting
an expanded twelve-and-up department. Lane Bryant, once
on the "mall of shame" circuit, is now a modicum
of coolness, replete with runway shows and funky ads. Instead
of buying Vogue, I can read Mode, a slick fashion magazine
for women sizes 12, 14 and 16. Mode's 1997 launch was so
successful that its frequency jumped from quarterly to monthly
a year ahead of schedule. (Editor's Note: Since this article
was written, Mode has gone out of publication.)
Even
the mainstream media is jumping on the bandwagon. Last January,
Seventeen published a heavily-promoted story about plus-size
teens, complete with a glossy fashion spread. Its new competitor,
Jump ("for girls who dare to be real") features
similar pieces. And this fall, Mode introduced Mode Girl,
a spinoff for teens of all sizes. It's about time.
Still,
I can't help but wonder: Are we catching whiff of a revolution
or a scam? Are fashion designers trying to build up my self-esteem
and change the culture, or to make a quick buck? It may
be too soon to tell. My inner skeptic says, "C'mon,
if the fashion models got any thinner than Kate Moss, they
were gonna fall through the cracks in the runway! The only
way to go was up." The idealist says, "Right on!
The designers finally heard what women have been saying
since Twiggy -- that beauty comes in all sizes, that full-figured
women deserve the same rights as everyone else."
next
>>
