Why aren’t plus-size clothes nicer?
Dear Sondra: You have identified one of the great mysteries of the fashion universe. Most North American women — a majority at 68 per cent of the population — are a size 14 and above. Yet designer fashion in plus-size ranges comprises 0.1 per cent of the luxury market. There are literally billions of dollars to be made selling size-inclusive clothing! But what we get instead is a disjointed marketplace that offers curvy women distracting colours and prints and baggy constructs instead of the classic colours and sharp-cut garments you crave.Get more news about
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There are incremental signs of improvement, as the push for inclusivity has encouraged lines to expand their size ranges in recent years. Influencers, such as Canadian former Real Housewife Roxy Earle and her #MySizeRox body confidence movement, are using their voices to inspire. British actress Jameela Jamil and her IWeigh radical inclusivity movement addresses weight perception, the role of the patriarchy and the oppressive effects of both on our mental health. And in a good news note, just last week, Canadian Indigenous designer Lesley Hampton had a career-making endorsement when Lizzo wore her label’s workout gear on Instagram.
But first let’s go over what minimalism means, as there are a number of hidden biases built into the concept. Minimalism first came into fashion in the 1930s, when Coco Chanel championed early androgyny with trousers and jackets, an act of emancipation building on the boxy silhouettes of the Roaring Twenties. During WWII, women worked, often in factories, and needed more practical clothing. The postwar ’50s snapped back with the reflexive hyperfemininity epitomized by Dior’s wasp-waisted New Look.
In the ’60s, the stripped-down precepts of minimalism took hold in the disciplines of art, architecture and interiors, and while fashion took on futuristic shapes, the Pop Art patterns made the looks maximalist. After the hippie/disco excesses of the ’70s and amid the big shoulders of the ’80s, came a new wave of Japanese and Belgian and Austrian avant-garde designers (Yohji Yamamoto, Martin Margiela and Helmut Lang are examples of these creative schools) who began deconstructing the entire concept of clothing.
But it was in the ’90s that minimalism took hold of the popular imagination — think Calvin Klein slip dresses and Max Mara camel coats. The style came back in the 2010s, in the form of Phoebe Philo for Celine at its apex and Uniqlo/Cos in the fast fashion realm.
Minimalism today has become a kind of a chic default, a look of “effortless” workwear consisting of clean lines and monochromatic non-colours (black, white, navy, camel, grey). In casual attire, is the French “girl” look of jeans and a white shirt, with maybe a classic scarf tossed in. But minimalism has also become a divisive, restrictive code word, a club that only the model-thin (and rich) can join.
I turned to Ben Barry, chair of fashion and the director of the Centre for Fashion and Systemic Change at Ryerson University. Barry, who started one of the world’s first inclusive modelling agencies in his Ottawa basement at the age of 14, has spent his career working for representation and access in fashion for all sizes and colours of people, all genders, orientations and abilities. He was just named the incoming dean of fashion at Parsons School of Design/The New School in New York, one of the world’s top fashion academies. Parsons noticed Barry’s efforts to change the industry from within, embracing his idea that all lived experiences need a seat at the big creative tables where decisions are made, if fashion is ever going to clothe us all equally.
As to the plus-size issue, Barry says, “We are not there yet. We are seeing a slow push, more representation in print and on the runway. Surface-level changes are well intentioned, but we need to be having larger, systemic, constant conversations. Bring people who are going to wear the clothing into the process as co-creators.” No one, he says, seems to ask plus-sized consumers what they actually want.
Why aren’t plus-size clothes nicer?
