Fat. Nobody wants to be fat. Nobody wants to be thought of as fat. Fat is the worst thing you could say about somebody, supposedly. And since we’re all about duality here, the opposite of fat is not slender or thin… It's chic. Chic is the magic word because everybody wants to be chic. I can’t be certain but the (fashion) world might implode if we were to use these two words in the same sentence.
Fat is the worst word. Somehow we have associated a feeling of deep shame with it and we all know the feeling so well. It punches us right in the depths of our stomach, ironically, and it hangs heavy. Any time somebody makes a comment that could even vaguely insinuate that we are fat, we feel its vibration reverberates through our entire body. Kate Moss infamously said “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” and she’s fucking right. She’s right because we have been conditioned to feel satisfaction and honour when we are complimented for being svelte.
The fashion industry, as well as many other industries, have been created on the notion of the ideal female body, although always as imagined by the male gaze. Even though our bodies belong to us, we have never been allowed to just be. And this goes for men too. The idea that softness, curves, lumps and bumps are viewed as negative attributes, is not solely a female problem. These adjectives are not desirable on any body.
Now let me be very clear, I’m not here calling anyone with a “large” body fat, I’m here to give context to the labels that have been created to pigeonhole our body sizes, and use them, boldly but earnestly to raise the issues that surround body shapes. The issue begins with the negative association we have with the word “fat” because we understand it to be only a terrible and offensive word. Whilst there is a whole movement around the reclamation of the word, in which people take back the power by using it with agency and removing the stigma and prejudice from the word, the road ahead is still a long one.
Within the context of fashion, where else should we start but by turning our gaze towards the “model”? The distinction of models and plus size models, is again a construct of the patriarchy, because “plus size models” are only plus size in comparison to what we refer to as just “models”, when in fact they are all just women (please see footnote for gender inclusivity). For the purposes of this essay and for the sake of repetition I will use “curve” and “non-sample” interchangeably, although I find the term “non-sample” to be more representative and less misleading.
Nowadays larger models are rarely called plus size, instead, the term has been substituted with something more appeasing: “curve” models. When we refer to “normal” models we use words such as slender, fine, and svelte. Because of the positive attributes that society places on the idea of thinness, we can find a number of adjectives to use so we are comfortable talking about their bodies without much worry.
Bodies of curvier models are rarely spoken about in adjectives, the preferred terms are precise like numbers, such as inches, hip or waist measurements and dress sizes. The fear of course is to accidentally say the wrong word, and appear fatphobic. So we stick to “curve”.
Whilst body shapes and sizes have gone in and out of fashion throughout the centuries, the inclusion of curve models on the catwalk is a fairly new concept. Since around the mid to late 90’s (fashion historians don't come at me please) give or take, have we seen a slow but progressive increase in body shape inclusivity. This Dazed article recalls 7 of these moments, from Sophie Dhal making headlines in 1997 to Mark Fast putting sizes 12 and 14 on the runway in 2009.
However the uptick within high-end fashion is moving at a glacial pace, and certainly not fast enough to keep up with how society has shifted its perspective on size and shape. Gucci and Versace only sent their first curve models on the runway in 2021, and a number of designers perhaps have still not done so at all.
Having lived through this moment in the industry, I have seen things change before my eyes. I am so fortunate to have witnessed this shift, as well as many other changes fashion has gone through (to be discussed in due course). But the transition has by no means been a smooth one. As you can imagine, I have heard and seen it all.
I have had designers tell me that a non-sample size model for them was a UK 8-10. The real problem with this statement is that technically it's not wrong. One of the many issues with the term “curve” of course is that it’s not exclusively used for curvier bodies but also for bodies which are essentially not a sample size. Sample sizes are still created somewhere between a US 0 and a 4 if we’re being generous. So whilst unreasonable, this statement is not incorrect. Herein lies one of the many problems. The danger of course is we are being fed a narrative, disguised as inclusivity, that a body above a sample size is larger than “normal”.
Clothes for non-sample models are created specifically for their bodies because non-sample models are not all one size. However, the cost of creating something out of the “standard” fit is not something every designer can afford to do. Everything becomes a made-to-measure piece, which is considerably more expensive to manufacture. Even when brands can it's inconvenient, so there are limited spots to be filled, creating inequality, more competition and making it harder for curve models to be on the runways.
It's tough out there, I’ve had to sit through dinner-length conversations with people boasting about their weight loss, and how their current BMI was oscillating on being critical. I’ve heard someone proudly announce that the sample sizes were to loose for them to wear. I’ve listened to comments about how inconvenient it is to stop for lunch. But I will equally call myself guilty, because I have spent almost my entire life berating myself about my body, my size, my belly, my fat rolls and so on. Whether we are praising a slender physique or complaining about our lower belly sticking out, all our comments are rooted in the fear of being fat. And for women bitching about our weight, is like talking about the weather. We all do it, and we do it all the time, especially around each other because we find commonality in this.
It may surprise you to know that one of the worst things I’ve heard somebody in the industry say, is not something terribly offensive. It was simply “Why should I?” when discussing the inclusion of curve models. My first thought was “If this comment was being made about race, you would have been fired at the very least”. Unfortunately, though this comment only articulated what many have not had the courage to say, but have rather alluded to.
Last year supermodel Jill Kortleve eloquently talked to the New York Times about how the misrepresentation of larger bodies is damaging not only to inclusivity but also diminishes the lived experiences of people who grew up, or still live, without being able to find clothes that fit them. And this is precisely WHY representation, of all kinds, matters. Especially in an industry as dominating as fashion.
It was the late 90’s when I started middle school. I grew up in a small but famous town in the north of Italy, which bordered the frontier to France. The landscape of fashion looked really different then. I sound like an old person but at that time, the notion of inclusivity (in many ways) and global fashion didnt exist. People in Italy dressed really differently to, say, in England, or France. Before global fashion brands such as H&M or Zara, different cultures just had a more distinct way of dressing.
I grew up as a fat kid. In fact, by the time I was 12, my BMI technically classified me as obese (don't even get me started on this number). I think I began putting on weight from a really young age, and now I see a correlation between the kilos going up, and the amount of abuse I slowly realised I was experiencing. By the time I was around 7 or 8, I had already begun noticing adults commenting about my weight and size, in fact, those words are so ingrained in my mind I can tell you verbatim what they said. Aged 10 my aunty “diagnosed” me with fat knees and told me I couldn’t wear short skirts. At 12 I was at a school event when my crush leaned in and kissed me on the lips. The next day he told everyone it was only because he wanted to know what it felt like to kiss a fat girl. At 13 my dad told me nobody would ever love me if I didn’t lose weight. I don't know if you did what your parents told you to do at 13, but I carried on eating my feelings because by this point I had realised, at least subconsciously that being seen was not safe for me.
My staple uniform was a few pairs of stretch trousers and an ugly grunge, dark grey polyester jumper (think Kurt Cobain) which was about 4 sizes too big for me. You just couldn’t find cute clothes in larger sizes, and also it wasn’t socially acceptable to wear certain things if you didn’t have the “physique”.
Larger clothes were only really made for older people, or men, not pre-teens or teenagers. I couldn’t wear the clothing items or the brands that my friends wore. Miss Sixty didn’t fit me, Fiorucci, Diadora, and Phard, none of them. Short skirts, low-rise jeans, crop tops and all the other things you would imagine to have made up a pre-teens wardrobe in 1999, were all out of the question to me. I was different at a time when all I wanted to do was fit in. The polyester tent that I wore every day, which my gran refused to wash, leaving me in tears for weeks at the time before I figured out what she was (or better wasn’t) doing, was my only comfort. It was one of the few things I could wear which didn’t show my fat rolls when I sat down in maths class. My ugly grey jumper gave me the ability to experience some peace, and for me to be who I wanted to be beyond being the fat kid. It was my refuge because if I could just continue to hide how big I was, I could make myself small enough to not be noticed for my weight.
I'm not sharing this for pity, and I certainly don't enjoy divulging my deepest darkest secrets in public, in fact, I hate that everyone that reads this will know these things about me, but fuck this is so important. If you look at me I think you can still see the remnant of this period of time on my body, and I hate it. I wish I could have had the luxury of growing up a “normal” size so perhaps I could have focused on more important things such as what should I study, and what I was really interested in, instead of just pining to be smaller.
This is the answer to the “Why should I” question. Because we know that representation and visibility matter. People are overweight for all sorts of reasons, and reasons you can’t even begin to imagine if you haven’t been in this position. And these reasons are of no concern to anyone else. What a person may or may not be doing or eating is not a measure of their worth as a person. Having a larger body shouldn’t stop you from wearing the clothes you want and expressing yourself in a way that represents who you are. This is why we not only need, larger bodies to be visible on the runways, in magazines and billboards, but we desperately need designers to make larger clothes.
Of course, the issue of size goes well beyond just the ability to dress uniquely or creatively. Part of the narrative I grew up hearing, was that as a fat person, I couldn’t be in a career which would put me in the spotlight. Out went my dreams of being a ballerina or a musician. At each stage of my growth, it was made clear to me that I would have to lose weight if I wanted to achieve these things in life. Do me a favour, just do a quick Google search with the sentence “Thin women get paid more article”. How many hits do you count? This article from The Economist opens with “For an obese woman, losing weight could boost her salary by as much as obtaining a master’s degree.”
The truth is I’m tired of the comfortable lies. We talk about inclusivity, about putting curvier bodies on the catwalk in the hopes of inspiring a generation of women to not hate their bodies, but we all publicly shame our bodies when we constantly talk about how fat or thin we are. Fat phobia is not just a discussion about and for fat people, but every person. For every person who is thin and is terrified of gaining weight, for every person who feels the pressure of a society that will judge them unfairly should they become bigger.
Although I know I have given some terrible examples of people making awful comments about weight, the truth is that these people are not solely relegated to this industry. Every one of us is guilty of perpetuating this fat-phobic narrative. The fashion industry, is in fact one of the most inclusive and forward-thinking industries, at least in my opinion. It is a world of creatives, mad people, beautiful people and most importantly diverse people, who are largely happy to celebrate differences. I know this is a broad stroke, but I also believe it, because I’m proud of the gigantic steps some people have taken, for the sake of the collective. I've been inspired by some of the people I have worked with, who are willing to fight for inclusivity and are relentless in their pursuit. Young designers that have had the courage to break the mould and showcased larger sizes in their collections a decade before established fashion houses. Editors who look different from their predecessors who have had the audacity to push the limits of what is acceptable in our editorials.
Although I have spoken about the more negative experiences in this essay, for every fattist I have encountered, I have met many many more unbelievably passionate creatives and industry leaders who are determined to make a change. And whilst so many people before me have written on this issue, we have to continue to do so until it’s no longer an issues at all.
My dear lovely Robi! Thank you so so much for reading this, I agree there is so much more to talk about that five pages really just scratches the surface. I feel like all of the things I want to write about can take up volumes, so perhaps let’s consider this an introduction to the topic, because I know eventually it will come up again. It’s not just about ticking a box here but really getting into it. The point you make designers rarely making clothes in plus sizes is a VERY good one! Thank you so much for taking the time to leave a really thoughtful comment, it leaves me with a lot to think about xx
Dear Silvy,
First of all, I'm so sorry about your family... I couldn't imagine to live my life without the support of my parents, no matter what.
That said, I was waiting for this essay release since you announced it and though I still love this and I'd love for you to go deeper on this issue.
There is more to talk and I feel y have the experience and the sensitivity to go ahead and say what others articles are not.
Let's talk about working as a curve/fat/not sample girl in this industry, not just as a model.
Let's talk about how long is the path to really talk about being able to "include" different sizes on the runway not just to say "oh yes I had one last season"
Let's talk about make available on the website and at the boutiques all the sizes of a dress.... if I see that on the show, I'd love to be able to buy the fucking outfit and try on at the shop, no?
And more...
Cheers (with an espresso now)
Robi