I make fashion (only for skinny girls)

Scrolling through the conceptual and experimental creations of fashion design graduates, it becomes clear that fashion isn’t so much about dressing the body, as it is about dressing the RIGHT body; that of the young, able-bodied, slim, white woman. While fashion can no longer deny the marketing appeal of diversity and imagery portrays increasingly varied body types, efforts of inclusivity rarely penetrate the actual design studios, leaving most wearers with clothes that are ill-fitting (or simply non-existent in the case of luxury fashion brands).

Why is it so difficult to design clothes that fit different body types? And how can we change our education to adapt to those needs?

The human body comes in as many varieties as there are human body havers, so finding a system that caters to everyone has always been a Sisyphean task.

It is important to understand that most of our ideals around bodies, garments, and sizes find their origin in the industrialisation of our industry. Up until the end of the 19th Century, clothes were made to fit the individual. Only when technology allowed for mass garment production and the standard size was introduced, did we start thinking about a “standard body”, explains Dr. Peters, Assistant Professor of Fashion Studies at Columbia College Chicago and specialist on the politics of plus-size fashion. “While fashion trends (especially silhouettes) have always been determined by prevailing beauty ideals, it wouldn’t be until the advent of standardized sizing in the last third of the 19th century that beauty ideals would so concretely come to be linked with body size.”

We began to think of bodies as something that needed to fit the clothes, rather than the other way around.

The human body comes in as many varieties as there are human body havers, so finding a system that caters to everyone has always been a Sisyphean task. To make matters worse, our current system is based on ideals rather than real, human bodies. “It took a 36” bust as the base measurement and ‘proportionate’ hip and waist measurements were derived from there,” says Dr. Peters. “These corresponding measurements were based less on real, fleshy bodies than on prevailing notions of the ideal female form, the roots of which can be traced back to classical ideas about beauty and symmetry. All other sizes were graded up and down from this base measurement.”

As a result, we began to think of bodies as something that needed to fit the clothes, rather than the other way around. In other words, some dude in 1791 invented the sewing machine and now you feel shame whenever you can’t close the zipper of a new pair of jeans in the changing room.

“Different bodies need to be present at the start of the design process to make a real difference, not only as an afterthought in the grading phase.” – Sinead O’Dwyer

This concept of a standard body permeates into every aspect of the fashion creation process, not just the casting. “I think women and female-identifying bodies have been shoved into various boxes for a long time and we’re coming to a place where we’re creating space for people to just be how they are without always having to change,” Sinead O’Dwyer recently told us. The London-based designer started researching the female body at the Royal College of Art where she graduated in 2018. “Different bodies need to be present at the start of the design process to make a real difference, not only as an afterthought in the grading phase.”

Doing this requires a paradigmal (like, really big) shift in the fashion design process. For Karoline Vito, that shift started after her Central Saint Martins tutor, David Kappo, asked her a simple question: “Who do you design for? The viewer, or the wearer?” The deceivingly simple question sparked an ongoing reflection on the female body and its curves.

“Why do we press and hide our body?” – Karoline Vito

Like many designers, Karoline had been dressing an abstract entity, an imaginary woman whose significance was purely symbolic. Only when she started observing her own body and that of the women around her, did she open up her creative potential. “Waist training was huge at the time and I had bought one for myself. It was so tight that everything just popped out so I took pictures of this garment around my body, and started questioning: Why do we press and hide our body?” Now, the designs of Karoline accentuate and celebrate the natural curves and folds of the female body, radically opposing the idea that fat needs to be flattened and hidden.

“I always have to start with the body. ” – Michaela Stark

A similar process guides Michaela Stark, the London-based designer known for her pastel-coloured corsets that strap tightly around the body to create bulges of fat and flesh. “I always have to start with the body. I take my time to play with the flesh, fat, and skin. I see how everything moves and bounces, what happens to your fat distribution in different postures, which parts of the body are really squishy and moldable, and which parts aren’t.”

This is a design process that doesn’t start from an image, but from a tangible sensation. If you are working with a model, this also requires a lot of communication. Michaela highlights how important it is to exchange with the people she designs on. “I like to see how extreme I can compress some parts of the body – constantly testing my own boundaries and pain thresholds, and those of my consenting models. Testing the pain thresholds is really important to do early on, so that the model feels in control and empowered by how I like to morph the body, and not being forced into anything that they don’t want to do.” Suddenly, the model becomes a muse and collaborator, rather than a mere hanger to impose your vision on.

Chamiah Dewey went through a similar process of experiential learning, but in this case, the body she started didn’t look like her own. Her fashion line caters to women with dwarfism. She created a bespoke size chart and worked with the Restricted Growth Association to develop a bespoke tailors dummy in the form of a short stature woman.

“I’ve never seen a visibly disabled person at uni. The way I learned to make clothes was very basic, so I had to completely deconstruct that in my mind. ” – Chamiah Dewey

The idea came to her when she was working as a youth team leader and met a teen with achondroplasia, the most common form of dwarfism. “I wasn’t taught a lot about the actual body,” says Chamiah, reflecting back on her time at the London College of Fashion. “I’ve never seen a visibly disabled person at uni. The way I learned to make clothes was very basic, so I had to completely deconstruct that in my mind. The way I design now is that I imagine myself as that person and then imagine myself wearing that piece. I put myself in their shoes.”

How can we expect fashion design to play a significant role in current socio-cultural debates if we keep designing for fictional characters?

Chamiah isn’t alone in her experience at university. Most design students are encouraged to imagine the person they design for at the start of their creative process; to visualise their Thursday-night habits, their coffee order, their favourite gallery, or their Spotify roundup. And that is exactly the problem with this part of the process: it’s imaginary. How can we expect fashion design to play a significant role in current socio-cultural debates if we keep designing for fictional characters?

Empathy is crucial: know who your client is and what their needs are before hopping on Pinterest and opening your aestetics board. “I always recommend following disabled people online, influencers and bloggers. Reach out to them for interviews and surveys. It can be scary because you don’t want to offend anyone, but most people are happy to share their experience.”

Sinead, Karoline, Michaela, and Chamiah all place the wearer at the centre of the design development. But this isn’t just an ideological choice, it’s also one made out of necessity. The tools to design for non-standard bodies simply aren’t available. From patterns to fitting dolls, our entire industry revolves around the sample size. Designers who want to work outside of that convention need to make it up as they go along.

“There is no theory or guide on how to design or pattern cut for bigger sizes.” – Karoline Vito

“I’m still learning, I need to constantly adapt because there is not much background on it. There is no theory or guide on how to design or pattern cut for bigger sizes,” says Karoline. “The only resources that exist are from non-professionals, women who make their own clothes and share the information online. The knowledge that exists around these fittings, this wearer expertise.”

Though the standard sizing system comes with a host of issues, it also has a few obvious advantages: working inside of convention always increases efficiency and decreases cost. You can produce more for cheap. Most of the designers mentioned here work on a made-to-order model. “Couture and bespoke design are the most inclusive in terms of size and body shape, though definitely not the most inclusive in terms of budget and affordability,” explained Michaela. “The problem with couture is that the fashion industry works on tight turnovers and the industry as a whole (or maybe just the London niche that I found myself in) doesn’t value construction as much as other things. I have a constant pressure to be creating corsets with budgets that do not even cover my costs and timelines that feel completely unachievable.”

Our beauty ideals are deeply ingrained in our psyche.

“We are so stuck in working in the ways we think we should work, so we don’t even think of alternatives,” observes Karoline.

But even if we would solve the problem of the dolls, and the sample sizes, and the patterns, and the castings ‒ even if we fixed all the technical drawbacks ‒ design graduates would still struggle to produce anything that fit someone bigger than a twelve-year-old. Our beauty ideals are deeply ingrained in our psyche.

“There has to be a culture shift within fashion departments wherein educators are forced to confront their biases. Size inclusivity cannot just be an issue tackled in a single workshop or elective; it has to be baked into every aspect of the curriculum (from sketching to construction) so that students are not given the opportunity to opt-in or opt-out.”

We keep telling every generation of designers: “Fashion impacts a lot of people! … But don’t you break your pretty little head over it, you can just stick to your niche of party dresses if you want to.”

This year, not a week passed without an invitation to a sustainability event slipping into our inbox. Every single one of them starts their opening speech with a similar statement: fashion is an influential cultural entity and creativity has the power to change our world. Then they go on to invite speakers who don’t actually work as creatives.

Our industry loves to recognise the potential of fashion as a change-maker, yet they don’t actually expect the makers of fashion to bring the change. We keep telling every generation of designers: “Fashion impacts a lot of people! … But don’t you break your pretty little head over it, you can just stick to your niche of party dresses if you want to.”

Fashion needs to be taken seriously, not just by its audiences, but by its makers too. Your creations are more than materialised figments of your imagination. They touch people’s bodies and lives, bringing them comfort and joy.

“It’s a great challenge to put yourself in the shoes of someone else. It makes fashion a much nicer place to be, a nicer place to design from.” ‒ Chamiah Dewey

 

If you enjoyed reading this, you might also like:

MICHAELA STARK ADDRESSES FASHION’S SIZING PROBLEM

SINEAD O’DWYER ON TACKLING THE SYSTEMIC OPPRESSION OF THE FEMALE FORM