Saving the planet through fashion is a glamorous endeavor. Unfortunately, plus-sized shoppers are forced to sit this green revolution out.
Brenda, a plus-sized seamstress from El Salvador, can’t buy clothes from Reformation, the sustainable fashion brand she sews garments for in a Los Angeles factory. Brenda is a single-needle seamstress, which means she is an extremely experienced tailor for the uber-expensive, ethically and sustainably produced fashion retailer. Brenda is part of an ever-increasing population of American women with plus-sized bodies who have historically been left out of mainstream fashion and continue to be left out of fashion’s latest trend: sustainability.
Size-inclusivity is not limited to purely sustainable brands. Still, the imagery of a plus-sized individual (or the person of color, low-income or disabled person) is almost virtually absent from eco-friendly brands’ marketing. When social scientists at Carnegie Mellon University surveyed the average American, participants admitted they see the typical ‘environmentalists’ as well-educated, white, middle-class individuals. Further, according to The Conversation, they see the average, stylish woman as inherently thin, a perpetual idol of the ‘thin ideal.’
This eco-friendly fashionista is a thin white woman who effortlessly thrifts and can wear a trash bag and make it look good. In contrast, the plus-sized woman has no style, dresses like Principal Trunchbull and inconveniences the world when she dares to be a cutting-edge fashion fanatic.
She would never wear luxury fragrance, the essence of femininity. She will remain five years behind the current fashion trends. She looks up to the thin woman as a model and resigns herself to either drastic weight loss or forever being left out of Victoria’s Secret fashion shows. And she shouldn’t even dare to consider herself beautiful, nevertheless sexy. It would be laughable to think otherwise, so why would a fashionable brand risk selling clothes to her?
Because the stereotypes about plus-sized women are harmful and untrue. As plus-sized people, particularly women, watch themselves rendered invisible in almost all areas of society, being left out of a fashion trend that is specially marketed as “revolutionarily inclusive” is insulting. The fashion industry treats the plus-sized dollar as worthless, and plus-sized shoppers are repeatedly shut out of the fashion world.
Fatphobia will never let women be “thin enough.”
Despite the increasing societal values of inclusivity, sustainability and ethically produced fashion wares, fashion brands tend to cherry-pick which social ills they address and oftentimes, inclusive-sizing lands at the bottom of the barrel. The terms “high-fashion,” “fashionista,” “style,” “glam” and “beauty” rarely, if ever, conjure up the image of a plus-sized body, despite the high population of plus-sized people worldwide.
So, what’s at stake? Why should the average American, obviously thin, care about the clothing plus-sized women can spend money on? Aren’t Torrid and Lane Bryant enough? Well, no. Because the average American is not thin. In fact, it is a signifier of Americanness to be plus-sized. Over a quarter of American women are plus-sized, which means a woman you know is finding it harder and harder to find flattering clothes that fit her.
You, your mother, aunt, sister, girlfriend or coworker are frustrated when you get a burst of eco-empowerment and browse the Pact or KOTN catalogs for sustainable fits, only to find that the sizes rarely go beyond a US women’s size 16. The straw man argument that if plus-sized people want to be stylish, they should lose weight in order to fit into stylish clothes falls through when one considers a huge underlying feature: fatphobia will never let women be “thin enough.”
The purpose of the fat liberation movement is to recognize that Americans, even the thin ones, don’t really win when they let the gap of who deserves to fit into stylish clothing shrink. American feminists don’t win when they let this slide, nor do nutritionists, antiracists, disability advocates or even designers themselves. Brands lose money, consumer audiences, and positive brand perception when they choose to “stay thin” (e.g., refuse to increase the range of clothing sizes they offer). NAAFA, the National Organization to Advance Fat Acceptance, regularly argues the economic benefits of size inclusivity and featuring fatness as a factor of intersectionality.
Think back to Brenda, the plus-sized seamstress employed by Reformation. When Brenda finishes sewing the latest designs for the company, she may decide to go shopping at one of their stores, as I recently did. As a plus-sized individual, I spotted a gorgeous white velvet button-down top on display and just had to have it. The store only offers it in XXL in-person but the sales associate reassured me they had a wider range of sizes online. When I visited their website however, I found that they did not, in fact, have that top in my size, a 2X. When I looked at the website’s other listings, they only had 80 items store-wide that ranged from sizes 1X to 3X, the only plus sizes Reformation offers. I counted just 33 dresses, 33 tops (including vests and sweaters), six skirts, six pairs of pants, one blazer, and one coat accessible to the plus-sized consumer. Reformation is one of the far too many sustainable fashion brands that do not factor in plus-sized bodies when producing sustainable apparel.
The real issue at heart is whether we are satisfied with having so little empathy for the plus-sized women in our lives or on our Instagram feeds that we accept the few clothing options they have. Does it make store owners money when they turn down willing consumers because they don’t have their size on the racks? Do we truly feel that the increase in profits companies experience when they increase their size ranges has no impact on the economy when data says otherwise? When Americanness is equated with fatness, are we okay with fatness staying synonymous with unfashionable?
The fashion industry itself cannot possibly claim to be revolutionary, consistently capable of reinventing itself and for the people if it dares to continue to leave out plus-sized consumers. NAAFA was formed in 1969 out of the love a young engineer had for his plus-sized wife, who faced discrimination and marginalization on a daily basis. If that kind of love for the environment pushes brands to create sustainable clothing, is the love strong enough to make those eco-friendly clothes size-inclusive? Or is this love story actually just a fling?