The Politics of Dress by Karen W. Stimson Originally published in the NAAFA Feminist Caucus Newsletter, 1987 In my early twenties, I had a friend named Cathy. A self-employed silversmith, she was my first fat friend. Her weight ranged between 200 and around 350, depending on where she was in her current cycle of diet and rebound. Though bright and talented, Cathy had dropped out of high school in the ninth grade and only years later returned to take her equivalency exam so she could enroll in art school. She'd quit high school, she told me, to get away from the abuse she experienced there, from classmates, teachers, even the administrators at her rural school. Her tormentors had targeted her not only for her weight but her wardrobe. At a size 54, her only attire, in school or out, was one of the two house dresses she got from the local Lane Bryant's--the only items of clothing she had been able to find anywhere that fit her. Cathy's story illustrates how big a factor clothing is in the lives of fat women. I have often thought how different my own growing-up might have been--I was a supersize teen, too, and my town didn't even have the dubious benefit of a Lane Bryant store--had it not been for one fact. My mother could sew. And not just sew, exquisitely, but alter patterns to fit my women's-size child's body, so that her tomboy daughter who disdained any interest in clothes could have, for all the years of her childhood and adolescence, a wardrobe fit for a storybook princess. Compared to Cathy, my early years were spent in relative tranquility. This, despite being the only kid in school whose parents were divorced and the only one living in an extended family with her mother and maternal grandparents--factors which in the 50's set me apart from my peers almost as much as my weight did. Looking back, I am certain my relatively hassle-free childhood owed much to my perfect little-girl wardrobe. It allowed me to pass for "normal" in a world to which I otherwise did not belong. Fond memories of the clothes my mother made me, which at the time I never fully appreciated, linger like half-forgotten fairy tales, marking my passage through the years by association with events along the way. There was the Christmas-red circle skirt that matched my mother's, complete with appliqued felt poodle with its shiny sequined collar...the western shirt with lavishly hand-embroidered yoke that gave life to my Annie Oakley fantasy and was the next best thing to having a horse...the Easter Parade coat-and-dress ensembles I showed off each year at Sunday School to admiring "ooh"s and "ah"s. By the time I reached high school and finally began taking some interest in what I wore, I was already the best-dressed kid there, though size prejudice denied me any recognition of that fact. My mother was a fat woman herself (though her Jane Russell figure attracted more sexual harassment than size discrimination) and the highest-paid female executive in our city. She also managed to keep me fashionably turned-out through all my high school years. When kilt skirts were the rage I had mine, fastened at the front with the mandatory oversized gold safety pin. And the year all the women's magazines featured jumpers with matching Mod caps and spats on their Twiggy clones, my mother produced a copy in my size, right down to the nylon-knit turtleneck and matching stockings she made that completed the outfit. But the crowning glory of all the wonderful clothes I remember is a dress I can still picture in fine detail even today, more than twenty-five years later, a dress she made for me to wear to a dance--the only date I had during high school. It was like something out of a dream to me...yards and yards of billowing, floating chiffon in shades of pink from pastel to deep magenta, gathered at the waist, with a sleeveless shirred bodice and oh-so-slight decolletage ending in a chiffon rose. In that dress, with my gold high heeled sandals and evening bag, I was Cinderella going to the ball. And even though my Prince Charming turned into a toad--he subsequently took a thin schoolmate to the prom to avoid being harassed for taking me and expected that I'd still go out with him afterwards--just for one night I got to live a girlish fantasy. Considering the key role that how we look plays in the socialization of women in our culture, the political implication for fat women of not having access to appropriate and affordable attire is the most graphic demonstration possible of the lack of esteem we are held in by our society. It says we aren't supposed to exist. This is both personal and political disenfranchisement at their most basic level, cutting us off from even the most mundane activities--say, a walk around the block if we can't find or afford a coat that fits. Society's implicitly judgmental attitude toward fat ("overweight", "outsize") becomes explicit when we consider what items of apparel are not available in which sizes. The severity of restrictions placed on our dress, and by extension on our lives, is directly proportional to the degree to which we exceed our culture's norms--the greater the measurements, the smaller the access. At the lower end of the size spectrum, in what are now called Plus (formerly women's) sizes, the declaration by an editor of BBW magazine several years ago that the fight for fashionable clothing in large sizes is over might almost seem to be true. What is true is that the years since the early 80's have seen an explosion in the availability of fashion in the Plus range as manufacturers and retailers have finally discovered how big this market really is. The Big, Beautiful Woman has indeed come a long way from the bulletproof polyester tents and pantsuits that were the staple of her wardrobe in the seventies. Almost everything available in Misses sizes is now offered in Plus, from swimsuits to wedding gowns and maternity wear. Even some of the last holdouts are coming around. Haute couture designers have brought out lines like Givenchy en Plus, chic upscale departments like Salon Z have popped up in posh stores like Saks Fifth Avenue, and boutiques like Great Changes in Los Angeles cater to Hollywood's stars of size and their well-heeled L.A. sisters. Mind you, the Plus woman is still segregated to shopping in special stores or sections of stores, and often by mail, but if she's willing to make the extra effort (and often pay the extra price) she'll find almost everything she wants. One major exception to this rule is in specialized sports apparel. It can be disheartening to realize what women over size 14W aren't supposed to do--play in competitition or team sports, for example, though one popular winter sport has opened up with the availability of skiwear in Plus (and some super) sizes. Fat women who break the unwritten rule against participation in such activities must create alternative sources for the necessary items of apparel, like one I know of who competes in horse shows. All her English riding habits and boots are custom-made, at considerable expense. Ironically, for supersize women, the Plus-size revolution has only made it harder to find clothing in our size. Like poor relations, supersize women are in much the same situation today in relation to Plus sizes that our Plus-size sisters were to Misses sizes in the late 70's. Each year brings us better options, as what catalog giant J. C. Penney has dubbed Extended Sizes (26W - 32W) find their way into the Plus range in items in many lines, mostly sportwear. There is, in fact, a plethora of sportswear in supersizes, while there is a dearth of just about everything else. Some beacons of hope have appeared, like a discount chain, Sizes Unlimited, which carries fashions to size 60, and the proliferation of small mail-order clothing catalogs catering to supersize shoppers to size 70 and above. Even those bellwethers of large-size fashion, Lane Bryant and Roaman's, now offer most of the items in their catalogs up to 32W, or 52, with a surprising number of tops, pants and yes, dresses in 54 and 56. Plus-size mail-order mainstay Regalia now even offers several of its casual blouses up to size 60 (40W), a move immediately copied by Lane Bryant and Roamans. Had my friend Cathy been attending high school today, the variety of reasonably acceptable clothing available might have afforded her enough relief from the harassment she suffered that she might have been able to graduate. Though most resources are low on dresses and even lower on suits with jackets and skirts, it is now possible for a supersize woman to find a selection of well-made, fashionable clothing appropriate to a career in the office, hospital, classroom or lab. This represents a major step up from even the late 80's and reflects the increasing consensus in our country that size discrimination is unfair. But if supersize women are now permitted in the office and at the beach, other restrictions still remain. The supersize woman going to the prom, on her honeymoon, or up for CEO will still be hard-pressed to find appropriate attire. And for the fattest of us--perhaps the truest test of how far we've come--the answer is almost no distance at all. Thousands of supersize women a fraction of the size of the late Walter Hudson (the world's heaviest man at around 1200 pounds) live as he did before his unwelcome celebrity, cloistered in their homes. They are imprisoned as much by lack of wardrobe as by socially-sanctioned self-hatred and size abuse. As supersize women become more visible and more vocal, like our Plus-size sisters did in the 80's, so will the supply of available clothing in the upper ranges. The catch-22 cycle that keeps us chained--no clothes means no access to jobs, and no jobs means no money to buy clothes--is the end result of a system that values our worth as women according to how well we conform to the prevailing cultural aesthetic. The restrictions placed on our dress directly reflect the degree of stigma attached to our size, from that of second-class citizen to pariah. To break the chain means challenging this hierarchy, as persistent and resourceful fat women are doing in increasing numbers, carving niches in the job market wide enough to accommodate their abilities and somehow acquiring the wardrobes necessary for their professional and personal lives. To begin, in place of the narrowly-defined standard judging us inferior by degree. we need to establish a broad-based aesthetic, one that validates diversity and affirms the beauty and strength in every shape and size. When we believe that everybody is good, right, and beautiful, we make it possible for everyone to look and feel good at any size. Then the politics of dress becomes empowerment: fashion in our own image, a vision embracing every aspect of our lives as people of all sizes work together to create a size-friendly, size-informed, and ultimately size-blind world.