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Abercrombie and Fitch isn’t the only store that doesn’t want ‘larger people’

9 May

A big hoo-ha rolling around amongst friends on Facebook is a reminder of a 2006 tone-deaf pronouncement re women larger than size 10 from Abercrombie & Fitch CEO Mike Jeffries that was recently reiterated by Robin Lewis, co-author of The New Rules of Retail, who told Business Insider 

“He doesn’t want larger people shopping in his store, he wants thin and beautiful people,” Lewis told Business Insider. “He doesn’t want his core customers to see people who aren’t as hot as them wearing his clothing. People who wear his clothing should feel like they’re one of the ‘cool kids.’” 

Yep, that pretty well paraphrases Jeffries’ comments to Salon magazine in 2006….no fat chicks

But this really isn’t a surprise to someone like me, who wears between a 14 and 16 (sometimes a 12) and repeatedly finds that she cannot purchase a darned thing from trendy retailers like French Connection and All Saints, and that many designer shops , such as Tory Burch, don’t cater to her size either.

At least the surgically altered Jeffries’ is open and honest about his retailing philosophy.

Not to mention that when I worked at V.S., they had decided to phase out bra sizes over a 38D from the stores, and made them available only online.

For a culture that seems to be obsessed with large breasted women, it’s amazing that we aren’t necessarily wanted in stores unless we are of the surgically augmented variety, with tiny bodies and oversized implants a la  Heidi Montag (who, according to the tabloids now “regrets” having size 32G breasts. yeah, right.)

Over and over, and supposedly, there are retail studies that show the average American woman is somewhere around a 14.  Or a 12, if adjusted for vanity sizing.  This is often considered “plus size.”  However, the true retail Plus Size, or Women’s size 14 really does not fit certain women who are that size.   Me, for instance, when I try to buy a plus size 14, it may fit well around my breasts, but will be HUGE throughout the body of the garment, and much longer than I need it to be.  A size 14, or, in some cases a 12, or a Large, in the Misses’ department (the average height woman) might fit somewhat better in the waist, but still be larger in the hip and length than I want it to be.  Pants are a total “forget it” as the rise is way too long and I end up with droopy crotch and saggy butt.  My best pants size is a 14 petite because of the hip, rise and length, although a 14, 16, or XL petite top is hit or miss–usually they are too short even if they fit across the chest.

Apparently, we are supposed to be getting our clothing altered.  But who has the time and money for alterations?  Who wants to take a crummy pair of $35 or $40 pants and pay an additional $30 or $40 to have them altered so that they fit properly with no droopy crotch, no saggy butt, and not dragging on the floor?

But back to the bit about retailers’ wanting only the “cool kids” in their stores.  Jeffries says that he doesn’t want Abercrombie to be a “vanilla” store that appeals to everybody.  Honestly, he really doesn’t have to limit his sizes for that to happen.  There are a lot of people who wouldn’t shop in his stores, primarily because of the steep price point for Chinese sweat shop garments.    Still, Jeffries’ thinking is about as ironic as a culture that likes size 2 women with unnatural 32G chests.  It turns out that in the average shopping mall, the majority of the stores are aimed at an under 30 customer because it is perceived that an under 30 customer will have money to spend on themselves, whereas the over 30 customer is shopping for family.

Between the negative attitudes of retailers about sizes over 10, and the under 30 target demographic of most mall retailers, is it any wonder that shoppers are flocking to online outlets, where they do not have to face rack upon rack of nothing worth purchasing.

 

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Lena Dunham denies herself high-heel aspirations–with good reason

31 Jan
So she can't walk in high heels and you thought her dress was funny...she still got the Golden Globe, bitches!

So she can’t walk in high heels and you thought that dress was funny-looking on her…she still won a Golden Globe, bitches!

Poor Lena Dunham!  By now, *everyone* knows she can’t walk in high heels.  The story of her inability was just about the biggest thing anyone said about her appearance at the Golden Globe awards.  Except maybe that they didn’t like her Zac Posen dress either.

Dunham's very public break-up with her gold shoes

Dunham’s very public break-up with her gold shoes.

She even took off her high heels at the Glamour Woman of the Year Awards banquet!

Oh the humanity!

The thing is, not every woman wants to, nor can, wear high-heeled shoes.   Sure, some of us are born and immediately ask for a pair of patent leather D’Orsay pumps with a 3.5 inch heel, but, hey, we’re the outliers, the ones who adore unnatural footwear and find them to be in some cases, the most expressive part of our wardrobes.  Yet even for us, wearing high heels–especially those gargantuan 6 inch stripper heels–take the practiced skills that make her something of a modern-day American geisha.

Not every woman has that particular aspiration.

Why should she anyway?  What difference does it make if Lena Dunham can strut in a pair of Louboutons like Megan Fox?  Yes, they’re the big status shoe, and having a pair shows that you’re now a real Woman of Style.  But what if there are other things that are more important in your life than practicing, for hours, how to walk in the things without killing yourself (or at least risking serious bodily injury?)

Me, a Fellini movie, and my fire engine red patent leather shoes

fun on a Saturday Night: Me, a Fellini film, and my fire engine red patent leather shoes

Being a consummate high-heel obsessive–I’m so obsessive that I actually take pictures of my feet in my favorite shoes (don’t ask me why)–I know that when one is young, it’s easier to learn to walk in high heels than when one is older. Much to my Mother’s dismay, I asked for my first pair of platform shoes when I was 13, and wore her down enough to get them.  IMO,  if Lena really desired high heels, she would have started wearing them a lot sooner, and she’d have no problem walking in them at her age.

She’d also do what she could to keep wearing them till the day she died..

The other thing that causes women other than Dunham to eschew heels is the shape of our feet.  My feet, honestly,  look rather similar to Dunham’s, which kind of resemble Wilma Flintstone’s feet.  It’s not easy to get those feet into high heels, let alone be comfortable in them.   High heeled, open toed shoes are much easier to wear in the beginning that closed toe–especially if you’re going to be walking in anything gargantuan (as RuPaul once advised.)  But with our funny little toes and straight across, un-ballet-dancer-like feet, open toed or closed toed makes no difference in the discomfort department.

Also, as one’s weight fluctuates, and age sets in, it helps to stretch hamstrings, quads, and ankles as preparation for walking in heels.

Then comes the walking itself.  This requires making sure your weight rests in your heels as you step forward.

Trust me.  The  whole walking-in-high-heels thing takes a whole lot of practice.  A Whole Lot of Practice.

Even then, you may have to tolerate blisters, squashed toes, and perhaps shin splints.  None of which are very glamorous and might confine you to flats and band-aids–or worse– for several days.

So, honestly, I get where Lena Dunham is coming from.  If the girl doesn’t want to wear high heels, she shouldn’t have to.  High heels, and walking expertly in them, are not, nor should they be, the sign of A Successful Woman anyway–not these days.  Besides, there are plenty of pretty flats out there that would suit Dunham’s particular look . Heels just aren’t who she is nor what she, and other young women of her generation are about.  In fact, isn’t it her, and the show’s, authenticity that everybody thinks is so great about the show anyway? ?

 

H.T. to Trend 911 and WWD.com for the Dunham pics.  The other one I took myself.

Could you (or would you?) go for a year without make-up (not me!)

30 Jan

I don’t know what it is with some women: they seem to get incredibly caught up in the superficial trappings of the The Beauty Experiment Book Coverfeminine realm and lose their sense of self.  So much so that they need to get all ascetic on themselves and then do some kind of tell-all about how wonderful it was.  That seems to be what happened to author Phoebe Baker Hyde who chronicles her journey (struggle?) in The Beauty Experiment: How I Skipped Lipstick, Ditched Fashion, Faced the World without Concealer, and Learned to Love the Real Me .

I read an adapted excerpt of her book on Salon, and, honestly, it gave me a headache.  I could not believe that make-up would cause someone so much heartache.  Nor could I imagine that going without it would lead to such an epiphany.  To me, it’s kind of like blaming Barbie dolls for your eating disorder…..

Baker Hyde seem to have missed some of the benefits that good make-up can provide for women.

I happen to have very,very delicate skin, barely wrinkled, almost porcelain (except for a few freckles)  and I don’t look my 52 years (ok, other than a bit of pudge, I don’t look my 52 years.)

I won't go out in below 30 degree weather without make-up!

I won’t go out in below 30 degree weather without make-up!

I’m darned proud of it, too!  I credit some of my skin preservation to wearing make-up in extreme weather, like we’ve recently had in New England…

Believe me, when I have to go out in 5 degree weather, just to take out the garbage and do a couple of loads of laundry a few doors down at the laundromat, a simple sunscreen will not stop me from wrinkling like a prune.  Extreme cold air can be as dry as the Sahara.  I need an extra layer not just under my jeans, but on my skin…

The same way some people are never without lip balm in this kind of weather, I’m never without make-up.  Since I’ve learned how to put it on properly, and make it look natural, I don’t fear that it is a “mask,” that I’m hiding something, or that I’m doing it because I’ve been sold a bill of goods by the beauty industry about feminine ideals and I’m a slave to their marketing.

To quote Bugs Bunny: “Oh Margaret!”

When I was in my 30′s, I started to break out in a rash on my cheeks.  Then small acne-like pustules.  I went to my doctor, who first thought I might have lupus.  Luckily it wasn’t.  She then gave me a cream for rosacea, which is a serious skin condition.  The rosacea cream wasn’t working–but antibacterial ointment, something I tried out of frustration, worked.

It turned out that part of the trouble was that the air in both my home and work environment was quite dry, and while my skin didn’t flake, it was so dry that I was getting microscopic abrasions on my face.  Bacteria was getting into those abrasions and causing the break-outs.   That’s why the antibiotic ointment worked to clear it up.  It also acted like a lip balm for my face when I went outside.

The doctor also told me that there were various kinds of very nasty bacteria that could get into the micro-abrasions and make me very, very sick.

After that, I made sure I always used a good quality moisturizer and make-up in extreme weather.  Because nobody wants to walk around with greasy anti-bacterial ointment face every day.

So, for those of us who won’t part with our make-up for anything, maybe there’s a good reason, and maybe we’re wearing it to protect our skins and keep our skin healthy– not for some other vain or neurotic reason :-)

Don’t judge yourself by the number on the scale….

28 Dec

ADDENDUM 1/1/13: Apparenly, some researchers have found that for some of us, body mass index (B.M.I.) and scale numbers do not mean as much as your cholesterol, blood sugar, blood pressure and other health indicators: Study Suggests Lower Mortality Risk for People Deemed Overweight

or your dress size for that matter….

I’m saying this as I just got through a failed attempt to put on a ten-year old Little Black Dress I was hoping to wear for

this is a lousy picture of a very pretty dress.  trust me.

this is a lousy picture of my very pretty purple dress. trust me.

New Year’s Eve.   I was actually able to slip the whole thing over my head and shimmy it down my shapewear-clad body, but what I saw was terrifically frightening.  Sure, it fit in the hips–the place where it used to be too large.  Now, it was squashing my boobs worse than my mega-strong triple-layer heavy-duty sports bra.

It turns out I’ll be wearing the Larger Purple Dress I wore to my friend Marvin’s wedding in October.  It’s a great dress, so I really can’t complain.  It fits like a charm, and gives me something of an overweight, auburn-haired Lana Turner look. …or so I’ve been told….

Over the Christmas holiday, I decided to wear a red short-sleeved sweater and a black pencil skirt–a look that used to really do me justice.  I had the B.F. take a few pictures, just to see how I looked.  Well, I still have my cute, not at all wrinkled face, and my hair is really nice and healthy-shiny, but wow, I was not prepared for the size of my upper arms, nor that I looked something like a bright red candy apple perched on a black stem.  (maybe I’m more like a big, over-ripe cherry, I’m not sure….)  “Wow,  I’m really fat,” I said to the B.F. as we looked at the pictures on his laptop.

“You don’t look bad,” he said, “but you could stand to lose a little weight.”  This, said by  the man who gave me, for Christmas, a box containing one-quarter pound of white chocolate santas, a 6-ounce bag of butter mints (my favorite!), a half-dozen specialty truffles, and one-half pound of peppermint bark.

Apparently, my size really doesn’t bother him all that much.  Which, I’m quite grateful for being the case.  I’d hate to be hooked up with one of those persnickity fashion plates/workout kings who’s always got one eye in the mirror and the other on the scale.  And then another eye on whatever it is I’m eating at any particular moment.

I guess to some degree I’m not all that concerned about my weight nor my dress size.  I know my body’s changed, and for more reasons than *just* not exercising like a fiend anymore.  Some of it has to do with age and changing hormones.  Really, what sort of insanity made me think I could fit in a dress I used to wear when I worked retail about seven years ago, and was a giant stress case?  Some of the weight has to do with medication I take for my hypothyroidism and, in the past year, my lovely new friend, asthma.  It seems like every medication I take has the side-effect called “weight gain.”

Then again,  the side-effect of “weight loss” from medication is kind of creepy.  Usually, that side-effect occurs when one has a condition that’s close to fatal.  My conditions are annoying, but not fatal (although one can die of an asthma attack–mine, however, isn’t that bad.  Once again, mostly annoying.)

So, I have age, and hormones, and medication conspiring against me and an effortless, svelte figure.  It doesn’t help that I detest exercise.  This, after many, many years of dancing and exercising like a madwoman in an attempt to stay a size 7.  That never worked.  I was usually a 9–and I’m talking an old-school size 9, which is, perhaps a 5 nowadays.   Who can keep up with all the rapid changes in the world of “vanity sizing…”

I was also a body-builder, with a fabulous six-pack, and killer upper arms (not to mention some killer strength, too,) all  done without the use of any sorts of supplements nor steroids.  At 37,  I was a solid 150 pounds, with a 36DD chest, and the inability to find any clothes that fit me properly.

All right– here’s the thing:  a lot of life has happened between me, my body-building days, and my little black dress days.  A lot of life has happened between that solid 150 lbs and my current 185 lbs (or 182 lbs, depending on the day.)  A lot of life has happened, too, between that little girl whose doctor told her mother she had “poor muscle tone” and was “obese,” and the skinny-as-a rail 20-something punk rocker who thought she was “huge.”  Still more life has happened between that insecure, nervous, totally gorgeous 20-something with the perky 34Bs and the recently asthmatic, still nervous, 50-something writer with the 38G rack.

What I mean to say is:  who am I, or anyone else,  to judge me for not maintaining my previously svelte figure?  Who am I to get pissed because there are days when I’m a size 16, and others when I’m still a 14, but definitely not a 12?  The body is like silly putty–it can be molded and changed, imprinted with this or that. Yet when it comes right down to it, it’s still a little, round, flesh-colored blob of stuff, that, when at rest, kinda goes into whatever shape it wants.  Right now, the shape it wants is the one it has at its current state of balance with all its medications and conditions and wackily changing hormones as I careen into menopause (or peri-menopause–the only one who knows for sure is my endocrinologist.)  I breathe all right, my hair is shiny, my eyes are still incredibly bright and green I have fabulous skin, and while I have my up and down days with my moods (who doesn’t?) nothing really physically bothers me except my ankles when I’m wearing 5-inch heels, and emotionally I’ll never be as much of an emotional wreck as I was Back In The Skinny Days.

So before you start to get all freaked out over the number on the scale, the dress size that is larger than it used to be, or anything else that could make you fall into paroxysms of verbal self-flagellation, think about who you are, and where you, and your body have been over the years.   Think about your health–what may have changed–and your hormonal levels (which really do a number on women.)  Don’t  get all crazy and blame yourself for not keeping up that exercise routine or that strict regimen of vegetables and fruits when there may well have been a number of other life conditions that have conspired against you.  Conversely, don’t get all sad-sack on yourself and do the “poor me” routine.  Keep yourself in the best clothing you can get, the best skin care regimen you can afford, the best hair cuts and the most on-trend yet comfortable shoes you can live with.  Give yourself things that make you feel stylish, in fashion, and most importantly, feel good about yourself. ….

and most importantly: have a very Happy New Year!   (I’ll be back on Jan 3, 2013…)

Corsets, and Girdles, and Shapewear…Oh My! Five Considerations When Buying Shapewear

19 Dec
Thank goodness we don't have to wear these things anymore!

Thank goodness we don’t have to wear these things anymore!

Ohboy…well, it’s that time of year again…when we’ve got to pull on the ole shapewear (or is that shape-where?) and head out to our holiday parties.  This is also the time of year when women make horrible decisions regarding shapewear, think about buying corsets for shapewear, or have no idea what to buy and purchase something that’s far more girdle-like than what they really need.  So, here’s some simple tips for purchasing the right kind of shapewear (trust me, I’ve been doing this thing since the 80′s…..)

1.  Corsets that you find at the mall will not help you.  Do yourself, and the poor person who works in the store, a big, big favor and do not insist that you need a “corset” to hold in your “love-handles.”  Most corsets sold in malls are commonly referred to as “fashion corsets” because the boning in them is made of plastic, not the steel that a good, custom-made corset will have in it.  Oh, and don’t let anyone fool you into buying a steel-boned corset that is NOT custom-made for your body.  Any kind of boning, steel or plastic, that is pulled tightly to shape, and is not cut and measured to your body, could end up on a nerve meridian and cause numbing of the fingers or legs.  Not fun.

2.  Waist cinchers are great!  But there are different kinds….  Waist cinchers can really give you that hourglass figure you’re looking for–but if they have boning, you might be able to see the boning through your dress.  So make sure your dress is heavy enough to hide a waist-cincher with bones (and usually hooks too.)  If you are purchasing a boned waist-cincher, make sure that you have to pull it super tight.  Boned waist cinchers do their job *only* when they are really tight.  Otherwise they will roll down.  The exact opposite is true for non-boned waist cinchers–if these are too tight, they will roll down.  That, however is not the case with all shapewear.

3.  If it rolls down, or up,  it’s not for you.    Depending on the kind of material in the shapewear, and where the biggest piece of elastic is placed, rolling up or down could mean that it’s either too big or too small.  Try a different size.

4.  One-piece does not mean it’s going to fix everything.  I’ve tried a number of one-piece shapewear disasters over the years, and this is what I’ve found:  one piece garments can make some things worse and fix nothing at all.  I’ve had ones to flatten my stomach which also flattened my butt, or ones meant to lift my breasts that lifted my butt and flattened my breasts.  Pick an area that you think needs the most shaping (usually it’s that “tummy bulge” ) and pick your shapewear accordingly.  Oh, and those one-piece slip things that allow you to wear your own bra?  My experience: horrid!  I felt like I was wearing a hobble skirt, for one thing (and yes, I did have trouble going up and down the stairs because of it.)   For another, the straps were too short and caused the garment to ride high into my armpits, thus showing whenever I moved my arms away from my body, and it wanted to squish my breasts and bra forward (for some reason) causing the underwire in my bra to dig in.  A godawful experience, and I wonder why I still have the stupid thing….

5.  Make sure you can go to the bathroom!  When I bought my latest pair of shapewear–a high-waisted panty style garment (not the kind with the long legs to shape my thighs, I don’t need that) from Flexees–I was pleasantly surprised to see that there were hooks in the crotch area.  This means I do not have to struggle pulling the thing up and down when (not if) I have to go to the bathroom.  As most of you who’ve struggled with shapewear know, once the thing is up over your waist, squashing down that back-fat, if you have to pull the whole thing  down to pee, you will never get it adequately over your back fat for the rest of the evening.   Some older styles of one-piece or high waist girdles used to have either a split crotch, snaps, or hooks.  The split-crotch was the worst.  I don’t think I have to elaborate on that one….  Oh, and don’t worry about pantyhose.  Wear thigh highs.  By now you should know how to put a pair of those on and have them stay up.

So, there you have it.  Keep these five considerations in mind, and you should have no problem with your holiday shapewear doing what it’s supposed to do:  make you look beautiful!

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