Happy Monday gang! How was everyone’s weekend? Mine was filled with home improvement. I just about survived.
I’m going to let you in on a little secret here: manual labor is not my strong suit. This would be fine if I ever once in my entire life actually REMEMBERED manual labor was not my strong suit before I went out and spent $300 at Home Depot but I never, ever do.
It’s always the same: I get an idea (I’m GREAT at ideas) and because I’m good at mechanical-type things, I think to myself “Self, surely painting the entire walled garden three different colors, plus doing faux finishes on two walls in a Sunday is within your capable grasp, all you need is a friend who is willing to help.”
I think anyone who’s read The Wind in the Willows knows where this is going.
Thank goodness Hot Latin Boy is an excellent Rat to my Mr Toad, and while I was selecting the perfect painting outfit (chocolate leggings, brown and orange cowboy boots, a grey knit shift dress, vintage western shirt complete with embroidered deer heads and one of my beater Hermes scarves to tie my hair back) and playlist (Cafe Tacuba and Los Fabulosos Cadillacs for the major painting, Maria Callas for the detail work) HLB was, you know, actually painting.
In all fairness, I did my share of work, and I did it with as much gusto as I could muster considering my other partner in crime was a treacherous and not at all structurally sound stepladder whose rickety aluminum slats will be the first things I’ll see in hell.
All of that is to say it’s okay to have a niche.
I should never be allowed near a paint roller, as my dog, the tile floors of the patio and my own face will testify, but I can design the color scheme and decorate it like a palace once someone more competent than I has managed to get the color on the walls.
The same goes for small plus size fashion houses.
They’re not going to be All Things for All People, Everywhere. If you want that, go to Harrods (except don’t because the last time I went I couldn’t find grits for love nor money) so while it’s okay to mock bad construction, terrible photoshopping, questionable taste and shoddy design, calling a company out for designing clothes that don’t fit your lifestyle is like saying a restaurant is bad because you don’t like Chinese food.
Case in point:
Yeah, I don’t really get it either, but I’m also not their target audience.
If you’re a young big girl without a lot of expendable income who wants the same sort of clubwear your skinny sisters wear, then Eddy & Bri is perfect for you. I’m not, so it isn’t. No big deal.
Clearly they’re still having growing pains –although I LOVE that model in the pale bronze minidress, girlfriend is throwing some serious shade– and their choice to offer the majority of their clothing in one, maybe two sizes is…unusual, but they’ve identified their market (it would be unkind of me to say their market apparently pays their rent in ones and quick handies at stoplights, so I won’t) and they’re sticking to it.
For the rest of this week I’m going to feature smaller design houses that are generally geared to specific probably-not-us markets along with reasons not to throw the baby out with the niche bathwater.