Francesca threw down the BQ gauntlet with a short but deep (i.e. not unlike Francesca herself) fill in the blank. “I would rather be fat than…”

Frankly, I was a bit flummoxed.

I can’t help but believe that “Fat” and “Thin” do not have inherent worth. Just because Anna Wintour’s and Rachel Zoe’s eyes bleed in disbelief, it doesn’t make it any less true.

Sure we project a whole mess of values onto them (I had to present the results of a full blood chemistry test to one 96 pound woman who maintained that there was no way my blood sugar, sodium and cholesterol could possibly be lower than hers) but the words themselves, the states themselves, are just…there.

One is not, all things being equal, better than the other anymore than blue eyes are better than green. An underweight person might be viewed through the lenses of western culture as superior to an overweight one, but frankly I find that messed up and honestly pretty insulting.

Not insulting to me personally –I don’t care if you take a look at my size 22 self and swear to never eat a carb again, just pass me your muffin and scoot away with a quickness– but insulting to the people who are …what’s that thing?…when you don’t eat?…oh yeah, dying.

So to answer the question, “I would rather be fat than….”

Be one of the 854 million people who go to bed hungry, and not by choice.

Be one of the 16,000 children –one every five seconds– who will die from malnutrition today.

Be one of the 1 billion people living below the poverty line who survive (or very often don’t) on less than a dollar a day.

One dollar a day. Do you how long it would take to buy these redonkly fabulous and unsensible shoes from Georgina Goodman?

A really long time.

Seriously, just go ahead, find yourself a nice meaty chunk and have at it because I am just about tired of you and I am thisclose to pulling hair.

First of all, the idea of $200 denim makes my slapping hand itch just on principle. Any pair of jeans with that sort of price tag had better be made out of the swaddling clothes of baby angels and come with a small but powerful electronic device, and y’all know I don’t mean an iPod.

Secondly, I don’t mind that you exist but your name is “Seven For All Mankind.”

Really? ALL mankind? Or do you mean “All Mankind As Long As Your Waist Is No Bigger Than 32 Inches With Legs Like a Pole-Vaulting Giraffe?”

THIRTY TWO INCHES. For a LOW rise. From what I’ve been able to discern that’s a small size 12. The average American woman wears a size 14.

Listen, I’m not a bitter fat chick and as I said I don’t mind that you EXIST. I’m sure you serve a purpose much in the same way that fleas, black velvet paintings of The Last Supper and leopard print stirrup pants do, but this is not Animal Farm and you are NOT the pant of the working-class proletariat so stop pretending you are.

Drop the name or add some sizes. The choice is yours.

Chompingly yours,

Plumcake

Oh, and Moschino Cheap and Chic? Don’t think that your fabulous designs are going to save you from my wrath. I’m coming for you next.

A few weeks ago Francesca and I were asked by the fine folks at IGIGI –the company most known for dressing Hairspray star Nikki Blonsky– to select an item or two from their most recent collection, wear it and write an unbiased review. I’m not sure they knew what they were in for.

I chose the Navy Trench Dress

Beautiful no? But beware friends, this is a lot of dress. The material is heavy, the skirt is full and there is a lot of interest going on what with the buttons and the belt and the wide lapels. I am 5’10″ and I just barely carried it off. La Blonsky wore the same dress on Regis and although she cannot by her very nature do anything but look adorable, this particular ensemble makes her look mumsy.

And yet sadly it’s the mumsy-ness –that look somewhere between Mary Poppins and an Edwardian Matron– that makes this dress is an “almost.”

It almost works. It is almost superfantastic. I cannot complain about the quality of the workmanship, it’s beautifully made (in the USA!) and meticulously finished. Even the material which I did not particularly love was substantial and not cheap.

So what went wrong? Well first, there are the puff shoulders. Oh you can’t see them, but trust me, they’re there and much more noticeable in person. I do not find a puff shoulder becoming in general, but it muddied up a dress whose lines were struggling to stay clean and precise. The lapel is overdone, although just barely and the double breasted buttons are set a bit too wide to flatter. The skirt is good, but needs hemming on anyone under 6 feet tall (La Blonsky needed to lose a good 6″ off hers. I would have benefited from 2″) to capture that New Look feel.

If IGIGI comes out with a more streamlined, stylized version next year I’d consider adding it to my permanent rotation, but as it is my life is too short for an “almost” to play any part…and so, by the way, is yours.

***

Want to try it yourself? Use code WRAP at the checkout for 10% off the sales price.

Alright everybody, who missed us? Well we missed YOU and while we’re not entirely sure what happened in the Manolosphere (one suspects the Manolo’s archnemesis, Herr Karl had a begloved hand in it) we hope you’ll forgive our absence.

Please bear with us, we are working out mani-ed fingers to the bone and we’ll be with you again as soon as the stable of well-oiled cabana boys Francesca and I keep for our own amusement have finished fanning the server down to a reasonable temperature.

Never Let Go!

Friends, I am concerned. Not because that teflon-chested hunk of man candy Taylor Kitsch who despite being recently cast against type as the Object of My Unmentionable Dreamlust (replacing –and I kid you not– a pair of green Pucci pumps) has been back in my humble town for weeks filming Friday Night Lights and has still failed to propose, no, I am concerned because in the past week I have seen three (THREE!) well-dressed big girls walking across a gas station parking lot BAREFOOT.

What is happening here? Does no one keep a spare pair of inexpensive comfy flats in their car for just this very occassion? What if your car broke down and you had to walk a mile or two to the nearest gas station? Could you do it in the shoes you’re wearing today?

I am scandalized!

Plumcake needs a liedown. While I’m recovering my delicate sensibilities, check out the sturdy and not entirely visually offensive lug-soled, Avenue Ballet Flat. They’re incredibly inexpensive, have good traction, excellent padding and will be a godsend to anyone whose poor tootsies just cannot handle one more step in a pair of pretty but painful day shoes.

Many of our internet friends have written bemoaning the lack of boots suitable for the girl with the wide calf. Well gals, I have good news and I have bad news.

The good news is there are boots out there. The bad news is that it’ll cost you.

It is the mantra of the Manolo Blogs that instead of buying cheap footwear made with deplorable lack of attention to detail by whatever 8-year old Bangladeshi child was cuffed to that particular table, one must save up for the superfantastic shoes, lovingly made by handsome gruff men named Aldo who drive cool Italian scooters and get 90 minute lunch breaks.

Give Aldo a cow and a dream and he’ll make you a pair of boots that will last you until the cows –at least the ones who have not as of yet become court shoes– come home.

Some internet friends have had success with Sudini, whose boots come with a standard 14″ circumference and elastic goring for a better fit, like the mid-heel brogue-style “Tiffany” that goes all the way up to a 13 Wide.

But for my money, custom is the way to go. Duo Boots offered hand-tooled, custom fitted boots for calves up to 20″ in a variety of traditional and modern styles. Even better? Most boots ring in at under 150 pounds!

Here are a few of my favorites.

From Top: Moscow, Almeria,  Odessa & Versailles

Remember to order slightly smaller than your actual calf size because leather stretches over time. Happy shopping!

New Yorkers! Don’t miss the Fat Girl Flea Market, details are at Fat Chic.

What former supermodel called :Make Me a Supermodel” contestant and aspiring size 12 catwalker Jen Hunter “fat, lazy and greedy“? Find out at Passionate About Plus Size.

Right Fit, wrong smell? Something’s funky over at Pretty Pear.

God save the Queen. Thick Misses gives us a peak at Queen Latifah’s spread in Ebony (and yes, I’ve already asked where to buy the coats)