Manolo for the Big Girl

A good friend of mine recently brought my attention to an article in the NY Times…which I promptly didn’t get around to sharing for way too long. This morning I was reminded that I hadn’t used it yet, which was one of those horrible Homer Simpson moments in my life. No, really, I turned yellow with a 5 o’clock shadow and a pocket protector. This was not pretty. The pocket protector was by far the worst aspect.

Once I’d regained my more standard whiter shade of pale, I remembered to use my good intentions and talk about the July issue of Italian Vogue.

While most fashion models don’t look like me in that they are tall and…well…lots of things I’m just not, there is one way in which the vast majority of working models do look like me: they are white. Looking through the average fashion magazine, one sees few women of color. I’m not the only one who notices this fact.

Steven Meisel is one of the top fashion photographers today. He’s the sort of photographer who has the power to do as he pleases and the moxie to choose to do something considered daring in the fashion world: he has chosen all black models for the July issue of Italian Vogue.

This makes me happy. I would love to see the fashion world become more diverse, more welcoming to those outside the beauty ‘norm’ of the industry. Hell, I’d love to see an all Asian or all Latina issue of a mainstream fashion magazine…and then I’d love to see these women on the pages of the magazines when it’s not a stunt issue. I’d be thrilled to open up a magazine and see faces of every color of the rainbow looking back at me, being beautiful and well-groomed and superfantastic.

Meisel has chosen a gorgeous lineup for his issue, too. Iman, Naomi Campbell, Tyra Banks (yes, in the same issue of the same magazine and not apparently harming one another in any way), Jourdan Dunn, Liya Kebede, Alek Wek…and the list goes on. But he only had trouble getting one model approved for the pages by editor Franca Sozzani: Toccara Jones.

That’s right, Toccara who competed on America’s Next Top Model. What was the beef? Is she not pretty? Yes, she is. Is she not photogenic? Yes, she is. Is she not a working model? Yes, she is. But she is one more thing: she is fat.

Actually, she’s not even what I’d call fat, but according to industry standards, she’s elephantine.

That’s the other sort of face I’d like to see looking out at me from magazines, the one that matches mine no matter the color and configuration of features. We’d all like to see ourselves looking out from those pages, or at least someone we could be.

Mr. Meisel was clearly perplexed by the difficulties he encountered in casting Ms. Jones:

“I wanted to say something about weight, and I’m never allowed to do that,” he said. “I met Toccara and thought, she’s beautiful. What’s the deal with her? She’s great and she’s sexy.”

In the end, he did get his way. Toccara Jones was cast and photographed for the magazine. I’m thrilled about that.

And Mr. Meisel? If you ever shoot an all-fat issue of a fashion magazine, I will definitely buy a copy.

We Big Girls are legion, and we are awesome, and we are beautiful, and we would like to be seen, too.

The other day, msn Finance published an article about the potential savings to the US economy if nobody were fat. Never mind that the author’s math doesn’t add up on any level. After all, she assumes that a) every fat person eats lots of Big Macs and b) no thin person does. She also assumes that McDonalds would survive - nay, would continue to be profitable - if instead of selling Big Macs they sold ‘little steamed chicken snacks.’

In this Thintopia suggested by the author, diabetes and heart disease would nearly disappear. What’s more, apparently nothing else would kill us! Insurance rates would plummet and more money would go into preventative care…or:

That sounds good, but Roland Sturm, a senior economist for Rand in Santa Monica, Calif., doubts anyone would pay for preventive care. More likely, he says, some doctors would be on the street. “They could drive cabs,” he suggests.

Of course, no thin person has diabetes or heart disease or suffers a stroke, right? And nothing else would come along to kill us because if we would just stop being fat, clearly we would live forever. And people are only willing to pay for catastrophic health care over preventative or maintenance care because…well, we’re not entirely sure why, but since an economist said it, it must be true.

And of course, in this new nirvana, nobody would ever take a sick day because we all know that every time someone calls in sick at work it’s because of fat…not colds, flu, sprained ankles, or a host of other ills that befall everyone, fat or thin. Our dependance on foriegn oil would evaporate as our trim little bums would lessen the strain on our SUVs and airplanes could fly with less fuel making up for the difficulty of getting a bunch of lardly butts into the skies. Farmers could stop growing so many sugar beets which we bad fat people have been demanding and start growing lots of vegetables which fat people never, ever eat, of course. Because clothing manufacturers wouldn’t have to cover such a wide range of body sizes, they could - and of course would! - concentrate on covering a much wider range of body types. Yes, it is because I need a size larger than the average store carries on a regular basis that some deserving thin person is unable to find pants that fit both her hips and her waist properly. I stand utterly chagrined in the face of such logic.

Really, if we would all just stop being fat, everyone would ride unicorns and find true love, tra la.
The thing that worries me most, however, is not the way the math doesn’t add up, but the fact that our very individual human lives, whether fat or thin, are treated as a matter of pure economics. Our value as people does not diminish because we need health care or transportation or food. Our value depends so much more on what we bring to the people around us. So what have some fat people in history brought to our world that’s worth having? What could a fat person possible have accomplished? Well, here are a couple examples I think are worth considering.

(more…)

Oh, my goodness! Can you believe this blog has been going for 9 months? It feels like yesterday that Plumcake and I dove into the wonderful, wide world of plus-size clothing here at the Manolo network. And what a superfantastic trip it has been!

This means that it has been 9 months since Francesca reminded you to consider carefully whether it is time for you to replace your bras. Much can happen in 9 months! If a baby can gestate in 9 months, that is plenty of time for your bras to stretch out, sag, and gap. It is enough time for you to gain or lose a few pounds and now need a new size.

So, start shopping!

If you are racktastic and need a hard-to-find bra size, Francesca recommends that you start with BiggerBras.com and Bravissimo.

Of course there is also the Cacique line at Lane Bryant, the ONEsexy bra collection at Avenue, and the full-figure department at Frederick’s of Hollywood! Mmmm!

And now — hat tip to our internet friend Carol for bringing this to our attention — Big Singer Jill Scott has created a bra brand of her own in partnership with Ashley Stewart. The “Butterfly Bra” not only has wide, gel-filled shoulder straps but also two support bands in the back and — Francesca’s favorite feature — underwires filled with gel. No more underwires cutting into the delicate flesh of the Big Girl! Hallelujah!

Take care of those girls!

xoxo

Do you remember those wonderful “Fat Rant” videos by actress extraordinaire Joy Nash?

Well, if you are not reading her blog, you are missing out on something wonderful! Our friend Joy has partnered (so to speak) with the Michael Mullen to create a superfantastic series of sketch shows called “Fruit and Fly.” Guess who is the Fruit and who is the Fly?

Here is Francesca’s favorite episode. Put away the coffee before watching.
Happy watching!
xoxo

Here, for your amusement, is Francesca’s absolute favorite excerpt from Wake Up, I’m Fat!:

Protesting injustice is a way of life in my family. One summer in Santa Cruz I was arrested and thrown in jail for participating in a pro-choice rally. So I called my parents to get me out.

CAM: Mom, Mom, I’m in jail.

MOM: You’re what?

CAM: I’m in jail, Mom.

MOM: Oh my God, what for?

CAM: Mom, I was arrested for participating in a pro-choice rally.

MOM: Oh, honey, that’s wonderful. Mazeltov! Jerry, Camryn got arrested for civil disobedience.

DAD: That’s great, honey, Go Go Go! Fight fight fight.

MOM: Stop it, Jerry. It’s long distance prime time, for God’s sake.

CAM: (screaming) Mom? Get me out of jail!

MOM: No, honey, you stay in there and make your point.

Click. 

 

Here is another amusing exerpt, chosen randomly from our Bible, the superfantastic Wake Up, I’m Fat!:

The Road to Wellville was a film about bodies. All kinds of them. Fat, thin, short, funny looking, and Alan was looking for people with all kinds of body shapes. He asked me if I could ride a horse, and once again, like all well-trained actors I told him, “Absolutely.” If he had pursued it, I was prepared to tell him that I spent every summer at my family’s ranch in, uh, Montana, just a two-day trot from Peoria. Never mind that I hadn’t been on a horse in over twenty years. Then he asked me how I would feel about getting naked. I said, “I feel fine about it, how would you feel?” He laughed, which I sensed was a big accomplishment. Finally I just said, “Listen, I’ll ride a horse naked if you want me to.” I got the part. That was the good news. The bad news: He really expected me to follow through on that whole get-naked thing. You’d think I would have learned by now, but knee-jerk I-can-do-it actor’s instincts still get me in trouble. Like, when the publishers of this book asked, “Do you really think you can write a book?” “Sure,” I said. “I spend every summer at my family’s book-writing camp in Montana. The problem was that they actually wanted me to write a book, which is a damed sight harder than getting naked.

Francesca wants to know: What would be easier for you, writing a memoir or getting naked in a feature film?

Francesca says, for herself: Getting naked in a feature film is much less time-consuming, but would require many, many shots of Frog Water Cocktail to happen.

How I love Katie Price. Price, better known British glamour model Jordan, was the queen of the Page Three Girls until The Sun decided on instituting an all-natural policy. Why? Well, before, having Ms. Price in my pocket, as it were, was like money in the bank every time one of my British pals got all stroppy about the lack of refinement in America.

Ms Price has released a lingerie line for Asda, the British Wal-Mart and in doing so invited “regular women” to help her launch the collection, including a big girl. Naturally the internet has snarked up a storm. Now, Plumcake has publicly appeared in her unmentionables more times than she would care to mention, and let me tell you, it takes guts to show your guts. So I say, good for you, Katie Price, you highly sea-worthy orange nutter you, and good for you too, Big Girl!

(we won’t talk about the hair)

Want a good laugh? Watch Nina Garcia, the editor of Elle who views Kate Moss as the epitome of effortless chic practically stroke out on camera in her attempt to avoid using the word “fat.”  I don’t know anything about this woman but one gets the feeling she would rather French kiss a blood relative than have to talk about dressing a big girl.

Um, fuller girls um, wearing full…when you’re, full…

 Seriously, it’ll do your heart good.

Francesca is a little late announcing this one, but still wants to share . . .

Did you catch the performance of the superfantastic Carol Woods at the Grammies? Singing “Let it Be”? Did her dress look familiar? Indeed, it is the Igigi Trench Dress in Black!

Here she is, entering at 5:32. Wonderful!

(Sorry, YouTube removed the video because CBS complained)

(And speaking of Igigi, they have some fabulous formal gowns right now. Francesca loves loves loves the Maya Chiffon Dress and the Satin Siren Dress:

Lovely!)

Oh Dawn French, you are my everything. I love you with a love that is more than a love. You are SO funny and SO talented and your Catherine Zeta Sparticus Douglas Jones, Queen of Wales sketches (including an incredible Welsh accent and the greatest line ever written which is almost unrepeatable but ends in the phrase “cockle-tidy, snuggle-bosoms, drop-drawers gorgeous”) kill me every. single. time.

Therefore, I cannot bring myself to snark on you.

HOWEVER, and I’m saying this APROPOS OF NOTHING, that perhaps if you are blessed with great expanses of rack but not of leg or neck that a long, relatively shapeless mac in a Big! Floral! might not do THE most glorious things for you. Perhaps if you had a shorter, say, just bum-covering belted flared trench with a lapel you might not look so much like you are one stiff breeze away from requiring the immediate medical assistance of all the king’s horses and –somewhat more temptingly– all the king’s men.