Studying fashion has made me feel good about my body

A few days ago while I was getting dressed I looked down and saw that I had a little bit of a belly. I patted it, hoping it was an optical illusion, and sighed for a moment feeling sorry for myself that I don’t have a flat stomach like I should. But then I came to my senses and remembered the lessons I've learned from fashion history.

I’m not about the make the argument that fashion celebrates women of all body types. In fact, in every era, fashion has promoted a certain type as ideal. During my first semester at FIT I learned that the fashionable body is, and always has been, a distorted one. Limbs are elongated in paintings, waists are made wasp thin in fashion plates, and photographers use angles and lighting to play tricks. Today, of course, we have photoshop.

The real problem is that in every era we assume that this year’s standard of beauty is universal. Today we believe that that big boobs, flat stomachs, small waists, and a toned physique make up the absolute, universal standard of female beauty. But frankly that isn’t true. In the 1920s the ideal body was flat and without curves. In the Renaissance it was fashionable to have a bit of a belly, and women would dress with extra fabric in the front of their gowns to enhance the effect. Later Renaissance nudes usually show the torso as barrel shaped (much like the effect of the corset at the time) making the breasts small and the chest/waist/stomach all roughly the same size around. Today we have this idea that bodies should be toned and skin look like it is smooth and tight. But a 17th century woman would have hated looking that way. During the time of Rubens, women were supposed to be soft and “fleshy.” Nothing was more alluring that dimpled, rippling, squishy skin.

When you look at the history of fashion ideals you realize something: women have always had women’s bodies. We all have different attributes and sometimes some of us are lucky enough to be alive when one of our things is “in.” A girl with the ideal look of the 1920s would have hated her body in 1900, and would probably have spent extra money on “bust enhancers” and hip padding. Conversely, someone with the perfect “Gibson Girl” form from 1900 would be unhappily trying to flatten and minimize her curves in 1925. In one era fashion told these ladies that they were beautiful, and in another that they were shamefully incorrect. But in the end, they were both just two kinds of natural body types.

As with the study of any historical subject, learning the history of fashion helps you step out of your own time and see the bigger picture. And let me tell you, the bigger picture has lots of sexy belly fat.

Not in the Spirit of Community Living

I love Menno House, but it is becoming clear that I have some sort of complex about it. I think it boils down to this: When I applied to the house I was a poor student watching my savings shrink as I paid a hefty rent and labored at a 10 hour a week job paying $7.35 /hr. But when I moved in to Menno House I had a good job and a tuition exemption. I feel like I tricked the system a little. Of course, when I express this feeling to my housemates they give me a funny look and assure me it doesn't matter. But I'm a champion worrier, so I've got it into my head that I will be found out and evicted. I've already had two anxiety dreams to that effect.

Most of my housemates are working at low paying jobs or are part of Mennonite Voluntary Service, which is sort of like Americorps. The MVS people have a food stipend and then $50 a month of discretionary spending. That is barely anything, especially in this city. When I moved in, one of the outgoing residents told me that moving my stuff up all those stairs would be a bigger headache than I expected. "But," he told me, "The MVSers will do anything for $10. Get them carry it."

Ever since he said that I've been tempted to pay my housemates to do things for me. I make money, they need money. Who doesn't want an underpaid servant ready to do your bidding? The main thing stopping me is the worry that it would be against the community spirit of the house. We all have to do our part with chores and cooking the weekly house meal. The last thing I want is to be seen as a bad apple and get kicked out of the house for not being "community oriented" enough.

This Saturday was house cleaning day. From 10am to 6pm, everyone had to clean and complete needed maintenance projects on the house. If you couldn't be there, you had to make up those hours later. Well, I work on Saturdays, so I put in as many hours as I could but still had time to make up. Last night I put in some time waxing the kitchen floors and stamping "Return to Sender" on a giant pile of mail that had come for former residents. But when that was all over I still had about 2 hours to go. The house manager asked that I put down two more layers of wax on the floor this evening. I really wanted to get some homework done, so I asked her if it would be bad form for me to pay someone to do it. I think in real life she just shrugged, but in my head she gave me a disapproving look and said "That is between you and God."

Well, dear readers, I did it. I knocked on the door of one of the MVSers and offered her $20 to do my work. I'm feeling half guilty, and half ready to burst into an evil laugh. I ended up getting a lot of homework done, but I also started to notice that my shelves could use a good cleaning. A good cleaning that I certainly don't have time for...

Fashion & Controversy

I LOVE my special topics (a.k.a. DDR) class. We read philosophy, look at fashion magazines, and have discussions about what it all means. Most of the time we are pretty hard on the editorials or ads we look at. We’ve discovered that every Alberta Ferretti campaign seems to involve four emaciated women (we’ve decided they are sisters) who are too weak to stand and seem to be in some unsafe location. Their favorite hangouts include a windy manor house, various subway cars, and a mysterious institution with lots of black drapery. What is the message of these ads? Should we be worried about these women? Why is it that somewhat unsettling images seem to sell clothes?

This week however, we spoke favorably about an editorial that elsewhere had caused outrage. I’m talking, of course, about Vogue Italia’s “Water & Oil” spread in which the tragedy of the gulf oil spill was retold with a model and several thousand dollars worth of designer clothes (go here to see the pictures). The many angry responses to this shoot boiled down to three main points:

-It is disgusting to glamorize an ecological disaster

-It is appalling that they are using the oil spill to sell clothing and make money for the magazine

-How dare fashion get above itself and attempt to tackle a real world issue

Here is what we discussed:

Point one: It is disgusting to glamorize an ecological disaster

Okay, take a close look at the images from the shoot. Forget for a moment that you are looking at a fashion editorial and just think about what kinds of thoughts and feelings the photos convey. Do you think it is glamorous? Does the model look chic and fab? Do you imagine someone looking at that haunting shot of her face covered in oil and saying, “ooh! Where can I get that look?” No. The images are dark and disturbing. Fashion photography does not always equal glamour.

Point two: It is appalling that they are using the oil spill to sell clothing and make money for the magazine

Again, this photo shoot really isn’t about making readers covet the model’s look. The clothes look dirty, torn, and grey—unlike the Alberta Ferretti ads in which the women may be ill but the clothes still look expensive and alluring. So if it isn’t to sell clothes, what is the point? If this is “art” then why use designer clothes at all?

That was my question, but as my professor pointed out, the clothes help tell the story. The model is made to look birdlike by wearing feathers, or seal and fish-like by wearing shiny fabric that looks wet. Other pieces echo the natural forms of the rocks or the seaweed. Some of it simply looks frail and torn. “Fashion is the perfect metaphor for death,” my prof explained. “It is ephemeral and replaceable, with new trends burying the old. Fabric, like the body, is fragile and easily broken.”

People make money off of tragedy all the time, but in those other contexts we assume that the intent is honorable. For example, someone in Hollywood makes a movie about the holocaust just about every year. Have you ever heard people rail against how disgusting it is that someone is profiting from murder of six million people? No, because we believe that the movies have something to teach and that the profit made by the studios is just part of how the system works. Which brings me to the next point…

Point 3: How dare fashion get above itself and attempt to tackle a real world issue

As you can imagine, we get very defensive about this. There is a widespread perception that fashion is completely frivolous, has no meaning, and isn’t something that anyone should actually consider important. It never has anything to say about politics, economics, or society and it shouldn’t try. People have worn things to cover their bodies since the beginning of time, yet everyone sure that there is no connection between clothing and the human experience. How dare it get mixed up in the “real” world.

Yes, fashion is part of a capitalist system—but as my prof put it, fashion is “sort of like the angsty step-daughter who is happy to bite the hand that feeds her.” Where did these high-end clothes come from? What sort of energy went in to making them? What sort of energy went into making the clothes that you are wearing? BP may deserve the bulk of the blame for the spill, but aren’t we all part of a system that created the need for an oil industry?

Be Careful What You Wish For

This has been a terrible week for homework. A total disaster as far as getting work done and working ahead on upcoming projects. My fears about Menno House have come true: I’m having too much fun with my housemates. Here is how it played out:

Monday: I discover that several of my housemates have not seen my favorite movie Strictly Ballroom. Watching commences immediately.

Tuesday: “What? You haven’t seen Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion either? Sit down.”

Wednesday: “Hey Clara, you went to college in the Midwest. Do you know how to play Euchre?”

“I love Euchre! Deal me in!”

“By the way, what are you doing Thursday night?”

“Menswear class.”

“Oh, because I was going to stand in line for rush tickets to the Opera. I’ll get two tickets and it is the Met’s new production of Rheingold.”

[Jaw drops]

Thursday: Dear menswear professor, I will not be able to attend class this evening due to an unexpected conflict…

Yeah, so the trade off for not getting any work done was the AWESOME experience of paying $20 to see Met’s new production of Rheingold—featuring the much-hyped set by Robert Lepage. Last year I was offered a free ticket to Siegfried but I had to give up another event in order to go. Choosing the opera ended up being 100% the right decision, so I now understand that when life offers you Wagner, you drop everything and go. We had great seats and the music was fantastic. Truth be told, I was a bit underwhelmed by the set and the staging (Of course Seattle's production is better), but I got to be a real New Yorker and snobbishly discuss the pros and cons of the performance on the subway ride home.

All in all, this has been a great week. I feel like I'm enjoying life here and taking advantage of what the city has to offer.

Oh wait. Aren’t I in grad school or something?