I was raised in a household where serious interest in clothing ran counter to the intellectual values put forth in that home.  We were a family of readers, of artists, of playwrights and dreamers.  As a plus size little girl with virtually no clothing options beyond those available through my mother’s sewing machine, my family found it best to turn my attention away from clothing and fashion. While it was overtly to save me pain, I’m sure it was also intended to save my mother a great deal of pain - people saw her fat daughter and judged her, and she went to stunning lengths to avoid being judged.

When something that is considered a survival staple is just not available to you, you end up making a study of it. I was fascinated with skinny-person clothing. I noticed, from my stuffed-in-and-hidden world, how much power clothing has as an agent of communication and as a method by which people made decisions about you. Brand mattered, especially in my town. Admitting you wore something that was sewn was an act of social suicide.  Parents ran up consumer debts to keep their kids in B.U.M. equipment shirts and Guess jeans - and my parents weren’t about to do that, preferring to keep a roof over our heads. As far as I could tell, my size was keeping me from the right clothes, and the right clothes were the path to a happier life.

So when I lost weight at 14 and suddenly had a wide world of  “normal people” clothing to me, my family reacted to my new interest with alarm and some derision. I was obsessed with all the designs out there. At a size 14, I was finally “normal” and I wanted to revel in it. At the time, I was allowed to keep my subscription to Seventeen, but my family otherwise was vocally opposed to my fashion interest, declaring it “shallow.” Even though I’ve always been verbal, I wasn’t able - or particularly willing - to explain to them that I needed this interest, that it was my path to socialization and success.  I also realized that my mother’s lack of interest in fashion meant that she wasn’t really aware of what kids were wearing these days, and her guesses based on what she liked on me were causing me some miserable days of harassment at school.

The disapproval didn’t kill my interest, and although there was never really money for clothing, I found ways - namely the $5-$10-$20 store since replaced by Dots  and my babysitting money - to try to stay somewhere within the range of current fashion. When the statistically inevitable weight gain came back, brought on by surgery, depression, and parental anorexia paranoia, (they really were not prepared to handle a kid suddenly exercising), I probably would have gone completely over the edge of reason had not clothiers begun at least somewhat conceding to the existence of larger sized women.

That I’ve gotten more or less larger over the years is a study of self-neglect and cultural influences, and I take full responsibility for that. At the same time, I don’t think any person or any institution has any right to punish me for what I’ve done to myself - my body is my business.  So when I see unflattering fashion trends directed at plus size women, or rude offerings of mumus, or women stereotyped in the most victim-making sexual way, I get really, really angry.

I’ve had a good 16 years to shop for adult plus size clothing, and based on everything I’ve dug for, dived on, sewn up, or dumpster-dived for (OK, I don’t recall any clothing obtained that way) , I can say this:

• I have just as much of a right to look the best I possibly can as any “normal” sized consumer.
• My being a plussie does not negate my ability to look good.
• Creating and designing plus size clothing is only difficult if you have a very narrowminded view of a woman’s body. The formula is simple 20% more fabric, and about 20% more room to fudge your stitches - you can do things on plus designs and still have them be wearable you could never get away with on a size 2 piece.
• The above said, quality matters. I know I pay the fat tax, so I damn well get something that lasts more than a year because I know it doesn’t take you 20% more time to sew up that dress for me.
• There are certain items that do not look good on plus women except in very specific body-type circumstances: those would include crop pants, leggings, tube dresses, tie-neck blouses (seriously, what made you think we’d buy that load of crap, fashion industry?), big splashy prints and animal prints (there are notable art-based exceptions) and anything that perpetuates a plussie stereotype like a mumu.
• There is no item that looks good on every figure. Not even the wrap dress.
• Fashion is currency. Anything I want in life really can and will be determined by the right outfit. This includes the bra, and the most important piece is the shoes. If you really want it, you better have the right handbag and watch. Yes, I will explain why eventually.
• If I don’t like something, I will say something - but never to the person wearing it while she’s wearing it. There’s a lime green turtleneck with a Doctor Pepper shirt worn over it that will always keep me humble enough not to stop a stranger and offer “advice.”
• I never say “this looks bad on you” or “that makes you look fat.” I always point to an alternative, or suggest an alteration of clothing that would make the fit more flattering.
• I believe that whoever created puff sleeves should have to wear them, because they’re awful.
• I think a law should be passed sentencing every bride who subjects her bridesmaids to puff sleeves, hot pink, or fussy frills should have to pay by wearing a clown nose for six weeks  after she returns from her honeymoon. Seriously, it’s not good, it’s mean - so knock it off! You’re not playing wedding with your Barbie dolls. These are real people who you are inspiring to seek revenge. Clear?