Girl Detective

From Carolyn Mackler, The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things, (Massachusetts: Candlewick Press, 2003):

Strawberry is a funky discount store that I’ve browsed in before, but I’ve never had the guts to buy anything there. I like that they have cool clothes in every size, from extra-small to extra-large. And they’re all mixed together, so the fat girls aren’t banished to the fat floor where the dresses look like gunnysacks and the mannequins resemble embalmed grandmothers. (P. 187)

I just finished this book, and recommend it. It’s shelved at libraries and bookstores in teen fiction, formerly known as young adult–more on that distinction later, I promise. The main character, Virginia Shreves, has an emotional depth of character and a strong, funny voice.

I’ve written before about fashion injustice for non-mainstream sizes here, and here.

I’d seen the Hanky Panky #4811 touted in several places as that most unlikely of products, an attractive lace thong that is not uncomfortable. I picked one up recently, and it doesn’t disappoint. The 4811 looks good and doesn’t feel bad. Sorry, but I’m not quite sure I can make the leap to the statement that it’s comfortable. For me, the best I can say is that I mostly forget that I’m wearing it.

Some of you may wonder why women put up with any discomfort at all from our undergarments. But for even moderately low-rise pants–which are pretty much all that is out there over the last few years–a low-rise undergarment is de-rigeur. Yes, one can go commando. I prefer to try to get a couple wears out of an item before laundering it, though, and I feel better about this when I’m wearing underpants. One can wear bikinis, but VPL (visible pantie line) makes everybody feel like a victim. Thongs eliminate VPL, don’t ride up over the waistline (unless encouraged to do so, and I think most of us were thankful to see the quick end to that tarty little trend), and allow me not to feel too skanky about wearing a pair of jeans more than once.

This holiday season is a little different for us this year. My husband was laid off last month, and I resigned last May to stay home with our baby, now toddler, Drake. We are now a family of three with a new house, and no jobs. I gave some serious thought to setting aside a small budget for gifts. In the end, it became clear that even if we did small things, they would add up, so we opted out of buying presents entirely this year. Both our families were very understanding about this.

Since I haven’t been running about buying gifts, though, I have had a little time to ponder what I might have given. I came up with a fairly comprehensive list of virtual gifts for my family. And while I was wishing, I did jot down a few things for myself, as well: bras, and more importantly–time to shop for them; turtlenecks for this very cold winter; a new bulb for my sun lamp; and a babysitter. Exciting stuff, no?

Here’s the list of virtual gifts I thought about giving others, though it’s so late in the season that it will help nobody with their holiday shopping. The list is strangely missing books, music and movies. Apparently my giving spirit is disdaining the media this year. Instead, go visit your local library and appreciate a librarian and all the free books, music, movies and more that s/he can help you to find.

Sorry that this list is so late, folks, but it’s the holiday season–even without gift buying I’m working on a time delay. But since they’re all imaginary anyway, what if we imagine that they are on time, and real. Go ahead, take your pick. From me to you. Enjoy. Happy holidays.

Graeter’s ice cream–any flavor that has chocolate chips
A writer’s retreat–a weekend at a cabin in the woods, with meals taken care of
A new cream by Clinique to soothe redness-prone skin
A week’s stay at a mind/body wellness spa like The Golden Door
Framed Conde-Nast art
Zyliss garlic press
Microplane fine grater for lemon zest and parmesan cheese
Kitchenaid box grater
Subscription to Cook’s Illustrated
Subscription to Lucky magazine

I flipped through a Lane Bryant catalog the other day and was appalled at what I saw. Lane Bryant is a plus-size retailer for women. The models in the catalog were not plus-size. Technically, they might have been plus-size for models, but they were hardly plus-size women–I’d say about size eight, a good deal smaller than average, which is about size fourteen. I found the same situation on their home page; those models are NOT 14W and up.

Then I found something quite curious. The Lane Bryant catalog is–bafflingly–not affiliated with the Lane Bryant stores. Both websites note this prominently.

According to the website for the catalog,

In business since 1901, Lane Bryant brand has become the acknowledged industry leader in women’s special size apparel. (Lane Bryant Catalog is not affiliated with Lane Bryant retail stores.) We offer a complete wardrobe, including shoes and intimate apparel in a wide range of styles, colors and sizes — all at value prices.

According to the website for the stores,

Lane Bryant is the most recognized name in plus-size clothing, and our emphasis on fashion�not merely size�makes us a style leader. Lane Bryant stores are not affiliated with the Lane Bryant Catalog.

Interestingly, the Lane Bryant Stores site uses both larger models and larger mannequins than does the Lane Bryant Catalog site. The Stores site focuses on fashion and style, with impressive and attractive selections. It features fitted and sexy clothing, encouraging a celebration of size.

In contrast, the Lane Bryant Catalog site has bland clothing at bargain prices. The Catalog site depicts a great number of shapeless items, which look even more baggy because of the less-than-plus-size women who are modelling them.

I do not currently wear a plus size, but I spent many years of my life hovering above and below a size 14. I have long been disgusted with a fashion industry that uses the term “women’s” as a synonym for plus size. All women are demeaned by this usage. I am discouraged that special sizes like petites and plus are often put in different parts of a store than are the “regular” women’s clothing sizes. This unnecessary segregation, which usually only makes sense to a store’s merchandisers, sends a further message of alienation. That Lane Bryant Catalog, “the acknowledged industry leader” in plus-size women’s apparel, uses non-plus-size models and features such unappealing choices adds insult to a past series of injuries. I would not support a retailer like this. Instead, I’d head to the Lane Bryant stores. They seem to be about celebrating one’s size, not hiding it. That’s a good shopping philosophy for all women, of any size.

As I have noted before, the purpose of jeans is to make your ass look good.

For many women, including myself, the way to do this is to make the ass look smaller. One of the most effective ways to make an ass look smaller is to reduce its surface area, and the most effective means for this is the low-rise jean. Less jean on the ass looks like less ass, period.

The problem, however, is that not everyone should wear low-rise jeans. Like the stirrup pant, that fashion staple of bygone days, low-rise jeans are a privilege, not a right.

(If anyone reading this still has a pair of stirrup pants in your wardrobe, please stop reading, RIGHT NOW, go get them and put them in your Goodwill pile.)

While covering less ass is a good strategy for making one’s ass look less large, it also uncovers more ass. For many of us, this is a problem. How big a problem? It depends. It can range from annoyance at having to wear low-rise underwear to full-blown anxiety at how much ass-crack you’re flashing when you bend over.

Additionally, if you have a wiseass, active toddler like my son Drake, then you may also have to guard against small, cold hands being pressed into the small of your back when there’s a gap showing. Yowza, that’s a shock.

Today, I decided that full-coverage was more important than ass-minimizing. In one quick, half-hour trip to Old Navy, I not only found a pair of jeans that fit and that sat at the waist, but that didn’t cost a bundle. I sit, secure in the knowledge that my ass may look large, but it’s completely covered. Today, that is the lesser of the two evils.