Seriously, yo. It's like the heavens have heard my weary cries of "My GOD in HEAVEN! There's nary a shirt to be found that will cover my navel! Won't you help meeee???" I understand the fad of showing off your new belly-button ring, but come on. Belly button rings are so 2001. They're worse than tattoos! Finally the fashion industry has realized this. Or maybe they realized it awhile ago and the current trend of long shirts has only just begun trickling down to the masses.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy reading fashion magazines and pretending that I understand WHY that model has painted her breasts with what look like gills. Sure, the mermaid tail skirt might not be practical for every-day wear, but it looks good on the runway and the model.
I think I've figured the whole modeling/fashion industry out. I mean, I've been reading fashion mags and what-all since I was 12 and I think I've come out of it with a pretty healthy attitude towards my body. I know they're like fantasy books for girls. Boys read about gnomes and swords and Terry Pratchett and girls read about M.A.C. and soft tendrils and empire waistlines and Vera Wang. Both genders know that these worlds are mostly make-believe. I think super-models are about as rare as dragons and probably breath just as much fire. We elevate them to an almost mythical status. They only appear during the light of a full moon if a horse traveling West gets a stone in its hoof and a kind traveller stops to get it out.
Anyway, I think the entire modeling/fashion industry is predicated on the fact that material must be REALLY, REALLY, REALLY expensive. Because how could it not be? I mean, fashion designers want to charge us bazillions of dollars for a few scraps of gauzy-looking fabric that often look like they spent a few minutes futzing with it before signing off on it and going off to watch the new episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. (By the way, Ted? Is my new, snarky, queer, wine connassieur boyfriend. So all the rest of you can just step off, okay?)
So they charge us all this cashola not just because they can, but because there is actually a shortage of material somewhere. And not just the gauzy bits you see on the tall, thin women who do their little turn on the catwalk. That's also why they use teeny tiny eensy weensy models.
I bet Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren get together at some hole-in-the-wall diner and bitch about how they really wanted ME to wear their posh rags, but they couldn't afford to clothe me.
"What's zooby doing this weekend, Ralph?"
"Oh don't even try Tommy! I mean, sure, she's just sitting there on her couch eating cheeze-its and watching her Homicide DVD's, and she's not really busy per se, but we've already been allotted our material for this month."
"Sigh. I know, but sometimes I think I just want to blow my whole month's rations on one whole girl rather than going halfsies with that skinny one and that waifish one."
"Gasp! Tommy!"
"Yeah, I said it! These models are skinny bitches! How long has it been since we've designed clothing with curves instead of angles? Have we ever?"
"I see what you mean. I hear that sissy-bitch Lagerfeld was thinking about going the Mizrahi-direction and putting a bunch of 'affordably chic' clothing at Target."
"Oh, well, sure! You get a huge corporate sponsorship like that and you can afford tons and tons of material! We're out on the edge here, Ralph! No corporate sponsorship for us!"
"Well you can't have your cake and eat it too, Tommy. And we REALLY can't have our cake. Nor can we eat it. Or anything else! We have to be skinny as well! I've only GOT the one black, pencil-thin suit with the white t-shirt that they rented out to me!"
"Well Ralph, you put that Pecan pie away without even thinking about your waistline! You can't be too serious about it!"
"Oh. My. Armani. Tommy! How could you let me do that!? I'll have to starve myself for the next six weeks!"
"We should start a revolution. Forget the pie! Eat it and don't worry! We'll strike out on our own! We'll start making normal clothes that fit normal people! Let them wear denim!"
"I...I don't know! I don't think I want any part in this, Tommy."
"Come ON, Ralph! It'll be us against them! We'll go talk to Wal-Mart! They'll take us in a second! Forget the department stores! They're on their way out!"
"Tommy, you...you don't know what you're saying!"
"I do! I saw Mossimo's stuff at Zellers just yesterday! He's making a fortune! Think of all the taffeta you'd be able to buy with Wal-Mart behind you!"
"You're...you're mad! I'm leaving!"
"Fine! Go! I'll just do it on my own! I'll build a fashion empire from the ground up! The models will wear double digit sizes! The skinny girls won't necessarily have breasts! The fat girls won't necessarily have hips! We won't go with one standard waist length in shirts for the whole season! Some torsos will be covered! Some will be bare! There will be room for change and improvements and EVERYBODY in my new world of affordably chic fashion will be happy with their bodies JUST AS THEY ARE!"
Or maybe I'm projecting a little bit.
All I know is that when I walked into the GAP and stood before the wall of jeans and when the GAP boy with his head-set asked me what size he could get me and I said "14" and he said "No problem" and I put the jeans on and they fit pefectly and were maybe a little big actually, I heard a chorus of angels sing "Hallelujah" in my left ear. So I marched up to the register and laid down my $80 cheerfully and without remorse.
Tunes: Hawksley Workman, Lover/Fighter
Tube: Homicide: Life on the Streets. Hoping for season 3 for Christmas.
Text: Lost in a Good Book by Jaser Fforde
