Let the clothes fit the woman

My neighbor’s daughter is getting married in the spring, and my friend is in a frenzy about finding a dress. She is a slim, attractive woman in her fifties, but the selection of affordable dresses is either hideously matronly, or ridiculously sexy.

This is one reason another friend and I have an ongoing discussion about tailoring. She’s a seamstress. I am a merely consumer. But we have both observed the ongoing—dare I say it—ensh*#ttification—of women’s clothing. Probably everyone’s clothing. But, in particular, dresses, and even more in particular, sleeves.

I am convinced that the reason everything is sleeveless is that it’s cheaper and easier not to include sleeves, and the fashion industry’s view is if-you-don’t-like-it-lump-it. I don’t know why the fashion industry hates women, but I actually think they do. Why else would all the models be stick thin and six feet tall? If a perfect size 8 model is so rare that she can make a fortune, why is the size 8 considered the standard? Who does it fit? How does this even make sense?

Ninety percent of women’s dresses now are essentially tents with holes cut in for necks and arms. Have you looked at them? No darts, no waists, no goring. Just straight up and down—or triangulated—tents. Or, instead of tailoring, there are wide bands of elastic around waist or bustline, which are neither comfortable nor flattering. Now, call me radical, but most of the women I know are not straight up and down. The whole point of women’s tailoring used to be to adapt clothing to the shape of women’s bodies. Crazy, I know. But it’s an idea that has been all but lost to the American woman.

European dressmakers still tailor dresses. Note the dresses British women wear at Wimbledon or Ascot. Or that French women wear in ordinary life. When my friend and I were in Paris, we were amazed and delighted to find that there was still beautiful and elegant clothing to be found. Not at couture salons, but in a department store, for Heaven’s sake.

This brings me to recent column in the New York Times. A reader wrote, a week or so ago, to a Fashion reporter asking why she couldn’t find clothing with sleeves. The response was patronizing, and amounted to, essentially: You shouldn’t want sleeves, and maybe you need to go to the gym or improve your body image. A detailed description of unsightly upper arms was included, just in case any woman had doubts about why a sleeve might be a valuable tool, or who was in need of help in ruining her body image. I was pleased to note, when I checked back, that the reporter was soundly ratioed by irate women who don’t need to be talked down to, or told what they should or shouldn’t feel or think. Many of the writers suggested, with some asperity, that the reporter would find out for herself one day.

Personally, I think a well-made sleeve is a beautiful thing, and a key element in good fashion design. It’s not a political or psychological position; it’s an aesthetic one.

I was at the hardware store yesterday, chatting with the owner (a woman) and one of the guys who work there, and somehow—don’t ask how because I don’t even know—we got to talking about clothing. And by some miracle, the owner mentioned to me that one of the women who works there is also a seamstress. When my husband stopped by later in the SUV to pick up our new garbage cans which didn’t fit in my car, she handed him an envelope with the seamstress’s card. I am unreasonably excited.

Meanwhile, my neighbor has asked me to come over tomorrow morning to look at the borrowed dresses she’s considering for the wedding. If necessary, I will offer her some things from my own closet. We all have to stick together.

Happy Friday!

These posts are about finding the beauty in daily life, even amid the craziness, uncertainty, and anxiety. Reality is not going away, but these are the only days we get, so we have to relish their small beauties while we have them. If you are a paid subscriber, please know how deeply grateful I am for your support. The kindness and enthusiasm of your comments buoy me and keep me writing, but the paid subscriptions are an extra vote of confidence I truly appreciate. These posts will always be free, however, so if all you can do is share, that is helpful, too. Whatever you decide, I’m glad you’re here.

These posts are about finding the beauty in daily life, even amid the craziness, uncertainty, and anxiety. Reality is not going away, but these are the only days we get, so we have to relish their small beauties while we have them. If you are a paid subscriber, please know how deeply grateful I am for your support. The kindness and enthusiasm of your comments buoy me and keep me writing, but the paid subscriptions are an extra vote of confidence I truly appreciate. These posts will always be free, however, so if all you can do is share, that is helpful, too. Whatever you decide, I’m glad you’re here.