I know that I am in the vast minority here but growing up, I didn’t often think about my body. This might shock some people seeing as I am not a thin woman, and a statement like that is usually reserved for skinny people. But my body never has really factored into my life that much. Growing up in musical theatre spaces, I was always uniquely aware of how much of a privilege it was to have a good relationship with the way I look given how rife the entertainment industry is with disordered eating, and seeing as most of my classmates in my music degree were struggling in some way or or another. But for me, I always viewed my body as a vessel to eat yummy foods, and my biggest gripe has long been with my boobs due to how sexualised they tend to be.
So, what changed? I started working in fashion, that’s what, and I have never been so aware of my body until now.
This was not an overnight thing, I did not just wake up one day and was like, “Oh I guess that I am going to be hyper aware of my body and how fatphobic the industry is now!”. It was a lot more gradual than that, but over the past year of me working in media, I am now more keenly aware than ever about the sizeism that plagues the fashion industry.
One of the most jarring realisations is how frequently I am the biggest person in the room. I am around a size 14-16, and by no means plus-size, but I am also wary of using the term ‘mid-size’ to describe myself due to the problematic nature of the phrase. But attending runway shows this past year has really shaken me as it seems like the same three “plus-size” models are used at every fashion week, and to be frank, they mostly have flat stomachs and cinched waists, so it’s not really a win for representation.
Since this realisation a few months back, I have been going in to every single media event with a size inclusivity third eye, always watching over the guest lists at events to gleam if I will yet again be the biggest person in attendance (to no one’s surprise, the answer is usually yes).
Back in May, the glaring lack of diversity at Australian Fashion Week was the talk of the town. From street style inclusions in magazines, to the people on the runway, and the guests in attendance, to say that it wasn’t inclusive would be a gross understatement. While this conversation is not a new one, it felt like there is more intensity in people’s scrutiny.
From my personal perspective from being there, I was, yet again, the largest person at most of these shows. And while this might make some people feel self conscious, for me frankly it made me mad as I should not be the largest person at a show. This is an absolute failure of the fashion industry and quite frankly embarrassing for them.
And the numbers back me up, as Vogue’s 2024 Australian Fashion Week size inclusivity report found that only 1.1% of the 1,209 looks were plus-size (AU 18+), 8.7% were mid-size (AU 10-16) and 90.2% were straight-size (AU 4-8).
I am aware of my privilege in being able to call myself mid-size, and while I will never want to speak on behalf of a community that I do not belong to, I just want to reiterate the absurdity of the fatphobia of the industry and the tokenisation of the few plus-sized models who are allowed to grace the runway with their presence.
1.1% should not be the norm. Making a young woman become so hyper aware of her body should never be normalised. So do better, fashion industry.
However, attending Melbourne Fashion Week this year filled me with some semblance of hope for the future of fashion weeks in Australia. It was the best display of body diversity that I have ever seen at a fashion week as a whole. Additionally, the attendees didn’t all look one shape and size, it was more varied and as such, more human.