Plus Size Pity Party
About six months ago, I walked into Nordstrom at Green Hills Mall in Nashville. It’s no surprise because I love Nordstrom; in fact, I used to work there. Yes, I started my fashion career (well, almost started) at Nordstrom in Las Vegas as an intern, so I ALWAYS go in there. But this time, it was different. As I walked to the second floor looking for a dress, I noticed that I couldn’t find anything in my size. See, I’m a plus-size girlie, and so is almost 70% of the women in America, so it was odd that I couldn’t find my size. I thought, well maybe I’m tripping and not seeing correctly, so I asked someone. The sales associate then told me that they no longer carry plus-size in this store and that it’s only available online. She said, "If you want something plus-size, then I suggest maybe Dillards or Macy's." She wasn’t rude; in fact, she appeared sympathetic. But I didn’t walk to Macy's or Dillards that day. Instead, I just went home. I was already defeated because I wanted to shop at Nordstrom.
“All body types deserve fashionable clothing; there is no one size fits some for fashion.”
It’s about how society views body types and how that view is projected into every aspect of our lives, even in something as “small” as shopping. It affects how I see myself—like I am not welcome in these spaces or really anywhere because of my size. But for me, the clothes I wear are more than just material; they are an extension of my identity, a way I express myself, and a reflection of how I see my worth.
So, I decided to venture back into the mall a couple of weeks ago and go inside Macy’s and Dillards per her suggestion after looking at some of their stuff online that I thought was cute. When I walked into Macy's, I went down to the basement because that’s where they put all the stuff no one wants. I looked at their plus-size section and found only frumpy oversized dresses and shirts sprinkled in with workout clothes. That did not sit well with me.
Why is no one in an uproar about the state of plus-size fashion? Why don’t the stores exist where I can just walk in and find something stylish to wear? Why do women over a certain size have to order clothes online just to be fashionable? Why do Nordstrom, Macy’s, or even Dillards feel like I do not deserve to have an in-store shopping experience?
This issue is grappling the fashion industry as conversations around fast fashion continue to haunt us. But how can I not shop at SHEIN or Fashion Nova if they get it right all the time? Why is that a problem when stores I can walk into do not want my business? Or if they do have plus-size clothing, it looks like oversized muumus or something that hides my stomach?
Like, I already know it's there, so why are stores trying to hide it if I am not?
What this isn’t is some call to action—because isn’t the fashion industry tired of us always calling for action? To be fair, there never is any urgent action.
But what this is, is a conversation that is more than just about clothing in stores; it’s about the representation of all bodies. All body types deserve fashionable clothing. There is no one-size-fits-some for fashion. The more we talk about this, the more we can change society’s views of what is deemed fashionable and who can wear it.
As I look at my experiences with shopping and the broader implications of plus-size fashion, it’s clear that the issue isn’t just about clothes. It’s about how society views body types and how that view is projected into every aspect of our lives, even in something as “small” as shopping. It affects how I see myself—like I am not welcome in these spaces or really anywhere because of my size. But for me, the clothes I wear are more than just material; they are an extension of my identity, a way I express myself, and a reflection of how I see my worth. And maybe that is a bad thing and no one’s fault but my own. But still, when the fashion industry excludes us, it sends a message that our identity, our beauty, and our value are somehow lesser than others.
And we are not.
That’s it; that’s all.