The Blooming Series Part 1: Andrea Sachs and the Power of Clothing
This is the first part of The Blooming Series: a collection of short essays commenting on inclusivity in the fashion industry.
If you’ve seen virtually any movie made in the 2000s with a female lead, chances are you’ve probably witnessed a dressing room montage or makeover scene…I live for that stuff.
To me, there are few things more cinematically satisfying than seeing a character have their wardrobe or makeup amplified to match the personal transformation they’re going through.
Cheesy as it sounds, it’s important to note that most of the time, these characters aren’t changing who they are. They’re simply tapping into who they’ve always been.
One of my all-time favorite movies, The Devil Wears Prada (2006), has a particularly masterful makeover scene. It’s not only fun to watch, but quite a commentary on the way we often trivialize clothing despite the fact that we “live our lives in it.”
Chanel boots and hard truths
If you’re unfamiliar with the film, the story goes like this: aspiring “serious” journalist Andrea (Andy) Sachs stumbles into a job as the assistant to the Editor in Chief of a major high fashion magazine in New York City.
Decidedly and proudly uninterested in fashion, she struggles to relate to the urgency with which those around her approach their work at the magazine and she considers herself above it all. She may not actually use these words, but Andrea is totally the“I’m not like the other girls…” type of one-dimensional feminist at the beginning of this movie.
Despite putting in lots of hours at work, she feels her efforts are under appreciated by her boss and decides she needs to put her best foot, or I should say shoe, forward.
What ensues is probably one of the most lavish makeover scenes ever to grace the silver screen. From that moment on, Andy walks around in Chanel boots and works harder at her job than she ever has.
She goes from someone who sees clothing as piles of stuff to being able to style an outfit with the best of them. Of course, the clothing is really just a pretty backdrop for her personal growth. Along the way she learns more about who she is and what she stands for.
I won’t spoil the ending for you, but if you get a chance to watch it, be sure to compare her outfits from the beginning, middle, and end. That’s the stuff of metaphors.
So what?
TDWP may be an interesting example because it is such a clothing-centric movie. But I think it perfectly displays a truth many of us know: clothing can change your mindset and, used wisely, catapult you into new dimensions of confidence.
It’s likely a question of the chicken or the egg, but, for so many of us, confidence and clothing are in conversation with one another, if not directly linked. Even beyond what clothing can do for the person wearing it, it is symbolic of so much. Why then do we so often trivialize it?
In TDWP, Andy’s character goes through an arc where she finds her personal middle ground of where fashion and clothing fit into her narrative. For each of us, clothing plays a different role in the stage of our lives. I undoubtedly believe that clothing can be artistry, a form of protest, and so much more.
But with that in mind, there is a question that bothers me everyday. If clothing can be such a powerful tool, what happens when access to it isn’t equally distributed? What happens when some people have to pay a premium for access to fewer clothing options, even for comparable items within the same brand? And by some people, I mean plus size women (and men).
This conversation is complicated. But if there’s anything that TDWP taught me, it’s that fashion isn’t trivial. And in turn, neither are the conversations about who it’s for, who has access to it, and what those implications are. So let’s talk about it.
I welcome your thoughts in the comments and ask you to stick around for the rest of The Blooming Series. I’ll be posting follow up pieces here weekly.
Until next time,
Sarah
