Can The Fashion Industry Truly Make Fashion For All?
Despite progress, the plus-size and disabled communities continue their battle for visibility, fighting to redefine the fashion landscape as a more genuine, inclusive space.
In the dimly lit classroom of C702 at the Fashion Institute of Technology, in downtown Manhattan, scraps of fabric and clusters of sewing pins are sprinkled across the floor with the atmosphere full of intense concentration. Students drape measuring tape around their necks with sewing pins wedged between their teeth, rustling with the size six mannequins to cooperate with their designs. Amidst the endless tables of sewing machines and stoic mannequins, Professor Mallorie Dunn presides in front of a tri-fold mirror vanity, guiding her students through their first fitting with Victoria, a plus-size model.
The scene feels like something out of Project Runway, where at any given moment, mentor Tim Gunn could easily waltz into the room and yell his iconic “Make it work.” But unlike the reality television show, where amateur designers compete for the top prize and fashion accolades, the classroom of C702 is composed of students and a professor who are united by a shared goal: to make the fashion industry more inclusive.
Dunn, the owner of the custom-made fashion brand SmartGlamour, created and spearheads the continuing education class “Inclusive Fashion Patternmaking.” Among the hundreds of courses offered at FIT, this is the first-ever class teaching students to design and adapt clothing specifically for plus-size consumers. Leading her students of all levels of design experience, Dunn teaches the realities of U.S. consumers and generalities of size charts, runway representation, and what it means to be “inclusive” in the fashion industry over eight intensive weeks. Students are then given the opportunity to work with a plus-size fit model throughout the course, adopting a new approach where the clothes are tailored to fit the model, rather than the traditional practice of fitting the model to the clothes.
“A lot of times in fashion design, you’re taught how to make patterns, how to drape, how to sew, but you’re not so much deep diving into this idea of ‘Okay, once I have this pattern, how would I alter it to fit another person?’ You’re just making a standard size and that’s it.” Dunn said. The standard size in the fashion industry is roughly a size six, reflecting a skewed perception of average body sizes among U.S. consumers. Because of this misconception perpetuated by mainstream norms, it influences the curriculum of fashion design schools universally, Dunn explained.
Whether you’re a pragmatic consumer who purchases clothes out of necessity or a fashion connoisseur well-versed in the intricacies of the industry, fashion rightfully serves as an important economic and societal platform. In 2023, the fashion industry was valued at approximately $343.7 billion in the U.S.. The four fashion capitals of the world — London, Milan, Paris, and New York City — generate millions of audiences to admire the latest trends of avant-garde and haute couture to ready-to-wear collections designed for the average fashion consumer.
Fashion prides itself on its reputation for innovation and progressiveness — a realm where creativity can flourish and individuals from various backgrounds, including designers, consumers and artists, are invited to participate in the ongoing dialogue of “What’s next?” But despite the fashion industry’s emphasis on innovation, its historical lack of representation and accessibility perpetuates exclusion, particularly for members of the plus-sized and disabled communities, who often find themselves marginalized and ignored in the conversation.
According to the WHO World Report on Disability, the disabled community makes up 15 percent of the world’s population, namely 1.3 billion. Yet only 0.02 percent of fashion and beauty campaigns feature disabled models, and an even smaller amount of brands include them on the runway. The VOGUE Business size inclusivity report for the Autumn/Winter 2024 runway season revealed that across 230 shows and presentations featuring 8,800 looks, only 0.8 percent were plus-size, leaving approximately 95.5 percent of looks categorized as straight-sized or below a U.S. size four.
But while the industry maintains a cycle of exclusion that impacts the representation of these communities across all industry sectors, one question remains: How have these communities created space for themselves in an industry that continues to shut them out?
The Models
While the spotlight often shines on the clothes and trends on and off the runway, the models help bring these designs to life, becoming more than just a vessel for fashion. For many, the gateway into the modeling world unfolded through the glossy covers of iconic magazines like VOGUE and Harper’s Bazaar. Models such as Kate Moss and Iman etched themselves into the collective consciousness of the fashion world and claimed the title of “supermodel.” Others might have found their first introduction to modeling through the lens of the American reality television show “America’s Next Top Model’’ where contestants competed for the honor of becoming the next supermodel and underwent the rigorous journey of photoshoots and intense model training.
But regardless of people’s introduction to the world, there’s a prevailing understanding that it can be an extremely brutal and dehumanizing industry. For plus-size and disabled models, the disparity between the industry’s call for diversity and the actual inclusivity being practiced has only widened.
Bri Scalesse’s dream to model began after she became a wheelchair user at age six due to a tragic car crash that left her legs paralyzed. Growing up, Scalesse always loved fashion but never saw someone who looked like her grace the covers of her Seventeen and VOGUE magazines or stroll down the runway. It wasn’t until she saw disabled actor and model Jillian Mercado featured in the 2014 Diesel campaign, followed by her signing with IMG Models — one of the top modeling agents in the world — that Scalesse truly began to think modeling could be a possibility.
Starting her modeling career in 2019, Scalesse found her journey to be quite different compared to the “average” model — often needing to educate agencies, casting directors, and brands on the accommodations necessary to perform her job effectively. “The amount of times in the beginning that I would get there [to set] and there would be a broken elevator or a step into the building, or the bathroom wasn’t wide enough for my wheelchair was really frustrating at first,” Scalesse said. “Over time, I made sure that before ever going somewhere, my agency and I had to make sure that it was a space where I could fully just exist.”
As her modeling career grew, Scalesse began wheeling in New York Bridal Week and New York Fashion Week, made a modeling debut on Project Runway, and has amassed nearly half a million followers on TikTok. Most recently, Scalesse was asked to be a part of Victoria’s Secret’s new adaptive wear line, the brand’s first-ever lingerie collection for people with disabilities.
Scalesse, who grew up watching the Victoria’s Secret runway shows, hoped that one day a person who looked like her could inhabit a space like that: “I was in the campaign and then on the runway for it, and I think the most empowering thing was being in lingerie on such an important platform as a disabled woman,” said Scalesse. “We’re often told as disabled people that we’re not sexual beings, that we’re not desirable, and so to be in lingerie in front of the world was empowering and taking back that narrative for myself.”
It’s no secret that body discrimination is deeply rooted in the industry’s standards and Scaleese’s experiences serve as a reminder that there is a lot of ongoing work needed to foster accessibility and inclusivity. Advocates and models like Jillian Curwin and Angela Alba, while having very different experiences in the fashion industry, share similar obstacles regarding the lack of acceptance and consideration industry professionals have toward those perceived as “different”.
“As a little person, we’re still not designed for fashion,” Curwin, podcast host of “Always Looking Up” and advocate for people with dwarfism, said. “Part of why I really started my advocacy with fashion was trying to understand why the fashion industry won’t design for us, and always being told ‘Well there’s so many types of dwarfism and we just don’t know where to start,’ and I’m like, ‘Well have you asked?’”
Growing up, Curwin managed to find clothes that fit her style in the children’s sections of stores. But as her age and style changed, the difficulty of finding clothes that could not only fit her but be altered to hold their original shape became a constant battle full of frustration and tears in the dressing rooms.
“I’ve bought clothes where the alterations have cost more than the garments themselves,” Curwin expressed. “It’s hard and it’s like, do I have to say that I cried in order to get the fashion and beauty industry to actually see me or see someone who looks like me? It goes back to how people with dwarfism are seen because so often, I’ve been called a ‘that’ and it goes into feeling like [I’m] less than human.”
In Gianluca Russo’s book “The Power of Plus: Inside Fashion’s Size-Inclusivity,” the rise of the first curvy supermodels in the 1990s gave a new level of visibility to plus-size individuals but was often met with backlash from “gatekeepers” within the industry reluctant to change. Across an array of photographers to editors, “many wanted the large paycheck that comes with editorial shoots and marketing, but few in actuality wanted to include fat girls,” he writes.
The lack of consideration of industry professionals still affects plus-size models today like Angela Alba, especially when it comes to casting calls and the types of jobs she’s offered. When she was scouted on Instagram in 2021 by the late Alexandra Waldman — co-founder of the size-inclusive brand Universal Standard — Alba wanted to do modeling to be that representation she always wanted to see. But once the modeling jobs started moving towards just beauty and rejections kept piling up, Alba’s perspective on the industry changed.
“I’m almost a size 30 and like a 4X top. There’s still a limit to what I can actually wear, which also means there’s a limit of who I can model for,” they explain, describing how their body shape differentiates from other plus-size models.
Their experiences at castings underscore the limitations faced by models of larger sizes and her frustration with tokenism further highlights the challenges others in their community must grapple with in seeking genuine inclusion within the industry. “The tokenism aspect of it all too is on your shoulders as well because it’s like, ‘I want to be included, but am I going to be the only one who’s ever included and then you’re going to forget about me or people who are in my entire community?’ You want to be included but then you’re like, ‘Am I being included for the right reasons?’”
The Designers
On runways, models learn to deal with blisters from wearing shoe sizes too small, dresses and pants too long, and items that don’t fit their proportions. Being on set, heavy-duty clamps can be hidden behind the backs of models to cinch the garment closer to their measurements, pants are stuffed in the back area to make the jeans feel fuller and after long days on set, clothes are torn from being tugged and pulled too much. As these models continue to share their experiences working in an industry that works against them, designers must embrace their responsibility to create a more diverse and equitable fashion landscape within their designs.
One designer, Haley Schwartz, founder of the newly-created adaptive wear line, Vertige Adaptative, works to create clothing for all, regardless of the type of disability. After being diagnosed with a heart condition at four years old and a chronic illness when she was 11, Schwartz uses fashion as an avenue to help people with disabilities.
After receiving her associate’s degree in fashion design at FIT and winning FIT’s PETE Prize for Entrepreneurs, her research and dedication to adaptive wear have her fighting to bring awareness to the spectrum of disabilities — both invisible and visible. “I think people have this certain idea of what chronic illness and disability can look like. When you hear the word disability, people’s minds go to one specific idea and don’t realize that chronic illness and disability can affect people in so many different ways.”
The concept of adaptive wear has been around since the mid-1950s, but today, Tommy Hilfiger, Nike, Target, and Kim Kardashian’s SKIMS stand out as just a few mainstream brands embracing adaptive fashion for disabled consumers in a market projected to reach a global worth of $400 billion by 2026.
Vertige Adaptive specializes in creating products with adjustable waists, interior water-resistant pockets for small medical devices, ostomy bags, cords, invisible zippers, and snap buttons, ensuring ease of use and accessibility without the need to remove clothing. “I want people to just be able to get up, have the options and resources, and not have to plan so much around their disability,” said Schwartz.
While prioritizing functionality is fundamental to adaptive design, there’s a growing recognition of the importance of integrating the “fashion” element and creating something people want to wear, rather than wear out of availability. Lady Natasha Fines of Lady Fines seeks to increase confidence for individuals with disabilities through her rock-chic and rhinestone-bedazzled designs.
After her aunt was diagnosed with cancer and began losing her dexterity, Fines took note of the lack of adaptive clothing options for individuals like her aunt. Despite not having a disability, Fines used her fashion merchandising background and her aunt’s experiences to make a fashionable difference in the adaptive wear industry. “I really had insecurities of breaking that wall of someone who has an abled body, and speaking to someone with a disability or chronic illness and asking pretty personal questions,” said Fines. “It was so important to get the details right and if I have the tools in my toolbox working in the fashion industry, I want to do something to help.”
The runway often excludes members of the disability community due to a lack of accessibility features. However, for the Fall 2024 season, Lady Fines will debut their New York-themed collection during New York Fashion Week featuring models of all kinds of disabilities, marking a significant step forward for adaptive wear on the runway.
For designers and brands, “plus-size” typically refers to sizes 12 and above, but this definition fails to align with the reality for many women in the U.S., where over half wear a size 16 or larger. This disconnect of definitions perpetuates a fatphobic and exclusive standard, with a majority of models chosen for plus-size campaigns having a curvy, hourglass body shape, furthering a skewed representation of what “plus-size” should encompass.
Professor Dunn argues that the industry roots itself in fatphobia and biases about what various groups seem to want: “Fatphobia as a systemic idea doesn’t necessarily mean that everyone in the world is going around hating fat people, but it does mean that they hold ideas that plus-size people only want to wear one type of clothing and don’t really see them as a real customer.”
When launching her brand, SmartGlamour, Dunn’s main objective was to make customizable clothing made for anyone’s measurements, while keeping it sustainable and affordable. With plus-size clothing options being historically priced higher than straight-size clothing for the same design, it creates price discrimination and more inequity for people already marginalized by the initial design process.
“There is a socioeconomic impact of being fat,” Alexis Klase, owner of PLUS BKLYN — one of the two vintage shops in New York catered specifically for plus-size people — said. Physical spaces like PLUS BKLYN work to close a gap in the industry by listening, not just hearing, to members of the plus-size community on their feelings towards fashion: “We serve a marginalized community that has had historically so few options and has been made to feel as if they don’t have a place in society. Our mission of creating a place where fat vanity can exist and a place where people can embrace who they really are is the part I’m most proud of.”
The Advocates
Reversing fashion industry standards and bias is no easy feat. But as an industry whose primary function is to foster inspiration for new means of expression, fashion certainly has the power to create a new inclusive standard that can positively uplift all communities, not just for plus-size and disabled individuals.
Tyler McCall, the former editor-in-chief of Fashionista with over a decade of experience in the fashion industry, uses her platform to report on inclusivity. McCall often criticized the industry’s conflicting ideas of wanting innovation but still maintaining old standards: “The argument that always gets tried out is that ‘Fashion is Fantasy.’ But why does fantasy have to eradicate entire groups of people? Why does fantasy mean you can never see a fat person or why does fantasy mean women should stop existing after they’re 25? When entire groups of people can’t see themselves in something so influential, it’s not good.”
So where does the solution lie in establishing the necessary grounds of accessibility and representation in the industry? How can it be possible to think of “What’s next?” in fashion if there are countless individuals still left behind?
Some, like Michael Musandu — co-founder of the AI model agency LaLaLand — believe that AI technologies can bridge the gap between representation and accessibility by allowing brands like Levi’s to create models from underrepresented communities: “We’ve come up with strong AI principles that allow these [fashion] brands to deploy the best practices of creating AI that actually serves humanity.”
While technology can be an asset in helping the conversation, it doesn’t consider the real impacts or stories that real models experience as living and already-working individuals in the industry. The answer then, as told by disability advocate Paula Carozzo, and Professor Dunn, lies in empowerment and education from the ground up.
Working as a fashion publicist before her career as an influencer, there were many times Carozzo had to fake not having a disability. But after leaving the behind-the-scenes side for a life in front of the camera, Carozzo uses social media to educate others on her life as a disabled woman and how people can uplift the disabled voice. “People are getting more involved in disability activism and disability fashion and all these different spectrums of disability because that’s what disability is, a spectrum,” she said. “I want to get to the point where I don’t have to feel like I’m being an inconvenience and access needs are a common standard.”
Nearly two decades ago, as a student at FIT, Dunn thought back to the fixed teachings and sizes introduced and already integrated into a curriculum that overlooked larger sizes. Now, as an instructor working with the next generation of fashion designers and faculty to expand the scope of plus-size design and unlearn industry bias, a needed step is made towards making inclusivity an industry standard.
“It takes a lot of willpower and determination to be knocking on a door that doesn’t want you and be like ‘I deserve to be here,’” she said. “I truly believe that the path forward, not just for fashion education, but for the fashion industry is to look at inclusion as a more fully well-rounded topic. Altering a pattern to fit a various-sized person doesn’t only benefit plus-size consumers, it benefits people who are in-between sizes, petite people, disabled people, gender-queer people. And if the education system is what creates the industry professionals, then the system is part of what also needs to be changed.”
