Curves and clothes

So I felt that my last posting wasn’t very upbeat …well yes sorry I wasn’t in an

upbeat place. Not to say I am suddenly, inexplicably filled with joy or that the wonder

of the world has suddenly revealed itself to me but none the less I think a second self

absorbed posting of that nature would do my subscription numbers no favours!

So today I was going to talk to you about….plus size fashion! Bear with me though

skinnies, don’t stop reading - this will at least stop you reaching for the next

doughnut.

Now being a larger lady (call it curvy, cuddly, burlesque even the truth is that I’m

pretty fat) shopping for clothes has long presented challenges. Not least because I

would prefer, it all possible, not to dress like a) a man, b) my mum or c) a marquee.

You see I’m not an old lady and I quite like fashion. I also have a body shape

(including a waist….I know the shock!), hips and boobs so when I see the drab array

presented in plus size sections I always die just a bit inside.

Let me tell you about my recent trip to our nation’s capital: home of fashion houses

from the great designers, flag ship stores for our best high street retailers and unique

stores to suit all tastes. The city of inclusiveness where diversity rules and anything

goes right? Well no not really if you fancy a bit of shopping for your mightily

sexy size 24 frame. I was travelling with a friend of mine so girly shopping was an

obvious decision. Now my friend is 24, 5’10” with stunning thick dark hair and a

very glamorous size 8 …she’s kind and funny too (it’s a friendship on the rocks to be

honest). So we headed to Piccadilly Circus and to the shopping mecca that is Regent

Street.

We begin with Barbour. Now the fact that nothing here fits is OK. It’s for horsey

types right? And I accept there isn’t a pony out there ready for the challenge of me as

a rider and frankly I have limited aspirations of dressing like the queen or following

equestrian pursuits.

Now we tried Hobbs. Classic tailoring, beautiful clothes and here starts my grumbles

I’m afraid. This store is not full of mini skirts or crop tops. It is not a purveyor

of lycra vests nor thigh clenching micro shorts. These clothes are clothes for

women, real women with women’s bodies that go in and out. Women with style

and sophistication – maybe a little like me? Well no actually because if you break

beyond the giddy heights of a size 18 you’ll be with me looking at the bags. Nice bags

though. I suppose I could always wear a sack and carry a Hobbs bag? That could be a

look.

Next up was L’Occtaine – hand cream always fits thank goodness.

So on we go and there’s French Connection. Now I really love these clothes. So

classy, so well designed and made but even before entering I know this will be

an ‘accessories only’ store for me. Now the good bit here is that I could indulge

vicariously through my friend. In fact she became my doll (and that of the Spanish

dresser and shop assistant). Oh to be the woman in the shop that the assistants want to

help and dress up. Don’t get me wrong I’ve had very helpful assistants try to grease

me into items and offer me tips to hide where the misplaced bulges showed but I don’t

think it was their idea of fun!

We started with our gorgeous doll in a mini dress. Oh yes she looked hot but I’m

pleased to report that long legs aren’t always a blessing and she really couldn’t have

bent over even to wash the dishes without giving a glimpse of her derriere – not that is

was the kind of dress you wash dishes in but you get my drift.

So next it’s a jumpsuit. Now this was a wow moment. It’s not quite like on X Factor

where the weird looking geek turns out to be the next Beyonce because if you saw

my friend you would have expected her to look good in the jumpsuit but still it did go

beyond even my expectations. Jeesh she looked hot. How awesome to walk out of a

changing room to a series of ‘wows’, jammy girl. Anyway we had a lot of fun trying

it on with various necklaces and jackets before my stunning friend was convinced

enough that her model like figure didn’t look ‘too hippy’ in this gorgeous piece

of tailoring. Purchase made and placed in one of those bags that you’d be pleased

enough to pay for on its own. A bag that you’d happily show off. Anyway in their

early thirties remember that your PE kit in high school had to be in such a bag – yes

OK I had to buy gloves from River Island to get one!

So we turn our attention to a high street label because my mate has spent out in

French Connection and we’re yet to fit an item of clothes I can get into. H&M is

our choice. Now H&M do a plus size collection. This used to be called ‘Big and

Beautiful’ but they seem to have dropped that and soon we’ll hear why I think that is.

My friend scans the store directory to establish where we may find the tiny fragment

of items designed for my voluptuous figure. I tell her this isn’t needed – I know where

it will be. In the basement, back corner, near maternity wear. I’m right of course and

so down into the dark corner we head. I only assume this method of tried and tested

retail layout is so the ‘normal folk’ don’t have to see us shopping – could their eyes

bleed from the very sight of a dress in a size starting with 2 maybe?

Now, as we approach said section my friend looks a little confused. I understand

this because it does look upon first inspection that we are approaching menswear as

a large collection of oversized check shirts hangs in front of us. I reassure her that

this is indeed what the fashion industry believes is what I would choose to wear. We

peruse the selection of loose fitting, badly cut tops and baggy jeans. I select a jumper

to try on. It’s suitably designed to hide all of my bulk under a tent like shape which

overlooks any shape I may want to present. It fits! Shame that instead of ‘wow’ the

best either of us can muster is that it looks ‘comfy’ – a bit like that sack I suggested

earlier really. It covers me head to toe in fluff so I decide I’ll pass. Sadly as I wasn’t

a doll for the sales assistant she looks blankly at me and says she has no lint roller so

I have to buy one and stand in the underwear section rollering myself down but that’s

not an issue as nothing in that section fits either so it’s not like I would be shopping.

The only saving grace was that when my friend tried on a size 10 dress she could

barely breathe – we all have those changing room moments after all.

Thank goodness for lovely friends who’ll let me play ‘dress up’ and for the fact that

when we left the shops we went on to see Mcfly at the Royal Albert Hall who were

truly amazing – even the seats were big enough.

Vive the plus size revolution….. J