The Vegan Shoe Lady

The co-owner of Southern California’s premier vegan shoe store talks about style, veganism, animals, the planet, and ethics.

Filling Unmet Needs March 13, 2009

In the summer of 2003, I was working as an assistant resident manager at my alma mater (I’d looked for jobs in the fashion industry, of course, but at the time even my most talented classmates had trouble getting interviews due to the economy). On the way back from a lunch break, I bounded through the lobby of the dorm building where I lived, wearing a cheerful cherry-print dress of my own design.

A woman from the Admissions office, who was escorting an applicant, stopped me and asked “Why do you not have your own line?”

“I don’t have any financial backing or startup capital,” I explained, “but someday I’ll do it.”

Nearly six years later, I’m still hoping to someday launch my own line.

Believe it or not, I didn’t decide to go into fashion because it’s one of the family specialties (my extended family actually has more teachers than style mavens). I did so out of sheer frustration.

In this entry, I mentioned my own curvaceous figure. As it was a bit beyond the main subject of the entry, I didn’t go into detail about how difficult it is to shop for clothes when you’re built like I am.

I’m five feet, six inches tall (without the heels). My measurements are 40-30-38, and I wear a 36DD bra. With a little persistence, I can usually find skirts and pants that fit, but I can’t buy pants on short notice because they’re ALWAYS four to eight inches too long (I have stunted shins), requiring me to hem them (what happened to the days when pants had petite, regular, and tall inseams?). I can’t wear most jumpsuits or one-piece swimsuits because of my freakishly long torso (I had to extend my tailored jacket pattern by a whopping FOUR inches at the waist so the finished jacket would actually reach my hips – until my professor saw the mockup on me, she was convinced I’d made it way too long). Tight waists are a no-no (I also have extra ribs). It’s damn near impossible to find tops that fit my ample chest without being horribly skanky or unforgivably frumpy – and if I can, I’m VERY lucky if they are long enough to cover my midriff. Dresses, especially short ones, are even harder to find (especially since I prefer dresses that can also hide the ugly discolored scar on my left knee). Regular misses’ sizes often don’t fit at all, yet true plus-size apparel is MUCH too big on me (everywhere except my chest, anyway).

In short, trying to dress myself off-the-rack is a royal pain in the arse.

If you have ever been moved to tears by the hell of trying on bathing suits while a few pounds overweight, imagine feeling that way EVERY time you are in a fitting room. After one particularly traumatic shopping experience (in which only ONE item in an entire shopping mall came ANYWHERE close to fitting – and it looked AWFUL on me), I added classes in sewing and patternmaking to my college course schedule. If the local stores weren’t willing to carry things I could actually wear, I could still dress well (and send a very clear “screw you” message) by making my own clothes.

After my sewing teacher was completely floored by my insanely complicated, handmade Sally costume (including a handmade yarn wig), I realized I was actually pretty good at it, and a year later I was majoring in Fashion Design at another school, with hopes of one day bringing high style to the curvy masses.

Nowadays, I’m bringing stylish vegan shoes, bags, and other apparel to veggie-friendly Southern California, but there is a much more neglected market out there. One that grows in number by the day, is not going to go away, and is being ignored by snobby, sexist, fat-phobic designers.

I am referring, of course, to women who aren’t rail thin.

I didn’t say “plus size” because one needn’t be a size 14 to be sneered at by anorexic boutique employees and encounter stores that refuse to carry anything above a size 6 (no, I’m not kidding). This is especially true in SoCal.

Recently, the plight of the size 8-and-up woman has been chronicled by the LA Times, primarily by the All The Rage blog. In this entry, blogger Monica Corcoran starts with the ruthless attitude toward non-sylphs prevalent in the LA area. In part:

A friend of mine once walked into Fred Segal and asked for a dress in a size 8 and the slip of a saleswoman smiled sadly and said: “Sorry. We don’t carry a lot of large.” Large? If a size 8 is considered a large here, imagine how a size 14 must feel.

That entry was soon followed by a great article from Emili Vesilind: Fashion’s Invisible Woman. Vesilind points out that the fashion industry is far more forgiving of larger men than of larger women, but goes into far greater detail about the industry’s widespread delusion that women over a size 6, who make up the majority of the American women’s apparel market, either don’t exist or are unworthy of wearing the same fabulous ensembles as their size 2 friends. Here’s a very telling passage:

Fashion-forward boutiques such as Maxfield and Fred Segal rarely stock anything over a size 10, and in designer shops, sizes beyond 6 or 8 are often hidden like contraband in the “back.” Department stores typically offer tiny sections with only 20 or so brands that fit sizes 14 and up — compared with the 900-plus brands they carry in their regular women’s wear departments.

That leaves style-loving full-figured women with a clutch of plus-size chains including Lane Bryant, Fashion Bug, Avenue and Torrid. Or big-box stores such as Target, Kohl’s and Wal-Mart, the No. 1 seller of plus-size apparel in the country — though most of its selection consists of basic, often matronly items. Beyond this, plus-size clothing is largely relegated to the Internet, where customers who already have a complicated relationship with clothes are unable to see, touch or try on merchandise.

(As a fashion-loving curvy woman, I have to say: big box stores?! Seriously? I’ve seen the offerings at big box stores – lots of polyester, often-unflattering cuts, and lackluster quality indicative of a likely sweatshop origin. I’d rather go naked than shop at Wal-Mart.)

With more Americans getting bigger and bigger, it makes sense to provide stylish apparel that they can actually wear, instead of jealously gazing at in the pages of a glossy magazine. In fact, that article touched a chord with many LA Times readers. Yet, the industry still doesn’t want to wake up and pay attention.

Those of us who love clothes but have a hard time finding things that fit have money to burn, since we so rarely get to spend it. When we find things that fit and flatter, many of us don’t even look at the price tag before snatching it up (before money became tight for yours truly, I NEVER, EVER cared how much a perfectly-fitting garment cost). Many of us would happily abandon frumpy/dumpy “plus size” stores forever if stylish stores and designer boutiques carried that cute dress in the window in size 16 as well as size 0. Making real-person sizes readily available wouldn’t just be far more kind to curvy women, it could very well give the economy a well-needed boost. Case in point:

I’m a 14 (albeit working on returning to former 10-12 size), willing and able to spend money on fashion, and there’s nothing to buy.


The first national designer/retailer combo brave enough to make and stock real fashion sized for the average American woman is going to make a fortune, and then hopefully the rest will begin to follow.

- Arlene Wszalek, Sherman Oaks (the Shoe Lady’s hometown!)

I’d have launched my own label right after opening the store, were it not for the fact that starting a clothing company is VERY, VERY EXPENSIVE – much more so than opening the store (which certainly was not cheap, either). It’s true that Calvin Klein started with $10,000, but that was in 1967. Today, he’d probably need at least half a million dollars. One brilliant designer I know privately mentioned that she’d saved money for her entire adult life so she could afford to start her own company.

Would anyone out there like to invest in a stylish, curve-friendly, all-vegan startup clothing label? Anyone? I’ll give you clothes and even custom-fit them myself…I promise to use healthy, smiling models in every color of the rainbow for all my ads and shows…I’ll have everything manufactured in America or in fair-trade factories abroad…I’ll even give your fashion-mad niece an internship. I want to help my lushly-figured sisters, but I can’t do it alone.

P.S. Incidentally, there are eco-friendly labels out there that are apparently just as fat-phobic as Chanel, Prada, etc. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve received line sheets from green designers who aren’t making anything bigger than a size 8, as if larger women couldn’t possibly be eco-chic! While it can be fiscally sensible to start with a few sizes and add more as a company expands – as some footwear companies have done – green labels are doing no favors for themselves or the market by not starting with a size range more representative of today’s customer – say, sizes 6 to 16 instead of 0 to 10. One would think that all Earth-conscious companies would also be socially conscious.

 

Curvy Women are People Too September 30, 2008

I’m going to go slightly off-topic today.

If you know me in person or have seen pictures of me somewhere, you know that I am not a twig. I’m curvy. I got back down to a size 6/8 (in pants, anyway – that myth about weight loss reducing one’s bra size is, in my experience, not true) once, but it was from nonstop stress (design school is not for the lazy), not eating enough, and having nonstop food poisoning when I did eat (ah, college cafeterias…). When I’m eating enough to sustain my (busy) activity level, I’m a 12 in dresses and a 10 in jeans. America Ferrera of “Ugly Betty” fame is actually smaller than I am (I base this on having seen the famous butterfly costume at close range – she’s close to a “standard” 8, which I’m sure of because design students learn to drape and make patterns on “standard” size 8 dress forms).

As you can imagine, it really chips my nail varnish when curvy women are slighted based on their size.

Last Saturday my best friend and I went to Pioneertown to see The Donnas (the show was fabulous, of course).

Bassist Maya Ford (aka Donna F) is nowhere near as thin as her bandmates. She’s zaftig enough to make me look almost skinny. Artwork for the band’s first three albums (American Teenage Rock and Roll Machine, Get Skintight, and The Donnas Turn 21) shows all four members, left to right, as equals. Which they are. I’ve been listening to The Donnas since high school and am quite sure the band would fall apart if they suddenly had trouble functioning as a quartet. Then came the band’s big-label debut, Spend the Night. The slumber-party-themed cover showed singer Brett Anderson in a short robe, drummer Torry Castellano in a tank top and long pajama bottoms, guitarist Allison Robertson (widely considered the band’s “hottest” member) posed flirtatiously in something short, slinky, and pink, and Maya in the back, in a frumpy brown checked pajama top. All you can see are her head, shoulders, and ample chest (since it’s okay to have a big chest as long as the rest of you looks rail thin). The implication is that she’s not as important.

Which is garbage, of course. The Donnas would not be the same without her. Maya is the resident bad girl who cracks the funniest jokes, writes many of the band’s sassiest lyrics, and probably parties the hardest (she supposedly made out with two male fans after one show because they were both very cute, and allegedly puts a certain herbal ingredient in her homemade rugelach – for the record, I don’t even drink coffee, but I have to admit the very idea of “special” rugelach is a little funny).

I know she was probably put in the background deliberately because I’ve encountered a few fat-phobic photographers myself. It’s annoying as hell. Given that the average American woman is currently a size 14 and my BMI was actually in the “normal” range when I was heavier, I don’t really qualify as “fat” in the first place.

On one such occasion, a local magazine oriented toward young men hosted a show at the House of Blues. One of my favorite local bands was playing, and my friend’s sister was in the magazine’s recently released calendar, so the three of us went, along with my friend’s then-boyfriend.

Of course, one of the magazine’s photographers had to get a picture of the hot calendar girl and her friends, and professional photographers can be very aggressive about dictating blocking and poses (especially when working for a publication with a narrow concept of beauty). My friend’s sister, a model whose “double feature” is not entirely natural, was front and center, with my friend (who is skinnier but has a smaller bust) pulled off to her right, her very tall boyfriend in the very back, and yours truly awkwardly positioned left and back. In the final picture, I could be seen only from the shoulders up and in shadow.

Honestly, this was insulting enough (especially since none of them would have even gone to the show if I hadn’t suggested it). What ticked me off a lot more was being photographed for some of the store’s early press coverage.

I’m well aware of the fact that fashion-oriented publications put the sticks front and center. As Alexis Meade snappily (and accurately) put it on “Ugly Betty” last season, “Models are hangers! Designers don’t want to see their clothes on fat hangers!” But I am NOT a professional model, and I should NOT be expected to resemble some toothpick from a Chanel ad.

Most of the people who have interviewed me have been perfectly professional. But when the time comes for pictures, they typically play around with different angles, trying to hide my non-arexic frame. Usually I’m photographed from the chest up. One magazine that has featured my flagship store does occasionally print pictures of store owners – IF they resemble the skinny models used in their fashion spreads. My semi-famous vegan Doc Martens were good enough to merit a photo, but I apparently wasn’t (the accompanying article was also full of mistakes and misquotes, but that’s another subject for another rant).

One glossy publication did show me in profile – in a fitted top that was hanging a bit loose at the time because I’d recently had my wisdom teeth removed and lost a few more pounds due to not being able to eat anything solid. Even then, they positioned me VERY carefully so my pelvis wouldn’t look wide. (My best friend is a gifted amateur photographer, so I know about little tricks like this.)

Am I hideous? Offhand, I’d say no. I’ve rejected marriage proposals. I’ve done some amateur modeling at friends’ requests (and, in a pinch, for my own ads). I was even offered a co-starring role in an independent film once (which I turned down because I have a business to run). My measurements do not make me ugly. Nor do they make me less of a person or preclude my ability to be as stylish as I want to be. Just as nobody should have to sacrifice style for ethics, nobody should be made to feel inadequate because they aren’t rail thin.

Some of the most powerful people who have worked in fashion are or were not beautiful. Diana Vreeland, for example, was pin thin (at a time when *some* curvature was preferred), had small eyes and a big nose, and had such oddly-shaped feet that all of her shoes had to be custom made. But, she knew how to make herself look interesting and is still widely respected as a style icon. How someone looks only matters when society allows it to matter. (Which isn’t to say that we shouldn’t groom ourselves and try to dress somewhat nicely. We can’t control our bone structure unless we resort to plastic surgery, but we can and should brush our teeth and polish our shoes.)

I am a fashionably curvy vegan. And there’s nothing wrong with that.