Posts in category "editorial"

In Defense of Photoshop

Model: Victoria Dagger; Photo: Max Johnson.  Image retouched and composited using Photoshop.

I know, you must think I’m very defensive this month, what with In Defense of Ready-to-Wear Corsets two weeks ago, and now this.  Thing is, this idea has been germinating for some time, this defense of Photoshop.  Poor Photoshop, you’re so villainized and misunderstood.  You’re just a tool, and yes, in the wrong hands, you do some absurd and terrible things.  But you also do beautiful things that only enhance our ability to appreciate an image.  Every now and then some Photoshop mishap will be unleashed upon the world and held up as the symbol of our social pressures, as the catalyst for eating disorders across the country, and the cry will go out to ban Photoshop from our media imagery.  But is it even possible?  Or necessary?

I think a lot of the outcry against Photoshop is based on a widespread confusion about how Photoshop is most often used, and the context and evolution of its usage.

Joel Aron’s proofs may look better than most of finished images that I see, but that doesn’t stop him from perfecting each photo with post-processing. Model: Victoria Dagger; art director: Morgan Marcani.

As a writer here for The Lingerie Addict, I probably don’t have to tell you that I do not in any way condone body snark.  A person’s body is nobody’s business but their own.  The years of having people make snippy remarks like, “Halloween was last month,” in response to my eclectic outfits are, realistically, at least somewhat responsible for the cool confidence for what some people refer to as my effortless style (to my bafflement).  Thing is, when a photograph is doctored, it’s not necessarily an implicit judgment of the model therein, or the populace that looks upon it.  Photos are retouched for a lot of reasons, and it’s important to remember that a photograph isn’t necessarily a portrait, especially if you’re seeing it in a magazine.

Before and after retouching example by Joel Aron. Well-executed retouching looks natural and draws the viewer to the intended focus of the image. Model: Lauren, for Dark Garden Unique Corsetry.

There’s this assumption that a camera is some sort of magical truth recorder, but that’s really not the case.  Camera lenses do not record information with the same perception that our eyes and brains do.  Let’s start with the mechanics: our eyes only focus on a small portion of what we see, and the rest becomes a soft haze.  Some of this can be replicated with “depth of field” in a camera, but more often a whole image is sharp, especially in product or catalog photography when detail is required to explain a product.  Just last week, the best head drawing professor I’ve worked with told his class that drawing from life is superior because the camera distorts an image – understandable, when we take a three-dimensional object and try to condense it into two, the presumed source of the old “the camera adds ten pounds” adage.  In particular, the camera will capture objects closest to it as being larger than life, often disproportionately so.  Meanwhile, our brains are looking at people through their own haze, one that is probably generally good-natured.  We don’t look at our friends and notice their pores, zits, stray hairs, mini-muffins from tight clothing, wrinkles, stretch marks, and minute scars in stark detail.  Our brain sees a living, breathing, moving impression of the person, through the filter of our emotions toward them and mood at the time.  Our brain naturally straightens things that are at an angle, improves symmetry, standardizes foreshortening and proportion, and so on.

A camera lens doesn’t record things as our eye sees them: notice how the model’s left hand is significantly larger than the right because it is closer to the camera. Photo by Joel Aron for Dark Garden Unique Corsetry.

In a photograph, with all those small details brought out crystal clear, the resulting image (so different from life) is a series of distractions from whatever the subject of the photograph is intended to be.  Even if the intended subject was a portrait, an unretouched image can be like hearing your voice on your answering machine for the first time.  “Is that what I really sound like?” you think.  “Is my voice that grating?”

Retouching example by Max Johnson. Which version of the image do you think is a better reflection of how you would observe this model’s skin in life?

Aside from focus, a camera also records color differently.  Unretouched images often have a slightly muddy look to them; Photoshop (or its equivalent) will almost always be necessary in any image to fine-tune contrast and color balance.  For that reason alone, we could never truly ban Photoshop, to say nothing of simple niceties like cropping an image.

Model: Victoria Dagger; Photo: Karolina Marek. Photoshop was clearly used in this image to adjust the color palette and contrast.

Some of our mistrust of Photoshop comes from a good old-fashioned fear of the Other.  The fashion industry as a whole, or its various facets, gets lumped into this giant, hateful, misogynistic, Devil-Wears-Prada mass when people go on these rants and tirades.  But ultimately, the fashion industry is made of individual people, and all the designers I’ve known are more interested in designing beautiful things than repressing the models who are to be their living clothes hangers.  We don’t run around like Mugatu from Zoolander, asking if our dressmaker pins got in the way of your ass.  By that same token, photographers are also real people, and artists.  As I mentioned before, most photography isn’t portraiture, and I believe a photographer has a right to exercise some artistic license.

Believe it or not, not everyone in the fashion industry is like Mugatu from Zoolander! A lot of us just want to practice our craft. We’re in it for the art, not the oppression.

At this point, it bears mentioning that while Photoshop has only existed since 1989, humans have been doctoring images for as long as we’ve been making them.  Retouching goes back about as long as we’ve had photography (remember that some of the most prominent pinup artists got their start as airbrushers), and before that, painters would use their discretion in capturing a subject in their best light.  “You’re the designer,” my figure drawing professors would say as I worked towards my MFA.  Sometimes, life taken literally just doesn’t translate well to the page.

Retouched image of famous tightlacer Polaire. Source with additional before & after images: http://www.contourcorsets.com/corset_writings.html.

I saw a TED talk not long ago, the speaker of which is an underwear model.  You can view the whole thing here: Cameron Russell: Looks aren’t everything. Believe me, I’m a model.  What I found more telling, though, was this summary of the talk: Model Cameron Russell gives the real story behind six of her stunning photos.  The real story?  Hardly.  Looking at Ms. Russell speaking, which set of images do you think more closely resembles?  The editorial images, or snapshots from the same time period?  I do think the talk was interesting and she makes some very good points, but most of what the comparison between images showed me was: 1) Wow, point-and-shoot cameras in the hands of an amateur sure take bad photos, and 2) It’s really weird that we doll up young teens to look like they are in their 20s.
More relevant to my point is when Ms. Russell says that when we see an image, what we really see is a composite, a team’s hard work.  Is it more immoral to have professional stylists doing your hair, makeup, and wardrobe than to do it yourself?  Is it unethical to light an image to show a model to her best advantage?  I don’t think so, personally.  Anyway, Photoshop is only a small part of the equation of what crafts the photos we see in magazines.

Same model (Cameron Russell), same time period. The “real story” about (un)flattering lighting and poses. Speaking of misuse of Photoshop, what’s with the wonky aspect ratio..?

As a disclaimer, much of what I said applies primarily to advertising and editorial images.  When the subject is a celebrity, truly a subject and not simply a model, it gets more complicated.  Celebrities must exist in a cycle of exceptionalism for the same reason books aren’t written about the commonplace.  We are intrigued by their unique qualities, and they’re under pressure to remain extraordinary, to the point that their images are processed to the edge of recognition, “refined” to an editor’s ideal of unreal beauty.

With all of that said (I know, it was a lot), I do absolutely believe that Photoshop can be taken too far, used to create images that are entirely unrealistic and/or unhealthy looking.  Negligent retouchers drastically overcorrect minor blemishes, camera distortions, or nothing at all.  Things that bring me particular concern are the transformation of healthy women into anatomically impossible stick figures (of course), the sexualization of underage girls, and the whitewashing of women of color.

What do you find troubling about the way we use Photoshop?  Has this piece made you reconsider its place in our world?  How do you think we can enact social change through our media images, or educate people about the unreality of photos?  Please share your thoughts in the comments below.

Should Independent Lingerie Boutiques Support Independent Lingerie Brands?

It’s not really a secret, but I buy a lot of my lingerie through the internet. Last year, I wrote an in-depth article on why I prefer to lingerie shop online, and in case you missed it, the 3 main takeaways can be summed up this way:

  1. I have a more consistent customer service experience online.
  2. I have a better selection of brands, styles, and sizes online.
  3. I have access to better return and refund policies online.

After I published that article, the reaction I received from the brick-and-mortar lingerie community was both fierce and predictable. Several people wrote to say I should never have written that article at all, and quite a few said they would never read my blog again. Those comments are neither here nor there, but the remarks that made the greatest impression were from independent boutiques who said customers should support them simply because they’re independent…as though any reasons a customer might have for shopping elsewhere were irrelevant and secondary.

Now just to be clear, I definitely believe in supporting small business owners. In my day-to-day life, most of my shopping is local, and I’m fortunate to live in a city where buying from within your community is both encouraged and easy to do. However, at the end of the day, my neighborhood business still has to carry products I actually want to buy. If a customer is looking for widgets and your shop only carries doodads, you can’t fault the customer for taking their widget-shopping money elsewhere. They’re looking for a thing you just don’t sell.

It’s obvious how this relates to lingerie boutiques. As I mentioned earlier, one of the main reasons I shop online is because most everyone carries the same handful of well-known brands. If I want to try a new designer or an indie designer or an international designer, I have to go online, because my local lingerie store probably isn’t carrying it. Of course, it’s every store’s right to stock who they want, in whatever size they want, at whatever price they want, but it’s also the customers’ right to let those very relevant factors influence their purchasing decisions. And while I won’t pretend to know all the details of why a store stocks one brand over another, I can say I’ve learned a few things from the past several years of talking with industry people.

  1. A boutique will rarely carry a brand new label. They want to see several seasons of work before making a commitment.
  2. Brands can and will refuse to sell to a boutique if they dislike the look of the boutique or the labels they already carry. Some brands will even pull their stock or cancel orders if a boutique picks up the “wrong” name.
  3. Customers request that boutiques stock large brands because those are the names they’re most familiar with through magazines features, celebrity endorsements, TV shows, etc.

All of that is perfectly reasonable. But I find myself wondering…if customers should buy from independent boutiques because they’re independent (and therefore it’s the right thing to do), should independent boutiques also do their share by supporting independent brands? Isn’t it also the right thing? After all, buying indie not only supports fellow small business owners, it also supports other important causes like fair wages and compensation, ethical labor practices and manufacturing, and artisan skills.

Don’t get me wrong…there are definitely some brick-and-mortar boutiques that excel at carrying independent brands. Faire Frou Frou and Dollhouse Bettie are two that immediately spring to mind. But most boutiques won’t take that chance. And that’s a shame because indie boutiques are the perfect distribution channels for brands that don’t have the stock, the staff, or the manufacturing power to negotiate with major department stores like Nordstrom, Saks, or Bloomingdale’s.

I know I’m just a consumer, but it seems like a win/win for both sides. Indie boutiques could pick up small orders, diversify their stock, expose shoppers to new brands, stay fresh and exciting, and also be supporting the think tank of the industry. Indie designers could reach new customers, get the revenue to increase manufacturing and production,  take risks in design and size offerings, and (perhaps hardest of all) stay in business for the long term. But for too many stores, it’s just the same old, same old. And that drives customers like me who are seeking innovation elsewhere.

So what do you think? Should small lingerie boutiques should carry small lingerie brands? Is there a disconnect between asking customers to buy indie when boutiques won’t buy indie themselves? Or should we all be okay with the status quo? I don’t know the answer, but I’d really love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Treacle

Treacle

Lingerie Blogger. Sugar Junkie. Sci-Fi Geek.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:
TwitterFacebookLinkedInPinterestGoogle PlusFlickrStumbleUponYouTube

Learning to Love My Small Bust: The Size Complex of a Petite Woman

Image via Meg At Midnight

Dana Givens is editor of My Little Vixen, a provocative fashion and sex blog dedicated all things lingerie. She is also is a freelance fashion and beauty writer with numerous online publications.

As an avid lover of all things lingerie, I love the feeling of wearing a sexy set of undergarments that hugs my shape and the pretty little detailing that make that perfect bra stand out. However no matter how beautiful my lingerie was, every time I look in the mirror my focus always fall on my tiny breasts. I can’t help but be self-conscious of their little size. I’ve always admired women with shapely bodies and envious of their supple cleavage because it was something I never had. In my mind, having full bust was a sign of femininity. I wanted to feel more like a woman but instead I felt trapped in a little girl’s body.

Between the pictures of glossy fashion campaigns and gorgeous celebrities under the spotlight, the average woman will always feel pressured to emulate what is perceived as the ‘perfect body’. As someone with a petite frame, I’m not gifted with full busty set of breasts; they are a size 34A and they’re not exactly the ideal when it comes to size. I’ve probably heard every flat-chest joke in the book now and while I try to block out the negativity, the constant scrutiny from my peers can still bother me. The worst part was when I did speak out, it always seemed like my cries fell on deaf ears. Being this size all my life made me learn that it was considered ‘acceptable’ by most people to pick on a smaller woman like myself but heaven forbid I say anything against a larger woman. Like most women my size, I have a slight complex when it comes to my small chest and have even considered getting plastic surgery to take care of the problem. I’ve come along when it comes to loving my body and finding lingerie that is designed for petite women was key in my journey.

Image via Huit

While lingerie can be a great confidence booster when it comes accepting your curves, petite women often have a problem with finding the right bra that flatters their small shape. It is important to find that bra give your bust shape with a peek of cleavage. Lingerie brands like Meg at Midnight, Huit, and the Little Bra Company specialize for women with a small chest. The specialty undergarments are a niche market just like their full-figure counterparts for women that often feel neglected from brands that offer what they consider ‘average’ sizes. It is important to find that brand that makes you feel best instead of feeling inadequate.

When I finally started to take the initiative and find bras that were better suited for women like myself instead of the traditional mass-market names, I started to feel more comfortable in my own skin. I started to discover more and more brands that made me feel less self-conscious of the size of my breasts and more on creating a positive body image for myself. I could finally shop for lingerie and not feel embarrassed when it came to saying what bra size I was. It was refreshing to know there was a place for me amongst the lacy undergarments I’ve come to love so much.

Image via The Little Bra Company

Even though I had discovered lingerie that caters to petite women like myself, it was only the first step when it came to overcoming my size complex. The biggest obstacle was being about to look in the mirror and say “You know what, I’m fine with my size”. I may not have the bouncy full breasts of my dreams but I had eventually learned to say I’m comfortable with my size. While I still may look at a woman with C-cup boobs in envy, I simply learned that I needed to accept my small curves. Maybe one day I will be the size I desire or maybe I’ll forever be the petite woman with small boobs. Despite the ignorant remarks I have heard in the past, being small made no less of a woman.

My curves didn’t define me. My intellect, my personality, my femininity, and all the love I had to offer – that’s what made me a woman. No matter how many brands I found with bras that fit me perfectly, if I didn’t learn to accept my body then I would never find peace. My small boobs were here to stay and that’s ok with me. At some point in your life, you have to learn to accept and embrace your curves no matter how big or small they may be and I’m happy to say I’m at that point in life.

My story represents countless others out there, not only other petite women but also full figure women who suffered from the same size complex wanting to be smaller. It’s true that a person will always desire something they don’t have and the same concept applied to the female body. As a woman, we will look at our reflection and focus only the flaws we wish we could change and never the beauty that shines underneath. While I may not be the average size, my small busts do not make me less of a woman and even though I do not have the curvaceous busty bosom of my dreams, my breasts are perfectly fine just the way they are.

Holly

Holly

The Full Figured Chest provides creative and elegant copywriting for the high end lingerie industry.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:
TwitterFacebook

Victoria’s Secret Problems: 3 Major Issues the Lingerie Giant Needs to Address

Unless you’ve been on a media diet for the last month or so, you probably know that the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show (VSFS) happened last week. Billed as the “Sexiest Night on Television,” this year was the 10th televised broadcast of VSFS (even though there’s been a version of the show since the mid-90′s) and it’s turned into a bit of a tradition. Between its millions of viewers (and subsequent millions of sales), the VSFS is one of the effective marketing campaigns in the world.

Usually, I do a quick write-up after the show talking about my favorite looks and maybe what I did or didn’t like about the broadcast. But as I was reviewing my notes for this post (Rihanna was great, the lingerie was plain, and the interviews in between segments were forced), I felt like I would be missing some bigger issues if I just spoke about the show and nothing else. Because the truth is, Victoria’s Secret, despite it’s position as the #1 lingerie retailer in America, has a few issues it needs to deal with right now. Issues that make the fashion show seem a bit silly in comparison.

Some of you may be surprised I’m saying this. After all, a few months ago I wrote a post about how Victoria’s Secret actually benefits the lingerie industry (short version: it exposes a lot of women to lingerie who might otherwise never get a chance to try the stuff), and I upset quite a few people who interpreted that post as a blanket acceptance of everything Victoria’s Secret has ever done and ever will do. So it feels appropriate now to spend some time talking about the ways Victoria’s Secret is really messing up.

Victoria’s Secret Has a Race(ist) Problem
Less than 2 months after Victoria’s Secret shocked anyone with a conscience over their blatantly racist ‘geisha’ costume (modeled by the ultra blonde and very-definitely-not-Asian, Candice Swaenpoel), they upped the ante by putting the very Midwest and most-certainly-not-Native-American, Karlie Kloss, in an Indian costume. As the saying goes, once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but 3 times is pattern. And the third time, if you remember, is last year’s fashion show which crammed all the black models into one ‘tribal’ sequence).

Now, I don’t think the people in charge of Victoria’s Secret are idiots. At the very least, the company has more than enough money to spend on diversity consultants or customer focus groups or even a book or three on racial stereotyping. Yet it appears they do none of those things prior to spending thousands (if not millions) of dollars on making and manufacturing these explicitly racist costumes. So that makes me wonder if they either don’t care (which is bad) or if they’re deliberately trading on racist controversy to bring some attention to the brand (which is worse).

Inevitably, when the R-word (by which I mean racism) comes up, someone responds with, “Well, they probably don’t intend to be racist!” Which may be true. After all, I don’t live with any of their designers. But I think we can at least agree that Victoria’s Secret doesn’t intend to avoid being racist either. And one can only be ‘accidentally’ racist so many times before other people begin to wonder what exactly is going on.

Victoria’s Secret Has a Gender Problem (and It’s Not the One You’re Thinking Of)
The current roster of Victoria’s Secret Angels (i.e. their headliners) includes the following nine models: Adriana Lima, Lily Aldridge, Alessandra Ambrosio, Miranda Kerr, Doutzen Kroes, Behati Prinsloo, Candice Swanepoel, Lindsay Ellingson, and Erin Heatherton. When it comes to the Angels, many people focus on the physical homogeneity of the women and that is a problem.

Unfortunately, it’s not a unique issue to Victoria’s Secret, and that discussion often leads to incredible amount of body snark, body shame, and body hate…three things I have no interest in or tolerance for. Instead, I want to spend some talking about the whole Virgin/Whore complex Victoria’s Secret actively trades in.

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but in the past few years, there’s been an increasing emphasis on the models’ (always heterosexual) relationships. The first 5 Angels listed above are married (they also happen to be the most popular Angels), and I’ve often noticed their relationship is invoked by the brand during promotional events. It’s as if to imply, “Yes, these women are famous for being underwear models, but they’re ladies. They’re good girls, so everything’s okay.”

Meanwhile, in the rest of the country, women are having to deal with police officers who say things like “Dressing like a slut makes you rapeable.” That contrast…that juxtaposition is very unsettling to me. I know the company is attempting to capitalize on the “They’re wives and moms just like you” angle, but it’s very distressing when the legitimacy of their most popular models is so heavily linked to their relationship status. Because it reinforces the notion that expressing your sexuality or being a sexual being, is only okay if you’re doing it the right way.

Victoria’s Secret Has an Image Problem
The last year has been full of scandals for Victoria’s Secret. From the use of child labor in Burkina Faso to photoshopping away model’s limbs to ever-decreasing product quality and a reputation for egregious fitting techniques, the bright and shiny image Victoria’s Secret has built up over the last decade is slowly being chipped away.

While they are still the name in lingerie, at least in America, every new scandal reminds the public that Victoria’s Secret isn’t about women’s empowerment or being sexy or even lingerie…they’re just a regular, run-of-the-mill clothing company out to make a buck. And once that “secret” gets all the way out, the brand may never recover.

What are you thoughts on Victoria’s Secret? Did you watch the fashion show? Have you kept up with the scandals this year. Let’s chat in the comments.

Treacle

Treacle

Lingerie Blogger. Sugar Junkie. Sci-Fi Geek.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:
TwitterFacebookLinkedInPinterestGoogle PlusFlickrStumbleUponYouTube

Diversity Is More Than a Bra Size: What It’s Like to Be a Lesbian in the Lingerie Industry

Today’s guest post is by one of my favorite new bloggers – The Lingerie Lesbian. The Lingerie Lesbian is a 23-year-old recent college graduate who works in PR in ‘real’ life and spends the rest of her time thinking about knickers. She blogs about lingerie and sexuality over at TheLingerieLesbian.com. You can also see what she’s up to on Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr and if you have any pressing questions, you can email her at lingerielesbian@gmail.com.

Ellen von Unwerth for Chantal Thomass F/W 2012

The funny thing about being a lesbian in the lingerie industry is that it feels like a paradox: I see versions of myself everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It’s undeniable that female homoeroticism plays a part in so many lingerie editorials, both implicitly and explicitly, that it’s not difficult for me to find photographs featuring both luxury lingerie and women in sexually charged situations with other women. What are missing are voices to match these images or the acknowledgement that these images are not merely fantasies, but could reflect a reality, my reality.

This is an issue that exists everywhere, not only in lingerie and not only in fashion. But in fashion, this complete lack of a queer female perspective can seem even odder than it might in other areas considering the way so much of fashion is tinged with sexuality.

This recent shoot with Rihanna and Kate Moss for V Magazine is a perfect example of how the fashion industry views lesbianism—it’s about titillating the viewer, not about representing same-sex desire in a way that seems valid, relevant, or anything more than an act. And that lingerie plays a part in illustrating that this is a sexual situation means that in many ways it is the lingerie that is used as a kind of shorthand to create intimacy between the two women, even as they don’t even look at one another. All I can see is that my sexuality is frivolous—that it can be put on and taken off as easily as a piece of lingerie.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with showing off the sexy side of a same sex relationship—with lingerie, sex and intimacy are so often part of the equation. But when all you see are women as vibrant as mannequins, posing together “provocatively” the objectification of same-sex attraction cannot be ignored.

The lingerie industry is no worse (often better) than others—everyone I have interacted with has been nice and welcoming. So nice that usually when I point out places where there is particularly exclusionary language, they’ll apologize or change it. But it’s hard when I feel repeatedly forgotten– every time I’m the one who has to raise my hand and say, “But, but, not all women are wearing lingerie for male partners!” or “You can’t assume that women want male attention!” And each time I see the phrase “girlfriend” meaning a close female friend I remember that of course no one would confuse that person with your lover because the default is always “straight.”

And then, of course, lingerie-clad women posing together provocatively do have a presumed audience: men. This editorial in GQ is the epitome of what’s wrong with many “lesbian” lingerie editorials. Lesbian sexuality is a joke (the accompanying headline is: “Alison Brie and Gillian Jacobs Did This Lesbian Scene for Us”), it’s entertainment and it’s coerced for the pleasure of the (explicitly male) viewer.

It doesn’t feel great to feel like you’re either invisible or some sort of sex object. Visibility was the main reason I choose to go by “The Lingerie Lesbian”—it’s nice to have some place where I don’t have to explain that I don’t have a boyfriend, I have a girlfriend, and I’m more than happy about that. I may get a lot of porn searches that end up at my site, but I’m okay with that—if someone reads my blog and realizes I’m a real person, not a mythical creature, than I’m doing something right.

And my sexual identity is relevant to how I look at the world and the way I think about lingerie. Everywhere you look, lingerie, gender and sexuality are tied together and flow into each other. What you are wearing, how you want it to make you feel and who you want to share it with—these things are all part of understanding, appreciating and talking about lingerie.

I often appreciate Ellen von Unwerth’s photography because even as she portrays women in lingerie, often in homoerotic situations, they seem more engaged with each other than with an unseen viewer (like in the photo above). But she can also fall into the cliché of using lesbian implications as mere titillation. Sexuality (just like lingerie) can be playful—the joy of playing infuses her better imagery and sets it apart from the stiff, mannequin-like expressions of her photo below and both the GQ and V editorials. They have a strange lack of animation that just seems to emphasize how unnatural these “lesbian” scenes are.

Ellen von Unwerth for Chantal Thomass 2005

There are so many things I love about lingerie: the gorgeous details, beautiful fabrics, sexy shapes and inventive concepts. And there are so many ways in which wearing and discussing lingerie allows me to be very much myself. But I hope soon my life and loves will stop being a joke or an afterthought or an exhibition, but an expected, acknowledged part of the experiences of people. I’m very much an optimist; just in the last year or so things have improved—even lingerie retailers that used to be addressed specifically to men have recently embraced gender neutral language.

I see those homoerotic scenes of women in lingerie and I sometimes imagine that they are trapped in a box of soundproof glass so that no matter how hard they might try to speak, they are silent. Even as you may be able to see them as images of same-sex desire, they cannot be examples of any sort of identity.

While even an image of lesbianism is in some ways a step forward (and one I wish I could see more often), it’s not real until the viewer can imagine their voices and lives, not just as understand them as actors/singers/models who are being “provocative” and setting themselves up to be objects of desire, rather than desiring subjects in their own right. In an editorial that actually respected lesbian desire, the figures should be able to say (even simply with their bodies), “This is who I am. This is what I want. This is how I feel.”

Ellen von Unwerth for VS Magazine S/S 2012

For the creators of these images, lesbianism, like lingerie, is a temporary costume, and in the fashion world, it rarely gets treated as anything else. That’s why I couldn’t be just another lingerie blogger or lingerie lover—by saying, “This is who I am,” I am reminding everyone that I (and the myriad others like me) exist. I’m not interested in being silenced or being ignored.

[Note: this piece was inspired by The Lingerie Addict’s post “Diversity Is More Than a Bra Size: What It’s Like to Be a Woman of Color in the Lingerie Industry.”]

Treacle

Treacle

Lingerie Blogger. Sugar Junkie. Sci-Fi Geek.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:
TwitterFacebookLinkedInPinterestGoogle PlusFlickrStumbleUponYouTube

A Bra Editorial: Start with the (Real) Woman in the Mirror

Chai is the owner of Magaluna, an online lingerie store that curates pieces reflecting the sensibilities of the modern woman and places a special emphasis on discovering new talent.  Magaluna is also a community of empowered women celebrating femininity and all the trials and tribulations that make us who we are.  Magaluna launches in Spring 2013 but the community is active on Facebook.

Chai

I remember the first time I got intimate with my ex-husband, then a young man I had been flirting with for a couple weeks.  I was wearing a pair of gray yoga pants and a tight-fitted pink tank top.  Boosting my cleavage was a purple Victoria’s Secret push-up balconette bra that gave me an extra cup size…plus a set of gel pads that added even greater volume.

I’ll never forget his face after he unhooked my bra.  I never asked him what went through his head as an expression of deep confusion took over.  It’s the face you’d see on a little boy opening a box with a photo of a toy truck on it to find that the box only contained a half-eaten hot dog.  I managed to distract him quickly but how I felt in that moment sums up my troubled relationship with my boobs.  Was I guilty of ‘false advertising?’

Fast forward nine years and after more than a decade of purchasing push-up bras (almost exclusively from Vicky’s), dissatisfaction from poor fit finally forced me to consider alternatives.  But leading up to that point, almost as if by compulsion – and mostly ignorance – I kept buying them as a staple because I had gotten addicted to adding at least a cup size.

Every night when I peeled off my bra, my face changed much like my ex’s did.  No doubt, there’s a time and place for push-up bras and shape enhancements but owning nothing but push-ups really disconnected me from my own body.  I couldn’t recognize myself without a well-padded bra.

Bravely (by my standards!), I started to wear contour and unlined bras.  I reacquainted myself with my figure.  I’ll be honest.  I didn’t like it.  My inner critic was mean and deprecating.  But it felt so right and so empowering.  And I felt, just maybe, I was able to love myself the way I am.

Not long after I became comfortable with my new habit, I went shopping at Panty Raid on Hillhurst in Los Feliz.  “What size are you?” asked the owner.  “32B.”  “Oh then you can pick any bra!”  It was a magnificent feeling to be told I wasn’t inadequate.  In fact, quite the contrary!

I don’t know what life is like to be on the other end of the cup size spectrum.  From what I’ve read, fuller busted ladies face their own set of challenges.  We seem to be socialized to believe the grass is always greener on the other side and if someone different than you is considered beautiful, that automatically means you are not.  Garbage!

Let’s be clear, even though I’ve learned to stop wishing I had larger breasts, I’m still a boob lover.  I can love myself in a 32B while admiring ladies who rock a 36F.

If we can learn to appreciate the bodies we’ve been given, lingerie’s role will be to simply adorn what was beautiful to begin with.  Self-love and self-acceptance – not a piece of garment – will always be the only true path to salvation.

Treacle

Treacle

Lingerie Blogger. Sugar Junkie. Sci-Fi Geek.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:
TwitterFacebookLinkedInPinterestGoogle PlusFlickrStumbleUponYouTube

Diversity Is More Than a Bra Size: What It’s Like to Be a Woman of Color in the Lingerie Industry

Photo by POC Photo; Hair & Makeup by The Shanghai Pearl; Model: Me; Lingerie by Kiss Me Deadly

Today’s post was really hard to write. I’ve been thinking about the things I’m about to say now for months, but it’s only become clear in the last few weeks they urgently need to be said.

I never know which articles people see first when they visit The Lingerie Addict, and we get a lot of new visitors everyday. So I’m going to say a few things which are probably obvious to my longtime readers, but may be less obvious to visitors who are new or who don’t come around as much.

  1. I’m black.
  2. I’m a US dress size 10, bra size 34C.
  3. I weigh 175 lbs.
  4. I’m American.

I’m saying all that to give you a bit of context about who I am and the perspective I’m writing from because, for some time now, I feel like the conversation on diversity within the lingerie industry has been dominated by those who behave like diversity only matters along one axis, and that’s size.

It’s reached the point where the common refrain I’m hearing from bra bloggers, lingerie retailers, and even some of my own readers when talking about me or this blog is, “Well, you’re a C cup. You don’t know what it’s like to be ignored by the lingerie industry.” And as much as I love everybody out there, it it really takes a lot of self-control to not get upset when I hear comments about like that.

As I mentioned earlier, I’m a woman of color, but this isn’t a blog about women of color. It’s a lingerie blog. And so I’m shocked when people, who either didn’t notice or didn’t think about the implications of my being black, complain about how underrepresented they are. Because they’re not seeing that almost everyone is underrepresented…including me, the woman who started the blog.

Though I’ve talked some about equal representation within the lingerie industry, I haven’t written about this exact issue before because talking about race in America is hard. And I think it’s even harder when you’re a racial minority. As a person of color, you often feel like you’re caught in a perpetual Catch-22. You can either avoid talking about your ethnicity (which effectively means pretending like it doesn’t matter) or you can talk about it openly and deal with the blowback, which often includes stinging accusations like “crying racism.”

The reason I’m bringing this up now is because, over the last year or so, I’ve watched the conversation on diversity shrink from one that was more inclusive of all women to one that only seems relevant to fuller-busted or fuller-figured women. I’ve seen so many articles and comments and blogs focusing on dress size and bra size and cup size, but next to none talking about other, equally important, issues like age, ability or, yes, ethnicity.

In a way, I understand why. People tend to talk more about issues which personally affect them, and, since the lingerie blogosphere is primarily made up of full bust and plus size bloggers, that viewpoint has become the dominant one. Unfortunately, a consequence of that is issues which aren’t related to size keep getting pushed further and further down the priority list in the general lingerie conversation.

The responses to the Victoria’s Secret article a couple of weeks ago really crystallized for me how much the debate on diversity has shrunk recently (no pun intended). One of the things I’ve always appreciated about Victoria’s Secret’s catalogs is that they include at least one black model. Now there’s still a lot of work to do when it comes to the whole representation thing (call me when they’re regularly featuring an Asian model or a model over 40), but that still puts Victoria’s Secret decades ahead of the typical lingerie U.S. lingerie brand, some of whom have existed for over half a century without using a single model of color in any context.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly happy that plus size women, fuller busted women, and fuller figured women are getting as much attention from the mainstream industry as they are now. It’s a wonderful thing, and I’m glad our notion of what is beautiful is expanding (again, no pun intended).

But the sad truth is I can go weeks at a time without coming across a nice photo of a woman of color in lingerie. And if we’re talking older women or disabled women, it can be months. The same simply isn’t true for fuller-figured or fuller-busted women.

And I wonder…if the comparative absence of plus sized bodies and full busted bodies in the lingerie industry has such a profoundly negative effect on women who are part of those groups, how much more so must the near-invisibility of women of color, disabled women, and older women have on those groups?

The fact that one kind of representation (in this case, size) is being treated as more important than other kinds is frustrating. And, if I’m perfectly honest, it’s infuriating too. And here’s why. And telling you this makes me tear up.

We live in a world where children as young as 5 have already internalized the message that black is ugly and white is pretty. We live in a world where fashion magazines regularly lighten the skin of women of color. We live in a world where, when asked why they didn’t use more models of color, brands respond with, “Well, we couldn’t find any good ones.”

Even worse, we live in a world where women of color are afraid of bringing up these issues lest we be dismissed by the very industry we seek to be a part of.

In my own life, I’ve been told that I’m “pretty for a dark skinned girl.” I’ve been told that I’m “too dark to date.” I’ve been told that I’d be prettier if only I was “less black.” And though I think we can all agree that there is something seriously wrong with those kinds of statements, that messaging is constantly being reinforced by the industry at large.

It’s reinforced every time a lingerie company refuses to cast, or even consider, a model of color. It’s reinforced every time a lingerie brand is praised and awarded for their diversity in using fuller-figured women, but gets no comments at all on the fact their models that look the same in every other respect. It’s reinforced every time I get a snippy remark from someone who insists I don’t know what it’s like to be ignored by the lingerie industry because I happen to wear a C cup.

The reason Victoria’s Secrets’ models don’t upset me anymore is because the entire lingerie industry is pretty much using the same model. She’s always a young, white, able-bodied woman, whether her dress size is a 6 or a 16.

And I think what bothers me most of all is that I get so many messages from the plus sized and fuller figured blogging community insisting I need to do more for women “who look like them” (which I try to do), yet there’s no such passion about doing more for women like me (or like some of you) . We all crave seeing people resemble us. And it makes me sad that the “us” in this discussion has somehow become so one-sided.

The conversation needs to expand beyond just bra sizes again. Companies are getting praised for “pushing the boundaries of what’s beautiful” when in so many ways, they’ve just repackaged the exact same standards in a slightly larger package.

We all need to be more invested in broadening our notions of what’s beautiful. Diversity is more than a bra size.

What do you think? Is there something you’re wanting to see more of in the lingerie industry that you haven’t seen before? Have you run across an image that truly challenges our norms of what’s beautiful? I’d love to get your thoughts in the comments.

Treacle

Treacle

Lingerie Blogger. Sugar Junkie. Sci-Fi Geek.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:
TwitterFacebookLinkedInPinterestGoogle PlusFlickrStumbleUponYouTube