On Thursday, I was asked to take part in a photoshoot for The Grid, a local weekly print publication. There wasn’t much information provided, except that the paper was preparing a spread on plus-size fashion in Toronto as part of their coverage of World Mastercard Fashion Week (aka Toronto Fashion Week). The only instructions were to bring three pairs of shoes, send in your measurements, and arrive on time. I was wary – would they be total assholes, or actually interested in the story? They were so nice in the emails – it seemed foolproof.

Everyone was so nice, but they didn’t do their homework. If you’re planning a film shoot with plus-size women, and you know nothing about plus sizing or fit – you need to consult a fat person beforehand. Full stop. When you see that the sizes are totally different from straight sizes, you should ask for help. It was downright shameful to have only the median size available, especially since we’d given all our measurements beforehand. Sorry, but I have zero fucks to give for the plight of a poor stylist faced with the horrors of the Byzantine world of plus sizing. FIGURE IT OUT.

Everyone was so nice, but I felt shamed for my refusal to like everything. I tried on pants, shirts and dresses which were too small. Again and again. I felt like I must have missed some glaring sign reading – “MUST BE 2X OR SMALLER TO PARTICIPATE” and that they’d kick me out once they found out I was the biggest person there. I kept retreating to the washroom or closet to change, only to feel humiliated that I was the only one unable to fit into anything they’d provided. I considered packing up my clothes and hightailing it out, but stayed only because I wanted to make sure they had one larger plus-size girl in the mix. Just one. It made me angry – I gave them my measurements, for fuck’s sake. This wasn’t my fault, and yet here I was, feeling like I somehow didn’t measure up. I didn’t take a day off from work to feel this way.

Everyone was so nice, but they were still condescending. The stylist and staff just seemed bemused by the entire situation. I kept hearing snippets of their conversation, and it made me hot in the face. They were disappointed with the lack of “fashion” (aka interesting) pieces, and that all the girls looked too “pretty.” The tone of the conversation made it seem like they were throwing up their hands in frustration – how could they ever pull off a fashion-forward shoot with these clothes and these models? As if we all fucking dress in high heels and dresses every day – newsflash: I DON’T BUY ALL MY CLOTHES FROM THESE STORES. THEY DON’T REPRESENT THE TOTALITY OF PLUS-SIZE FASHION. It takes time, research, creativity and perseverance to assemble a plus wardrobe.

Everyone was so nice, but I’m not grateful. You don’t get a gold star for putting together a slapdash selection of clothing which, frankly, was insulting. It wasn’t an “amazing opportunity,” as so many of my fellow volunteers intoned. It was a myopic view of plus-size style, curated from the perspective of someone totally unfamiliar with our struggles and options. When you’re working with a distinct group, you pull in consultants and ask for community input. It became obvious that meant fuck-all to the stylist and editorial team during the shoot – our interests and choices were not the goal of this exercise. It was disturbing to see how the final look of the shoot was entirely funnelled through a single individual with little understanding of her subject. Thin privilege rears its’ ugly head.

Everyone was so nice, but they didn’t look at the bigger picture. I don’t get my clothes in Toronto – I don’t buy much in my city, because my city has limited options. If you’re trying to give others a picture of plus-size fashion in Toronto, recognise that it’s a bigger story with international roots. I don’t shop exclusively at plus-size retailers in Toronto – that would be prohibitively expensive. You shop at straight-sized stores for clothes that work, with stretch and in oversized cuts. You buy the essentials at the only plus-size store in town, like tights, underwear and jeans. You shop online, which is where the real story of plus-size fashion is happening – take a look at ASOS Curve, New Look Inspire, or Carmakoma and then tell me I should be shopping at Toni+ or Addition Elle. You make your own clothes, because sometimes there are no plus-sized versions of the leather shorts you want, so you fucking sew them yourself. I’m angry that the clothes chosen for this shoot are going to represent plus-size fashion to my city, my friends, my colleagues. We cannot, as plus-size shoppers, engender positive interest, acceptance and innovation if opportunities for promotion we’re offered in mass media are filtered through bullshit lens of a few individuals making poor choices.

Everyone was so nice, but they got it so wrong.

Follow the story on roundraglanroad.com or @roundraglanroad. UPDATE: The resulting article here