that thing you said about your body

on figure flattery, style + self

*warning, I am writing about my own personal feelings and experiences, not as any kind of expert, about things relating to body image. If body issues are something triggering for you, please take precautions, including skipping this post.

I want to talk about a body image thing.

Because it’s really, really been on my mind.

In runway fashion, the body image issues are one thing. I refer you to this recent post in The Back Row. But what I want to talk about is the way we (myself included) offhandedly speak about our bodies on blogs and on social media as an aside to discussing fashion and style.

showing my “stuff” + hiding my self

Back before I met my husband, I used to do something I’d characterize as “show my body to its nicest effect.” I have a curvy body I guess, depends on who you ask. Small shoulders. I am bigger in my thigh/bum. I had bigger breasts then too. And I would want to “hide the bad parts” and “show the good.” A uniform of skinny jeans with shouldered blazers or DVF wrap dresses, which drew attention to the waist (good) and skimmed over the thighs (bad) and showed you cleave (ugh). I would always always wear heels. Cole Haan mid calf boots or a YSL platforms would hide my (bad) ankles and “elongate my legs.” That wasn’t a great time for me. Or maybe it was in the moment, and it’s just that, looking back, I feel I was lost, so focused on presenting myself rather than accepting myself, celebrating myself, or just — being myself.

I am way more into style now than I was then. Style not as a tool to “look my best” but as a tool to explore and express who I am in a satisfying way. It happened naturally over time.

I am grateful.

trinny woodall and the waist winch

Right around the throes of the pandemic, style became a BIG THING for me, more so than even before. I was trying to dress myself out of Boston-pandemic-winter despair when a friend of a friend introduced me to Trinny Woodall and I instantly fell in love.

Trinny was one of the experts behind the original What Not To Wear and has an encyclopedic fashion knowledge, which includes the most impeccable understanding of every nuance of how clothes fit a body.

I took in her sentiments about where things hit, about flow, about defining a waist. Things like creating a smooth line by tucking into Spanx. Adding a shoulder pad to give structure to a dolman sleeve. And then even more advanced like covering your crotch with a big drapey scarf so you don’t see where the leg begins. Adding a light, sheer flowy piece under a jacket and over pants to soften the hard line where a jacket meets pants.

There is a lovely authentic and self-deprecating way of being that Trinny has, and that’s so much a part of who she is. Thankfully, because it takes the edge off her incredible beauty, statuesque height, royal-ish accent. And shows you her genuine warmth. Part of this is the teasing, humble way she talks about her body — her “cankles” “sway back,” etc. In general she’s dressing to flatter it and helping others do the same on her many channels, like Closet Confessions and The Trinny Takeover Show.

But the other thing I see is that Trinny is open minded. It makes her ageless. She’s endlessly curious. And she truly evolves. She learns new platforms, talks to new founders, and tries new things in fashion.

As much as how things look on the body has been core to her advice, I noticed on her IG that she’s been experimenting with things that don’t necessarily show a shape or really aim to flatter one. She’s always been willing to consider things that just make her feel cooler, like a cropped pant. But then she’s added a chunky heel and same color sock, aware of creating that (funny french accent here) “elongas-i-o-n”. Lately she’s expanded even further, enjoying things like oversized with oversized. Foregoing a belt that would make it more body flattering for the sake of easy cool instead. Her recent Closet Confession installment on minimalist looks saw her pushing these boundaries and loving it, bringing back an old pair of totally flat brogues I thought we’d never see again rather than deploying her trusty stacked Stella . (Even if she did want to walk around with a hand on her waist just to show she has a waist — she couldn’t resist.)

Something is happening, I thought.

big slim skin with Dione at Tibi

As I’ve said here before I definitely had a revelation when I met Rose, The Creative Classicist on Instagram. For the first time, I saw someone talking not just style, but the “why” behind style. She introduced me to the Tibi lives, where the stylist Dione Davis spoke to me deeply. First because of this idea of using adjectives to define who you are and then dress accordingly. This is a lot like what I do with the brands I work with, and one of the most important outcomes from that work is that when you subsequently look at creative you don’t use words like “good” or “bad” but rather you decide whether that creative is “you” as a brand. And of course it makes sense for the same calculus to go into style assessments. Today I notice that it doesn’t matter as much to me if I look “good” or “bad” - what I care about is whether I feel the most like myself.

Now I don’t think that being married is what changed my style POV. I think it’s growing up. But I do think there’s something unsettling in me about that time when I was searching for a partner, and I was also showing my body. When I think of that girl I want to give her a hug.

But back to the adjectives for a sec. One of the consistent Tibi adjectives that’s also one of mine is “modern.” And another is chill (my word is - approachable). Both often lead down a path of utilizing oversized pieces. Why? They create interesting modern shapes and telegraph a sense of ease.

Add to that what Dione demos in the image and link above, the idea of “big, slim, skin.” Meaning, you create proportion/balance not with skinny jean and a tight blazer with huge shoulders. But simply by using something big, loose, oversized (the navy top, above), something not skinny but slimmer (the terracotta skirt), and something that shows some skin (like a pushed up sleeve, or here the shoe). This doesn’t create a body con look. It doesn’t show of a body to its “best” effect — the natural waist is hidden by the size of the top. But it creates balance and ease and interest, modernity and easy approachability. In other words, it’s more me. And maybe, if you’re here, more you.

Pants that don’t touch me

In recent years, I’ve thought that I “get it” now when it comes to this stuff.

I don’t care to show my body! I’ve felt proud of this. Maybe, probably, because it’s so good to have graduated from that time, that girl who was so shaky, to someone who doesn’t have to “be sexy” married or not. To have changed feels like a sweet freedom. I love pants that don’t touch me! The bigger the better! Clothes I can eat and breathe in. I can finally wear what I like.

I do find, though, that even among strong women who are leading the way in talking about style, I hear, in passing, some of the bits of things I’ve said to myself from time to time. Some maybe just feel factual. But some feel sort of … mean to oneself. Things like — “even out my proportions.” “I have nothing up there.” “my legs are short.”

I put this outfit (below) on the other day (actually, I was just trying on the pants), and took a look and thought: “Wow, here I am doing all the things I’m supposed to be doing to show my body in its best way.”

You can see I have a padded shoulder T (it’s Frankie Shop), a high waisted pant. Pants are the same color (the elongation). And I’m in a heel. A chunky, not spindly heel. Plus the way I’m looking kind of over my shoulder really makes me look my slimmest.

It’s not much of an outfit. I’m not saying anything here with these clothes. I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel especially myself.

And I was thinking “oh, my body looks nice in this picture, this is why I was once putting a shoulder pad in everything. So why did I stop, and what’s the problem?” But here’s what I asked myself — isn’t it maybe the case that if you put a shoulder pad in everything, there’s that moment of taking it out at night. And in that moment, isn’t there a risk that it somehow seeps in that you’re “less than” without the shoulder pad? When you stand in the mirror without the thing you add to look “proportional,” is there a risk that you see your natural body as “disproportional?” Is the time I spent putting in shoulder better spent learning to accept that I have one form of small shouldered womanly body and it’s real and that’s ok?

When I put in shoulder pads, on some level am I signaling myself that I am not enough?

Make it about the clothes

I brought up the musing above to one of my friends who is such a strong women, very embracing of all bodies, but does cite from time to time her cankles, her disproportionately short legs — and I know she sees herself as beautiful (she is) but these words are there.

When I bounced my theory off her, she said - no it’s not that I don’t love my small shoulders when I take of those shoulder pads at night. It’s just about having the clothes hang their best. I watched something she did on IG and heard her say “the shoulder pads give the shirt some structure.”

Because I do think words have a cumulative impact, I like this, shifting the conversation to maximizing the clothes, not minimizing our body parts. I want to change the tape in my head so it’s not “I have a disproportionately big butt and pencil skirts don’t work on me” but rather — “I like a skirt that floats gently over my hips/butt.”

And if not making it about the clothes, we can at least be straightforward rather than judgey in our body talk. Not I have a disproportionately big butt (disproportionately signals something wrong or out of proportion) but the straightforwardly factual — “I’m larger on the bottom than on the top.” Certainly can be a beautiful proportion. Maybe that’s it, then.

And then I tried on this dress

It’s a Tibi dress. And it’s exactly something I’d been wanting. A light super casual dress for coffee runs, tossing over a swim suit, etc. And it’s a great one! As easy and light as a tee, nice volume in the thighs, good length. Except. When I put it on I thought — oh no. Look at my lower belly.

What happened to all that confidence? What happened to “I don’t care how my body looks”? I love this piece, and there’s nothing inherently wrong in how it hangs or falls; it’s not pulling - so what happened to “it’s all about the clothes.” And it’s very “me.” So what happened to “it’s all about whether it’s my style or not”?

And I should say, I work on my body and eat joyfully but not wastefully. I like my body! Yet I guess I’d rather wear something else than work to shift my mind view to what I’d want to a friend to think, which is “there’s nothing wrong with that soft little belly! I am woman! I am invincible!”

And so?

Oh, BTW, I spoke to another friend who is very much NOT body con in how she dresses and is all about layering, in fact. And we were talking all things Tibi and she said (I’m going on memory and very loosely paraphrasing) but something like this whole thing about not caring about flattering your body is - and in the pause I expected her to say, so refreshing or whatever and she said “so unrealistic.”

Being mad about myself because I care about the degree to which I’m displaying a little tummy bump gives me pause but ultimately I don’t want to be mad at myself about that, either. I’m human. And maybe that’s just human nature too.

I’d like to have it all, please

Yesterday it was chilly here (relatively speaking) which gave me a chance to wear a dress I really love. One of my all time favorite pieces, in fact. And holy crap, it’s on mega sale at Saks off 5th.

And I felt so incredibly me. Definitely at my most modern, definitely influenced by Trinny’s minimalist Closet Confessions, which you really need to rewatch.

And it’s me and I feel comfortable and great because of that. But it’s also flattering. That wide shoulder broadens my narrow ones. That stretchy waist shows mine well. I even have a little blocky heel on for lift. Feeling flattered by the clothes means I’m not tugging, pulling sucking in … or doubting. And that feels good. There’s an ease to that.

So maybe it’s somewhere in between. Maybe it’s what feels good to you, your body. What you like the look of on yourself — as you define that. But I also, at the same time, I want to work more on being kind to myself, including in the words I say in my head and wherever I say words out loud. I hope that you will do the same.

p.s. I’m keeping the T-shirt dress. And I’m also reserving the right to tie a sweater around my waist after pizza night. If that’s what I choose to do.