You wouldn’t believe the pissing and moaning. Wah-wah-wah. I believe most of the comments can be summed up thusly:
- I avoid real people.
- I’m not inspired by real people.
- People should be walking clothes hangers.
Well, me and my fat ass beg your pardon. And boy, were they fixated on fat asses. “48 inches!” one of them shrieked. And it just reinforces my opinion that most designers don’t really have the chops these days. Or they’re too lazy to deal with the amount of construction it takes to deal with real hips, real boobs and real thighs. And the fashion industry has engaged in so much under-fed belly button gazing they get all bunny in the headlights when confronted with middle-America.
And one mean little man started whingeing on about how his designs shouldn’t be dictated by the needs of people who wear the clothes. His inspiration should come from inside himself. Uh-huh. This echoes another comment I heard from a playwright who said that his work shouldn’t be dictated by when the buses stop running or how much it costs to pay a babysitter. This after he dropped a 6 HOUR PLAY. Oh, per-lease.
I get it. You’re an ARTIST. But you chose the métier. And a clothing designer’s métier is the human body (and a playwright’s is the scope of the human bladder – if your work requires more than one potty break, I’m out). If you want to be a starving artist who designs for the genetic freaks who are actually built like stick figures, bless you, I wish you much joy, and good luck finding a rich boyfriend to support you. But if you want to go on a TV show that is looking for a ready-to-wear designer you’d better be prepared to deal with all the curves that an average human body can throw at you. Because if you want to make money? There are a lot more of us than there are of them. A good designer can make clothes fit for a beautiful woman. A great designer can make clothes that fit any woman beautifully.