Isaac Mizrahi and Movable Fat

                I was bargain shopping this weekend with my birthday money and I have to put on paper some of my frustrations with men’s fashions.  Everything these days is Slim Fit, Super Slim Fit or Extreme Slim Fit.  Who is the target audience for these clothes?  I can’t even get one of these shirts to button across my chest and it’s not like I’m all bowed up like some dude from the gym.  Or at least the dudes I remember seeing at the gym, the last time I went, which was in 2010.  Oh, like you work out every day. 

                And it’s not like I’m fat.  This is the thinnest I’ve been since I was in utero.  I wear an L in some brands and an XL in others but I cannot get a XXL Hugo Boss to button across my chest.  Its’ called a sternum, people.  It’s a bone.  It’s not going to shrink and it’s not like I can just have it minimized or removed.  I don’t care what you think you read Cher did in the 1980s, sternum shaving is not a thing.

                And some of these designers I get.  Ralph Lauren is short and thin, Tommy Hilfiger is tall and thin and Calvin Klein is skeletal.  I’ve never actually seen a photo of Hugo Boss.  Let me google him.  Okay, Hugo Boss is no longer with us.  He was alive during WWII and may have been a Nazi.  Yikes!  The current designer of the Hugo Boss line is Jason Wu, an irrationally skinny designer whose dress Michelle Obama wore to the first Inaugural Ball.  I didn’t care for the dress myself.  I’m not a fan of a one-shouldered anything.  At least not since Jennifer Beals rocked her sweatshirt in Flashdance and even then it was only because she was a welder like my Dad and I felt an obligation.

                After seeing row upon row of shirts, in patterns and colors I like, only to find they were all slim fit, I was not happy.  And I noticed those I preferred were from two specifically chubby designers, Isaac Mizrahi and Michael Kors.  Micheal Kors I will let slide because (1) he looks downright slippery from far too much fake tan (his complexion is an aggressive hue I call “East Texas Mud Puddle”) and (2) Mr. Kors has shirts in Regular Fit as I have several and I love them.  I’m wearing one as I type; pink windowpane plaid and I receive many compliments each time I wear it, sometimes from other people.

                Mr. Mizrahi, on the other hand, needs to just stop it already.  His chubby butt couldn’t fit into his own shirt and for this he should be punished, but not in some vicious way, like forcing him to wear white denim or watch a “The Bachelor” marathon.  I’m not a barbarian.  I just think he should be forced to wear his own fitted shirts with the gaps between the buttons where his fat would sort of poke out and say “Hi!” much like his bangs do, except not curly.  Does fat curl?  I know fat moves.  Anyone who sat beside me on an airplane at the height of my weight can vouch for the kinetic properties of, at least my, extra pounds.

                Designers are an artistic lot and I understand they want the most attractive canvas for their work.  But who exactly is their target market?  The one pro football player who shops at Macy’s and somehow wants a raspberry gingham dress shirt?  Who is this man?  There are a few extremely well-dressed athletes but I can assure you they are not wearing off-the-rack; most of their clothes are much more high-end.

You know who is actually buying these shirts?  No one, that’s who.  How do I know this?  They are all on the double-clearance shelves in department stores and the triple-dog-dare-you clearance rack at TJ Maxx, which is where I gravitate in any store, y’all (see previous post “Uncle Dusty’s Guide to Fashion”).  I mulled over buying one anyway but I don’t think I have enough ropes and pulleys to get those shirts on my body, at least without assistance and no one wants to come by my apartment to help.  Well, not for the money I’m willing to pay. 

I guess I could go down to the Jack in the Box and find someone to do the work.  I’ve been led to believe there are illegal immigrants who will do the things Americans won’t, so I should be in good shape.   Hmmm, now I’m thinking about this, it would probably end in tears or a fine of some sort because I don’t speak much Spanish and trying to pantomime helping me put on a shirt that’s too tight might be misinterpreted as a proposal less than Christian.  

Maybe I should just stick to buying clothes that fit.  Based on the world around me with their ill-fitting garments, stretched to within a centimeter of their breaking point, this might be considered a particularly un-American proposal.  However, since some of those big girls and dudes might actually read this blog, I guess I'll hush.  And I think that's all I can safely say at this time.