Amanda M Czerniawski Fashioning Fat Inside Plus Siz

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.To John Gabriel, my hope, and Eva, my precious jewel—Mommy loves you.1From Books to LooksJourneying into Plus-Size ModelingAs the elevator doors opened, the onslaught of hip-hop music and refracted spotlights reminded me that I was far from my ivy-covered home in Morningside Heights.With a quick breath in and a slight adjustment of posture, I headed straight to the reception desk, where a young man tethered to the desk by a telephone headset greeted me.In between answering calls, he shoved a clipboard into my hands with a terse “Fill this out, and give me your photos,” and pointed toward the waiting area to my right.When confronted by a predator, wildlife experts recommend that you stand your ground and not allow the animal to sense your fear.Here, in one of New York City’s top modeling agencies, I felt like a helplessly naive sheep that wandered off into the wilderness.The fashion wolves were circling and I was in too deep to retreat.Needless to say, I was out of my element and unprepared for what was to come.I had spent the last two years in mental pursuits, crafting theoretical arguments, and arguing over solutions to society’s major ills as a graduate student.On this day, instead, I was in the gateway to a realm of aesthetics, where the physical reigns.In thirty minutes and two subway lines, I went from books to looks.This was my attempt to “go native,” as the anthropologist Clifford Geertz would say, into a world inhabited by beautiful people, but not just any beautiful people—beautiful fat people.Here I was, a sociology graduate student turned prospective model, waiting to meet with an agent who represented plus-size models.For professional reasons, I wanted to understand how this niche of plus-size modeling functioned within a larger fashion market that privileges the thin body.For personal reasons, I wanted validation from beauty professionals that I, too, was worthy to be among their ranks.After all, being a sociologist does not provide me with immunity against engendered cultural pressures on women to be attractive.We women, in western culture, are always evaluated on our bodies; I was used to the feeling of being judged on my looks.Clutching the clipboard in my hands, I cautiously sauntered, in the highest heeled pumps that I owned, over to the plush charcoal leather couch.Look confident, like you are somebody.Already perched at one end of the couch was a plus-size woman dressed in head-to-toe black.She glared at me as I took a seat.By her side lay a black 9×12 portfolio.I was immediately struck by her porcelain skin and long, thick chestnut brown hair.Here, in this waiting room, I was already in the company of beauty.I flashed her one of my killer-because-it’s-so-saccharine smiles, but she ignored me.That brisk fall morning, we were the only two models for the agency’s open call.As MTV blared on the flat-screen televisions mounted on the mirrored walls of the waiting area, I filled out my contact information and measurements on the form affixed to the clipboard.Bust, waist, hips, dress size, shoe size, height, eye color, hair color—my body, as the bass bounced around me, quantified and categorized.I returned the completed form to reception, along with a couple of snapshots my roommate took of me in a faux photo shoot in our living room.I waited.I could not help but stare at the size ten, five feet eight inch, sea blue–eyed, and golden honey blonde reflection before me.Questions of self-doubt popped into my mind, which I quickly rationalized away.Do I have what it takes to be a plus-size model? How hard could it be to strike a pose and walk down a fashion runway? I was a trained dancer with greater than average body awareness.I often walked in heels down the crowded streets of Manhattan.Am I pretty, tall, or curvy enough? I knew I fulfilled the height requirement.I had a perfectly proportional hourglass frame.I was conventionally pretty and photogenic.What about my size? I never shopped in nor even entered a plus-size clothing store.Would my lack of familiarity with plus-size fashions and designers expose me as an imposter? While larger than a typical model who graces the glossy pages of fashion magazines, was I large enough to model as plus-size? Am I strong enough to confront my bodily insecurities? Am I prepared for what awaits me behind this wall? Sitting in that waiting room, I certainly thought I was.I believed my past experiences in the entertainment business would guide my current venture into fashion.At the awkward and impressionable age of twelve, I was “discovered” by an acting coach and soon signed with a manager who sent me out on auditions in the New York City film and television circuit.I quickly booked my first acting job in an educational video and spent the next four years juggling a hectic, nonstop schedule of acting lessons, auditions, meetings with agents, film and video shoots, and, of course, school.As a child actor, my coaches instructed me to enter the audition room with a blazing personality, to show wit and a high social aptitude.They taught me to analyze scripts for placement of the proper emotional inflection and to memorize lines.At castings, I answered questions directed to me with more than one-word responses, no matter how trivial the question.Through line delivery and conversational banter, I flaunted my purposefully peppy personality [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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