I recently went to the V&A Museum to see the exhibition of Kylie Minogue's performance costumes. Unfortunately, the exhibition was sold out when I arrived, but I took advantage of the unreserved areas and browsed the store. The store had laid out a number of fashion related products and this imposing book caught my eye. The first name in the list of celebrated designers is Patrick Demarchelier... a name that Meryl streep immortalised for me in The Devil Wears Prada with her imperious demands to "get me Demarchelier".
On the other side of the street a group of people had gathered outside the Fashion Week venue to decry the "size zero" standards of contemporary fashion design. I'm pleased that some people will not tolerate unrealistic standards being propagated by the media and the fashion mafia. I would love to be able to wear the things that appeal to me visually, but those things are rarely tailored for the endomorph. This doesn't seem fair, but then again, perhaps I should choose something more appropriate to wear.
I love Meryl Streep's character in the film. It's with equal measures of mirth and disgust that I marvel at her caustically benevolent decision to "hire the smart, fat girl" for a change. It's all the more satisfying when the said girl realises that it's her choice to play the game, or not. But is it really a choice if you're conditioned over a lifetime?
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