I've always loved clothes and fashion for as long as I can remember. As a child, my dream job was designing all the Olympic competition outfits for Michelle Kwan. Niche, yes, but I guess I only planned on working once every four years, or for her to never retire. When I wasn’t daydreaming about Michelle Kwan’s potential Olympic fashions, I was sneaking into my Nana’s closet, playing with her silk scarves and rummaging through her purses. As I got older, I became even more interested in fashion. It felt like a creative challenge—and a glimpse into a different life. Clothes became a way for me to escape.
I cycled through many fashion choices, almost always tied to subcultures or music. I was a mall goth with Tripp pants that caught on everything, a scene queen with raccoon clip-ins, and eventually, a hipster deeply inspired by the pages of Nylon magazine. No matter the style, I’d spend hours curating my look. But it often felt like, no matter how long I spent, it never felt right. I was frustrated that I couldn’t find what I wanted in my size, and because of that, I often felt like I wasn’t fitting into the subculture. I wasn’t “scene enough,” although in hindsight, my seasonal Myspace profiles and massive follower trains suggest otherwise. Rawr XD.
After years of trying to fit into these styles and still feeling like an outsider, I turned to the internet. Through Google, I found plus-size fashion bloggers. Instantly, it felt like a new world was opening. Pretty quickly, I found other plus-size bloggers and brands doing cross-collaborations. Suddenly, for the first time, there were clothing brands that carried my size—some of which I loved more than others. And honestly, it felt good just to see something in my size (besides Torrid—no judgment to Torrid), even if it wasn’t 100% my style.
Once I found a solid set of brands with plus sizes, I stopped engaging with high-end or mainstream fashion that didn’t carry my size. My mindset was, why invest in something that isn’t invested in me? I knew big design houses like Vivienne Westwood would never carry my size. And it felt silly to daydream or even appreciate something that I could never own, or worse—a world I could never be part of. Instead, I leaned into the plus-size fashion community: the brands, the influencers, and the shared culture. Because yes, I think there is a unique culture around plus-size fashion—much like how Rick Owens or Tabi fans have their own. It just doesn’t feel talked about as much.
This unique culture around plus-size fashion has evolved over time, and between 2013 and 2018, it truly felt like a golden era. Plus-size fashion was deeply intertwined with body and fat positivity, thanks partly to social media and the way communities connected on size inclusivity. Then there was Tess Holliday’s #effyourbeautystandards. While the communities overlapped, they were still incredibly distinct. Plus-size fashion focuses on fashion for plus-size bodies. Body positivity and fat positivity, meanwhile, are much more about how fat people are treated, particularly in the West. But still, the communities briefly overlapped, and arguably still do, although things feel much more contentious, as the only commonality is seemingly size inclusivity.
I feel lucky to have witnessed the golden era of plus-size fashion. There were design collaborations with influencers, influencer brand trips overseas, the CurvyCon, and tons of press around the “world’s first size 22 supermodel.” Eat your heart out, Naomi (though, between us, I think Naomi has bigger issues on her plate than someone claiming the supermodel title). Plus-size fashion was hitting its peak.
But as time went on, conversations around affordability became louder. A lot of the brands being talked about were mid-range in price. I distinctly remember the pushback on Beth Ditto’s clothing line, which ranged from $66 to $433 in 2016. Gabi Gregg and Nicolette Mason’s line, Premme, faced similar criticisms. Both lines were ethically produced, designed by the creators, and were independent brands. Many felt the brands were exclusionary due to their price points, sparking frustration over a lack of affordable plus-size fashion—a sentiment that still plagues the community.
The frustration over pricing isn't new, and if I had to guess, a lot of it comes from years of being overlooked by mainstream retailers. And as old as time itself, it’s easier to criticize the people who are actually listening—like Beth, Gabi, and Nicolette—because in theory, you stand a chance of being heard.
Recently, the size-inclusive brand Rebdolls went semi-viral on TikTok after announcing a crowdfunding campaign to stay open amid recent hardships. Rebdolls carries sizes from small to 5X, with prices from $40 for a bodycon dress to $150 for a trench coat. Founded by Grisel Paula, the brand is headquartered and manufactured in-house but is now expanding production to the Dominican Republic, aiming to create 100+ jobs. Their goals include reducing pollution, cutting waste, and conserving energy and water.
Despite these genuine efforts, the brand went viral with criticism around pricing—highlighting a deeper issue within our own community. For years, we've been left out of so many conversations, struggled to find fashionable options, and been shamed for our sizes. It’s felt isolating, frustrating, and has created a lot of anger. But I think it’s also created a bit of a monster.
And to be fair, I’m no exception. I’ve been part of those conversations, made my own mistakes, and, at times, added to the problem. But I’m committed to being and doing better.
Like a lot of other consumers, plus-size shoppers have become used to impossibly low prices, thanks to the fast-fashion industry and, more recently, brands like Shein and Cider. But we have to be honest—those prices come at a human cost. Shein has faced countless accusations of labor violations, with workers clocking up to 18-hour days, denied bathroom breaks, and other egregious practices. There is no sustainability in Shein—not for humans, our planet, or consumers.
Yes, affordable fashion is important, and for some, even mid-range brands like Wray or Tamara Malas are not affordable. But I don’t think Shein or other fast-fashion brands should be the answer. Sometimes it boils down to consumption and effort. We don’t want to make the effort to search for alternatives, like sourcing used clothes on eBay or other resale sites, and we don’t want to address our own consumption patterns. I say this as someone who also hates examining her own habits—because it’s scary to confront what might be at the root, and it’s easier to ignore and keep spending.
I’m not saying people should cut out fast fashion entirely; sometimes, that’s just not realistic. But I do think there are retailers with fewer labor violations than Shein. Shein has enough resources that they could be doing better if they wanted. I mean, they sure seem to have enough resources to send plus-size influencers like Dani DMC (self-proclaimed investigative journalist) to "warehouses" for their own “investigations,” which, let’s be real, are all just glamorized PR stunts. Trust me, I’ve worked with enough brands behind the scenes to know a PR spin when I see one.
As much as we criticize fast fashion for its flaws, it’s become a benchmark for affordability in plus-size fashion. But maybe it’s time to rethink what we truly want from fashion.
Watching the Rebdolls situation play out, I’ve reflected on all the previous conversations I’ve seen around plus-size fashion. Something that keeps coming up is this unspoken idea that plus-size people don’t deserve luxury—and this belief is coming from within the community, not just the brands. True equality means plus-size people have the same options as their straight-size counterparts, which includes a range of pricing. Constantly criticizing every brand, even when they’re committed to ethical production and creating properly fitting clothes for plus-size bodies, isn’t fair. Expecting plus-size brands to pick up where straight-size brands fail plus-size consumers isn’t right. They shouldn’t have to lower their prices just because other brands don’t carry plus sizes.
At the end of the day, we are continuously framing our idea of affordable and accessible fashion around brands—fast fashion brands—that don’t care about plus-size consumers at all. There’s no quality, no thought put into the fit, no care, no value for human life. And I would argue that this even extends to brands like Eloquii, who are somewhat sneaky fast fashion. We don’t need to support a brand just because they carry our size.
As we look forward, I think it’s time we ask ourselves what we truly want from plus-size fashion. Is it just accessibility at all costs, or is it quality, respect, and true inclusion? Or should we keep eating our own? I know not everyone can afford mid-range or higher-end brands, and I’m not here to shame anyone’s choices. But maybe we can shift our mindset a bit—acknowledge that we deserve fashion made for us, by us, and that fits and feels right.
Supporting brands that prioritize ethical production, inclusivity, and quality might require some compromise, but it’s also a way to advocate for ourselves and the future of plus-size fashion. Because if we don’t value our worth, who else will? Plus-size fashion isn’t just about clothes—it’s about showing up for ourselves and each other, proving that our community deserves the same choices, quality, and range as everyone else.
So what’s next, babe?
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