Fashion and feminism are not mutually exclusive - Guardian

 

Yes the world of fashion fulfils many of the stereotypes, but I am both a model and a feminist and I'm not the only one

Surviving fashion week as a feminist and a model is no small task. Often the only thing potentially lower than your self-esteem is your blood sugar, as you literally run around London, or Paris, or whatever city you are in.

It is physically and mentally draining, politically confusing and incestuous. With a myriad of stereotypes populating the media as to what models do and therefore are; maintaining an identity as a recent graduate who models to pay the rent, rather than just "a model", is a fine line to tread.
Everyone has their own impression as what fashion week might be like for the models and it tends to fall into two main categories: the cocaine-riddled, fur-clad, sunglasses-wearing (even when its raining) deities who float from car to show; or the starving Latvian teenager who fights her way through the cattle market with minimal English. There is definitely sufficient fuel for the stereotype fire, but fashion week for most models is a particularly subjective experience. It changes from city to city, season to season, and from girl to girl, so this is a riot grrrl's attempt at explaining fashion weeks and tentatively suggesting that fashion and feminism are not mutually exclusive.
London fashion week actually starts in August for those of us women with hips who "need"' to start exercising. This brings us to the huge and complicated issue of weight. Damn. Years of modelling has led to years of being accused of sustaining myself with cocaine and apples, which is both boring and untrue. Why and how models are thin and who makes them so is far too big an issue to deal with here. Body prescriptivism aside, I exercised a bit more in the run-up to fashion week because it made me feel more confident about being examined like a bit of meat. In general I seem to spend a lot of time justifying my existence as a "real" woman, (thanks to Dove and "Colleen's real women") so the next person who tells me that there are no "real" people/feminists on the runways, I will shout at. I am a real person, I eat real food, read real books and play real (bad) guitar. Cogito ergo sum, bitch.
There is a lot of rejection. Obviously, no one is defined by how they look, nor should they be, but after a few days of brutality, subject to the whims of some body fascist or sour-faced woman, it can be hard to separate how you look from who you are. However, I am going to take this opportunity to smash my tiny violin: there are some really awesome casting directors and stylists in London who treat you as a person and give you chocolate and/or coconut water when you go to their castings.