How often have you been shopping and you come across something that is just PERFECT, but does not go up to your size? Over 60% of American women wear a size 14 or above, but only 17% of clothing sold is 14 & up. That is a ridiculous disparity.
Moreover, when some brands move into plus (ahem H&M), they throw their signature trendy looks by the wayside in favor of flowy dark fabrics that they think “work” for plus sizes. That is crap. Plus size women want color, print, and structure. Moreover, we want variety. A group this numerous cannot be a monolith, and since style is such a personal thing, we all have different tastes. I want #plussizeplease to be a way to showcase the demand for styles we’d buy and rock, and all the money brands are forfeiting by refusing to expand their sizes.
So here’s how to use it:
1) Snap a picture of a garment you love but does not come in your size. Include the brand and price, tagging the company if possible. For example, I am in love with this Zara marble print dress. I would have purchased it yesterday if it went above a size L. My tweet would be:
“.@Zara marble print sheath, $59. I’d buy it right now if it came in my size. #plussizeplease”
2) Use it on any social media – Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest… even Facebook supports hashtags now.
3) Tag anything you’d purchase, whether in store or online.
4) Feel free to include the size range it comes in and/or the size you think you’d need. Sizing can be tricky, so this is definitely not required.
5) Tell your friends! I don’t just want this to be a blogger thing – I want all women who wear size 14 and up to show their purchasing power and share styles they love. Let’s be unignorable!
Smartest thing ever.
Anonymous asked: describe yourself in two words
Medieval music books, with their merry notes jumping off the page, are a pleasure to look at. This sensational page from the 14th century adds to this experience in a most unusual manner. It presents a well-known song, the French ballade titled En la maison Dedalus (In the house of Dedalus), be it that the scribe decided to write both music and lyrics in a circular form. There is reason behind this madness. The maze created by music and words locks up the main character of the song, the mythological figure Ariadne, who is a prisoner in the house of Daedalus - she is represented by the red dot. The book contains treatises on music theory, notation, tuning and chant. In other words, it was meant for experts readers. The beholder likely enjoyed the challenge of singing a circular song (did he or she spin the book around?) and how it held its subject hostage in the merriest of ways.
First you’re taught to fear a phantom, a man in black, a man with a knife, a man who’ll pounce in dark alleys. Well-intentioned women—mothers, aunts, teachers—will train you to protect yourself: Don’t wear your hair in a ponytail; it’s easier to grab. Hold your keys in one hand; hold your pepper spray in the other. Avoid dark alleys. When you reach young adulthood, the lessons change. They acquire an undertone of disgust: Don’t drink so much. Don’t wear such short skirts. You’re sending mixed signals; you’re putting yourself at risk.
If you follow the advice and it never happens—if you end up one of the three out of four—you can convince yourself that safety is a product of your own making, a reflection of inherent goodness. But if you’re paying attention, you realize something doesn’t add up. Because it keeps happening: to your sisters; to your friends; to little girls and grown women you’ll never meet, in places like Cleveland, Texas; Steubenville, Ohio; New Delhi. Good people, bad people, neutral. It keeps happening in TV shows and novels and movies—they open on the missing girl, the dead girl, the raped girl. If you’re paying attention, you begin to realize that it isn’t happening. It is being done. And you are not safe. You have never been safe. You were born with a bulls-eye on your back. All you have ever been is lucky.
Cara Hoffman’s 2011 novel So Much Pretty opens on the dead girl. Her name is Wendy White; she’s been missing for five months, and within the first fifty pages we learn that her body “was put to use for months before being found.” In another book, my heart would sink, reading those words. Among many other things, I’m tired of the way this story is told in fiction: from the point of view of the male detective, grizzled and weary, shaking his head over some beautiful broken body. The man represents cynicism; the body, innocence. By the end, his jaded worldview will be confirmed, or he will be saved—either way, he’ll need to see the body. I’ve read enough of this genre to know I’m tired of it. I’m tired of the way it puts women’s bodies to use, as footnotes. The dead girl is the beginning of the man’s story. Being dead, hers has ended before page one.
My Yahoo Tech Colleague Dan Tynan has a great overview on getting rid of electronic devices that have outlived their utility: The 3 R’s of Retiring Your Old Gadgets: Reuse, Resell, or Recycle
According to the NPD Group, the average U.S. household owns nearly six Internet-connected devices. A recent survey by used gadget marketplace uSell reports that seven out of 10 Americans own gizmos they haven’t touched for at least two years. As a species, we generate 20 million to 50 million metric tons of e-waste each year, most of it toxic, the vast majority of which still goes into landfills.
So in my household and probably yours, it’s time for some serious spring cleaning. But if you want to do it in a responsible way, your options boil down to the three R’s: reuse, resell, or recycle.
And don’t miss his equally useful sidebar: Five Things You Must Do Before You Ditch Your Old Gadgets.
It’s going to be fine because we’re insufferable assholes on an endless quest for validation. All of us. So maybe we don’t have to get so overthetop with these declarations of specialness. Okay? Okay? No, it’s fine. Please get back to trying to sound smart when you comment on people’s statuses.