Issue 22: If The Bag Fits!
HANDBAGS AT DAWN // This is a personal account of a 29-year-old gay man who couldn't fit into a pair of XL trousers so he became obsessed with purses instead.
Handbags at Dawn (@h4ndbagsatdawn) is (meant to be) a fortnightly newsletter that use to land into your inbox every other Thursday. However, time is a construct so you’re getting it when you’re getting it. :)
Average. That was the body type category I decided to label myself with when making my Grindr profile for the first time. Though I’ve always had an aversion to that word, average meant something positive in this context, in my mind. It meant not ‘stocky’ or ‘large’ which were the only other two categories that didn’t signify I was skinny or muscled up. As someone who never enjoyed working out but occasionally forced themselves to be active, my then 23-year-old body was without any pronounced shapes. When standing straight, my belly didn’t protrude much, and neither did my biceps or triceps. Everything was just… there. The one thing that did protrude, ever so slightly, was my behind, mostly thanks to over ten years of dance training. You know how some people just naturally have a six-pack? Well, I got a subtly curved behind even if I sit on it for weeks, even months. And so it felt fitting to choose ‘Average’ as my body type. I could be sure that I won’t be called out for catfishing, which has been one of my worst fears since that one time I watched MTV at my rich friend’s place. And though I always compare myself to others in all different ways, this simple six-part classification (Average – Large – Muscular – Slim – Stocky – Toned) made me hyper aware of where my body lied on the gay scale of hot-to-rot. Or at least what I then considered hot-to-rot. Admittedly, the ruthless elimination process that happens on Grindr definitely assisted in realising just how ‘average’ I was.
It’s been over six years since then and I’m now in a happy relationship. My body is also considerably less average, as I continue to fall deeper into the destiny of becoming a full-blown bear. Most of me is fluffy, covered in hair and padded out with safety cushioning that happens to jiggle as I gay-walk around Hackney. And you know what? I can honestly say I’m totally okay with it! I’ve given up on promising myself that I’ll have a six-pack one day. Just like I’ve given up on getting the Forbes 30 under 30 list. But there’s nothing like not fitting into a piece of clothing labelled as XL to transport me back into those painful feelings of being rejected by hot, muscle-craving men on Grindr all those years ago.
While on one of my recent 2am online shopping sprees, I added a bunch of random stuff to my cart from the final Mr Porter sale. The following is a transcript of my adrenaline-induced shopaholic brain as I browsed the site:
JW Anderson leather slides reminiscent of the Bumper bag. I can SO see myself wearing this on holiday in June! A couple of sequinned shirts from Acne Studios – they could make a fab 30th birthday outfit. Oh wow, look at those spray-painted flared trackies from Acne! At only £150, they’re gonna be my best investment of 2023. [....] Omg amazing, I get 30% off on top of the sales prices… I am basically getting the stuff for free! Fuck, can I afford all of this? I can return all the stuff I don’t want. Right, I’ll just try it all out for fun and send most back. Credit card approved. Okay, time for bed.
Sobered by daylight and the fact that I just spent more than three average Croatian salaries on clothes and accessories I could probably only get a couple of wears out of (how many times can you wear spray-painted rainbow flares without getting your ass kicked?), a slight scent of regret began to emerge. This feeling only brewed over the next week as I anticipated the arrival of my toddler-sized cardboard box and all its colourful contents. As soon as it arrived, I dropped everything I was doing in order to get it all on me. Unsurprisingly, most of the stuff simply didn’t fit – too small, too big. Those terry cloth flairs looked like something your creatively challenged child might make. Obviously, they would look fierce and fabulous hanging low on the hips of someone tall and skinny, as most clothes do. But the pièce-de-resistance of the order was a pair of pink padded trousers by ERL.
The all-American label, designed by Eli Russell Linnetz, has this completely unhinged approach to design that focuses on making high-cost, high-impact garments. Colour, print, textile, and all of the above. On this occasion, ERL made me buy a pair of Care Bear-esque trousers that would probably only make sense on the slopes of Aspen Gay Ski Week. I got them in the only size that was left, and the largest size they came in – XL. Though I have a few pieces from ERL, they are mostly shirts and their sizes vary, so I didn’t know what to expect. Naturally, I hoped that these silly pants would be far too big on me so I’d have to return them and get my 300 quid back. And boy, was I wrong. They pulled in all different directions. Thighs, crotch, ass… Even shins! Were even my shins too big for an XL? They barely zipped up and made me feel like a pink gay sausage that’s about to burst as they uncomfortably stretched across my hips. On the fashion scale, according to ERL, I’m beyond obese. In their world, I should walk around bottomless.
We talk so much about representation on catwalks these days. Reports, like this one on Vogue Runway, show in black and white just how little ‘plus-size’ models appeared on the catwalk in the most recent show season. According to their count, out of 69 shows, only eight of them featured someone who would categorise in or over a size EUR56 or XL. And yes, this simple maths might show how this whole system is fucked up.
But these calculations aren’t fully representative of where the big problem lies. As the story notes as well, the problem is rooted in the lack of access brands give to people that don’t look anything like their models. So, even if you wanna show your clothes only on tall, slim people, whatever. Fine. But can you just make sure that me, a non-skinny person, can also fit into that jacket/trouser/top/swimming trunks? For every emerging brand like Ester Manas or Chopova Lowena, who are actively expanding their lines and adapting key products for a wide range of sizes, there are brands whose largest sizes consistently come too small for my not-so-average body. I’ve been to ample sample sales where the largest trouser sizes simply wouldn’t close. So, what then? Naturally, I just went and bought a bag instead.
I still remember when I made a personal order with one particular young designer. I was earning tuppence at the time, and paying £220 quid (wholesale price) on a pair of trousers felt like a wild decision. But I did it, because I loved their work, and I wanted to both support them and feel part of their fantasy. Though I was considerably smaller then, I ordered the trousers in the largest size available. And when they came, months later, they simply wouldn’t do up. In those hungry moments they did do up, I still looked like someone in a second trimester with a set of balls that were split in two by the middle seam. Their fantasy simply wasn’t my fantasy.
Though writing these experiences down feels a bit like I’m moaning about something completely insignificant (‘Kim, people are dying’ keeps playing in my brain on loop), it still feels poignant when seen in relation to what’s happening out there right now. I’m thinking about the internal homophobic rage of people screaming and shouting at Sam Smith for being (un)dressed in a selection of skimpy looks for their recent music videos, performances and press shots. And though I can’t say I’m a massive fan of their music, I can acknowledge that so much of the vocal hatred comes via the fact that Sam Smith doesn’t look like a model.
Their body isn't slim, muscular or athletic like the bodies of so many other musicians we’re used to seeing exposed. Why does no one complain about people like Charlie Puth or Shawn Mendes, who can’t seem to keep a piece of clothing with sleeves on for more than a second? Oh, right. It’s because the people complaining are probably those same Grindr gays from earlier. And let’s be clear – that’s Sam Smith we’re talking about, a famous musician with endless resources and a line-up of fabulous costume and fashion designers creating custom pieces for them.
So, where do handbags come into the story? Arguably, they are the most inclusive element of fashion and a reason why I can feel included, even when I’m evidently not. IT’S CALLED DELUSION, LOOK IT UP! There’s a song by comedian Catherine Cohen, in her Netflix comedy special, that explores THE experience of being too big for nice clothes with her clear-cut comedy. As she puts it: “even today, don’t you know fat people still have credit cards?” before kicking into the chorus and singing: “take my money, take my money, please.” But while you can limit the size of your trousers or jackets to go only so far, no bag size will stop me from carrying it around. Seriously, even if my big fat fingers don’t fit through the handle, I’ll still carry it like a clutch! And that’s what fashion is all about – when a brand says they hate you by not making any clothes that fit, just go out and buy their bag. No one can stop you from giving the money to someone who doesn’t deserve it. What can I say, my morals stop at fashion. xxx
*PEEK OF THE WEEK*
We have the wonderful beauty guru and make-up artist extraordinaire Lynski (@lynskiii) visiting us at the Handbags at Dawn HQ. For this occasion, she bravely agreed to empty the contents of her wonderful HODAKOVA baguette. And coming from someone who had the honour of holding one of these stunning bags (upcycled from vintage belts): they are heavy. So, what kind of essentials can Lynski carry in it? Let’s see, shall we…
What does the inside of your bag say about you?
Lynski: “It says that I’m into baked beans as well as making sure i don’t get pigmentation on my face too early. The lighter doesn’t work, my earpods are out of battery most of the time, and the painkillers are mostly for other people – it’s giving kind soul. God knows where the fiver came from, but we love to see this financial growth. Vaping is bad for you and the hair clips are in this pic to promote my friend Katya.”