Make It About All Men: Male Body Diversity in the Fashion Industry
Trigger warning: body image
For years, activists have worked to promote a healthier, more diverse body image for women in high fashion. After decades of slowly getting the public used to seeing a wide array of bodies on the catwalk, in editorials, and, most effectively, in brand advertising, it's now easy enough to find 'plus-sized' models in mainstream visual media.
In the fashion world, the term 'plus-sized' is defined as a model who is above a UK size 8 or has a waist above 31 inches. Even those who have never skimmed the hallowed pages of Vogue will recognise modern legends like Ashley Graham or Precious Lee, both of whom have walked for powerhouses like Versace and Christian Siriano. One may even say it’s now a requirement for a modern runway to have at least one plus-sized female model, lest they be rightfully roasted by the online fashion community. Time and again, brands like Saint Laurent and Celine who have refused to include different body types have come under heavy fire despite signing an infamous pledge to only use healthy models.
Despite all of this effort to truly make a vast array of female body types visible in high fashion media, no such support has been seen for diversity among male models. This year, for the Central Saint Martins Fall/Winter 2022 collection, Londoner Edward Mendoza featured both male and nonbinary bodies in a way I don't think I have ever seen on any runway. Plus-sized people and bulky bodybuilders were all featured in optimistic, scene-stealing garments that were printed with surreal cartoon figures and made of blends of fur that imitated the unique patterns of tie-dye, and accessorised with nostalgic bags that looked like they had just fallen out of a late-nineties claw machine. This collection won the L'Oréal professional prize which marks the designer as one to watch; previous winners including current Dior menswear director Kim Jones, Grace Wales Bonner, Christopher Kane, Molly Goddard, and Craig Green, all of who have had amazing careers. Response to these looks on Instagram was full of both love and constructive discussion. Commenters asked why they had never seen models like this on even the most progressive runways and editorials. We’ve come so far in womenswear, how is it that in menswear a plus-sized body on a runway is still revolutionary?
Even now, it is unthinkable to see a male model on a mainstream catwalk who does not fit into one of two categories, the first being a Grecian god type — muscular, hairless bodies with strong jaws and classically handsome, old Hollywood faces. British model David Gandy is a particularly exemplary specimen. The second is more of a tall, skinny, rockstar type with long, thin legs and snake hips, but also with broad shoulders that can carry the clothes, and an androgynous, hairless face. Alton Mason or editorial favourite Fernando Lindez are textbook examples of this type.
On the rare occasion that a brand is asked about the type of male models they choose, they will use the same series of defenses that were used for years against plus-sized models in womenswear: that tall, slender bodies simply carry the clothes better. Or that it's just too difficult to create clothes outside the size zero sample size (which is a whole other can of worms ). Or that the models must fit the designer’s ‘grand vision’, an excuse also used to exclude people of colour from high fashion that is really a roundabout way of saying that particular bodies or skin tones can only fit into one aesthetic. This treats white skinny people as the default, and that anything other then that would be to 'add flavor', all to distract from the real malicious motivation behind the neglect of plus-sized models: straight-up fatphobia.
Many mainstream designers refuse to see anyone above a size medium as sexy or interesting. This leads us to the 'illusion of exclusivity’, a tactic commonly employed by luxury brands of all types to establish an image different from their high street contemporaries where they show advertisements filled with hot famous people doing cool interesting things in order to subliminally tell the customer two things: first, that if you buy their clothes, like their £400 lizard leather bucket hat, you too will be hot and interesting, and, second, that only these types of people can or should wear these clothes. No one else.
The frustrating thing is that if designers, CEOs, and casting agents could ignore their own prejudices and widen their visions, it would only benefit their brands. From a monetary perspective, a diverse range of male models represents a wider customer base, thus making the companies more money and hence more successful. The inclusion of plus-sized models would certainly get some social media buzz, obviously a huge part of modern fashion advertising, and prove to the fashion community that their body acceptance is more than just surface level.
Plus-sized men see themselves in many places, in comedians, in actors, in everywhere that you find men normally, but they are never seen as chic. They can’t find interesting clothing in their size. They are never considered beautiful; they never think of themselves that way because tastemakers or cultural leaders never choose to show them that way. As a result, I feel as though it destroys any physical confidence they may have in themselves, but as men are allegedly not supposed to care about their own appearances, they cannot even speak up about their frustration.
A pessimist may argue that the current body diversity in womenswear is no more than a trend — a dramatic reaction to the waif models of the 2000s. As the Y2K aesthetic continues to dominate mainstream fashion, and as women's rights related to abortion and sex work have started to regress rather than progress, it’s possible that we may soon return to the monolithic runways and ‘same face’ syndrome that previously haunted fashion.