My Short Fuse With Getting Dressed
I’ve always found issue with clothing at my height. Now I’m learning to live with it.
Recently, I came across the article ‘Body Liberation Just Hits Different’ by therapist Alishia McCullough which explores and encourages the notion of allowing us as rounded human beings to feel every emotion about our body as a result of societal pressure. Whilst written from the position of a large-bodied, queer, Black woman- a position it would be offensive for me as a white-passing, cisgender male to draw close parallels to- the piece establishes a refreshing discourse. “I learned to reframe my thinking from, The way I exist is a problem,” she writes, “to, Society has intentionally created non-inclusive conditions and limited the definition of the “right” way to exist.” She goes on to provide a framework for how you can liberate your own body: reflect on the messages you have internalised about yourself; pay attention to how these messages permeate your day-to-day life; plan small steps to live more authentically; connect with others in your position; and spend time in nature, gain an appreciation for the variety of “shapes, sizes, abilities, existences, sexualities and colours.”
I’ve been on a journey with my body, as most people have. From the age of around nine or ten, I began to pay fretful attention to my weight and body shape. At around 12 I found myself engrossed in the pursuit of perfect skin (even though there is no such thing, especially for a teenager). As I have begun settling into adult life, a lot of these anxieties have dissipated. However, along with these newfound mental freedoms has come a new insecurity for me to meditate on: my height.
I was always small as a child and, with a mother and father of 4’11” and 5’2” respectively, I never expected great things from my stature. When you grow up being “the short one” in class, though, you always hold out hope for that big growth spurt to come. “It’ll come soon,” my mum would say. “Your uncle didn’t shoot up until his mid-twenties,” was another classic. Of course, it could very well be too soon for me to say- I’m only 20! That growth spurt could come knocking any day. But I’ve not grown an inch since I was 17 and studies show that most men stop growing by their early twenties. I’m beginning a process of acceptance of the fact that 5’3” is probably the best it’s going to get for me.
The most marked manifestation of these feelings is in the ways that I dress, and the ways that I can’t. As someone within the sphere of fashion, there is an inherent pressure to always look good. I’d say I always do look good. Every morning, I tend to spend the half-hour lie-in I allow myself mentally workshopping various outfits out of my wardrobe. This workshopping does seem somewhat frivolous as I normally land on a variation of the same outfit anyway: a statement jacket or jumper; oversized suit trousers or jeans; and a pair of smart or smart-ish shoes. This look is what I am most comfortable in and that, surely, is what we all strive for in the ways we adorn ourselves, right? In my environment at Central Saint Martins, world-renowned for its creativity, I can’t help but feel an urge to push the sartorial boat out and do something new! The big issue with this desire is that clothing simply doesn’t come in my size.
Until about two weeks ago, I had never found a pair of trousers that neither required a belt nor needed to be cuffed. What was most surprising here was that I found this pair in a charity shop; a place where the men’s trouser section is, I find, consistently restricted to a 36” waist average. I try my best to shop as sustainably and as circularly as I can but my size makes this a bigger challenge than it already is for the average 5’9” Joe. The flip side is that buying new is virtually impossible too. As an experiment into this, I performed the greatest act of self-masochism a Londoner can and ventured to *shivers* Oxford Circus. I visited many different stores for this- Bershka, Zara, M&S, Uniqlo, H&M and Urban Outfitters- and tried on the smallest sizes each of them offer. In our globalised world, these are all places one can expect to always find something for oneself. As Cilla Black once exclaimed, surprise, surprise, they were less than accommodating. Trousers tended to stop at a 30, meaning layers of fabric swallowed my feet; button-up shirts rarely extended to an XS and enveloped my hands with the sleeves; t-shirts extended all the way down to my crotch which I only didn’t mind due to the larger silhouette I currently lean towards. By the end, I was just exhausted and felt pretty shit about myself (though this could just be the Oxford Circus effect).
There is a point to my rambling. It isn’t just a Napoleonic rant about how hard done by I am because I find it hard to shop. Clothing is one of the few tools we all have to actualise our identities in a tangible sense. “clothes… change our view of the world,” wrote Virginia Woolf in her seminal novel, Orlando, “and the world’s view of us.” I want to dress in a way that imbues confidence within and without. If I were to listen to the array of short man fashion tips the Internet has to offer, this can only be done by finding ways to look taller. I mustavoid high-contrasting colours, baggy clothing and horizontal or unsubtle patterns. I shouldn’t draw attention to my legs and ensure my trousers are high-waisted, with no break. I need to just use a tailor. Now, what I propose is a rejection of this sentiment. I do not need to look taller to be perceived as fashionable. “I figure if I can’t look hot in most “normal” clothes,” writer Chris Gayomali, who is 5’5”, tells me over email, “I’ll go for shit that’s fun and weird and a little avant garde.” This I can get with. If people are going to see me as Grumpy, Dopey or Bashful, I may as well play around. Women’s clothing has provided a sanctuary for me in this sense. On average, a woman’s sleeve will end at the wrist and it’s fairly easy to find a pant leg without a break when I wish. “Now that there’s so much great women’s clothes inspired by men’s workwear, no one is even going to notice you’re wearing a women’s jacket,” says Kevin Nguyen, the 5’8” features editor for The Verge. As a visibly queer person, this isn’t a worry of mine but for many other short men I can imagine it being very off-putting and resulting in a limited or ill-fitting wardrobe. Gayomali remembers only wearing women’s skinny Diesel jeans in his university days, noting how this “earlier dressing phase made it easier for me to get into modern brands that are more genderless.”
Whilst working on this piece, I have gained a newfound appreciation for my body. As McCullough suggests, speaking to other men- especially older men- who have lived these same experiences as me has allowed me to embrace myself. By exploring the ways in which society has taught me to yearn for a body that isn’t and can never be my own, I feel I can breathe. The world doesn’t accommodate me as I may like- I still hope it does one day- but for now I am happy to take this journey. The road now is just less murky, and more yellow brick-tinted.