Life's Big Question #283: Why don't the models
in clothing ads ever wear any clothes?
Anyway, it's taken me long enough, but I've finally summoned the strength to write about last Saturday's sting operation. I am, however, realizing that if I want to do this thing right it's going to take a lot more than one post.
For those of you who didn't scroll down a few notches to read my last post, the girls from Real Beauty Revolution and I conducted a little sting operation at a nearby mall last Saturday. Each dressed as a different stereotype (see below), we infiltrated several stores (that sounds cooler than "walked into") to see how the workers would react to us. We wanted to see how blatant discrimination is in today's society - be it against sex, physicality, economic status, or otherwise - and while I can't say that we got any 100% conclusive results, it was a very eye-opening and, strangely, empowering experience.
I've decided to go about this one store at a time. I apologize if I'm keeping anybody on the edge of their seat (anybody?) but I've got a lot to say, and I don't want to glaze over anything just to keep a modest word count. So, what better way to introduce Operation: Anti-Discrimination than to recognize the lovely ladies (or better yet, kick-ass chicks) who made it possible:
From Left to Right: Lacee, Carrie, Jenny (eating Lorrie's head),
Lorrie (having her head eaten), Holly, Tia, Saundra, and Tamara.
- The Rocker Chicks: Tamara, Saundra, Lacee and I (though I'm not in the picture) were somewhere in the goth-to-rocker spectrum.
- The Preps: Lorrie and Holly suffered from what one might jokingly refer to as "preppy-princess-itis."
- The Normies: Tia, Carrie, and Jenny were dressed normally . . . though "normal" easily passed for "grubby" in some of the stores we went into.
In a pre-operation meeting at a nearby Krispy Kreme (that pretty much felt like we were planning a bank robbery), we devised a brilliant plan to enter our targeted stores in three waves. First, two or three girls would enter a store and plant themselves near some workers without being too conspicuous. Next came the stereotype "operative" who was different depending on the store (i.e. the person who would look most out of place). And finally, a second round of "observers" as we called them would meander in to play extra sets of eyes and ears. It was the stereotype operative's job to wreak a little havoc - ask questions, seek help, simply exist - but it was the observers' job to mentally log everything and anything that was going on around them.
In all the weeks it took RBR to plan Operation: Anti-Discrimination, I only had one request:
"I want Hollister."
Meaning, of course, that I wanted to be the stereotype planted in the blasted place because I've heard too many horrific tales of discrimination and abuse not to want to check it out for myself. And going into that skinny paradise as a PLUS-SIZE WOMAN who's been the victim of understocked and sizist stores her entire life (and who also warrants capital letters to contain her fabulosity*), I felt like some kind of crusader for every girl out there who's been told her thighs were too big, her boobs were too small, or . . . well, just think up some misogynist crap that's been fed to you.
*Did I really say "fabulosity"?
If you want to know the truth I was quite happy with my get-up, but only because it was what I wear on a daily basis. Donning a slightly worn Dream Theater cap, Iron Maiden t-shirt (with "Best of the Beast" printed on the back in bold, red letters), old jeans, fuzzy striped socks, messy locks, and a mocking expression, I felt like a warrior geared up to face her demons.
Lorrie was a good partner in crime for
our first stop! I have more pictures of
The Girls to show in future posts :)
Life Lesson #4,313: the Teenage Girl mind isn't always rational.
Anyway, I slithered into Hollister with my new friend Lorrie in tow (our established "preppy" stereotype). Our million-dollar idea was to act like we were trying to find a shirt for her mom. Now I know what you're thinking: a prep and a rocker joining forces? But I knew finding a shirt for me, a plus-size girl in an old Iron Maiden shirt, would be a stretch. And besides, stereotypes suck.
"So, Lorrie, you're looking for a shirt for your mom?"
"Yeah, she likes blue."
"What size?"
"Probably XL."
"Don't you mean 2XL?" Wink.
"Oh, yeah!"
*Hypnotic voice* I am a young, attractive,
white female. You want to be me . . . and
even though you'll never come close, Hollister
clothes might help. A bit. *Demon voice*
BUY THEM!
"I dunno Lorrie, I've never been in this store before" I said in my best acting voice, yet remaining entirely truthful, "they must have a plus-size section in the back somewhere."
By this time - with secret agents planted all around me, falling from the rafters even - I worked up the gumption to trot over to the counter to a wide-eyed, perfectly trimmed employee. She had pale skin (shock?) and curly brown hair, but I made a mental note that she probably still fit Hollister's "beautiful employee" requirement.
"Hi, we're trying to find a shirt for her mom . . . but I noticed the sizes only go up to Large."
"Yes . . . our largest size in women's clothing is 11."
Mock disappointment.
"Will you be getting a plus size section any time soon?" I asked, chuckling a bit and trying to seem personable. "It just seems funny to only go up to size 11 when the average person can't fit into that." Blink, blink. I guess whatever the heck I said didn't compute. The girl looked at me - my senior by only a few years - and said she "wouldn't know the answer to that."
I thanked her for her time and left, muttering disappointments about the store to Lorrie as I shook my head like a reproving grandmother. I hadn't felt overtly discriminated, but one of the observers, Jenny, noticed that the oh-so-lively store clerk "grimaced" as I was walking away. When I asked Jenny what that meant she said "It was a why-would-you-ask-that sort of look."
Now, is that enough for me to convict Hollister of any sort of crime?
*Sigh* No. And I was so ready to sue any sucker who looked at me funny.
But that was only the beginning of the epically-titled Operation: Anti-Discrimination. We also went into Hot Topic, Torrid, Gamestop, Macy's, Nordstrom, Abercrombie - and I even stood up to annoying, holier-than-thou idiots at Spencers when I called one of their sexist shirts into question.
More about that later! So stay tuned!_______________________________________________
It just amazes me that people could be so closed-minded about sexuality, propagate an archetype in which girls (i.e. pretty, young, white girls) are only worth something if they're virgins, and find a way to blame feminism for virtually everything.
My eyes have been bulging like crazy reading the book, and I'll look up and begin to rant - but then I realize it's only my brother and his girlfriend there, and they don't appreciate a good fem-rant . . . *pouts*
P.S. If anybody's looking to get me an early Christmas present for next year, the next "Valenti gem" on my list is He's a Stud, She's a Slut: And 49 Other Double-Standards Every Woman Should Know!
