“Most plus-size lines all cater to the same body shape. They think we’re all 5’10″ with big boobs, a big butt, big thighs, and thick around the waist. No offense to anyone who fits those measurements, but all big women aren’t built the same. Some are more pear-shaped. Some are apple.”
I nod, remembering our conversation before Fashion Week, when she first pitched her idea.
“So I thought that would be a great idea for a line; interchangeable pieces broken down by body type to create kind of a capsule wardrobe.”
I close my eyes, trying to picture it. Bright colors and strong prints on top for the pear ladies. Natural silhouettes and belted styles for the hourglass women. My face splits into a grin.
“Something for everyone. That’s such a great idea.” Denise beams back it me, and I start brainstorming aloud. “We could maybe reach out to models and influencers to talk about their struggles finding clothes, and then have them be the center of social campaigns for each shape.”
“Yes!” Denise agrees enthusiastically.
The creative juices are flowing, and before I know it, we’ve been narrowing down her sketches to build the categories for two hours.
“Damn!” she sighs, standing up from the table and arching her back in a stretch. “I need a break. I’m getting a club soda from the kitchen. You want anything? Cory keeps these disgusting green juices, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
I giggle at her pinched expression.
“Club soda works for me too.”
She heads to the kitchen to get our drinks, then starts assembling what looks like a charcuterie board.
“Did I just see you pull out cured meat?” I ask, coming over to inspect her selection.
“Yeah. If that’s cool?” she asks hesitantly.
“Hell yeah, that’s cool. I haven’t had any prosciutto since the season started; the salt makes me bloat. Now that I don’t have a show for a while, I’m gonna have a ball.”
She laughs and keeps building the platter, so I settle onto the couch to scroll through my phone. Pictures from last night’s event are already circulating, including a few that captured the look I gave Damon. Some people even turned the photo into a meme, and the comments are hilarious.
MamiMadeIt:OK, but like, my boyfriend doesn’t even look at me like that!
CooCooforKendra: Whoo, child! Are you going to pick up Plan B after that?
FashionFaeBabe: How are you gonna show the look and not show who she’s looking AT?
CatCanDre$$: I was there, and it was some Charles Melton lookalike in sweats.
That last one actually makes me laugh out loud.
NewBeauty’s account has the full set of event photos, and I swipe through them, swooning again over last night’s outfits. I’m smiling to myself, picking out which pics to repost, when I see the top comment. It already has six thousand likes.
Andre_Gibbs_Official: I remember when she used to look at ME like that.
I clench my hand into a fist and punch the cushion next to me.
“Fuckin’ Andre!” I shout, because what the fuck? He knows publicly posting a comment like that is going to stir some shit up. First, he ambushes my dad, and now this? What is his angle?
I’m so wrapped up in my rage I almost don’t notice the sound of a fork clattering to the floor. I turn to see Denise looking like she’s seen a ghost.
“Girl, what’s wrong? Are you OK?”
I jump up and come to her. She’s visibly shaking.
“What did you say?” Her voice is eerily calm, and it’s freaking me out.
“What? I didn’t say anything. I was just looking at my phone.”
“You saidAndre,“ she whispers.
