Model, actress, photographer Velvet D’Amour worked the catwalk during Gaultier’s show for Fashion Week in Paris last week. Here is an interview with her in which she dispels many myths about fatness. I love her! I want to have her babies.
What I love about women like Velvet D’Amour is that their fierceness and beauty does not exist in spite of their size, or because of their size, but simply because they are rebels; badasses for liking themselves. And so, inevitably, here comes the cheese: Sometimes I think the biggest revolution would be if everyone woke up one morning in a state of total self-acceptance. Think of how much time (and money!) we would save. With all that saved time, we writers could probably produce at least 2 more books during our lifetimes.
On that note, gotta go finish story #2.
Postscript: It seems there’s a lot of debate all over the place about this show. I must be living under a writer rock. Anyway, I don’t give a shit about Gaultier’s boldness. I don’t give a shit about designers and honestly, modeling as a business and a livelihood can go to fucking hell. I just want to see images of fat women who (unlike Kristie Alley and Maragret Cho and Star fucking Jones, and unlike the skinny ideal constantly being shoved down everyone’s throat, including thin women) are fat and like it! Fat and so what? Fat fat fat fat. Yes. I weigh 220 pounds, and when someone tells me they are so “proud” of me for “doing my thang” or for wearing a dress (“Oh, Randa, it’s like you’re saying: take me as I am!”) I want to slap them across the face. Can you imagine going up to a black man and saying: “Hey, I think it’s great that you just walk around and you don’t care that you’re black!” It’s THAT insane!
We live in a world where fat-hate is one of the last permitted discriminations. And fat people are some of the most dehumanized on the planet, first and foremost by their families, who hate themselves, their own genetics and their children’s inability to have SuperMetabolism, and then, by their peers and the media.
Fuck Gaultier; he’s just another filthy rich white guy.
Here comes a hot hot hottie in her undies, and I want to plant a big smooch on her big, badass arms.