Why isn’t disability visible in fashion?
Brands are beginning to cater for disabled consumers but a far bigger shift is needed, says
My earliest recollection of my personal style was far from complimentary; instead, it started with retorts of “Well, you’re going to look very silly!” And indeed I did: utterly silly. But still I threw aside the pristine twin-set neatly laid out for my sister’s party in favour of a garish pyjama top, Dalmatian-print leggings, stuck-on earrings and a conservative flourish of patent Mary Janes, an outfit I thought was the height of sophistication. The whole ensemble was set off by a pink beaded purse puckered with jelly tots, an ill-tempered Tamagotchi and other five-yearold-child essentials. Let’s just say it was hard to distinguish me from the clown booked for post-lunch entertainment.
In this moment, fashion became about more than clothes for me. It was an act of defiance, self-assertion and a declaration of who I was – which certainly wasn’t going to be imposed by anyone but myself. In the years following, this sense that style is intimately connected to our identity has strengthened.
Although I’ve had a muscle weakness disability since birth, in recent years additional illness, such as severe pneumonia, has significantly impacted my mobility, stamina and the physical strength of my voice. As a fashion journalist with a disability, I recognise how style can empower people to express themselves regardless of ability, race, age, gender or size.
In recent years the concept of “diversity” has come into focus in the fashion industry, catapulted from the abyss to assume centre-stage in fashion campaigns, glossy magazine covers and postcatwalk commentary. In fact, we’ve just witnessed a record year in terms of inclusion in fashion. Diversity has become not only a buzzword but also a measure of a brand’s relevance in an intensely competitive digital marketplace. The fashion we see today is an optimistic celebration of a spectrum of identities.
This may be true with regard to the models we’re seeing in front of the camera. Take for instance Halima Aden, Charli Howard or Adut Akech who are all redefining traditional supermodel stereotypes. But these faces are the harbingers of change that conceal the endemic lack of representation in the wider fashion industry. Diversity doesn’t begin and end with who we see in front of the camera: we need more minority voices leading from behind the lens. Recent accusations of racism facing establishment brands – such as Prada, Gucci and Burberry, which in the last few months were called out for their racially offensive designs – are a testament to this fact. The solution is simple, and urgent: we must address this disconnect between the diversity of the models on the catwalk and those packed into the front row – the editors, buyers, and ultimately, the voices of power.
However, one minority group is severely under-represented. Although 20 per cent of people have disabilities, this demographic is largely nonexistent in the fashion sphere, with only a handful of designers, such as Teatum Jones and the late Alexander Mcqueen, recognising fashion’s potential to challenge our perception of disability. Mcqueen’s legacy is defined by his ability to subvert prescriptive ideas of beauty; his spring/summer 1999 show featuring the Paralympian Aimee Mullins in a pair of handcrafted prosthetic legs is a defining example of how Mcqueen’s work deconstructed social
taboos regarding disabled bodies. Historical prejudices have made disability synonymous with victimhood or failure, and consequently it is often hidden from public view.
Actress Selma Blair’s first appearance on the red carpet following her multiple sclerosis diagnosis last year saw her pose defiantly with a monogrammed walking cane. As a former muse for luxury brands like Stella Mccartney and Chanel, this image was a powerful symbol of how fashion enables disability to transcend the stigma that surrounds it. Her presence was also a glaring reminder that people with disabilities are often unseen on platforms like the red carpet, the epitome of spectacle and visibility. So although it represented a victory for disability representation, primarily it was an intimation of how far there is to go before it’s accepted
Lottie Jackson
as the norm. In a later interview with Vanity Fair, Blair laments the lack of stylish clothing available to disabled individuals. She wants designers to focus on improving adaptive fashion, which is designed to meet the needs of those with disabilities and chronic conditions: “It can still be chic. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice style.”
At last designers are beginning to acknowledge the disabled consumer market, which represents £249 billion of untapped spending power. Today, the Cornish lifestyle brand Seasalt (as worn by the Duchess of Sussex) launches its first adaptive clothing line, Easy On. The collection, only available online, includes discreet additions to existing signature styles such as magnetic fastenings on their popular Beachcombing Coat, loops on sleeve cuffs to make pulling them on and off hassle-free, and soft elasticated waistbands which are pinch-free when seated.
“We wanted to help women who can find dressing difficult,” explains Seasalt’s design director Sue Simpson. The collection was inspired by customer focus groups, so it’s designed to “fit into their lives and make [them] feel confident”.
However, when I point out their designs are exclusively shown on able-bodied models, they state the
photography is “a blank canvas” but would take in my feedback. But this exposes the longstanding myth that disability isn’t marketable. More than ever consumers want to align themselves with brands that have a positive, inclusive ethos. Seasalt follows in the footsteps of other forwardthinking brands, such as Marks & Spencer and Tommy Hilfiger, which have already released adaptive clothing lines. Their designs featured everything from adjustable hem-lengths to accommodate prosthetic limbs and soft Velcro fastenings, to sleep-suits specifically tailored for babies with hip dysplasia. With a new report revealing the adaptive clothing market could reach $288.7billion globally this year, they are right to be expanding their offerings.
The fashion industry’s fascination with diversity not only fulfils an ethical responsibility, but it’s incredibly lucrative. While I’ve always believed fashion can foster an inclusive spirit, finally the industry is poised to reflect this.
‘It can still be chic. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice style’