Dressed Like A Daydream: On Vintage Dresses and Body Image

I'll never forget when I acquired my first vintage dress.

It was July of 2012. Mom and I were browsing through the only (now closed!) antique store in Rockford, Michigan, and I saw this beautiful deep teal dress in the window. It was knee-length, A-line with little  turquoise fabric squares all over it. I asked the store owner if I could try it on, and she showed me the dressing room. It fit like a daydream.

"That dress was made for you!" she exclaimed. "So many women have come in here to try it on, and it hasn't worked for any of them. You're the perfect size!"

The best part? It was 30 dollars, and produced sometime in the early 1960s. Mom bought it for me as a "good luck" charm to wear on my first day of work. It became my favorite dress for many years after. I wore it SO OFTEN.  Eventually, my body shape changed so much that no alteration would accommodate, and two summers ago, I gave the dress to Goodwill. I was heartbroken.

I've been thinking a lot about my preoccupation with my weight and body image lately. I'm realizing that I have held some pretty dysmorphic views for my entire life, and it has been a challenge to look in the real and metaphorical mirror every day since arriving at this conclusion.

My whole life, people have praised the size of my body. "You're so tiny!" they would gush. "Look at your waist!" And, "Oh, to have your figure!"  I think it was compliment that I most often heard, and certainly the one that played the loudest in my brain whenever I would shop for clothing, which was very often. 

I also believed the false narrative which told me that, because I have Cerebral Palsy, I will probably always stay stick-thin because my muscles are constantly "burning calories". This isn't true in the least, but it added fuel to my fire of maintaining "the perfect size".

And what is that perfect size? Well, until three years ago, that would have been anywhere between a size 0 or a 2, depending on the brand and item of clothing. I weighed around 109 pounds at my lowest, 117 at my highest weight. I'm near 5 feet four inches, and I maintained this weight throughout all of graduate school.

These measurements made it so easy for me to fit into "true vintage" dresses that I would buy online, or pick up at antique stores. Garments that were hand-made and tailored to fit the slender figures of a Depression era or post-WWII body fit my 21st century frame like a glove. That isn't necessarily true, anymore, and I've had to part ways with many beautiful vintage dresses because of it.

Thinking about it now, it seems ridiculous that I would hope for Audrey Hepburn's measurements, especially when considering that she was malnourished for a majority of her youth because she lived in a   Nazi-controlled country during wartime.

Or, that I would yearn to fit into a true 1950s dress, and NOT include the 1950s "foundation pieces"  -- the  girdles, and garters and waist trainers to go with it. Yet, this was something of a standard that I set for myself. "I will always be super skinny." And I was, for a time. But I was dangerously unhealthy about my approach.

I'm healthier now than I was  when I was noticably thin. I actually eat full meals, and I'm genuinely happy and rested in all spheres of my life.

I think that the majority of  women, of all shapes and sizes, at one time or another, have these same thoughts. We have features that we hate, patterns or colors that we refuse to wear because of how they highlight rather than hide those too-bony, too-flabby, too-booby, too-much-butt parts of us. 

We measure our worth like we measure our waistlines.

And that's a shame.

I don't have any easy answers for how we can overcome the age-old "body image" lie, but here's how I've started to reconstruct my self-perception, piece by piece like a mosaic.

1. Joy in the art of fashion.

I've learned to pay attention to how a piece of clothing catches my eye...how it feels at the first touch, how the colors and cut are unique and beautiful. I've tried to remember that, even if it doesn't fit me, it's still a form of art that someone else will enjoy, and I can appreciate its beauty without owning it.

2. Accept the compliments of others. 

Now that I'm married, I've tried to really reflect on why my husband loves so many of my curves, and how that love is so foreign to my hatred of those same features. And I try to see his point of view. He's a smart man -- he married me, after all!

3. Gratitude and humility.

I've tried to remember to thank God for the body I have. As a Christian, I know that I am called to live my full life to the glory of God. When I think about the complicated connection between my dreams of fashion, and my nightmarish body image, the verse that often comes to mind is, "Therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with hearts of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience." (Colossians 3:12, Berean Study Bible). So I try to pray, "Lord, thank you for the breath in my lungs, the beat in my heart. How can I bring glory to you in this body today?"

Joy. Acceptance. Gratitude.

I pray that no matter what I wear -- tomorrow or twenty years from now --  these characteristics will be the true foundation pieces of any wardrobe in my life.