I'm giving sleeves the cold shoulder

It all dropped into place as I was watching the film “Hidden Figures”. As Taraji P Henson’s character, real-life NASA mathematician Katherine Johnson, climbs a ladder and raises her arm to begin writing on a huge blackboard, her dress just... stays put. The hem doesn’t lift awkwardly, the fabric of the bodice doesn’t bunch around her shoulders and neck. She looks focussed and poised, her dress an eye-catching flash of bright colour amid a sea of grey as she formulates the safe return of a person from space. 

The success of a dress can hang on its sleeves, and, once again, fast fashion is letting us down. 

As a woman in my mid 30s, the perceived wisdom is that I should be desperate for clothes with sleeves (presumably to cover my unsightly upper arms and armpits in case they are *gasp* sweaty or *double gasp* hairy). In fact the exact opposite has happened, and you will rarely find me sporting a sleeve. While I may not have the perfectly toned arms of an A-List star in a red carpet gown, I see no reason why my completely average arms should be a source of shame. If you are bothered by my (mostly shaved, but sometimes stubbly) armpits, perhaps worry about something else instead of policing women’s bodies? 

But I’m not just going sleeveless as a gesture of defiance against oppressive beauty norms, I’m not wearing sleeves because they just don’t fit properly. If you’re wearing a non-stretchy fitted top or dress, lift your arms above your head. Does the whole garment follow you? Does it stay rucked up when you lower your arms? Doesn’t that annoy you? Sleeves have become a complicated part of a garment, and fast fashion just doesn’t seem to be getting them right. 

I don’t blame pattern cutters; I’ve had trouble with sleeves ever since I drafted my first (terrible) sleeve pattern in my first term at uni. I’ve had years to practice drafting sleeves of every shape and size, and my initial pattern almost always needs tweaking. The difference between my pattern cutting experience and that of someone who sends their patterns off to a factory is that I have to take into consideration any requests from actors or private customers for better freedom of movement, and I usually have the luxury of time (or at least more time than the few seconds a factory worker would be given to sew a sleeve). 

The “factory method” is to machine the armhole with the garment lying flat first, then machine the sleeve seam and side seam all in one. This means there is very little ease in the sleeve head, not so much of a problem for people with a flatter chest, but not ideal for those with a full bust. The method I use for a couture garment is very different; I machine the side seams first, place the garment on the stand and then “balance” my sleeve, pinning it in place to check that it hangs correctly. I don’t always line up my sleeve seam and my side seam; sometimes setting the sleeve seam a bit further forwards can give some extra ease for a larger bust (this ease can help to prevent gaping on a button-down shirt. So can proper button placement, but that’s a rant for another time). I sometimes add a (historically inaccurate) grown-on gusset to certain styles of historical costume (or modern clothing) to allow for more underarm movement, but there are plenty of examples of historical sleeves where this simply wasn’t a problem. 

Up until the 19th Century, men’s shirt patterns were a simple series of squares and rectangles, with a diamond shaped gusset under the arm to allow plenty of movement. The creative pattern cutting of post-war mid-century fashion revisited this idea.  Despite its ubiquity in fashion photography, many women weren’t fans of the ultra-feminine New Look. After experiencing the freedoms afforded by paid work and practical uniforms during the Second World War, they were reluctant to go back to restrictive clothing. 

I found some great examples of the compromises made by enterprising dressmakers in the ladieswear department of the costume house in London where I work. These smart dresses all have cleverly constructed sleeves or underarm gussets to allow for movement in an otherwise fitted and demure dress. Compared to my high-street fitted dress with sleeves, the waist seam on these vintage dresses barely shifts when I raise my arms and I didn’t feel nearly as uncomfortable in a 70-year-old dress as I did in a modern one. 

We look at historical clothing in museum collections and marvel at how restrictive it must have been. But unless we are wearing stretch fabrics, our modern clothing isn’t much better. As the cost-cutting measures that enable fast fashion’s artificially low prices restrict the amount of time spent adjusting patterns and stitching garments, we are literally restricting ourselves in poorly thought-out clothes.

In this day and age, we pride ourselves of finding creative solutions to improve efficiency (even when, sometimes, these solutions were there all along). Maybe we need to take a more creative approach to pattern cutting and garment construction to provide the freedom we expect (and need) from modern clothing.

'Balenciaga: Shaping Fashion' and 'The World Of Anna Sui': can couture cure us of our fixation with fast fashion?

Lots of fashion writers have predicted  the death of couture, as pressure grows on designers to produce more and more collections per year, trends appear on the high street within weeks of catwalk shows at a fraction of the price, and, if you are a public figure, being seen in an outfit more than once will be remarked on at the very least, if not ridiculed. 

The popularity of couture as an exhibition subject, however, seems to go from strength to strength. I visited Balenciaga: Shaping Fashion at the V&A and The World Of Anna Sui at the Fashion and Textile Museum, and although neither exhibition tops the superstar status of the Alexander McQueen retrospective (when the V&A stayed open through the night to meet demand for tickets in the final few days), the popularity of fashion exhibitions suggests we haven't completed the transition from seeing fashion as valuable to seeing it as disposable. Both exhibitions illustrate something important about couture that we need to embrace again in order to create a more sustainable fashion industry. 

The World of Anna Sui showcases a designer with boundless enthusiasm for fashion; someone who is constantly intrigued and inspired by the world around her and has pursued her dream of being a fashion designer from early childhood. Her maximalist creations, a mash-up of pop culture references, bold colours and striking fabrics, are the stuff of my teenage dreams, but her painstaking research into fashion history and her beautifully constructed takes on vintage styles held a particular appeal for my inner costume geek. I was swooning over her 40s tea dresses, which feature Christian Berard prints on jewel-coloured silks and fondly reminiscing about my attempts to recreate her 'pastel grunge' looks with retro finds from Brighton's thrift shops in the mid 90s. 

Her brand is centred around looks that are eye-catching and unique, optimistic and playful. Fashion is presented as something exciting, the clash of prints and textures showing a disregard for traditional 'rules' of dressing that echoes the rebelliousness of the subcultures that Sui references in her designs. 

There is much more regard for tradition at the V&A's Balenciaga exhibition, which is a celebration of the craft of couture, and of Balenciaga as a master cutter and fitter as much as a designer. The exhibition emphasises the importance of the choice of fabric in determining the drape and hang of a garment, and showcases the virtuoso pattern cutting which is central to the deceptively simple shapes of Balenciaga's outerwear. X-rays, reconstructions of garments in toile form and even a dress displayed on a mannequin inside out reveal the intricate inner structure of evening gowns, the boning and underpinnings necessary to create the perfect silhouette. I was impressed by the proliferation of pockets, even in an elaborate evening cape, and reflected on it over on my Twitter account, where the lack of decent pockets in women's clothing is lamented and ridiculed on a regular basis. 

As well as the garments themselves, there were also films showing the process of creating couture: mesmerising clips of the craftspeople at Lesage embellishing fabric with embroidery and sequins, as well as a short documentary showing the stages of cutting, fitting and finishing a made-to-measure jacket. As a dressmaker myself, I always appreciate being given an opportunity to see my fellow makers in the spotlight, as I hope it reminds people of the human labour that goes into the production of clothes. We are all garment workers, in the end, it's just that some of us have been fortunate enough to be given the time and opportunity to develop and perfect our craft, to have our work appreciated and to earn a decent salary. 

Obviously couture is elitist, and outfitting ourselves in made-to-measure luxury for everyday life isn’t a practical option, but even clothes that highlight wealth inequality can be viewed as part of a more complex story about the wider fashion industry. Today, the industry’s biggest problems are exploitation, both of people and the environment, through overproduction and overconsumption. People struggling to make ends meet are not going to be overconsuming, but those of us who can afford to splash out on a new outfit when the fancy takes us need to think about what we really value about fashion, and act accordingly. I spent hours at the two exhibitions (and the cost of at least one fast fashion outfit on tickets), and I was delighted by the creativity and craftsmanship I saw, and it reaffirmed that I want my own wardrobe to look like this, as much as possible, rather than the bland and uninspiring fast fashion that has turned me off high street shopping.

There is a possibility that the tide could be turning; earlier this year Stylist Magazine published this article about mental health and burn-out in the upper echelons of the fashion industry. Several designers, including Jean Paul Gaultier, now only produce couture, having found that the pressure to produce an ever-increasing number of collections sapped them of energy and inspiration. For those of us who need more affordable fashion options, many small ethical and sustainable clothing brands have also rejected the high street's emphasis on constantly changing stock, opting instead to sell multi-seasonal pieces that will be versatile enough for even the most carefully curated of capsule wardrobes. The ongoing popularity of good quality vintage clothes also suggest that people are nostalgic for more than cute floral prints, they also still value flattering fit and appreciate clothing that is made to last.

These two exhibitions are a must for fashion fans, but it might be worth taking along a friend who can't understand what the fuss is about. Being encouraged to see fashion as an art form might prompt more thoughtful shopping habits, or a new respect for the people who make our clothes, and this has got to be a good thing.

This summer's must-have accessory? Kindness.

The last twelve months have been pretty grim if, like me, you're emotionally invested in creating a fairer, more equal society. In 2016 the EU referendum was fought on a platform of fear and lies, and left an angry, confused and divided nation in its wake. The hate stirred up by the tabloid press and fuelled by professional contrarians has resulted in violence and murder, so when another general election was called I felt like I needed to do something, anything, to counter the hysterical and vitriolic coverage of the election campaign in the press. I 'cosplayed' the election again, sharing my outfit posts (complete with calm and rational political commentary!) with friends on social media in an attempt to give people some more positive, cheerful content to enjoy. 

Unsurprisingly, my posts didn't go far beyond my circle of friends and mutual followers (pleas for considered and thoughtful action just don't have the click-bait appeal of hate-speech) and seeing the horrifying abuse that other people who have encouraged a kind and hopeful approach to politics have received, I'm kind of glad they didn't. But they did make me feel better, as they forced me to focus on the positive rather than the negative, so I wanted to take this feeling forward into how I engage with media content in the long term, rather than just in regard to election coverage.

As well as trying to encourage fear and distrust of one another, we're also encouraged to feel bad about ourselves, and publicly shame or ridicule anyone who isn't following an archaic, classist, discriminatory and seemingly endless list of 'rules' designed to police our appearance. I'd love to live in a world where I could breezily tweet "just wear what you want!" as temperatures soar and we peer into our wardrobes trying to figure out if we have anything, anything at all, that is 'suitable' for whatever we might need to do in weather we're just not used to. But we don't live in this kind of utopian future (yet!) and I'd be doing a disservice to a lot of people if I pretended that we are all subject to equal levels of judgement and condemnation. By moaning about my personal pet peeve (the ongoing policing of the upper arms of all women over 30), I'm belittling the constant public scrutiny other people face over every aspect of their appearance; it's false equivalency. "Wear what you want" doesn't require a daily act of courage from me, a rejection of years of social conditioning, the strength to face media-sanctioned cruelty from strangers. So I'm not going to demand bravery from activists who have been doing it for years, or from people whose bodies and clothing choices are none of my business, but I am going to demand an act of kindness from everyone else. 

We've been brainwashed by countless "circle of shame" or "worst dressed" photos to have similarly uncharitable thoughts about the people around us; people who dare to defy clothing conventions; who dare to (in the words of pearl-clutching tabloids) 'flaunt their assets'. Maybe we need to unpack why we leap to conclusions about folk who just want to go about their day feeling fabulous about themselves. Are we jealous of their apparent fearlessness, angry that they've decided that the rules don't apply to them when we've been trying so hard to follow the rules so closely, and are still told that we're found wanting? Whenever we criticise someone else for being "overdressed" or "not making an effort", for revealing or concealing too much of themselves, we're not just policing their bodies but also our own. We're restricting everyone's freedom of self-expression, but most vital of all we're restricting everyone's ability to feel comfortable in their own skin and just move through the world without attracting unwanted commentary. 

The acts of kindness I want to see involve, at the most basic level, doing nothing. If you don't approve of someone's appearance - who cares? Keep it to yourself! There's a wealth of old adages that can apply to this situation, and with good reason; petty meanness has never been a good look on anyone. Compliment pals who are rocking great outfits instead.

Hopefully this will already be second nature to you, and you might feel emboldened to gently challenge body shaming if you hear it from friends or family, and ignore it when you see it presented as a click-bait headline. As Labour's general election campaign showed, it's possible to challenge the status quo in quite a radical way and win people over to your cause if you do it in a thoughtful and positive way. I was so glad to see that there isn't an infinite appetite for cruelty, spite and deliberate misinformation. People have shown that they can be nuanced in their thinking, and that they are open to a kinder, fairer way of being. But rather than expecting other people to create this world for us, we have to push back, even in the smallest ways, against the relentless negativity we have been subjected to for far too long. Being bitchy is so last season, this summer should be all about kindness, and the joy (or, quite honestly, just quiet relief), that can bring into all our lives.

"I'm saving it for best" - the hierarchy within our wardrobes and how to dismantle it

A couple of weeks ago I went to a birthday do for two friends, with the following dress code:

1. Clothes, mostly, damn decency laws
2. Your own clothes? (tbf this is optional)
3. Clothes you like wearing, want an excuse to wear, bought and haven't worn yet, or want an excuse to buy. 

Given permission to put their glad rags on without worrying about looking overdressed, everyone looked fabulous and some people even brought a change of outfit for partway through the evening! I was limited by my Six Items Challenge restrictions but managed to find a fancy necklace I hadn't had an excuse to wear for a while.

While some of us enjoy an opportunity to dress up, everyone enjoys an opportunity to wear something that will make them feel great without the fear of falling foul of a dress code. Being required to wear a specific type of clothing for certain occasions, we often end up with a strange hierarchy of clothes in our wardrobes, where the clothes we feel obliged to buy 'for best' might be expensive but rarely worn, or our ideal outfit might be considered inappropriate for everyday wear.

Most of us will wear the same small selection of things over and over again; our trusty jeans and jumpers, comfy leggings and jersey t shirts, easy-to-accessorise dresses. As these pieces get old and worn, they might be relegated from smart work-wear to casual weekend wear, then to household chores or gardening, and finally to painting/DIY, and after this they will languish at the bottom of our wardrobes, crusty with grime and dust, because we are reluctant to put them in the washing machine with any other clothes. Meanwhile, the outfits we felt compelled to buy for formal occasions hang about, rarely worn, reminding us that most of the time we just don't get the opportunity to be very fancy.

Having the ideal wardrobe for you, where everything gets worn but not worn out too fast, isn't going to be achieved by throwing everything out and starting again, but by slowly weeding out the things that aren't working for you and finding excuses to wear the things you really like more often.

I wouldn't endorse buying something for the sake of it, but I can't argue with buying something you love and can't wait to wear. So many of our shopping 'habits' are based around grudgingly buying things we are obliged to own to comply with a dress code, hastily replacing basics with whatever is easiest and quickest to purchase, or desperately searching for a new version of a well-worn and beloved garment when trends have changed. Buying something we can imagine being our best selves in should be the rule when we're clothes shopping, not the exception!

Whatever your version of 'for best' is, it might not be possible to wear it every day, but you'd probably be able to wear it more often. The key is your personal comfort: if you enjoy wearing your best clothes, there's no reason you should conform to an 'off duty' dress code as well as the one you might have to follow for work. Your friends won't judge you for looking more 'you', so liberate your rarely worn clothes and see how much more wear you can get from the contents of your wardrobe.

Throw out the fashion rule book! (Here's my step-by-step, how-to guide!)

One evening last June, scrolling through social media on my way home from work, I noticed several of my friends were (unsurprisingly) annoyed about a clickbait-y article listing items and styles of clothing women shouldn't wear past the age of 30. Against my better judgement, I looked, and by the time I got home I was determined to push back against depressingly petty and mean-spirited online content in a positive and funny way, so I gathered together all my age-inappropriate items (there were rather a lot of them), took some selfies and posted them on Facebook. The response from my friends was overwhelming, and a couple of people even reached out in personal messages to say how much it cheered them to see someone pointing out how silly fashion 'rules' are.

I am Too Old for leopard print and graphic tees, apparently!

It's easy for me to make fun of someone else's arbitrary ideas of what is "right" or "wrong" for a woman my age to wear, because my body (through no great effort of my own) conforms to "acceptable" beauty standards. I am unlikely to be ridiculed or insulted because of my appearance, and I haven't had to fight against society's expectations and prejudices to feel happy about the way I look. I am aware that many people don't have the luxury of saying "just wear what you want, who cares?", because they will be judged, harshly and publicly. 

I think it was this realisation that made me uncomfortably aware of an unpleasant side of fashion that I'd always chosen to ignore. For a creative industry, fashion can be extremely conservative and short-sighted. For an industry that pretends to make us feel good about ourselves, the only way it seems to think it can generate repeat business is to make us feel inadequate.


This saddens me, because many fashion houses are full of creative talent, but as the same styles re-emerge on the Spring/Summer and Autumn/Winter catwalks each year, worn by an identikit array of similar shaped people, I can't help feeling that everyone is stuck in a rut.

So, because lists of fashion rules on the internet still seem to be a thing, here's my version. Don't worry, it's very short, and they're more like... guidelines. 

• If this nonsense isn't going anywhere, get comfortable. Unless you run away to live in the woods, we are all going to need to keep wearing clothes, and you need to attend to your own levels of comfort before those of the fashion rule-makers. If you have many more hours in the day than I do, by all means feel free to perform complicated fashion calculus about the exact percentage of bare skin we should be showing. As for the rest of us, as long as you aren't wearing a t shirt emblazoned with swear words in front of a room full of small children, your outfit is probably appropriate. As a bare minimum, your day-to-day wardrobe should not make you suffer physical discomfort. 

• Embrace individuality and difference. That means other people's, as well as your own. We could probably all stand to be a little less judgemental of everyone else's fashion choices.  Take a moment to remember that other people's bodies, lifestyles and finances are varied and subject to change. 

• Wear what you love, sincerely. Can we please abandon the concept of wearing (or doing) things we don't like, in an 'ironic' way? The more I think about this, the more uncomfortable it makes me. If the clothes you love aren't ever in the pages of glossy magazines, or are sneered at for being "so last season", ask yourself why the industry is so desperate for you to feel like your wardrobe isn't up to scratch. If your answer is "because capitalism", congratulations! You are correct! If you have spent years collecting unfashionable clothes that make you feel like your best self, you are setting a great example (and you look amazing!). Keep up the good work! 

• Solidarity with your comrades. Support businesses who are doing good - brands who are transparent about their supply chain, pay workers a fair wage, and are passionate about their designs, thoughtful in their choice of fabrics. The fashion industry as a whole might just view you as a generic consumer, but plenty of small brands are looking to cultivate customer loyalty by appealing to you as a conscientious citizen as well as to your sense of aesthetics.