Dressing a Plus Size Body With Joy

For most of my twenties I dressed to be overlooked. Dark colours, long sleeves, nothing that might invite a comment. It worked. I was overlooked, and I was miserable in a very well-covered way.

Flattering is the least interesting word in fashion

Ask what a garment is doing rather than what it is hiding. Does it move well, does the colour make my face light up, can I raise my arms, do I like catching sight of myself in it. Those questions produce a completely different wardrobe from the concealment ones.

Fit is the whole argument

Nearly everything I once believed about my body turned out to be a fit problem. Shoulders that sat wrong, waists placed by a size chart rather than by my actual waist, sleeves cut for a narrower arm. A tailor is the single highest-return relationship in a plus-size wardrobe in India, and it is not expensive.

• Shoulder seams that end where my shoulder ends.
• A waist seam placed on my waist, not two inches above it.
• Sleeves I can lift both arms in without the whole garment rising.

A well-fitted bright dress will always beat a badly fitted dark one.

Colour, at last

I wear maroon, teal, royal blue and gold now. Not because they are slimming, which I no longer care about, but because they photograph beautifully and because I like them. Black is still in the wardrobe, as a choice rather than a hiding place.

Structure is a kindness

Structured fabric holds a shape so my body does not have to argue with it all evening. Heavy silk, crepe and good cotton do this. Clingy jersey does not, unless I want it to, which sometimes I do.

The part that took longest

The clothes were straightforward. The permission was not. What finally shifted was noticing how differently I moved through a room in something I loved, and deciding that feeling was worth more than the imagined opinion of strangers.