In/exclusion in fashion discourse: Are we in or out ?

Abstract

This article analyzes the conceptual framing of inclusion and exclusion in fashion discourse, discussing how women are denied or restricted the access to the bounded space of fashion based on a part of their identity, be it their race, religion, disability, gender identification, body weight, or social class. It relies on the data corpus is 1061 Vogue articles, collected between July 2019 and June 2020 and analyzed qualitatively. The current study complements ample research on the container metaphor in political discourse and aims to open a debate on the role of this metaphorical model in a so far largely overlooked discourse of fashion. Drawing on the Conceptual Metaphor Theory and Critical Discursive Psychology, I demonstrate how the container metaphor pinpoints the repertoire of inclusivity, problematizes the dichotomous relationship between the center and periphery of the fashion industry, and normalizes roles of insiders and outsiders in fashion.

Keywords

Conceptual Metaphor Theory Critical Discursive Psychology exclusion fashion discourse inclusivity

Introduction: Exclusionary practices in fashion

In fashion, like in other discourses, one can observe social relations and distributions of power and agency between the privileged (with access to control) and the less privileged (whose interpretations of discourse are influenced) (Van Dijk, 1993: 254). Discourses manage perceptions, beliefs, and values, not necessarily with the aim of a (negatively connoted) manipulation but with the power of discursive constructions and the aim of normalizing certain repertoires and behaviors (Van Dijk, 2001). Davis (1992: 200–203) discusses two models of fashion. The populist one is concerned with consumers of fashion and their daily dressing practices; the fashion system one explains how fashion discourse functions: it has the center (e.g., designers, haute couture houses, magazine editors) and periphery (e.g., consumers and readers). In this research, I focus on the latter model and prioritize language ideologies over fashion’s phenomenology (Simmel, 1974 [1904]).

The 20th-century scholars established a firm interest in fashion as a system, cultural phenomenon, and embodied practice (e.g., Barnard, 1996; Craik, 1993; Davis, 1992; Entwistle, 2000; Kaiser et al., 1991; McRobbie, 1998; Wilson, 2003 [1985]) and magazines as discursive sites of fashion (e.g., Ferguson, 1983; Kroeber, 1919; McCracken, 1993; Winship, 1987; Young, 1966 [1939]). Their 21st-century colleagues continued with researching fashion’s social nature and institutional mechanisms (e.g., Halliday, 2022; Kawamura, 2004; Reilly, 2014; Reilly and Barry, 2020), critique of Eurocentrism (e.g., Gaugele and Titton, 2019; Jansen, 2020; Kaiser, 2012?), discursive practices (e.g., Duffy, 2013; Jones and Hawley, 2016; König, 2006; Machin and Van Leeuwen, 2005; Moeran, 2010, 2013; Sypeck et al., 2004), and fashion blogosphere (e.g., De Perthuis and Findlay, 2019; Duffy and Hund, 2015; Rocamora, 2017, 2018; Titton, 2015). Below, I will zoom in on the sources closely aligned with this paper to marry the perspectives of fashion as a hierarchical, socially exclusionary system with fashion as an embodied, discursive practice.

Scholars studying the rhetoric of fashion magazines agree that editors wield a significant influence over their readers’ perception (Machin and Van Leeuwen, 2005; McRobbie, 1998). Fashion writers give meanings to trends and shape a discourse of taste through evaluative framing and conceptualization of esthetics and desirability (Findlay and Reponen, 2023; Moeran, 2013). In this context, Moeran (2010) emphasizes a hindrance to in-depth fashion research: the industry editors are reluctant to assist academics if the research topic extends beyond production and covers exclusionary practices (Duffy, 2013; Gough-Yates, 2003; cf. McCracken, 1993). The observed lack of inclusion and ubiquitous marginalization of bodies have become the focus of recent research. For instance, König (2006: 220) studies British Vogue and posits that despite some positive changes since McRobbie’s (1998) seminal work, the lack of diversity remains striking. Kaiser and Green (2021), revisiting Kaiser (2012), engage with Crenshaw’s (1991) intersectionality theory to critique the Euromodern approach to fashion. To them, it is one of rather than the only possible interpretation of embodied experiences (cf., Entwistle, 2000; Gaugele and Titton, 2019; Jansen, 2020; Sypeck et al., 2004). The privileged Western interpretation is biased and constraining: it hinders the understanding of how complex intersections of subject positions communicate people’s habitus. While Kaiser and Green (2021) discuss marginalization at large, other scholars focus on specific groups. For instance, Tarlo (2010) explores how the veiling practice makes Muslim women simultaneously visible as a perceived threat and invisible as fashion players (see also Lewis, 2019). In turn, Klepp and Rysst (2017), Kabel et al. (2016), and McBee-Black (2021) focus on the industry’s responsibility in representing bodies with disabilities. Magazines can spotlight individuals and brands by including them into their discourse literally and figuratively, for example, Vogue declares clothing as fashion and sanctions people as credible (Burton and Melkumova-Reynolds, 2019; Jones and Hawley, 2016: 7; Reilly, 2014: 12).

Despite the growing body of scholarship, the underrepresentation of diversity is so drastic that it starts with apparel textbooks and is mirrored in magazines (Reddy-Best et al. 2018; Reilly and Barry, 2020). A test-the-water analysis demonstrates how ideas of exclusion are manifested on the meta-level, for example, Vogue is predominantly controlled by white, middle-class insiders (David, 2006; Sypeck et al., 2004). It was only in the 1960s that it first featured a black model and in the 1980s that it introduced a large-bodied woman (Peters, 2014; Wilson, 2003 [1985]: 200). These marginalized groups are represented separately in, for example, Ebony or The Big Beautiful Woman, with mainstream media marked by a ‘relatively untroubled slimness’ (McRobbie, 2015: 13). Salient discourses of exclusion are problematic in that they place diversity(es) into isolated containers instead of uniting them. They feed on the idea of competition, rendering the patriarchal power relatively invisible, although manufacturers of branded garment retail are predominantly men and consumers of fashion are women (Aspers, 2010: 143; Gill, 2007). While some sartorial practices are indeed culture-specific and conceptualized as such (Moeran, 2013: 139), the demarcation of what supposedly suits each race is rooted in century-long discrimination and social division. It is what happens in discourse, where the power is the Western privilege, with a white woman as the archetype of a consumerist (Davis, 1992: 201; cf. McCracken, 1993; Van Dijk, 1993: 268). This idea activates the container scheme with a center and periphery. The inness and outness of fashion is then not a mere line separating seasonal trends but a metaphorical and literal demarcation. Being in fashion implies both buying clothes and owning a body that is included into the beauty standards, defined by the center (von Busch, 2018: 313).

Even though fashion discourse becomes less centralized – with bloggers and their self-fashioning practices – it remains aligned with dominant ideals of beauty and standards of who is allowed to the inside of the fashion world (Findlay, 2019; Rocamora, 2017, 2018; Titton, 2015). Fashion bloggers, yesterday’s outsiders, are now featured in magazines and invited to exclusive fashion shows (Halliday, 2022: 9). They try to fit in this privileged space and, following Rocamora (2018) and De Perthuis and Findlay (2019), replicate the capitalist logic of the industry to acquire their cultural and financial capital (Duffy, 2013; Duffy and Hund, 2015; Titton, 2015). While the topic of blogosphere is an interesting strand of research in itself, the scope of this article does not allow to linger over it. Interested readers may refer to for example, Duffy (2013), Titton (2015), Rocamora (2017, 2018), and Findlay (2019).

In-/exclusion via metaphors

Where there is power, there is space for exclusion, which takes place in or rather from a container (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980): groups are metaphorically conceptualized within this image scheme and assigned places in the center or on the periphery, that is, granted the right of dominance or reserved a marginalized role (Chilton, 1996: 60). Due to their ideological functions, metaphors sparked academic interest in for example, gendered (e.g., Koller, 2011; Ringrow, 2020), medical (e.g., Gibbs, 2015; Gibbs and Frank, 2002; Semino et al., 2018), and political (e.g., Charteris-Black, 2006, 2011; Chilton, 1996, 2004; Ferrari, 2007) discourses.

Koller and Davidson (2008), discussing social in/exclusion in politics, find references to the metaphor purposes are destinations: being in the center of a bounded space is the end goal. Those who reach it enjoy privileges unlike those on the periphery. The very concept of inclusion suggests the dichotomy with exclusion and implies that insiders shape the discourse (cf., Chilton, 2004: 52). Interestingly, lexicalization of being outside is frequently complemented by verbal processes changed into states to background the insiders’ responsibility and divert the focus from human agents (Alejo, 2010; Koller and Davidson, 2008). Subsequently, exclusion is conceptualized as the fault of the excluded. That countries are often conceived as containers, with the inside to be protected and the outside to be feared, has also been widely studied in political discourse by e.g., Charteris-Black (2006), Drulák (2006), Pilyarchuk and Onysko (2018). However, such analysis is insufficient in fashion discourse, save for several forays in visual culture (Kaiser and Ketchum, 2005; Kociołek, 2018), religious fashion (Hirsch, 2021; Ringrow, 2020), and broadly contemplated by Bauman (2010) and Kaiser and Green (2021).

Kaiser and Green (2021: 248–255) argue for the usefulness of metaphors to undermine essentialist ways of thinking about fashion and power. They provide, inter alia, two opposing metaphors: a pyramid (for class hierarchy with the most influential on top) and a percolation (for how fashion goes from bottom to top, starting in the streets). Following Simmel (1974 [1904]), these represent the trickle-down and trickle-up theories respectively (Reilly, 2014: 57–64). In turn, Bauman (2010) sees fashion as a perpetuum mobile that, once activated, needs no stimulus to keep running. It feeds on people’s two dilemmatic urges – to be unique versus to dissolve in the crowd (cf. Barnard, 1996: 139; Kociołek, 2018: 712). The inclusion/exclusion dilemma pierces Bauman’s thinking about fashion as a phenomenon that gives possibilities for (non)belonging and motivates self-change as a way of keeping up with the fashion machine. The very essence of fashion is a chase-and-flee game, where the less privileged pursue the taste of the more privileged (Simmel, 1974 [1904]: 309; Tseëlon, 1992). This argumentation further triggers the metaphor of mobility, where a distance in physical space is a difference in values. In her research on the 20–21st-century fashion, informed by Kövecses’ (2010: 63–65) metaphors of material culture, Kociołek (2018) concludes that dressing is always about social inclusion. She argues that women expressed their membership sartorially in the first-wave (by following normative dressing practices) and second-wave feminism (by challenging norms via liberating clothes).¹ Thus, fashion is about associating oneself with a group.

Magazines uphold the myth of fashion’s validity, following Kövecses’ (2005: 164, 2010: 311) ideas on metaphors in physical events. Thus, businesses assign values to spaces by linking proximity to values or taste, for example, mass-market stores are normally located close to each other in a mall, whereas luxury stores occupy a separate nook (Aspers, 2010: 41). This way, brands exclude some buyers and include others, creating collective fashion (Moeran, 2013). The practice is further promulgated by fashion shows as ritual gatherings of insiders who are granted the permission to enter. People embody metaphors there: high-status individuals (designers and celebrities) sit near the stage (centrally), whereas the rest (consumers) are seated at a periphery (Halliday, 2022: 53; Kövecses, 2005: 164). This spatial arrangement is a manifestation of important is central: what is further from the center holds less value (Peña, 2008). While fashion shows invite bloggers as mediators to relay trends to followers, these events remain highly exclusionary. First, the blogger’s literal and metaphorical place is defined by their influence. Second, their followers are only allowed to join from a distance, a selective practice highlighting layers of the elitist access to fashion spaces (Halliday, 2022)

Vogue as data

Vogue U.S. is the most popular of Condè Nast’s 28 editions and a keeper of fashion history² (Jones and Hawley, 2016: 3). Started in 1892 to serve the Eurocentric elite, it gave people the definition of en vogue – this pun suggests the dichotomy of being in or out of not only trends (vogue) but also pages of the privileged magazine (Vogue) (David, 2006: 13). Scholars studying Vogue agree that it is on top of the hierarchy and holds the power of assigning meaning to fashion (Jones and Hawley, 2016; Van de Peer, 2015). Its vision is sought in times of crises, for example, the COVID-19 lockdown, Black Lives Matter movement, (anti)-transgender legislation,³ and emerging military conflicts. As yet another example, after the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Condè Nast made a political stance by leaving the Russian stage. On March 9, 2022, Vogue Russia officially suspended any broadcasts, and Vogue U.S. started featuring more content on Ukraine. Among other demonstrations of inclusion, Vogue spotlights the need for fair representations of racial visibility (e.g., ‘Has the Black Lives Matter Movement Changed Hollywood’s Approach to Inclusivity’, April 22, 2021) and transgender struggle (e.g., ‘This Girl’s Life: On Growing up Trans in Texas’, June 30, 2022). Such texts are essential but mostly published in non-fashion columns, while the underrepresentation of marginalized groups on runways and as a focus of fashion-related discussions remains problematic.

Interested in Vogue’s practices of in/exclusion, I manually collected a year worth of data (July 2019–June 2020) by logging into vogue.com daily and retrieving fashion-focused editorials (n = 1061). While the last section’s examples stem from the resultant corpus, my analysis is not limited by it since I have been following Vogue’s magazine, Instagram, and Twitter accounts for the last 7 years.

Methodological approach

The framework of this research is the combination of the Critical Discursive Psychology (CDP) (Edley, 2001; Wiggins, 2017) and Conceptual Metaphor Theory (CMT) (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980). Pinpointing conceptual metaphors in discourse allows to describe ideologies, manipulative strategies, and societal views (Koller and Davidson, 2008: 310). I will demonstrate how fashion is construed as a container, whose discursively erected walls serve as a demarcation between the megaphone-holding group inside and the less heard group outside (Van Dijk, 1993: 260) and how a systematic analysis of the container metaphor helps uncover practices of exclusion.

In the analyzed texts, producers of metaphors (writers) are inside the ‘fashion container’ and hold the power to position themselves and readers. Their conceptualization and a subsequent analysis of repertoires to which they contribute allows for describing how some framings are preferred over others (Charteris-Black, 2011: 32). It also helps uncover normalizations of systemic exclusion and question this salient practice. There has been little linguistic research on metaphors in fashion, save for Kaiser and Ketchum’s (2005) focus on metaphor and consumption, Kaiser’s (2012) discussion of the time-space convergence in Möbius strip, and Hirsch’s (2021) and Ringrow’s (2020) studies on metaphors in religious fashion. None of the fashion scholars looked into how metaphors facilitate exclusion the way they do it in politics (e.g., Chilton 1996; Koller and Davidson, 2008; Pilyarchuk and Onysko, 2018; Santa-Ana, 1999). Thus, I mostly had to rely on my theoretical knowledge and academic intuition to interpret the functions of such metaphors.

I conducted a qualitative analysis of my Vogue corpus (n = 1061 articles or 951,360 words) using MAXQDA, a software for in-depth qualitative research, with built-in features for thematic coding. The first step consisted in finding trigger words that lexicalized container metaphors, established in previous studies on political discourse (Charteris-Black, 2006; Drulák, 2006; Peña, 2008): lemmas of inclu-/exclu-, external/internal, inside/outside, in/out of (fashion/industry/fashion industry/fashion world), beyond/within fashion, door, limit, restraint, boundary, barrier, access, entry open, close, shut, center, bubble. Then, the Pragglejaz procedure was used to identify metaphors and double-check whether a trigger activated figurative meanings. The procedure involves a first reading of the corpus, subdividing it into discourse units, identifying metaphorical snippets, consulting a dictionary for the initial meaning, and establishing source domains (Pragglejaz Group, 2007; Steen, 2007). The second step was tagging the domains and defining patterns behind them for the subsequent investigation of resultant repertoires (Edley, 2001). The third step involved a close reading to spot metaphors not activated by the triggers (cf. Gibbs and Frank, 2002).

After tagging the metaphors, I investigated the repetitive repertoires formed around the container domain. In CDP, an interpretative repertoire is ‘a lexicon or register of terms and metaphors drawn upon to characterize and evaluate actions and events’ (Potter and Wetherell, 1987: 138) or ‘clusters of terms organized around a central metaphor’ (Wiggins and Potter, 2007: 74). Thus, identifying metaphors allows for a thematic coding of passages as forming repertoires. As some repertoires are contradictory, they invite multiple interpretations and display ideological dilemmas. Closely analyzed repertoires also highlight two types of subject positions: ones assumed by authors to convey evaluations and ones assigned by them to others (Edley, 2001). According to Edley (2001), such positions and repertoires are fluid; the once virtually uniform repertoire of a woman as a housewife and child-minder is ousted by her career-focused and childfree choices. Using these CDP tools, I examined the snippets around the container domain, coded them to arrive at repetitive interpretative repertoires, and analyzed potential contradictions to spotlight dilemmas. It allowed for if not an exhaustive than at least thorough reflection on how in/exclusion is constructed in fashion discourse.

Findings

Overview and discussion of repertoires

Moving to the analysis, container serves as the source domain for two target domains in the corpus: fashion and clothes. The former revolves around the industry and problems of diversity, and the latter can be extended to clothes are container of identities and is subject to separate research. Both serve as thematic codes for repertoires of fashion. The theme of inclusivity is one of the most dominant, with the following interpretative repertoires: inclusion of diversity, sealed container, responsibility in fashion industry, and clothes as a means. Figure 1 presents the general distribution of trigger words forming the container metaphor and contributing to the framings of in/ex-clusion.

Figure 1.

Lexicalization of the container metaphors.

Most container metaphors in the corpus are lexicalized via the following antonymic dyads and their lemmas: include/exclude, in/out of fashion/fashion world/fashion industry, and within/beyond fashion (replicating the political-discourse findings in e.g., Charteris-Black, 2006; Drulák, 2006; Santa-Ana, 1999). The noun fashion is often omitted, requiring a manual analysis (e.g., in this/our industry/in this/our world). The exclu-, out of, and beyond framings do not necessarily convey negative connotations but are also used to self-position positively – to juxtapose one’s position to that of other (negatively framed) insiders who try to keep the fashion container intact. It may be illustrated by (1), where Olivier Rousteing, Balmain’s creative director, reinforces this construction meta-textually and draws comparisons between fashion and his personal COVID-time experience. He would constantly stay at home alone and even fail to open his car windows to enjoy Paris sights. He then dismantles the idea of sealed container lives that do not allow for new ideas. In that, he uses the active voice and first-person pronouns to assume agency for bridging the gap between outsiders and insiders, modality (have to, need) to communicate inclusivity as a necessity, and volition (want) to convey his intention of contributing to this process. Rousteing conceptualizes both himself and the industry as containers (closed houses) when he speaks about opening his doors to people.⁴ He is an entity with an in-out orientation (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980: 29; Santa-Ana, 1999: 206) that will no longer be bounded by previous ideas (rules) of bodily esthetics and will instead welcome all kinds of beauty (different people). Simultaneously, his industry will no longer shut doors in front of people who strive to enter.

(1) We have to be more spontaneous, not follow rules – we need to be more inclusive as an industry. I want to do fashion shows for different people; to open my doors to people who are not part of the system (Vogue, April 25, 2020).

Due to space concerns, I devote the rest of the paper to the repertoire of inclusion of diversity. In my corpus, it was formed via the following sub-categories: inclusion of (a) non-normative bodies, (b) people with (dis)abilities, (c) different races, (d) various religions, (e) non-binary genders, and (f) different social classes. Below are examples of (c)–(f), and the last two sections will detail (a)–(b).

The evaluations conveyed in (2)–(5) are positive in that they present exclusion, confines, barriers, lack of access, and the closed world as being overcome. These examples foreground the brands and people who are taking a stance against exclusion based on one’s racial background (2), religious beliefs (3), stereotypical gender dressing practices (4), and financial status (5). Since it is the voices of the insiders, the ones working within [fashion world], that are heard (2), they are the ones positioned as responsible. Their own access to the industry is salient, unlike that of the excluded. The lexicalization of biases preventing the entry as barriers and confines conveys an image of physical impediments, and the need to dismantle them suggests a laborious effort and long process of disintegrating a complex structure, constructing the inside as strongly protected. While the fashion industry functions as separate, brick-and-mortar spaces – represented by stores, fashion houses, photoshoot studios, etc. – the primary impediments to entry are invisible and ideologically (re)produced by dominant discourses, positioning people as either having the access right or not.

(2) As the fashion world continues to reckon with issues of representation and diversity, the conversation has focused on people already working within it [. . .]. Nana Agyemang, the founder of EveryStylishGirl and social editor of New York magazine’s the Cut, is thinking beyond the confines of the industry, toward dismantling the barriers to entry for Black and Brown women who have yet to get their start [. . .]. (Vogue, June 30, 2020)

It is never explicitly stated who erected the barriers or closed the doors to the fashion world for outsiders. It is only the remedy that some agents propose, amplifying their arguments with assertive, for example, make sure (3), really enjoy (4), and I know (5). These excerpts are also framed to negate the circulating assertions that exclusion is already there and do so with positive implications. The authors depart from the point where there are issues of representation and diversity (2), the stereotypical model that clothes are only for women (4), and that not everyone can spend a few hundred dollars on a fashion item (5).

(3) ‘When I started speaking to Adi about inclusivity and the designs, we wanted to make sure we included women who need to cover their hair and do so comfortably’, explained Shippee via email. (Vogue, June 1, 2020).

(4) Rae’s inclusive casting broke the stereotypical model mold in an effort to show that her clothes are made for everyone – not just every woman. ‘The future of fashion is nonbinary, and I really enjoy opening up our exercises to that’, she said. (Vogue, September 9, 2019).

(5) I’ve never wanted to exclude anyone based on their ability to afford a $300 swimsuit. So, I think the more accessible we can be in our price point, the more inclusive we can be overall. (Vogue, September 7, 2019)

While (2) and (5) focus on welcoming women of all races into the predominantly white industry, the accompanying photographs in both feature a non-white group. It alludes to the previously raised problem of isolated fashion containers ‘for the other’ instead of a one shared container ‘for everyone’. It seems that even when framed as positive changes, efforts of inclusivity do not aim at inviting the marginalized into the industry for the privileged but to imitate it. These positively framed and change-oriented excerpts testify to the inherent division between the insiders and outsiders. They also position the change agents as the insiders who assume the responsibility and juxtapose themselves against the other insiders, ones who created the exclusion.

Inclusion of diversity

Inclusion of (dis)abilities

The representation of disability in fashion has recently sparked much academic interest from the sociological perspective (e.g., Foster and Pettinicchio, 2022; Garland-Thompson, 2002) and textile and apparel disciplines (e.g., Kabel et al., 2016; Lamb, 2001; McBee-Black and Ha-Brookshire, 2020). Studying Teen Vogue, Foster and Pettinicchio (2022) find audience’s positive reactions to representation of disability and empowering messages behind it. Scholars and activists (e.g., Mindy Scheier, Victoria Modesta) have been advocating for launching apparel lines for wearers with disabilities within mainstream fashion collections, adapting dress to special needs rather than creating a separate market and marginalizing these consumers (Burton and Melkumova-Reynolds, 2019; McBee-Black, 2021). This idea was adopted by retailers like, for example, ASOS and Target. On the other hand, there are industry’s gatekeepers with the authority to share their esthetic vision (Entwistle, 2002: 327). They contribute to keeping people with disabilities overlooked (McBee-Black, 2021). This exclusion is framed as problematic in (6.1), where Emily Barker, who goes by the pronoun ‘they’, shares their views on (dis)abled bodies in fashion. Throughout the article, they conceptualize the world as a larger container and fashion (the industry) as a smaller container, which people with disabilities struggle to enter. Barker’s choice to partake in fashion is discursively constructed as an effort to make their fashion identity stronger than their disabled identity (6.1). Assuming agency via the first-person pronoun, they self-present as a confident, empowered individual in the postfeminist society where they can make independent dressing choices (also see Gill, 2007). Simultaneously, Barker puts a blame on those around for excluding them from the definition of beauty. They use a negatively connoted verb stare to describe people’s usual practices in evaluation of Barker’s dressing and immediately refute the very idea that their body should attract any staring by expressing the plan to give them something to stare at. They use the intensifier really to emphasize that their dressing rather than the body would attract attention.

(6.1) I’m not expected to be dressing well or attractive in any sense. If people are going to stare at me, then I’m going to really give them something to stare at [. . .]

While Barker has appeared in ad campaigns for L.A. fashion labels 69 and Fear Safe, they are wary of brands using them and other disabled models as a Band-Aid to cover some of the fashion industry’s more deep-rooted problems. They say that the everyday issues of people with disabilities won’t be solved by ‘virtue signaling’ or tokenism. And they say that some brands that try to appear inclusive in their casting choices sometimes don’t make the necessary accommodations to work with disabled models [. . .]. ‘Honestly, it’s really hard to find brands or organizations that are willing to listen – and then take into consideration – your access needs’, they say. ‘I don’t wear skinny short pants because I am not comfortable with my CRPS, and I can’t wear certain cuts of clothes as they get caught in my wheelchair tires, and [when designers and stylists hear this,] they’re just like, “Oh, this is too much.”’ (Vogue, September 17, 2019).

With (6.1), they celebrate their disabled body and style. At the same time, the article constantly shifts to Barker’s narrative of their body limitations rather than fashion, confirming Foster and Pettinicchio’s (2022: 596) observations: even when allowed inside of Vogue, disabled people are there to tell their medical story rather than boast of their sartorial taste (cf. Burton and Melkumova-Reynolds, 2019: 197). Their fashion identity is intentionally backgrounded for the sake of the disabled one, which is the opposite of which Barker strives to achieve. Barker discursively constructs fashion insiders as dishonest in (6.1): Barker is wary of the fact that they use models like them to cover deep-rooted problems. Interestingly, Barker reverses the emphasis on their disability and instead draws attention to the industry’s disability. They conceptualize fashion as a sick patient seeking a band-aid (models) to cover deep wounds. To Barker, a band-aid is only a temporary, superficial solution in which a cut is not properly treated, continuing with the metaphor of fashion industry as a patient.

Barker takes it further by calling the representation of disability a tokenism, intensifying the band-aid metaphor. The interviewee blames fashion insiders and positions them as hypocritic while self-positioning as the insiders’ shield against criticism of not being inclusive. Here emerges the dilemma of inclusivity on the surface against poor treatment behind the closed door of the container. Speaking about Barker’s access needs, they conceptualize access both literally and figuratively. As a wheelchair user, they require special transportation. At the same time, their metaphoric entrance into fashion is associated with a different level of comfort than that required by the able-bodied: in the world socially and physically constructed for the latter, Barker fails to receive necessary arrangements. They then cite the collective voice of fashion insiders (this is too much), evoking the excess schema within a container (too much liquid flowing into a container may overflow or ruin the walls – Peña, 2008: 1048). Disabled models are thus perceived as a threat to the industry, similarly to immigrants (in political discourse studies), whose inflow may ruin the ubiquitous order and break the country’s borders (Ferrari, 2007; Santa-Ana, 1999). Barker implies that while the fashion industry opened its doors for ‘other bodies’, the insiders are not ready to lose control of this bounded space. It echoes Charteris-Black’s (2006) conclusion that the persuasive power of the container metaphor lies in its blending of time and space, resulting into the framing of control over social change is control over movement of people. This movement needs to be controlled to reinstate the power of the privileged and protect the inside from the unknown. In Barker’s text, the casting becomes a symbolic space where the control over movement of models is exercised.

Barker’s accusations of superficial inclusivity mirror Foster and Pettinicchio’s (2022: 292) findings that the fashion industry mostly pretends to be diverse to sell products via exotic bodies. Featuring a model with a disability may be a strategic decision rather than an attempt of true inclusivity – virtue signaling, in Barker’s terms.

Barker self-positions as a fighter later in (6.2) and constructs their refusal to assume a victim’s role textually and visually. They allow a glimpse into their Instagram profile (@celestial_investments) featuring mirror selfies and define their cuteness as a response to discriminations from which women and non-binary people suffer.

(6.2) I would not look this cute if I didn’t have a reason to represent a whole body of people that are totally discriminated against and silenced. (Vogue, September 17, 2019).

By these discursive and performative actions, Barker invites other Instagram users to take a stance. With a following base of 34.5k users, they deconstruct the world of fashion and harshly criticize segregative practices toward wheelchair users. Thereby, they openly self-position as ‘chronically ill, CRPS, paraplegia, and so much more’ to demonstrate how they are not afraid of their disabled identity while asserting that this identity does not define them as a whole.

Inclusion of (non)normative bodies

Fatness has a dual nature, like gender: biological, related to the body’s mass index, and socially learned (Peters, 2014: 46). In other words, fatness is, to an extent, a construct promulgated by media. A mere glimpse into a fashion periodical reinforces the value of corporeal identities by over-presenting slenderness. Fashion scholars agree that the diversity of body representation mostly is a lip service or sporadically introduced practice, used to repel criticism (Entwistle et al., 2019; Sypeck et al., 2004). At the same time, fashion producers treasure the status quo and position their esthetics as a professional skill rather than a socially constructed preference. The resultant exclusion of non-slender women urges them to find own fashion spaces, for example, launching events or blogs for people from the periphery (Peters, 2014: 52, 57). As discussed earlier, it risks turning into a plethora of isolated spaces for a socially constructed non-normativity, which may further aggravate the division within fashion.

The corpus of this research confirms the conceptualization of a fashion system as a container where marginalized ‘fashions’ like plus-size are isolated containers, separated from the main one with an ‘impenetrable’ barrier (Volonte, 2021: 140). Numerous instances of lexicalizations such as size-inclusive fashion/show/collection/brand also lend the noun size a negative connotation: it evokes the negatively perceived plus-size term, suggesting some deviation from the norm and evoking the cognitive scheme of excess. The same concerns the body-positive framing – it conveys a dichotomy of positive and negative bodies as well as an idea that it is not a normatively beautiful body even if accepted by some. This conceptualization emphasizes the body’s sexualization in an attempt to squeeze it into the widely accepted beauty standards. Therefore, scholars such as Darwin and Miller (2020) and Brathwaite et al. (2023) propose the body neutrality framing, where all body sizes would be celebrated for their self-worth, disconnected from expectations toward their attractiveness.

In an interview for Vogue, Beanie Feldstein verbalizes exclusion from space (7.1) by being not like them.

(7.1) ‘It’s hard when you’re not the same height as the model, or whatever that thing is that makes you different from the images you see’, she says. ‘If you’re not like them, you can feel like, well, can I wear these clothes? Are the clothes going to look right on me? So to be in this group of women who come from all different backgrounds [and are] all shapes, sizes, was significant to me as someone that didn’t always see that [when they were younger.]’ (Vogue, January 28, 2020).

She evaluates herself against the expectations toward her and dichotomizes two camps – slender and fat – problematizing the dilemma of serving real bodies and presenting unattainable polished bodies. Not the same height, different from the images, and not like them – these lexicalizations reinforce her self-positioning as an outsider who strives to be included. Feldstein also poses the rhetorical questions of whether she can wear the clothes, and whether they would look right on her, trained by the media that there is a normalized definitions of right and wrong and that large bodies should be covered rather than beautified (Colls, 2006: 537). Feldstein shifts between the second- and first-person pronouns. She prefers you to narrate exclusionary experiences and implicitly address a community of fat women, alluding to a cohort of fashion outsiders. With negations and comparisons to the imagined standard, she hints at their shared feelings of despair and lack of confidence. She then shifts to the I (me) pronoun to recite the questions hovering in her mind when she imagines fashionable clothes on her excluded body. With the modal can, Feldstein expresses the expectation of someone’s permission to claim the clothes designed for slender-bodied women. In Feldstein’s conceptualization, she feels excluded from magazines the way Colls’ (2006: 538) shoppers do realizing that fashion spaces mark their bodies as too big. Traumatized by rejection, Feldstein conceptualizes her right to enter as luck (7.2).

(7.2) I’m lucky enough to have been a part of so many female-centered projects, directed by women and surrounded by women. To be included in this beautifully inclusive group was so meaningful. (Vogue, January 28, 2020).

In (7.2), Feldstein discursively constructs a supportive project with women in the center. This is AerieREAL, an American Eagle’s sub-brand. According to its website, it invites active social media users to present their ‘real selves’ as the brand’s ambassadors. AerieREAL has certain personality requirements (vibrant, creative, and confident) but no appearance requirements. The hashtag #AerieREAL yields 396 thousand posts on Instagram, with the top 200 hinting at diversity and 95% presenting conventionally beautiful, slim #AerieREAL ambassadors.

What is striking is the subject positions assumed by Vogue followers. Whenever Vogue spotlights a large-size brand on their Instagram (@voguemagazine), commenters clash in ideological dilemmas of ‘supporting diversity and large bodies’ and ‘rejecting large bodies as unhealthy and unesthetic’. Let us zoom in on a few comments under the post (8) presenting a problem of insufficient attention to large sizes. In line with Instagram affordances, the post is accompanied by an image – a woman modeling a brand’s dress. This space for large sizes, just as one for disabled bodies, is framed as isolated, that is, large bodies are not represented along with slender bodies. The comparative degree larger also pinpoints the ubiquitous small sizes, and the intensifying adverb truly hints at superficial changes in the industry.

(8) Though the options have improved over time, mainstream fashion has yet to truly tap into the $20 billion market for larger sizes. That’s where @coyanstudio, a luxurious range of minimalist gowns offered in sizes 0 to 24, comes in. (March 10, 2020)

The (8.1)–(8.4) are four out of a few dozen comments, representing polarization. They draw on the earlier mentioned excess schema, with the fear of ruining the well-established container. The (8.1) and (8.2) voice popular conclusions about large bodies as having excess weight although the commenters do not self-present as medical experts and only draw on their subjective esthetics. In that, the commenter in (8.1) sarcastically presents their stance as critical. This person brings doctors and fashion designers into opposition and implicitly excludes large bodies by rejecting the idea that everyone should get a trophy, that is, access to fashion. In other words, (8.1) positions themselves as a diversity opponent and large-bodied women as fashion outsiders. The commenter in (8.2) does the same, albeit in a manner that conveys disappointment in Vogue (indicated by a ‘sad face’ emoticon – ‘(‘) and an undesirable expansion of fashion boundaries. They give Vogue some advice (via conditional would be better) of promoting a healthy life, which functions as a euphemism for ‘a slender-body life’.

(8.1) I guess I should stop listening to drs about how much excess weight is unhealthy and start praising fashion designers for giving in to a ‘everyone gets a trophy’ mentality. Nah, nevermind

(8.2) It would be better to promote a healthy life. Excess weight isn’t healthy (

(8.3) I’m not ‘plus’ size but the word makes me mad. Why can’t there just be ‘sizes’? Why does the industry single it out?

(8.4) Wow an actual plus sized model on a Vogue cover. You’d love to see it.

Commenters in (8.3) and (8.4) disagree with the former. The one in (8.3) indicates their support of large bodies with the fire emoji; the one in (8.4) uses the wow interjection for the same purpose. While (8.4) does not tag anyone, they use you and conditional would love, referring to an imaginary audience that could appreciate this inclusive practice. With the attribute actual this commenter hints at the industry’s superficial practice: representing large bodies but controlling the degree of ‘largeness’. The person in (8.4) does not reject the term plus-size, which is seen as problematic by (8.3). Emphasizing their strong rejection of this framing, (8.3) uses quotation marks to suggest that plus is delusionary. They further describe an emotional reaction to this word – it makes them mad – and adds rhetorical questions to highlight it. Finally, the person blames the industry for singling the plus aspect out – alluding to marginalization of large bodies by placing them in a separate space.

These examples demonstrate that while fashion insiders are the ones blamed for excluding non-normative beauty, their audience is not unanimously ready to accept diversity either. A larger ideological dilemma emerges – representing diversity means robbing fashion followers of an idealized fashion image, but failing to represent diversity implies tolerating inequality and injustice.⁵

Conclusion

The analysis allows for concluding that the container metaphor in Vogue, a dominant site of fashion media ecosystem, helps shape the readers’ perception of (in)equality and (non)normative fashion in/outsiders. As in case of political discourse, the inside of fashion acquires a positive connotation as opposite to the outside. Replicating Koller and Davidson’s (2008) findings, movement across the boundary with the end goal to get inside the fashion container is frequently lexicalized via access that is the only way to enjoy opportunities that those in the center already have because the outside or the periphery have little value. In this sense, the assumingly uncomplicated language of fashion has an ideological function and contributes to a mental model of inclusion and exclusion, in the narrow and broad sense. People are excluded meta-discursively, by a drastic underrepresentation of non-normative beauty in magazines and fashion events. Foster and Pettinicchio (2022: 591) nicely dub this exclusion a denial of the ‘esthetic citizenship’, a phrase which frames fashion as a nation and constructs the importance of feeling included into this separate world and the legitimate ground to be in (with a symbolic permission equivalent to an official document).

The mental model of exclusion allows for conceptualizing the center and periphery as well as assuming and assigning roles within fashion. It presents fashion insiders as gatekeepers who have the authority to control the movement from the outside: via their esthetic preferences that they position as skills, choices of whom to represent visually and textually, and evaluations of beauty standards. Whether such a movement across the container’s boundary actually happens is doubtful: under the pretense of opening the doors of the industry, ruining barriers, and becoming inclusive are hidden attempts to create an illusion of everyone’s agency (or insiders’ reduced responsibility) and an image of fashion stakeholders as problem-solvers.

The container metaphor in this corpus has demonstrated how insiders and outsiders of fashion co-create the fashion’s bounded space. The former group enjoys positively connoted lexicalizations – access, open doors, being inside, etc. The latter group, in turn, struggles to gain access and waits for the permission to enter. What is especially problematic is the ideologic normalization of the saliency of the center and periphery, as if it were only natural that certain bodies were reserved places at the periphery and others had the right to decide their status. This complicated framing is naturalized to an extent that no one is explicitly put at blame, but those who make attempts of bringing the excluded inside (albeit even superficially) earn much accolade from the excluded themselves. This is seen as an ideological choice: to convey the image of outsiders whom no one forces to be outside but whom some insiders ‘do a favor’ trying to present themselves in a positive light. Last but not least, the clearly dichotomous relations within the container metaphor (inness and outness) point to the exploitative component of the relationship within, that is, the outsiders are used as consumers of fashion based on their desire to fit in and on the largely illusive promises of fashion discourse to make space for them. This theme reinforces yet again the need of feminist scholars to focus on intersections of gender and other identities (e.g., fat, gender-fluid, disabled), which further aggravate women’s oppression in fashion and other predominantly female-oriented discourses.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

I am thankful to two anonymous reviewers who have helped me improve this paper considerably.

Declaration of conflicting interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

ORCID iD

Kateryna Pilyarchuk

Notes

Author biography

Kateryna Pilyarchuk is a research associate at the European University Viadrina Frankfurt/Oder (Germany) and a PhD candidate at the University of Klagenfurt (Austria). In her work, Pilyarchuk focuses on women’s representation in digital versions of contemporary fashion magazines and on social media.

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